Haggai Carmon - Triple Identity

The first important document was an agreement between Triple Technologies and Bankhaus Backer amp; Haas. Under the agreement, Triple Technologies assigned a Credit Suisse certificate of deposit in the amount of $2,050,000.00 to Guttmacher's bank. The nice thing about it was a confirmation at the bottom of the document by Credit Suisse that they consented to the assignment. They also confirmed that DeLouise was a director who had sole power to sign for Triple Technologies. That could serve as some proof of the connection between DeLouise and Triple Technologies, in case we decided to try to pierce the corporate veil and show that the company was in fact DeLouise's alter ego. If I could show that DeLouise had commingled his assets with those of Triple Technologies and that there was really no separation between DeLouise and his company, it might convince a Swiss judge to attach the company's assets to satisfy the huge money judgment against DeLouise.

The next document was an agreement between the Italian Broncotrade and Tehran Nuclear Research Center (TNRC), Tehran, Iran. Under the agreement Broncotrade committed to act as the TNRC's liaison for the purchase of machinery, materials, and consulting services from European companies. Broncotrade received a monthly payment of $150,000 for its efforts and was promised a bonus of five million dollars when its mission was successfully completed. The agreement detailed the various services Broncotrade had agreed to provide to the Iranians. There was reference to a list of materials attached as exhibit to the agreement. I searched, but the attachment was missing from the file.

I was surprised that DeLouise had gotten his hand on this contract. He wasn't supposed to be in the loop concerning the relationship between Broncotrade and the Iranians. I guessed that DeLouise had “borrowed” a copy from Guttmacher's file, as part of his effort to build a dossier on the Iranians.

The file also contained confirmations of money transfers, through Guttmacher's bank, between Broncotrade and three accounts in other European banks. These were identified only by numbers, with no names of holders. These could be numbered accounts of individuals wanting to hide their identities.

Ariel approached and handed me a cup of hot tea and a small chocolate cookie. I found her presence very distracting. I didn't want her to see me looking through the material in the file and taking notes. After all, I was after her father's money. Not that I thought that Ariel would attempt to take the stolen money and run; she didn't seem impatient to get the money at all. If she was, she'd have been picking up from Guttmacher the envelope her father had mentioned in his first letter. Still, I wasn't professionally comfortable with Ariel leaning over my shoulder. Personally, it was another story.

Clearly it was time to call Stone and Henderson to tell them what I had. Hot stuff and plenty of it. But I couldn't do that with Ariel listening. I closed the file and turned to her. She had moved to the loveseat in the corner and was flipping through a magazine. I loved the silences between us. She didn't seem to need to fill them with useless talk. I liked that quality in a woman; she was comfortable with herself and me.

“I'm hungry,” said Ariel. “How about dinner?”

“I'd love to, but not just yet. I need to make some phone calls first.”

“OK,” said Ariel, “I'll go to my room to freshen up and meet you back here in an hour.”

“Good,” I said, “but remember – no phone calls, not one. We've got to be careful until we find out who's after you.”

“I'll be a good girl,” promised Ariel. I didn't know if she was being facetious, sardonic, or yielding.

I went to the lobby and locked the file in the hotel safe. For the umpteenth time I used a pay phone in the street to call Stone in Washington.

“Dan, where are you? Still in Moscow?” came David's friendly voice.

“No, David. I'm back in Munich. I made real progress. Things look promising, in both areas – Eric's and ours. But first I need to study some documents I've just received. I simply called to report that I'm back in Munich at the Intercontinental. I'll call you soon with another report.”

And before David could comment, I added, “I have Ariel with me.”

“Good,” said David, “is she cooperating?”

“So far, so good,” I said, “but she still doesn't know who I really am, and that bothers me.”

“It never bothered you before,” said David.

“It's different this time. I hope to be able to explain – to you, to her, and to myself.”

Next I called Eric. He wasn't available. I left a message. I'd done my part. I retrieved the file from the safe, went back to my room, and continued going through its contents. Then I saw it – a handwritten note: “Cyrus Armajani, Schwanthalerstrasse 122, Munich. Tel (089) 555-6765.” That must be Armajani's private residence and phone number. There were many more documents that I was curious to read, but Ariel called and asked me to meet her downstairs for dinner. I took the file with me and back it went into the hotel safe.

We went casually into the hotel restaurant, almost as though we were going out on a date for the sixth or seventh time. We didn't talk about work, or about anything meaningful. Ariel spoke with her body. She liked to touch me with her hands. She touched my arm occasionally, my cheek, or my hand. This was her way of saying things and I needed to learn her language. I didn't want to miss a sentence, or even a single word.

After dinner we took a short walk. The streets were fairly empty and it was cold. This was no way to relax, with me having to constantly be on the alert, so back we went to the hotel.

“You must be tired,” I said. “We've had a long day.”

“Not really,” she countered, with, I thought, an invitation in her voice. But I couldn't ask her to my room again. Self-control was the order of the day, but it wasn't easy. I had to separate my work from all else.

“I'll see you in the morning,” I said.

“And I need to arrange a meeting with Guttmacher,” she reminded me matter-of-factly.

“Not just yet. Please. This is important and I've got to check some things out before you call him. Trust me.”

I couldn't tell her that I had to speak to Henderson first, clear her meeting with Guttmacher, and hear how the break-in operation was progressing. I went on.

“I'll see you for breakfast at eight. Is that too early?”

“No. That's fine.”

“Remember,” I repeated, “no phone calls.”

I stepped over to her, held her arms, and said, “We'll have a lot to talk about when it's all over, so forgive me for being a bit cool. I'm simply focused on my work, and it's not easy when you're around.”

It was the most direct statement I'd ever made to her.

She came closer, rose on her toes, kissed me lightly on my lips, turned around, and left without a word. I went to the lobby, took the file from the hotel safe, and asked the receptionist to let me do some photocopying. “The business center is closed now,” she said. “Why don't you try in the morning?”

“I can't wait; these are medical documents that are needed for an emergency surgery. I must send them out with a courier to the United States.”

That must have convinced her, and she unenthusiastically showed me to a back office. An hour later I was done. I returned the original file to the safe. I still had to satisfy my curiosity with respect to Armajani's Munich address, so I took a cab to the building and surveyed it. Upon my return there was a message waiting from Henderson. No need to wait. I called him back from the lobby.

“I need your report on Moscow,” said Eric. He must have had some advance warning from Hart.