Jonathan de Shalit: Traitor

There was a soft knock at the door. A young man in a suit, his fair hair meticulously combed, entered the room hesitantly. Visibly nervous, he was carrying a tray bearing a pot of coffee, two mugs, a small milk jug, and a few packets of sugar and artificial sweetener. Roberts gestured for him to lay the tray on the table, and the young man did so with somewhat shaky hands, softly mumbling, “Sir.” He then exited in a hurry, taking care to lightly shut the door. Fucking cadets, Roberts thought to himself ungraciously. Brings coffee, and is slow in doing so, and is all worked up as if he’s about to cross the border into East Berlin. I’m too old for this shit.

Roberts knew that this was the point at which the meeting should come to an end. The walk-in was squeezed dry. He, too, felt drained. He needed a deeper understanding of certain things. And for that he needed time. Time with himself. Time during which one’s thoughts could swirl almost haphazardly in the mind, circling, crashing into one another, and then instantaneously take on form and volume. He needed to achieve a moment of enlightenment. Who was this young man? Why was he really there? What was driving him? What was his mind, as sharp and impressive as it might be, seeking? And what was his soul after? How could he be of service? What was he worth right now? What chance did he have of becoming someone truly significant in the future, someone with real and intimate access to actual secrets? How much investment, if any at all, was he worth? How long would it take to maintain and develop a relationship with him, until it stabilized? He was going to have to decide if this young man had any value.

“Okay, we need to end here now—this session, at least,” Roberts said. “I will pass everything on to the relevant parties. It may take a while before we get back to you.”

Alon nodded.

“I, or someone on my behalf, will contact you at some point,” Robert continued. “I, or someone on my behalf, will use the name Alan Stone, okay? We won’t meet with you in Israel—unless we have a special or critical need to do so. When we talk again, we’ll meet at one of our embassies overseas, in keeping with the options available to you. Preferably in Europe. We won’t use the word ‘embassy’ over the phone. It’ll be enough to say, ‘Our office in Rome,’ ‘Our office in Paris,’ and so on. Got it?”

Alon swallowed his saliva and nodded, confirming he had understood.

“Repeat the instructions I have given you,” Roberts said.

The young man did so clearly, his voice shaking suddenly.

“If we meet in Israel,” Roberts went on, “and the chances as I’ve said are very slim, we’ll do so in the lobby of the Tel Aviv Hilton. If you wish to contact us, call this number.” The embassy official handed him a business card bearing the name of a trading company and a telephone number in Hamburg. “Don’t call from a telephone associated with you, and always identify yourself as David Mannheim. Ask to speak with Alan Stone. We’ll get back to you. Be patient. It may take some time.”

The young man stood up, his face blank and his eyes cold. “I appreciate the time you’ve given me,” he said, shaking Roberts’s hand. “It was good meeting with you—I hope,” he added with a smile, well aware of the cliché on his lips, “that it’s the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

The man who had introduced himself during the meeting as Roberts was actually William Duke. He waited for the walk-in to leave the room in the company of the security guard, stood up, stretched his aching back, ran his fingers through his hair, and returned to his office. With a brief glance at the photograph of his wife and children on the desk and a despairing look at his watch, he retrieved a yellow notepad from one of the drawers and began writing up his report on the meeting that had just ended.

1. Attached hereto are the questionnaire forms containing the complete particulars of the individual in question. See comments below.

2. Intelligent, calculating, knows what he wants, determined.

3. Appears to be motivated primarily by money. The subject is looking for a long-term relationship that would ensure him a steady income. If he does indeed rise through the ranks of the Israeli establishment as he intends to do, his price is expected to rise accordingly. Although still early days, it’s safe to assume already at this point that if his aspirations bear fruit and he truly finds himself walking the corridors of power and influence, we’d probably be happy to pay.

4. The deal the subject is offering us reflects a profound degree of cynicism, which, based on my initial impressions, forms a significant aspect of his personality.

5. The subject appears eager to be a part of “something” bigger than himself—a great nation, an all-powerful organization, and the like. Dime-store psychology aside, I direct your attention to the matter of the subject’s father and his abandonment of the family during the subject’s early childhood (see questionnaires), with all its emotional and financial implications.

6. The subject makes a point of stressing that his approach to us doesn’t conflict with his country’s best interests, both due to the fact that we are allies and because he views us as the “responsible adult” with the power, diplomatic wisdom, and international standing to know what’s best for his country; more so than its leaders themselves. It’s important to preserve and develop this line of thought.

7. The subject’s current value is marginal. Our prime interest is not the military intelligence to which he has access in the framework of his service in the reserves, although we may be pleasantly surprised. And the political information to which he is privy as a parliamentary aide won’t offer much more than our embassy staff can obtain openly. Nevertheless, a position in the bureau of one of the government ministers—if he is able to secure one—may offer some real potential.

8. His true value, therefore, lies somewhere in the future. There’s no guarantee that the subject, of all people, and not others from among the thousands of talented individuals seeking advancement in the Israeli political establishment and civil service, will rise to the key positions that truly interest us. That said, I must point out at this stage the subject’s obvious drive, cool-headedness, lack of scruples, and impressive capabilities as factors that bode well for the rise through the ranks he has promised. Most significant is the fact that the subject has already offered himself to us.

9. I don’t think we’ve got anything to lose by viewing the subject as an investment for the long term. Our financial input to begin with should be modest. We should pay the subject the minimum sum required to preserve the relationship and fuel his motivation to move forward under our guidance.

Duke put his pen down. His draft report was ready. He placed the pages in the small safe in the corner of his office, shut the heavy door, locked it with a key he retrieved from his pocket, and turned the number dial.

On the way home to Parioli, he stopped outside a café he was in the habit of drinking at almost every day—espresso in the mornings and whisky in the evenings. With a piece of white chalk he removed from his pocket, he drew a small star on the crumbling brick wall on the corner of the street. He had given the signal. And he was now waiting for the meeting.

He waited. After alerting his handler of his need for a meeting, William Duke sat for three evenings in succession in the plush bar of the Hassler Hotel, looking out over the city’s domes and steeples, sipping exorbitantly expensive whisky, passing the time in idle thought, and casting a bored gaze over the establishment’s incoming and outgoing patrons. If he didn’t show up tonight, he would have to repeat the same waiting process in precisely one week, and this time at the Grand Hotel de la Minerve, near the Pantheon. Driving by his regular café two days ago in the morning, he had seen a red circle around the white star he had left there on the wall. His signal had been received and confirmed. All he had to do now was to wait. Duke was pleased to be serving in Rome on his own. His wife had chosen to remain in Washington to continue managing her trendy boutique—a surprisingly successful and prosperous venture, or one that at least hadn’t folded like her previous business efforts, which had left an increasingly large hole in their bank account. Their two children were grown up and were both at college—Patty at North Dakota, and Greg at Michigan State. He needed the foreign-service pay to support them and also to finance his wife’s rather extravagant lifestyle. His relationship with his wife had long since become a business arrangement. The warmth and intimacy had disappeared—just as the love had before them. Could what they had had really be called love?