by Uzi Eilam
“May I bring you some tea, sir?” Madani said quietly, not daring to look directly at the general.
“Yes, thank you.” Jamshidi signaled for his assistant to bring him his briefcase.
“I was approached separately by two individuals from the former Eastern Bloc offering to supply us with material they referred to as red mercury,” Jawad reported. “I know we have an interest in this substance, but I still have not been able to confirm its quality. I can continue checking out details about quantities, prices, and methods of procurement.”
“Okay. Make it a priority,” Jamshidi ordered.
“And there’s something else…and this time it’s personal,” Jawad said in an apologetic tone.
“What is it?”
“It’s a gift, sir, from the director of the business development division of the German electro-optics company Deutsche Optics.” Jawad took out a small box adorned with gold engravings.
“Why would he send me a gift?” Jamshidi grumbled softly, unable to hide his curiosity and the pleasure the gesture aroused in him.
“It’s a pair of new glasses they’ve designed, truly the last word in AR/VR technology. Our friend, the director of business development, asked me to give it to you personally and said that they were made to fit you alone. He told me that he was certain that the glasses would change your life.”
Jamshidi took the box and, without saying another word, handed it to his assistant, who looked down at it with a visible sense of awe before placing it in his bag.
Chapter 22
Overcome by fatigue when she finally stepped inside her apartment, Dominique took off her jacket, slipped off her high-heeled shoes, and poured herself something to drink. Both Dr. Kayghobadi and the information he had provided appeared to be legitimate, which pleased her. Haim Bar-Oz would need to wait. She couldn’t deal with everything at once. She did, however, answer her phone when Gideon called her later that afternoon, and she asked him to come over. No one else would be home once Agnès went out to study with friends, and Jean-Claude had not yet returned from abroad. I can’t refuse Gideon, she admitted to herself, and I don’t want to. She knew she was being swept up in her nostalgic memories of two young, innocent students in love, but it felt good, and it appeared to be beyond her control.
The jingling of keys in the front door shook her out of her daydream. “Jean-Claude?” She was terrified.
“Bonjour ma chérie!” Her husband’s voice emanated from the door of the apartment. “I’m home!”
“What a surprise!” said Dominique, rallying all of her strength to sound happy. “Welcome home. Aren’t you a bit early?”
“Yes. A meeting in Rome that was scheduled for tomorrow was canceled, and I could think of no reason to stay.”
“And how were the meetings?”
“Fine. And how about you? The usual? Lots of work?”
“Yes, I’m afraid to say. More than ever.”
“I’m not surprised,” he replied. Dominique was uncertain whether her husband was being serious or cynical.
“But there’s something new—”
“Something or someone?”
“Is that all you can think about?”
“So, really, what is it?”
“I opened a new bank account,” she announced in a celebratory tone.
“Why? What’s wrong with our joint account?”
“There have been too many times when I’ve been unable to withdraw money from it. Is someone else withdrawing from it?”
“What kind of imaginary scenario are you cooking up in that little head of yours? And as for your bank account, what can you deposit in it anyway? That ridiculous government salary you receive for working around the clock?”
“There are some people who recognize the importance of my work, unlike you.”
“So, is that where the money’s coming from?” Jean-Claude asked contemptuously.
“You’d be surprised. And from now on you can feel free to do as you please with your account, just as you do when you’re away from home.”
“Look who’s talking! A modern-day Joan of Arc, spending her days and nights at the prime minister’s office to save the country!”
“You’ve never once even considered doing something that wasn’t entirely in your own interest. It’s pointless to continue this argument. And besides, I need to call someone.”
“Call someone? At this hour? Who?”
“An Israeli on the international task force I’m a member of.”
“Isn’t it too late?”
“It’s a work call, Jean-Claude. And you weren’t scheduled to arrive home for another two days.”
“Fine. I won’t get in the way of your business,” he said, disappearing into the bedroom.
Dominique phoned Gideon as quickly as she could.
“Has something happened? Is anything the matter?” Gideon was worried when he heard the sound of her voice.
“No… Well, actually, yes. Jean-Claude came home early unexpectedly. That’s why I’d prefer to use the phone instead of meeting. What’s important right now is the updates from today.”
Gideon considered the possibility but ultimately decided against trying to ascertain why she was so agitated. “So, what’s new? What did today yield that you wanted to talk about?”
“Dr. Kayghobadi informed me of two new issues that seem to me to be extremely important.”
“Interesting. Go on.”
“One is the expected smuggling of parts and materials to Portugal in order to fly them from there directly to Iran. The other is less clear to me. Kayghobadi says that a high-priority Iranian directive has been issued to purchase a substance known as red mercury.”
“Did he give you any details?”
“Not many. So I asked him to continue looking into it and to bring us more information.”
“As far as I know,” Gideon said, “red mercury is supposed to have something to do with nuclear weapons. But this has been a subject of debate among experts and a few others who argue that this it is nothing more than a clever trick and a means of profiting at the expense of the gullible.”
“Do you think it’s justified to report it to the task force as a whole?”
“You should certainly update Professor Bernard tomorrow about everything having to do with Kayghobadi. With regard to the smuggling of the parts and materials, you can and should update the entire task force. I’m meeting with Deutsch tomorrow, and I’ll fill him in.”
“I really appreciate your analysis and your advice,” Dominique said. “Can we talk tomorrow? It’s been a long hard day.”
Chapter 23
Restaurant Le Procope was still not crowded when Gideon, Dan, and Dr. Deutsch arrived the following morning. The white tablecloths, the light radiating from the classic style chandeliers, and the paintings on the wall produced a relaxed, dignified atmosphere.
“This is the oldest café in Paris,” Gideon told them, as the waiter led them to a table near the window in the restaurant’s café section. “It first opened its doors in the seventeenth century and was a meeting place for artists and authors. It may even have been frequented by Voltaire, Diderot, or Rousseau,” he said with a smile.
Dr. Deutsch, who had suggested the three-way meeting, had explained that he wanted to get to know Dan better as a new member of the task force. Gideon had suggested they walk from the hotel to the café and take in the human landscape and the stylish window displays of the 6th Arrondissement.
It was important for Gideon to strengthen his relationship with Deutsch now that they were partners and no longer differentiated by the statuses of director and researcher (albeit senior researcher) at SRI. A relationship with Deutsch, Gideon thought, could also be of use to Dan in the future, when he returned to California.
He snapped out of his thoughts when a waiter stop
ped at their table and recommended that—along with their coffee, the aroma of which permeated the café—they order delicacies produced by the well-known baker of Restaurant Le Procope.
After a different waiter placed a pitcher of coffee and a basket of pastries in the middle of their table, Dr. Deutsch called the informal meeting to order. “I thought we might begin by considering the lessons of the California espionage network and applying them to our own tasks in the current project.”
“Before we get into the thick of our current challenges, Gerald,” Gideon interjected, “I’d like to tell Dan a bit about Dr. Gerald Deutsch.”
“Nonsense, Gideon. There’s really no need for that,” Deutsch said modestly. “The past is the past.”
“But the past is also important,” Gideon insisted. “For instance, I’m certain, Dan, you didn’t know that Dr. Deutsch was a US Special Forces combat officer during the Vietnam War.”
“Really? I never would have guessed!” said Dan, visibly surprised. “What did that involve?” he asked, turning toward Deutsch.
“Ah… We were young and curious,” Deutsch responded. “I had already gotten my bachelor’s degree in systems analysis from MIT in Cambridge, Massachusetts. I eventually agreed to the requests of the special forces recruiters and—after a period of grueling training at Fort Bragg, which for me also included officers’ training—we were shipped out to Vietnam.”
“Deutsch is being modest, Dan. He’s not telling you about the dangerous operations he took part in and the Medals of Honor for bravery under fire he was awarded.”
“That was a long time ago,” Deutsch cut in. “I was eventually discharged after I received command of a regiment of Green Berets and was injured twice. It gave me an opportunity to return to academia and finish my Ph.D.”
“Don’t forget your positions in the Pentagon’s Missile Defense Administration,” Gideon reminded him, refusing to let him off the hook so easily.
“I just happened to be at the right place at the right time.” Deutsch smiled at Dan, who continued to listen to Deutsch’s accomplishments in amazement.
“Later,” Gideon said to Dan, “Dr. Deutsch became the director of the Stanford Research Institute, which is where we met. It’s also where we first discovered the Iranian activity in California and the spy network they set up there.”
“That’s quite a resume,” Dan said quietly, almost in a whisper. “It’s really an honor to be on this task force with both of you.”
“Let’s get back to the present, Gerald,” said Gideon in a businesslike manner. “I’m not sure I see many similarities between what we did in California and what’s required of us here. I guess both cases have to do with technical aspects of activity of the Guardians of the Revolution abroad, but I think that’s where the similarities end.”
“I agree,” said Deutsch. “The affair in California had to do primarily with activity pertaining to missile defense, particularly with your work at SRI, Gideon, and the work of your father, Yehuda,” he said, turning to Dan, “on the development of the smart card. They thought that Gideon would be the weak link, but they were wrong. It was your mother they eventually managed to recruit using their shrewd methods. She became their most important source of information—”
“I was under the perhaps naïve impression,” Dan blurted out, his face growing beet red, “that we were meeting to discuss the Iranian procurement project in Europe, not to dig up the past!” He looked at Gideon, then at Deutsch, then back at Gideon again, more bewildered than angry. The blood drained from his face, leaving him pale as a sheet.
“I was only trying to emphasize the importance the Iranians ascribed to the brilliant development your father perfected,” Deutsch explained hurriedly. “His success caused them to do all they could to acquire information about the card. The importance the Guardians ascribe to procurement for their technological projects is reminiscent of the compulsion that led them to set up the network in California. Gideon and I clearly remember our belated discovery of a mole the Iranians had planted in our ranks at SRI. From that perspective,” he continued, looking at Gideon, “it makes sense to learn about how the Iranians recruited agents and to take a good look at ourselves when we examine the functioning of our task force during the current project.”
It was easy for Deutsch and Gideon to bring up their own failings when they knew they had not paid for their own mistakes, Dan thought, without saying a word. The full price had been paid by his mother and his family, which had fallen apart in the aftermath of the scandal.
“It truly is necessary to regularly examine all aspects of the work of the task force. It would be a mistake to focus only on the Iranians’ underground procurement channels. We also need to look for efforts to recruit new agents and to activate and handle agents they’ve already recruited,” Gideon said. “I think that Dan can make a critical contribution here by monitoring not only the Iranians’ secret channels of procurement but also their clandestine efforts to recruit agents.”
“That’s an important point,” Deutsch said, turning back to Dan. “It’s precisely because of what you have to contribute to the task force that I asked to meet with you. Gideon and General Bar-Oz told me a bit about the intelligence unit where you got your experience. How did you end up serving there? I’m sure the selection process is meticulous.”
“Gerald, my friend,” Gideon interjected. “Although our intelligence apparatus has a longstanding productive relationship with yours, I assume you’ll agree that there are some things that each of us needs to keep to ourselves. And there’s another party to the matter, the third partner on the task force: the French. I suggest we avoid giving Professor Bernard any reason to feel that we’re leaving him out of the loop.”
Dan breathed a sigh of relief when it became clear that he would not be faced with any more of Dr. Deutsch’s reflections on the past. He relaxed in his chair and began following the exchanges between the two much more experienced men at the table, with a focus on trying to understand what they were saying between the lines.
“There is simply a difference between a large, cumbersome organization like ours and a small and relatively quick intelligence organization,” Deutsch said. “In a large, safe organization, the alertness and creativity of individuals may be impaired. But in Israel, with the constant threats you face, you’ve proven to have abilities we didn’t know about.”
“That may be true, Dr. Deutsch,” Dan said, “but the power of the NSA and the ability to be present at every moment, anywhere on earth, is not something to be sneezed at.”
“I have an idea.” Deutsch turned to Gideon. “Why don’t I arrange for Dan to visit the NSA offices at our embassy here in Paris? It’s the branch that’s responsible for all NSA activities in Europe. I’m sure he’ll find it interesting.”
“That would be great!” Dan said enthusiastically. “I’d love it.”
“That’s a good idea, Gerald. Do you think I could also tag along?” asked Gideon.
“Certainly, Gideon. You’re always welcome, both as a guest and a partner.”
The waiter returned to the table with a steaming pitcher of fresh coffee and a new basket of pastries. Deutsch was somewhat disappointed by the little information that Gideon had allowed Dan to share but hoped that the visit to the NSA branch in the embassy would afford him better insight into Israel’s strategic listening abilities. Dan was gratified by Dr. Deutsch’s accolades and thought about how much he could still learn from the experience of these two men. Gideon knew that Deutsch must be frustrated and contemplated whether he could make it up to him and how to go about doing it. He thought about the offer of a visit to the American embassy and considered the possibility of using it to acquire communications assistance, from the local NSA branch, for Dan’s special listening project. Deutsch would undoubtedly view learning about the existence of the project as a valuable intelligence windfall.
�
��Dan,” said Gideon, making eye contact with his protégé, “I think it’s about time we let Dr. Deutsch in on the development of your listening glasses.”
“Really? Are you authorizing this?” Dan couldn’t believe his ears.
“Yes,” Gideon confirmed. “We can trust Deutsch as we can trust ourselves. Besides, it will also have other advantages.”
“Like what?” Deutsch asked with a curious grin. “What surprises do you still have for me up your sleeve?”
“Listen and learn,” Gideon replied with a wink. He turned to Dan. “Go ahead. The floor is yours.”
“Well, it’s an idea I first thought up when I was still in my unit in the army,” Dan began. “It was based on new developments in optronics that allowed the unprecedented miniaturization of devices capable of sharpening and clarifying unclear, distorted images. My father needed three pairs of glasses, and he told me about a small Danish company that had developed dynamic glasses that were able to adapt themselves to the condition of the lens, light intensity, and the sharpness of the object being viewed.”
“That’s fascinating, but how is it relevant to the issues at hand?” asked Deutsch.
“We know that the Danish company was acquired by Deutsche Optics, a German electro-optics company,” explained Gideon, “and that they already have a number of impressive prototypes. Through connections with the Germans, Dan’s father, Yehuda, bought a model of the glasses, and Dan studied their structure.”
“I still don’t get the connection,” said Deutsch.
“Deutsch Optics has close ties with Iran,” Gideon continued, “and we learned, from Yehuda Avni’s connections, that the Germans had given a pair of the glasses to General Jamshidi, who oversees technological development for the Guardians.” Gideon stopped and gave Dan an encouraging nod, prompting him to continue.
“Based on all that,” Dan said, “I came to the conclusion that if we had an electro-optic device with an assured energy source, in the form of a small battery, we could develop a listening device that could be planted on anyone wearing the glasses.”
