by Matthew Dunn
Geoffrey fixed his attention on Will. “Who are you?”
Patrick held up a hand. “He works for me. That should be all you need to know.”
“Should be, but I’m kinda the inquisitive type.”
Patrick was about to respond, but Will interrupted. “I’m an MI6 officer.”
His grin still in place, Geoffrey said, “MI6? Oh dear. If I’d known, I’d have told my Station to burn all our files and hide the family jewelry before you got here.” He turned to Patrick. “What do you want?”
Patrick shrugged. “I’ve got no idea.”
For a brief moment Geoffrey’s smile vanished, then it returned. “You have every right to be here . . .”
“Damn right.”
“Though it would be a discourtesy to waste my time.” Geoffrey looked at Will. “Presumably MI6 has an idea as to what you want.”
“No. MI6 doesn’t know I’m here, let alone why.”
“Oh, this just gets better and better, doesn’t it, gentlemen?” Geoffrey’s eyes flickered. “So, shall I conclude this is all very off the record?”
“If you like.” Will wondered how the head of station was going to react to what he was about to say. “We’re here to talk about the CIA asset Simon Rübner.”
Geoffrey was motionless, silent.
“Given that he’s a Mossad officer, I’m certain your station would be a customer for Rübner’s intelligence.”
Geoffrey said nothing.
“Rübner’s name has popped up in a major operation I’m running. It’s crucial I understand Rübner’s value to the CIA.”
The station head darted a look at Patrick. His smile had now vanished. “You got locked out of Langley, so thought you’d come knocking on my door?”
Will continued, “That was my idea, not Patrick’s. I think Rübner’s not all that he seems. But we have been . . . locked out. We need your help.”
Geoffrey leaned back in his chair, rested one leg over the other, and drummed his fingers. “If Langley’s keeping its mouth shut, then so will I.”
Patrick said quickly, “Not Langley, self-interested unknown persons within Langley.”
“Have you spoken to one of the directors?”
Patrick nodded. “I spoke to the Director of Intelligence. He won’t tell me anything.”
“Then it is Langley that’s keeping its mouth shut.”
Will asked, “Do the names Gerlache and François Gilliams mean anything to you?”
“Should they?”
“I think Gerlache is the front company used by the CIA intelligence officer running Rübner, and François Gilliams is his alias.” He recalled the note that had been handed to Alina. “It’s possible Rübner is being run by more than one officer.”
Geoffrey stopped drumming his fingers, seemed deep in thought, and said, “I’m not betraying any confidences by saying that you’re right we’ve been receiving Rübner’s intelligence, though we’re not the prime customer.”
“Who is?”
Geoffrey shrugged. “Langley and the FBI.”
“Why the FBI?”
The station chief’s smile was back on his face. “To answer that would be imprudent. Make your own deductions.”
Will said, “Rübner was feeding you details about Mossad operations on U.S. soil. The feds were the prime customer because they were the ones authorized to shut down the operations.”
“Maybe.” Geoffrey looked at Patrick and said quietly, “I’m afraid you’ve made a wasted trip. You can’t expect me to give you information that the director himself has refused to divulge to you.”
Will repeated, “Gerlache, François Gilliams?”
Geoffrey sighed. “I don’t know the identity of Rübner’s case officer. It’s quite possible he’s been using a French or Belgian front to meet Rübner, but on that point I know as much as you do.”
Patrick turned toward Will. “Geoffrey’s right to say nothing.”
Geoffrey frowned as he switched his attention to Will. “You’d have known that, young man. So, why drag someone as senior as Patrick halfway around the world to hear that I’m not going to breach security, lose my job, and possibly end up with a prison sentence?”
Will spoke quickly and in a hushed tone. “I needed Patrick to set this meeting up without others knowing.” He looked around. “I had to talk to you without fear that we were being watched or overheard.”
“Makes no difference to the result.” The station head began tapping his fingers again. After a few seconds he asked, “Why do you think there’s something wrong with the Rübner intelligence?”
Will ignored the question. “Does Rübner’s work for the CIA benefit you?”
Geoffrey seemed surprised, then smiled. “Good question.” He thought for a moment. “Not really. In fact, it’s been a bit of a pain in the ass.”
Will could understand why. If Rübner was selling out Mossad operations on U.S. soil, this would place the CIA Head of Tel Aviv Station in a delicate situation given that part of his work involved liaising with Mossad, Shin Bet, and other Israeli intelligence agencies on issues of mutual concern. He asked, “Were you involved in the targeting and recruitment of Rübner?”
Geoffrey shook his head. “Nope, beyond telling Langley that Simon Rübner was a Mossad officer. I’ve no idea how they got him after that.”
“So, you have no personal vested interest in the Rübner case?”
Geoffrey beamed. “I’m not going to blab to you just because my career might not benefit from Rübner.”
“Of course.” Will leaned forward, clasping his big hands, his expression now cold. “But before I answer your question about what’s wrong with Rübner, I need to know if you’re in cahoots with the bastards who leaked my identity and home address to cover up an act that, if they knew about it, would have the president and every senator wishing to string them up by their throats.”
Patrick turned sharply toward him. “What!”
Geoffrey’s eyes narrowed. “I think you have some explaining to do, young man.”
“Like you, I’ll explain what I damn well like.”
“Sure.” The station head looked unsettled, glanced at Patrick, then back at Will. “We’re not your enemies.”
“I hope you’re not. Because I’m giving you due warning that I’m going to find out who betrayed me, and I’m going to drag them over the body of the director and dump their fucking asses at the feet of the president. And if the director’s involved as well, I’ll squeeze his balls until he screams. Nobody’s going to keep their mouth shut.”
“You’d tear apart the CIA because someone pissed you off?”
“No! But I’ll do it to find the scum who’ve put several innocent men, women, and children’s lives at severe risk.” Will leaned back. “The people who’re keeping their mouths shut are going to suffer, and they’ll do so with complete presidential and judicial backing once the truth comes out. You might not be involved, but I’m telling you now that it’s not in your interest to ally yourself in any way to these people.”
A bead of sweat ran down Geoffrey’s face. Facing Patrick, he said, “I’m not involved in the Rübner case. Nobody in my station is. We get the intel, but other than that we’re out of the loop.”
Patrick responded in a stern voice. “But you know what the intel is. That might help us.”
Geoffrey looked confused. “If I make the wrong call, I’m screwed.”
Will pointed at him. “If you make no call, I guarantee you those innocent people will die.”
The station chief kept his eyes on Will’s boss. “There is no ‘off the record’ at our level. If I tell you anything without clearance to do so, you’ve got to assure me that you have my back.”
Patrick pulled out a pen and notepad, wrote for a few seconds, then tore off a sheet and handed it to Geoffrey.
“That’s my handwriting, my signature, today’s date, and confirmation that I’ve given you authority to speak openly about the Rübner case with impunity.”
The station head looked at the note. “You still have that level of power, Patrick?”
“If I don’t, then it’s my neck on the line, not yours.”
Geoffrey breathed deeply. “What’s wrong with Rübner?”
Will answered, “I think that Rübner’s CIA case officer gave him the name of a low-level SVR officer who also happened to be a CIA asset. One of our own was sold out. That agent is now either dead, or on the brink of death. I’m trying to find him. And I think the case officer’s trying to stop me before I uncover the truth.”
The station head seemed to be composing himself, though his mind was racing, “Do you know when the SVR officer’s identity was supplied to Rubner?”
“I can’t be specific.” Will recalled the contents of the Gerlache letter. “But it could be approximately one month ago.”
“Interesting.”
“Why?”
Geoffrey lowered his head and muttered to himself, “Jeez, this is some call.” He looked up. “Rübner’s intel dried up one month ago.”
Will said, “That doesn’t surprise me.”
Geoffrey frowned.
Will elaborated. “I think Rübner vanished soon after he got the SVR officer’s name.”
Lenka Yevtushenko.
“Where to?”
“To the organization he’s working with.”
“It was Mossad all along?”
Will shrugged. “I can’t answer that until you speak openly. What was Rübner’s intelligence?”
The station head ran a hand over his face. “The identity of Mossad agents operating on U.S. soil. It’s been gold dust and has enabled us to round them up and put them in prison.”
Will laughed.
“What’s so funny?”
Patrick added, “Yeah, I’d like to know the answer to that as well.”
Will’s expression changed. He felt that things were starting to make sense. “When did you supply confirmation that Rübner was a Mossad officer?”
Geoffrey answered, “Approximately six months ago. He must have been recruited within days of us supplying that information, because that’s when we got the first stream of intelligence.”
“How did you know he was an Israeli operative?”
“Because seven years ago he’d been posted to Brussels; the slot he took is a known Mossad cover. Plus his name was attached to a joint operation we did with the Israelis four years ago. He was billed as a political liaison officer, but we could smell he was an operative.” He sighed. “The U.S. wasn’t the only customer for Rübner intel. We shared it with the Brits as well. And they had independent confirmation of Rübner’s Mossad credentials.”
“He was selling out U.K.-based Israeli agents?”
“Correct. Via MI6, Rübner’s intelligence reports were supplied to MI5.”
Will shook his head. “What a cock-up.”
The two senior CIA officers stared at him, expectant.
Will rubbed his eyes. “You need to call your counterpart in Mossad and tell him that Simon Rübner is a CIA asset.”
“No way.”
“Yeah, no way.” Patrick placed a hand on Will’s forearm and gripped it tight. “No fucking way!”
Will ignored the fact that Patrick was pressing his fingers deep into his arm. “Do it. And I think you’ll find out something quite surprising.”
Geoffrey’s eyes were wide. “No. We can’t betray a CIA agent!”
Patrick released his grip on Will’s arm and thrust a finger against his chest. “And even if we did something as crazy as that, we could be playing right into their hands by telling them that we know this was a Mossad operation.”
Will shook his head. “Rübner’s no longer a CIA agent. And whatever he was doing for the CIA, I’m certain it wasn’t set up by Mossad. Even if they had a requirement to get hold of an SVR officer, they would never have floated Rübner in front of the CIA with the remit to reveal the identities of their U.S. and U.K. agents.”
Patrick lowered his finger. “I agree with that.”
Geoffrey mopped his brow with a handkerchief. “So do I. In the United States, Rübner’s intel has enabled the arrest of fifteen Mossad spies; twice as many are under FBI surveillance. The Brits have got their claws into a similar number.” He pocketed his handkerchief. “But even though we might be able to rule out that this was an Israeli operation, we most certainly know for a fact that Rübner was working for us. And that fact cannot be disclosed to Mossad.”
“It’s going to have to be, in order for us to get closer to the truth.” Will looked at Patrick. “Please. Back me on this.”
“I can’t!”
“Please. It’s the right thing to do.”
“God damn you. You can’t ask me to do this.”
“I already have.”
Patrick stared at him. After a long silence, he muttered, “You’re taking one hell of a risk.”
“I know.”
Patrick was motionless for twenty seconds. While looking at the ceiling, he said in a loud, authoritative voice, “As the most senior officer in this room, I’m making the decision that Mossad should be made aware that Simon Rübner has been a CIA agent. If that decision is the wrong one, then I fully accept that I and I alone should suffer the consequences.” He lowered his head, looked straight at Geoffrey. “I’m instructing you to make the call.”
Geoffrey appeared taken aback, and spoke imploringly. “Patrick, this is wrong. You could be—”
“Do it!”
Geoffrey picked up the handset of one of the phones, held his fingers over the keypad, and glanced at Will. “Patrick clearly has a huge amount of faith in your judgment. I hope you respect that.”
He pressed numbers, held the phone to his head, waited, spoke fluent Hebrew to whoever was on the end of the line, and was silent for thirty seconds. No doubt the person he needed to speak to in Mossad was being summoned to the phone. He spoke again, his tone hushed, his words quick and urgent. The call lasted ten minutes. By the time the Head of Tel Aviv Station placed the handset down, his face was covered with perspiration.
“Indeed the Rübner case has been an almighty cock-up.” Geoffrey looked at Will. “Simon Rübner moved to New York six months ago with his wife and teenage daughter, one week after he’d resigned from Mossad.”
Patrick exclaimed, “He’s no longer Mossad? You’re sure?”
Geoffrey nodded. “Since then, the Israelis have been trying to ascertain who’s been compromising its U.S. and U.K. agents. Rübner’s been at the top of its list of suspects, given the timings of his departure and the first round of arrests, and the fact that the identity of every compromised agent was known to Rübner. Mossad’s been trying to track him down so that it can have a very blunt chat with him. A month ago it found out that Rübner had been in the States, but by then it was too late because he’d done his disappearing act. Mossad’s got no idea where he is now.”
Patrick looked at Will. “You suspected this to be the case?”
Will nodded. “That’s why I needed the call to be made.” He stared at nothing. “It was a clever setup. Simon Rübner moved to New York immediately after he left Mossad. Somehow, he deliberately made himself visible to the CIA, who then asked Geoffrey’s station to do a trace on him. The result suggested he was still a serving officer. CIA thinks for whatever reason that Rübner might be able to be recruited, and that cash is the best carrot. It approaches him using a deniable cover company called Gerlache. Almost immediately, it gets him to pass them secrets, then it declares that in truth it’s CIA. He agrees to continue working for them but only on one condition—that he can pretend to Mossad that he’s recruited a CIA officer. After all, he tells them, that�
��s what he’s in America to do. Terms are struck. The CIA gives Rübner chickenfeed U.S. intelligence . . .”
“Congress would need to approve every piece of intelligence supplied to Rübner.”
Specifically, that approval would come from the Senate Select Committee on Intelligence—an organization created in 1976 after Congress had investigated CIA operations on U.S. soil and established that some had been illegal. The SSCI comprised fifteen senators who were drawn from the two major political parties and whose remit included oversight of U.S. intelligence activities and ensuring transparency between the intelligence community and Congress.
Will agreed with Patrick. “And in return, Rübner continues giving them gold dust secrets—the identities of the Israeli agents. But he does it drip feed.” He looked sharply at Geoffrey. “Correct?”
“Correct. The agents were being sold out one by one, over a five-month time frame.”
“And that’s what’s so funny.” Will frowned. “And smart, for that matter. You’d have expected the CIA to be getting intelligence from Rübner on ongoing Mossad operations. But Rübner couldn’t give them that, because he was out of the loop, though his knowledge of U.S. and U.K. Mossad agents was still very relevant. He used that knowledge as a smoke screen to hide the fact that he simply didn’t know stuff that an officer in his position should. Drip-feeding it to them was crucial, because he had to get the CIA to the point where it would break rules to keep him on their books.” Will placed the tips of his fingers together. “That moment came around one month ago, at which point he ups the ante and says he knows the CIA has got a huge team of analysts covering Russia, that Mossad is struggling on the Russian target, that he needs to know the identity of an SVR officer who the CIA is certain would betray secrets. Maybe the CIA’s reluctant to help at first. Maybe Rübner threatens them that if they don’t give him what he wants, he’ll clam up. Careers and reputations are now resting on the Rübner intel. Knowing that the SSCI would never approve the sacrifice of a Russian CIA agent, Rübner’s case officer and his colleagues secretly give Rübner the name of the SVR officer I’m now looking for.”
