by Nathan Ronen
“And who am I attempting to seduce?” Sasha asked quietly.
“You’ll receive the full details about your target, including a copy of her personal record, just before the operation.”
“And what makes her vulnerable, if I can ask?” Sasha whispered.
“She’s got chronic putzelin deficiency,” Motke Hassin said with unabashed sexism, bursting out in laughter in response to his own witticism. “Or to put it another way, she really needs to get some.”
Sasha’s face indicated that he was not getting the joke.
“You speak Yiddish, right? Putz means rigid, hard. It’s a reference to the male organ.”
Sasha nodded in embarrassment.
“It’s an order to be executed. Look at it as an order not from the current Mossad director, who certainly wouldn’t have issued it, but from all previous Mossad directors.”
Sasha’s “Okay” was tentative.
“You trusted me when you were my subordinate, and I’m asking you to trust me now. This is a critical matter with national implications. Do you confirm that you’re taking this mission upon yourself?”
“I understand. What do I need to do?” Sasha replied, his voice low.
Motke explained it to him.
The two men rose from their seats without finishing their meal. A 200-NIS bill was left on the table, and each of them disappeared in a different direction as the waitresses tracked them with their eyes, mystified.
Chapter 32
The Prime Minister’s Office
The beehive gathered around its latest queen, the new prime minister, Ehud Tzur. It was in the best interest of everyone present that he would win the upcoming elections in his own right, as his party’s candidate for prime minister. They knew their fates were linked with his, and that from third assistants, they would be promoted to members of the most powerful political office in the State of Israel.
“I want to travel to the US, immediately after Easter. To meet the re-elected president. Make it happen while the AIPAC20 Policy Conference is taking place, and see if you can set it up so I can speak before the American Congress. They know how to honor their guests,” Ehud Tzur expressed his fondest wish.
“It’s not that simple,” said Arthur Schein, the political advisor. “The AIPAC Policy Conference is traditionally held in March, while Easter…”
“Then ask them to reschedule it,” Tzur scolded him.
Arthur Schein smiled. “The organization is already being accused in the States of steering the American government into adopting policies that are not always in the United States’ best interest. This is the last thing you need. One leak that you’re dictating the time of the conference, and all the young people who already disapprove of Israel’s policy in the Gaza Strip demand to found a competing organization. You’d be causing this important organization to implode.”
“And what about meeting the president? Can that be arranged? You told me yourself that a photo op with the president is worth quite a few seats in the Knesset.”
“But the American president is a seasoned politician. As long as you haven’t been elected, and you’re just a candidate, he’s going to avoid meeting you, and so I think that, with all due respect, this isn’t a good idea.”
“Have you noticed that every time I bring up an idea, you immediately explain to me why it can’t be done,” Ehud Tzur grumbled.
“Sir, with all due respect, I know the American system of checks and balances better than you. All the ideas you’ve brought up are excellent, as long as they take place when the time is ripe.”
“But I need something dramatic. What exactly are you leaving me with, the opening ceremony for a nursery school in some outpost in the West Bank?”
“Why don’t you work on setting up an invitation to speak before Congress on behalf of the chairman of the Republican Party? They control Congress anyway and you don’t need the president’s permission to speak there,” one of the prime minister’s aides suggested.
Arthur Schein leaped up as if snake-bitten. “I think that’s a really bad idea. You don’t want to piss off a Democratic president on his second term. Israel needs to be aware of its own scale. It’s a very small country, at the mercy of the only superpower that grants it financial and military support…” Schein said. “You can’t send a message to the American president that the tail is trying to wag the dog.”
But it was too late. Tzur’s expression clearly conveyed that he had fallen in love with his political aide’s idea.
“I actually like this idea of yours. Check on it with Stephen Boyd, Speaker of the House.”
Schein tried to express his objections once more; he was the only one at the table who was intimately familiar with American politics, which were radically different than the Israeli “catch as catch can” mindset. But the attendees were already rising from their seats.
“Geula, I want you to look into the option of coming back through Morocco. Monique, my wife, was born there, and I want a well-covered visit with plenty of photos. Preferably in the city of Meknes, with the heads of the Jewish community, and I want it to be broadcast on prime time here in Israel. Most of my party members are Moroccan in origin.”
Schein mumbled to himself, “But you don’t have diplomatic relations with Morocco…” However, no one was listening.
“I’m not coming to America with you,” Geula said.
“I thought you’d enjoy it,” the prime minister said, refraining from pressuring her.
“There’s so much work to do here opposite the party HQ… and we still don’t have everything wrapped up. It’s better if I stay here,” Geula concluded, gazing down at the table in order to conceal her hostility toward the foreign advisor.
* * *
20 The American Israel Public Affairs Committee (AIPAC) is a lobbying group that advocates pro-Israel policies to the Congress and Executive Branch of the United States. The annual AIPAC Policy Conference is the largest gathering of the pro-Israel movement.
Chapter 33
Capitol Hill, Washington, D.C.
At precisely one p.m., Israeli Prime Minister Ehud Tzur climbed to the podium at the American House of Representatives. He was received with enthusiastic applause.
The elections in Israel were set to take place in about two months, and the American president did not wish to be perceived as influencing the elections in a foreign country. Therefore, he had asked to postpone the visit until after the elections. However, based on the advice of Tzur’s aides, Speaker of the House and Majority Republican Leader Stephen Boyd was manipulated into inviting the Israeli prime minister to speak despite the objections of Democratic Party leaders, in an attempt to taunt the Democrat president. Boyd also concealed his long-term plan to secure a place deep in the hearts and pockets of donors from the Jewish community, in preparation for the next elections, in which he saw himself nominated to run for vice president.
It was an invitation born in sin and recklessly accepted, in a display of utter insensitivity and political cluelessness. Speaking before Congress without advance coordination with the White House, based solely on an invitation from one party, even if that party was currently ruling Capitol Hill, was considered a political misstep that might cause long-term damage and an ongoing crisis in the relations between the two countries in the years to come, by belittling the dignity and status of the American president.
However, Ehud Tzur didn’t care. He knew his chances of being elected prime minister in the upcoming elections were not good. In-depth surveys commissioned by Arthur Schein proved this. He had never been a prominent member of the party, often besmirched with suspicions of illicit deeds due to his associations with both criminals and tycoons. He had decided to double down and bet it all. After all, the American president was not the one to ensure his victory in the Israeli elections. His political instincts, consistently belitt
led, were urging him to travel to the United States and speak live before Congress at precisely eight p.m. Israel time, when the people of Israel were collectively sitting in front of the popular evening newscast. Surveys had proven to him that provincial Israelis were motivated by the desire to be loved all over the world. This tiny country on the verge of the Western world, a small Western villa within the Islamic jungle, had the need to be accepted into the family of Christian nations. This was the exact need that Ehud Tzur’s trip abroad was meant to fulfill; he would demonstrate how beloved he was by their major ally, and how much he was appreciated in the American House of Representatives.
“Israelis will enjoy seeing the immense honor bestowed on their leader by the American Congress. When they see all the House members rising to their feet and applauding enthusiastically after each punchline that’s been well coordinated with the House Speaker, no one’s going to remember that this is all standard procedure in the US Congress. After all, they put on a similar display for any visiting leader, in order to show him a good time,” Arthur Schein coached him with a sour expression. “You’ll return home like a winner who conquered Capitol Hill under his own steam, rather than by anyone else’s good graces. That alone should be worth at least four more seats in the Knesset.”
Ehud Tzur knew that Schein was not the only one to object to his Congress appearance. He also knew that it would anger many American Jews who cultivated a good relationship with the White House and the regime. However, the opinion of American Jews was the last thing on Ehud Tzur’s mind. He was more concerned with the deeds of the ‘goyim’ who had honored him with a Congress appearance that would be broadcast live in Israel.
He was greeted with fervent applause as he entered the congressional hall. He noted that the American vice president, who traditionally honored esteemed guests speaking before the general assembly with his presence, had made it a point to absent himself this time.
Tzur gazed directly at the TV cameras and spoke about the unshakeable alliance between Israel and the United States. He knew he was thrusting a skillful finger into the cracks between the multiple candidates in the majority party aspiring to run for president. After all, all of them valued the support of the wealthy and cohesive Jewish community.
The members of the assembly rose from their seats ten times to applaud every single cliché that Arthur Schein had composed for him. The TV cameras transmitted the broadcast via satellite to every radio and television station in Israel.
Ehud Tzur enjoyed the show. His English was not fluent, but his meticulous preparations had included diction experts who allowed him to pass the test with flying colors.
His eyes scanned the invitee seats. He did not see the heads of the Jewish community, who were missing the show per the White House’s request. But one tall figure with curly hair, glaring at him with open contempt from the upper gallery, drew his attention. Could it be Cornfield? What the hell is he doing there? And how did he find his way in? he wondered angrily.
After the speech, Stephen Boyd took him out to lunch at J Paul’s, one of Georgetown’s best seafood restaurants. He ordered his favorite, New England clam chowder served in a sourdough bread bowl, with generous portions of potatoes and onion lightly fried in bacon fat, along with sides of sour cream and salty oyster crackers.
In the background, a blind African-American piano player was singing and playing traditional American selections of ragtime, jazz, blues and Gershwin tunes.
Ehud Tzur used his fingers to sprinkle some chopped parsley into the soup, taking advantage of his host’s conversation with a Congress member at an adjacent table to call Geula, his office manager in Israel. “I want you to check with the new head of the Shin Bet, Shlomo Toby, what that son of a bitch Cornfield is doing here, and who gave him authorization to sit in Congress’s VIP gallery…”
Chapter 34
The US Senate Committee on Foreign Relations
The black Chevrolet Suburban picked up Ben-Ami Cornfield at his hotel after breakfast. They drove along Pennsylvania Avenue in the direction of the Capitol Building in Washington, D.C. The large-domed building on the hill was home to both houses of Congress, the Senate and the House of Representatives. From afar, the building struck Cornfield as bearing a surprising resemblance to St. Paul’s Cathedral in London.
The vehicle descended into the Visitor Center parking lot and was ushered into a parking spot reserved for senators. Mark Rosen, aide to the chairman of the Senate Committee on Foreign Relations, came out to greet Cornfield and lead him down the maze of corridors of the legislative center. Untypically, Cornfield was wearing a gray suit with a dark blue tie that complimented his tall form and his graying hair. He had brought along his best walking stick, a mahogany cane with a white sculpted eagle’s head on top and a silvered tack at its base, which had been a gift from his friend the CIA director upon his retirement.
Cornfield limped into the lavish bureau of committee chairman and Illinois Senator John McNamara. He was a veteran of the Marines, a pilot who had been taken as a prisoner of war by the Viet Kong during the Vietnam War. John rose to meet him jovially, shaking Cornfield’s hand.
He had prepared a thirty-year-old bottle of Macallan whisky in his office to give Cornfield, and was disappointed to hear that Cornfield was now clean and sober.
“I heard that you retired a short time after our beloved prime minister Lolik Kenan was killed in a plane crash in Ukraine,” John McNamara said.
“It’s true. The new prime minister is a different breed. He’s one of those obscure politicians who are suddenly promoted to a major role, and right now he’s a bit drunk on power.”
“I asked to see you because I heard you were in town,” McNamara said. “I have to convey a message through you to our friends in Israel, that the members of the US Senate Committee on Foreign Relations are confused. And with you, Ben-Ami, I don’t have to be politically correct. I’ll tell you that we’re actually quite angry with all of you. What’s going on here is very unprofessional!”
“What exactly are you mad about?”
“You know us. Always, opposite every regime, Republican or Democrat, this committee has made sure to protect Israel’s best interests. More than any other committee, we’ve taken care to enforce the American law intended to preserve the quality gap between the Israeli army and those of its neighbors in the Middle East. We’ve always acted as an impenetrable wall on your behalf opposite the White House and the Department of State. For years, we fiercely opposed Saudi pressure and other senate committees, ensuring that future arms deals with the Saudis or any other country in the Middle East would not include advanced weapons and missile systems that could threaten you. And suddenly, this week, we get a request to authorize a deal of several hundred billion dollars in favor of the Saudis, including fifth-generation F-35 stealth bombers, manufactured by Lockheed Martin, and sophisticated missile systems that can deal with any invading aircraft.”
“I’m not that up to date on military purchases,” Cornfield mumbled, embarrassed.
“That’s not the point!” John pounded on the table angrily. “I was expecting to see the Israeli ambassador frothing at the mouth in rage, coming to us to thwart this deal, and lo and behold, your prime minister stays quiet, understandingly accepting, with thundering silence, the same deal we’ve been opposing for years. I thought this was a misunderstanding, and invited your military attaché to an informal lunch, and he hinted to me that the Israeli Prime Minister’s Office had greenlighted their consent to allow the American government to carry out the deal.”
Cornfield looked in John’s eyes and saw true rage reflecting there.
“Can you understand why we’re confused and baffled by this zigzagging Israeli policy?”
Cornfield remained stunned and speechless.
“Henry Kissinger once claimed that Israel had no foreign policy, only a domestic policy. This stupid stunt by Ehud Tzur, this
immature and amateur trick of using Congress as a means of scraping up a few more Knesset seats, will cost you very dearly. Our president has decided to teach ‘the mouse that roared’ a lesson, and is taking his revenge on you by approving a tremendous arms deal with Saudi Arabia, including some highly advanced systems. Systems whose sale we opposed for many years in order to preserve Israel’s strategic superiority. And you know the most amazing part? The most amazing part is that all of the senior administration members in your Ministry of Foreign Affairs and Ministry of Defense have been instructed to keep their mouths shut, not to interfere or protest, so as not to create further tension with the United States. I’ve heard from the commander of your Air Force that everyone in their HQ is in shock. What are you guys going through over there?”
Cornfield was in complete agreement with the sentiments expressed by John and his people, but he had always made a point of refraining from complaining about Israeli policymakers to foreign officials while abroad, and therefore only said awkwardly: “Thanks so much for protecting us from ourselves, John. Let me look into this with some friends with senior roles in our defense system.”
Cornfield returned to his hotel for an afternoon nap before his next meeting with his friend Jack Derby, the current director of the CIA. He sat in the hotel balcony, which looked out on the boulevard of national museums between Capitol Hill and the Washington Monument, immersed in melancholy thoughts.
Prime Minister Ehud Tzur’s hasty decision to challenge the American president had been portrayed in Israel by spin doctor Arthur Schein as a major success indicative of the prime minister’s courage and his innovative strategic vision. Surveys showed that Ehud Tzur was now the frontrunner among his party’s candidates, especially within far right circles, which demanded expanding the settlement in the West Bank while ignoring American pressure to the contrary.