"No problem, you’ll get a telegram. Maybe you’ll get Hinenzon too, in the flesh.” Ofra settled the matter.
"She’s also too smart...” Noni muttered to himself. “They think I don’t realize that they’re involved in an operation without permission or authorization.”
We thought that it would be a matter of hours before someone landed to take care of all the arrangements, to take Sasson’s body and disappear from our lives; but that did not happen. Not only did Noni not get a telegram from Hinenzon, no one arrived either.
The next day we heard from McFlaherty. He wasn’t prepared to talk to Noni. “It’s Okay, Mickey,” he told me. “But I have to talk to the consul, to the general.”
Almog took Mac’s phone call, but put him on speaker, so we could share his joy. Once again I saw that in the case of our dead man, he was very careful not to assume sole responsibility for anything.
"Mr. Consul General,” Mac’s voice sounded metallic. He knew Almog had put him on speaker.
"Good morning, chief,” said Almog. “How are you?”
"Okay. Glad to talk to you again,” Mac dispensed with the niceties. “I want to know why the transfer of the murdered Israeli to his family is not being taken care of.”
"We’re still finding out. We’re not sure who the man is.” Almog looked at the speaker, furrowing his brow.
"Look, General,” Mac sounded impatient. “I have a homicide investigation here. I can withhold the body until the forensics lab finishes checking every inch of it, and they may find something relevant for trial later. I haven’t done that yet for two reasons. First of all, I have no interest in getting involved in all the diplomatic shit I’m being fed. Second of all, you should know: we may not have met yet, but you will not find anyone in Houston more pro-Israel and Zionist than me. There’s some dirty business here. The man had an official passport. He traveled from somewhere to somewhere, but he got whacked here. I want to sweep all this crap out of my city before it piles up. So, if you tell me you’re taking care of moving the body from here, and I believe you, it’s worth your effort to make sure it happens. You said yesterday that you would deal with it; today, we’re still waiting. You have to make a decision, because if you do not take care of it in the next twelve hours, this pile of crap will start to stink so bad that I’ll have to deal with it personally. The mayor does not like it, and neither do I. So you’d better decide, and you’d better decide fast.”
The phone was slammed down on the other end. Almog shouted to Dorothy to get him the GSS head’s chief of staff on the phone, and to my surprise, he asked us to leave the room.
We heard him shouting, from his end, mostly things like “I don’t care” and “You have to deal with it!” and “If you won’t take care of it, I’ll do it myself!”
“Bastards,” he muttered to himself after hanging up. “They left us holding the bag.”
49.
Hinenzon made his grand return to Houston the same way he’d first arrived: informing no one. Over the previous two days, he had heard about it at least five times — first from Ofra, efficiently running the security division in New York; then from the chief of staff of the GSS head. Either they didn’t know; or, more likely, they knew the answers were catastrophic. “When the shit hits the fan, duck as fast as you can” was the new slogan of the GSS, after the Bus 300 affair.
Hinenzon was amused because he never believed in the logic of large organizations. “When the shit hits the fan, love your fellow man,” he giggled to himself.
He landed in Houston in a haze that came up from the bay. He passed on the first taxi in line at the airport, as a precautionary measure, as well as the second; then he got in the third, taking it to the imposing Wells Fargo Bank building. He went to the basement level, entered a small Mexican taqueria and took a seat to wait.
I first learned of Hinenzon’s arrival from Laure, who told me that Barkat had met someone from New York wearing a skullcap and grinning. “But that’s probably not for public consumption,” she said.
"Sure,” I confirmed, then reported it immediately to Almog, who told me that he and Hinenzon had an appointment to meet McFlaherty at the airport. So the visit was not really secret. Or Almog had finally learned how to fit in. Or I had no idea what was going on.
Despite this, I accompanied Almog to the meeting as a matter of course. The airport police were headquartered on the second level of the basement, and that’s where McFlaherty had his office. On the wall in his office was an entire armory, a display of bullets and grenades, machine guns and rifles. On the wall opposite were certificates of appreciation from shooting clubs, charities, and churches.
"I understand you can finally get the job done.” McFlaherty is full of good will and his bulbous nose seems to me to shine with pride.
Almog said, “Yes, I’m sorry for the delays, but for our part, all the forms have been filled out. Mickey will explain.”
"We have the family request, we have medical confirmation of the circumstances of death, and the transport options. We’ll ship the body out of here to New York on a Delta flight; then at JFK, we have someone to receive it and transfer it to El Al’s ten thirty flight that night to Tel Aviv".
McFlaherty examined me with a pensive look. I didn’t care for it. He lingered on Hinenzon.
"I’ve heard about you,” he stated.
Hinenzon motioned with his head ambiguously. “The honor is mine,” he said in surprisingly good English. “I have also heard good things about you, sir.”
"Come on, sit down.” McFlaherty was mollified. “You Jews always look a little less talented than you really are. Will you have a drink?”
"Happily,” said Almog, and I became even more worried.
"Fantastic.” McFlaherty’s facial expression didn’t betray any emotion. “An Israeli consul who knows how to drink? No problem!”
He opened a small refrigerator hidden in an alcove. “So you’re still keeping a tight lid on the Arabs?” Mac chucked over the beer.
“Tight as a drum, yes. We don’t have a choice. You let up at all, and they’ll be all over you.”
“That’s the way, and you’re the only ones who know how to get things done — except in this case, of course. Believe me, if you were not that good, if I did not think you were in the right and justified, you’d be in real trouble with this Sasson business.” He paused, fixing us with his gaze; but when he realized that no one had anything to say, he continued, “My people say it does have to do with some new war in Houston, but I cannot understand the connection. Besides, I do not want the garbage from the city coming here, to the airport. When it connects to the Israeli consulate, it’s even less healthy. I’m glad you all managed to settle it.”
Hinenzon said, “Commander, the State of Israel is very grateful to you and I thank you very much for your fruitful cooperation in this case. I can tell you that this case will be investigated — through completely discreet means — and we will share the results with you. The last thing we want to see you have here at the airport is a criminal or legal entanglement we failed to help you with.”
Mac considered this as he drew air through his nose and everything in between, and I knew serious expectoration was to be expected. From a distance of six feet he hit the spittoon like a bullseye. I guess he learned something from the late Jay.
"It’s not that he’s insulting you,” I said to Almog in Hebrew. “He’s coming to the point.”
“I really appreciate your readiness to help,” Mac said impatiently. “But it’s time to stop chatting and catch the killer.”
Hinenzon spent another full day in Houston. Some days you just can’t get rid of a body. Now it’s Delta Air Lines holding things up, some problem with the paperwork.
“It’s not their fault,” Noni explained. “It’s because of their partnership with El Al. The Hebrew burial society has to authorize that the deceased has
a burial plot in Israel. We also need authorization as to who will accompany the deceased in New York, from the Delta flight to the El Al flight. There are procedures for storing and purifying the body.”
“So now what?” Hinenzon didn’t see the problem.
“I’m surprised the burial society back home is making trouble. Don’t you have connections there? For everything else, we have Rabbi Savitt in Brooklyn who arranges everything.”
“All for the sake of Heaven, I am sure.”
“For the sake of Heaven and for the sake of six thousand dollars.”
Hinenzon started making phone calls. He bargained Savitt down to three thousand dollars, which he took from the communal events fund of the consulate in New York. Then another call to Rabbi Finkel in Jerusalem, personal assistant to the deputy immigration minister. Finally, the matter was settled.
I accompanied Mark Sasson’s body in the hearse to the airport, personally supervising the loading of the coffin into the cargo hold. I needed to make sure we didn’t encounter any more surprises.
“Thank God it’s over,” Almog said to Hinenzon, as they shook hands and said goodbye.
“You shouldn’t be thanking God; that’s not your domain. And nothing is over,” Hinenzon rumbled. “The minister of science is coming tomorrow. He’s a capricious client, a most difficult man. You’ve been warned.”
50.
Deputy Director General Gelber paid us the great honor of accompanying Minister of Science Elroy on his visit to the city. Noni claimed that the main reason for this is that Elroy, when he was deputy foreign minister, was the one who insisted on promoting Gelber, who was then considered dull and uncharismatic, to deputy director general, in exchange for some small favors Gelber knew to arrange for him. Almog, on the other hand, had recently became friends with Avidor, who told him that Gelber had been forced to join the delegation, against his will, in order to “sort things out in Houston.”
At the fervent request of our security officer Saar, I agreed to be the minister’s driver during the visit. It allowed me access to any interesting place, and also overtime pay. I had time to kill since classes weren’t in session at the moment.
The Boeing 757 was parked far from the jetway this time, and passengers would have to wait until the dignified entourage disembarked. I brought the consul general’s official Grand Marquis closer to the front door. Behind me were two police motorcycles and two cars. Diplomatic Security Service personnel arrived in an unmarked Ford, who during our journey would take their position immediately behind our car with the minister of science in it. Almog, Noni and Shoshi were standing by the mobile stairway, looking at the plane door with moist and expectant eyes. The minister of science came out first, exactly as planned. He ran down the stairs, cheerfully jumping off the last step, shook Almog’s hand and said, “Good to see you, Dan! What is the situation here? Is everything under control?”
The rotund Gelber followed the minister, mumbling shily and looking down. Before a large audience he unexpectedly became quite diffident.
"Everything is fine,” Almog assured him.
Gelber smiled. “Great, we’ll hear details along the way.” The minister of science was delighted.
Next to the consul general was the international protocol officer, who had come from the governor’s office in Austin for the occasion. She read a prepared text welcoming him to Texas on the governor’s behalf and apologizing for not coming to greet him in person.
"This time, I’ll let it go,” Elroy remarked. He shook Noni’s hand; but Noni, who began to speak, found himself facing empty air, as the minister had already moved on to shake Shoshi’s hand, though he didn’t meet her eye either, as he was already turning on his heel to announce, “Okay, let’s go!”
I sat at the wheel the whole time, and behind me sat the minister, with Almog on one side and Gelber squashed on the other. Noni and his wife got into one of the escort cars; they were supposed to return to the consulate. Their role in the rest of the visit would be from a distance.
Elroy was squeezed between the consul general and the deputy director general, moving awkwardly. “So this is your car?” he asked the consul general in admiration. “So give me some details, why is everything going so well?”
"Advanced projects,” Almog told him. “I am working on security coordination. The scientific cooperation is progressing well. There is a community of Israeli scientists here, small but of the highest caliber.”
Gelber coughed lightly.
“What about donations?” asked Elroy.
“We came very close to a massive contribution of twelve million dollars, but at the last minute it slipped through our fingers.”
"A distressing story. I read about it in the paper,” Elroy said dryly. “Very strange. Too bad to lose something like that. How did it ‘slip through your fingers’?”
"The donor changed her mind at the last minute,” Gelber volunteered.
Where was Angela now? I could not help but wonder. For some reason I had the feeling that she was safe and protected, that she had found a convenient arrangement. Something just right for her.
"Do we have any chance of changing her mind back?” Elroy looked out the window, but I could see in the mirror that he was tense.
“There’s no way to know,” Almog replied.
“Shouldn’t you know?”
“We will make every effort to achieve our objective,” Almog tried to settle the matter, with clipped military speech. “Would you like more details about the scientific cooperation between Israelis and Texans?”
“You can tell me all about it later.” He sighed. “Twelve million dollars down the drain is a crying shame.”
“It’s not over yet,” said Almog defensively. “It’s not over yet. All in all, I’ve been here a bit more than two months.”
“So what’s the story about security coordination?” The minister cleared his throat and stared at the few trees outside. It looked like he was getting bored.
"It’s not bad,” said Almog. “Although the locals are trying hard, it seems to me that this project is not really in high gear yet.”
"So where’s the security coordination? They have good capabilities here in Texas. Why can’t we make progress on this? Larry Klein is a serious person.”
Almog replied, “Gradually, we will get to that too"
The minister leaned back in his seat. I remembered how Almog admired the Grand Marquis when he first saw it. I wondered if the minister was also thinking about it. Maybe he, too, wanted to see the engine? But no. He motioned to Gelber to lean close and he whispered something to him, hiding his face in the “Blue and White Texas” booklet the consulate is proud to issue, which he received upon landing.
“Tell him,” Elroy concluded his secret conversation with Gelber.
“The situation with this donation is a serious issue,” Gelber said carefully.
"This would have been a concrete contribution, which would have fit in nicely with the outline of our needs,” the minister added solemnly.
"But this is dubious money from a dubious source,” Almog pointed out with obvious impatience.
"And who determines that?” Elroy queried.
“My sources in the field.”
“Could your sources in the field see to it that the money actually gets to our hands?”
“Does that come from the prime minister?”
“Do you think I would ask you otherwise?”
Eloy’s eyes darted around. He checked in the mirror to see if I was still concentrating on the road.
"I know him,” Almog declared in a low tone. “That doesn’t sound like him, even if the money would address all our needs.”
Elroy looked in all directions, with conspicuous impatience. "The only question is whether you can get your hands on the money or not.” He was speaking loudly now. “All in all, the
re is a private investigation that is progressing nicely, and it seems to me that what belongs to us will come back to us. The lady disappeared after talking to your people. Either you can help, or we will manage on our own.”
"Let me check".
The minister looked at his watch, then said, as if suddenly remembering something, “Where’s Moti?” That was his chief of staff, who accompanied him everywhere.
"Moti is in Noni’s car,” I told him. “That’s the one in the back."
"Maybe I can help?” Gelber asked pleasantly.
"Do you have a car phone?” the minister asked me.
"Oh, yes.”
“Very good,” said the minister. “Call and tell him we are going to a hotel. We have to make some phone calls from there".
Almog tensed up. “Gabriel, the Jewish Federation and fifty of our biggest donors are waiting for us at lunch.”
“Whom do they donate to?”
“Here, to the community and also to Israel.”
"The community is a major driving force,” Gelber contributed.
“I do not care,” the minister spat. “I have some urgent things to see to. Please inform Moti back there that we’re going to a hotel.”
I said, “Is the Four Seasons good?” Although I knew we had not booked a room there. After all, this was a four-hour visit.
"Sounds great,” the minister approved. “I hope you have a room there for me.” I knew the number for the Four Seasons by heart, and I called the front desk to let them know a state visit was imminent, ETA five minutes. The clerk was not alarmed, and only asked permission to inform the press. I approved that. Whom did I need to ask?
The DSS agents would have to make do. The HPD motorcycles, which travelled in front of us, were confused as well when I turned off to the Four Seasons. They had to turn around to rejoin us. I parked in front to join the entourage spilling out of the car. I enjoyed the flurry of movement. Moti’s chief of staff ran to catch up.
The Consulate Conspiracy Page 26
