Haggai Carmon - Triple Identity

“A calculated risk,” I concluded, when the information had sunk in.

“Anyway, his suspicion of Guttmacher was growing, and DeLouise felt that his problems should be resolved at their root so that he could return to the United States. He understood that his stay in Europe under Guttmacher's protection was short-lived. Trading on the Iranian secrets was a better choice, because it had the potential to totally extricate him from his problems.”

“What did DeLouise say to your offer to return to Israel?” I asked.

“He said he couldn't because he was afraid to use an airport. He was sure that INTERPOL had every patrol on every border looking for him. Airline records and passport control could have exposed him to the authorities and to an immediate arrest and extradition to the United States.”

“There are many ways of entering and leaving a country without letting the border control know about it,” I said matter-of-factly.

“Of course,” confirmed Benny, “but DeLouise was reluctant to come out of hiding and trust a smuggler who could blackmail him or simply sell him out. Although he never said so, I suspect he wanted us to do the job. Extricate him from Germany, bring him to Israel, and give him a new identity.”

“Did you do it?” I asked, wondering how many more identities DeLouise had.

“Certainly not. From our perspective there was no justification for that. Particularly when facing the risk of confronting the U.S. and Germany. We are not in the business of hiding people who run from the law, even if they were in our service thirty-three years ago.”

“Did you tell him that?”

“In a way. I told him he was on his own. So, as second best, he asked us to send his daughter, Ariel, to Munich to help him. We agreed to pass on his message.”

“Is that all you did?” I asked. I didn't quite buy his answer.

“No, of course not,” said Benny, with the small smile of a cat who'd just licked the forbidden cream.

“I'm listening,” I said, encouraging him to continue.

Benny looked at me hesitantly. “And this time I need to know,” I insisted.

“Well, we had two of our guys in Germany watching him. More to see what he was doing rather than to protect him.”

“You mean your men witnessed his murder?”

“Our instructions were to give him some room, unless they were the only ones who could save his life. And he was attacked when they were across the street more than fifty meters away. Too far to step in.”

“Did your men identify the killer?”

“No, they were wearing helmets.”

“They? The police report said there was one killer.”

“No, there were two of them on a motorcycle. Remember, our guys are professionals and they'd been watching DeLouise, while the bystanders who testified to the police were alerted to the event only after they heard the shooting. The one who sat on the backseat of the motorcycle got off, approached DeLouise, and shot him, while the other waited five meters away on the motorcycle with the engine running.”

“Come on, tell me what you know. Don't make me cross-examine you,” I said impatiently. “I guess you discovered who the killers were.”

“No, we didn't. That's a job for the police. We had no direct interest in it. Since DeLouise was no longer a security risk for us, who killed him became a secondary issue. Hey, life's tough.”

“Oh yes,” he added, as if he had just remembered something. “Here's something we couldn't give the police because we didn't want to be connected to the crime scene.” Benny took a spent shell out of his pocket. “These guys who killed DeLouise may have looked like professionals but they weren't; just a couple of sloppy thugs who left this behind.”

I took the shell and inspected it. It was a. 38 caliber and had no manufacturer's name on it. Benny was right; a professional would never have left this behind. It's the same as leaving your fingerprints. If the gun were found, the shell could be connected to the gun and its owner to the crime.

I put the telltale shell in my pocket and turned to Benny, “Thanks, did you pick up on all his European and Soviet escapades?”

Benny didn't answer.

“Go on,” I said, “It's important for our joint operation, and I know you have more information. I need the whole picture before I go to Moscow.”

“Why do you ask? You mean Eric didn't tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

“We told him what we knew. I was sure he gave you that information.”

“No, he didn't,” I said bitterly. “I don't like that jerk. He sits on important information like a dog on a heap. He only likes to get information, not to give any. It seems that the only thing he'll share with me is a communicable disease,” I said sarcastically. “Tell me what you gave him.”

“It's not a big secret that we've been chasing the Iranians in Europe trying to figure out what they are planning next. We know that ever since our jets leveled the Iraqi nuclear reactor in 1981 they've been suspecting that their nuclear capacity would be our next target.”

I had no argument with Benny.

“It's obvious that the Iranian ayatollahs are fanatics and will not hesitate to wipe out Israel,” Benny went on. “Our research department believes that the Iranians are deliberately leaking the news about their nuclear capacity. They are signaling the U.S., which is now planning an attack on Iraq, to stay away.”

It was time to shift the conversation back to what I needed. “What about DeLouise and the Iranians?”

“We still don't know if he tried to con them and make a quick bundle, as he told us, or if he, in fact, intended to deliver on his promise and broker a sale of nuclear materials from one of the republics of the Soviet Union. We don't know for sure yet; we are working on that now.”

“So I guess the Mossad would recommend that the joint operation with the CIA be authorized? It would be a good opportunity to share information and move a step forward in finding out what the Iranians still need.”

“I don't know,” said Benny. “There are so many factors in the decision-making process. The prime minister would be the one to decide, although the head of the Mossad has the same authority.”

“Well, at least he has some understanding of how these operations work,” I said. “After all, didn't he head up European operations working out of the Paris station?”

Benny took out one schnitzel from the bag and ate it while we walked.

“Now you see why I insisted that the break-in be silent,” he said. “That's why I interrupted you. I knew what you were about to say. But I wanted Eric to hear it first from me.”

Benny had learned how to be a politician too.

“We can't let the Iranians know we have their shopping list or that we are able to identify their suppliers.”

“Why?” I asked, although I knew the answer.

“Because they will take protective measures. We don't want that to happen. You saw what happened to the people who didn't listen to our friendly advice to stop shipping deadly materials to Iraq. Remember what happened to Gerald Bull. But I can offer you the flip side of it,” he added in a serious tone. “If the break-in becomes public, as well as the list, the suppliers will panic and might halt further shipments before we have exhausted all the benefits from the intelligence. They know that having their names on the front page of every newspaper in the world could be detrimental to their health, not only from Israel or the U.S. but also from unexpected directions. Think of the green environmentalist organizations; they are an emerging power in Europe,” he concluded with an ironic smile.

Of course I remembered. Israel had suspected that a TZ I nuclear reactor built by the French for the Iraqis in the late 1970s, allegedly for “research for peaceful purposes,” was in fact a crucial leap forward in Saddam's dream of an Iraqi A-bomb. Israel knew better than to attribute any peaceful intentions to Saddam. Israel had complained publicly, but the French had refused to listen. The transaction was too financially lucrative. So on the night of April 6,1979, at a factory in La-Seyne-sur-Mer, a small French village on the Mediterranean forty miles east of Marseille, a group of men penetrated the warehouse where the core of the nuclear reactor designed to hold the fuel had already been crated for delivery to Iraq and blew it up. Someone had then left messages at the news agencies attributing the detonation to the “French Ecologist Group.” Nobody had ever heard of the group before, nor has anyone heard of it since.