Triple Identity dg-1

by Haggai Carmon

  “Why did I have to tell you? You were chasing DeLouise's fortune. That was on your mind, and I helped you out. Not that I confirm your theory, but how did you figure it out?”

  “It was clear that both DeLouise and Ariel were working for you. Ariel only recently, probably when she escaped from her captors in Munich into the Israeli Consulate. But I believe DeLouise was enlisted as a one-time unremunerated recruit when he started his contact with the Iranians. My suspicion was confirmed when I realized that Ariel gave me the original Iranian file her father had left her. I concluded that you already had a complete copy and that you allowed Ariel to give me the file, to achieve two goals: to lead me away from the suspicion that Ariel worked for you, and to make the delivery of the Iranian file through me to the CIA look authentic, without any sign of collusion between DeLouise and the Mossad. Obviously Israel could do without the scandal the U.S. could make if it were discovered that Israel was helping an absconding suspected felon.”

  Benny gave me another of those cat-that-ate-the-canary looks. “You were interested in DeLouise's money, Dan, and we had other interests, so what's so bad about a few maneuvers that could help an old friend in a way that helped you and the U.S. as well?”

  “You could have told me.”

  “I couldn't; that would have put you in a mess,” countered Benny pointedly. “I don't forget that you work for the U.S. Department of Justice, and if I had revealed our interests you would have had to report it to your superiors. That would have made things far more complicated.”

  I had to admit that Benny's sophistication was impressive. I'd asked for routine help, and that enabled him to help me walk in the right direction. At the same time, he put himself in the loop and kept his options open; he could participate in break-ins to steal documents essential for Israel's security but also be covered under the American umbrella if the operation went sour. And the biggest achievement of all: recruit an old operative who could maneuver the Iranians and report on their activities. So many birds and only one stone.

  “OK, you got what you wanted,” I said, “while I'm stuck with an endless pile of paper. And while I sort things out, DeLouise's money could vanish.”

  “Patience,” Benny assured me. “I'm sure the solution is not too far off.”

  “Benny, you mentioned earlier that DeLouise had told you that he knew that my office was looking not just for his money but for him as well. Did he tell you how he'd found out?”

  “Yes. Early in the game, his California lawyer heard from the clerk's office of the Federal District Court that the U.S. intended to serve DeLouise in Switzerland with the summons and complaint in the civil proceedings. The lawyer was a veteran of the Civil Division of the Justice Department and was familiar with its policy to locate debtors of significant amounts even if they are overseas.”

  So there was no security leak in my office after all.

  As we got up to leave, I looked at Ariel. I wanted to talk to her but I felt a cold wind blowing from her direction. She left the briefing room and walked into the corridor. I joined her uninvited.

  “So Blecher says that you were the one who exposed me to Guttmacher,” Ariel accused. Her voice was icy.

  “How did I do that?” I asked, hurt and disappointed that she would choose those as her first words since parting from me weeks before. I didn't know how to bridge the rift between us. From the tone of her voice, it sounded as if Ariel was also going to blame me for a whole list of man-made or natural disasters.

  “When you told Guttmacher that you knew that he was holding the envelope my father gave him for me. Since he knew that my father was dead, he presumed that I was the only person who could tell you that, and that showed him we were working together. Since he suspected you, I was contaminated as well.”

  “That's not quite right, Ariel,” I said apologetically. “There is a simple explanation. It was my only way of convincing him that I was in the loop; I hoped that, by demonstrating that I had read your father's letter, Guttmacher would be convinced that I was in fact your father's partner in the deal with the Iranians. Obviously I didn't know he was the villain. I'm sorry I caused you trouble.” I didn't add that given Blecher's account, Guttmacher planned to kill Ariel regardless. There was no point in kindling more friction between us.

  Ariel looked amused. She was toying with me. But when she saw my grim face she added, “Don't worry, I don't blame you. You didn't know. You see, when my father was killed, Guttmacher was sure he was home free with the money. He didn't realize that my father was too smart to trust him. My dad wrote me that he was suspicious of Guttmacher and therefore prepared new documents for me that replaced all the stuff Guttmacher was holding. But Guttmacher didn't know that my father was bypassing him and leaving new instructions for me. The letter you saw telling me to contact Guttmacher was written before my father started to suspect him.”

  “Your dad was a clever man,” I put in. “He left a back door open.”

  Ariel nodded. “So from the moment you gave that detail to Guttmacher, to gain his trust, I became dangerous for him. He realized that I knew that he'd kept the money. He was convinced that I was the final roadblock between him and more than many millions of dollars, so he had to have me put out of the way.”

  I decided not to argue with her. There was no point in reminding Ariel of her own contribution to Guttmacher's decision to eliminate her.

  “I'm surprised you even agree to speak to me, if that's really your opinion of me,” I said, trying to think how difficult it would be to erase all the dreams I had about Ariel. There seemed to be no chance for any of them to materialize.

  “I was angry at you. I trusted you, and I was disappointed to realize that you betrayed my trust, until I saw the whole picture.”

  “I don't think I've ever betrayed your trust,” I protested. “I may have kept some facts from you, but please understand, I was doing my job. You were the daughter of my target. You were the clue to the resolution of the mystery.”

  “It was difficult to understand,” said Ariel, “because I thought you were working for the Mossad. But then when I found out that you weren't, at least not any longer, I started my own little investigation to find out who you were really working for.”

  I was too surprised to say anything.

  “When the Mossad agents took my mother from the pension, she asked them about you and discovered you weren't one of them.”

  “So how did you find out who I was working for?”

  “Rather easily, actually. Benny told me.”

  “The collaborator,” I said, realizing that not only had Benny manipulated me throughout to achieve the Mossad's goals in the DeLouise-Iranian matter, he had also meddled in my private life.

  “No,” she said, “not at all. He really loves you. He's the one who cooled me down. He helped me understand exactly what was happening.”

  My tongue was dry. I'd blown it, at least with Ariel. The success we'd had with the Iranian files didn't mean much when I realized that Ariel was now out of reach.

  “There is something else,” she said quietly, sensing my feelings.

  I looked directly at her, suddenly at a loss for words. I felt bitter and defeated.

  “What? You forgot to tell me the name of the plague I've just contaminated the world with?”

  “There's no need to be sarcastic,” said Ariel. “I just want you to know that I wasn't completely truthful with you either. So now we're even, aren't we?”

  “But did I step into a new trap?” I asked, “What else did I miss?”

  “Moscow. I mean, when I went to Moscow, I had a mission.”

  “I know that,” I said, “you've already told me. You wanted to expose the suppliers of nuclear materials to the Iranians.”

  “That's the part I told you,” she confirmed, “but there was something else.” She hesitated.

  She got my attention. She saw a question mark blinking in my eyes. “Go on, tell me.”

  “The Moscow idea was no
t mine.”

  I saw where she was heading. “It was Benny's ploy,” I said matter of factly.

  Now it was Ariel's turn to be surprised. “How did you find out? I don't believe he told you.”

  “No, he hasn't. I suspected you were working for someone in Moscow; your story just didn't make sense to me. So I called Benny from Moscow and asked him if you worked for him.”

  “And what did he say?”

  “He denied it,” I said. “I can't always tell when Benny is not telling the truth, but I know when he's outright lying.”

  Ariel narrowed her eyes again. “You couldn't have figured it out by yourself? Or did you?”

  I had to decide quickly whether to look smart or be truthful. I chose the latter.

  “Remember when you were attacked and I ran to your room to pack your things?”

  Ariel nodded.

  “Well, I took a quick look and found your phone book.”

  “And?”

  “There was a small piece of paper in it with just a five-digit number. I recognized the number; it's the code you need to punch in after you've dialed a Belgian telephone number. Once the correct code is recognized, the call is automatically transferred to Benny's private line at his office in Tel Aviv.”

  Ariel was stunned. “So you did figure it out after all!”

  “Yes, it was really simple. He'd given me the code for the month. The only logical conclusion was that your contact with Benny had to have been very recent. But since you denied knowing who he was, you were lying to me on that, too.”

  Ariel lowered her eyes.

  “So you've been working for him all along?”

  “No, just for the trip to Moscow. When I ran from the kidnappers in Munich to the Israeli Consulate and told them how angry I was about my father's murderers, Benny's guys suggested that I get even.”

  “How?”

  “They wanted me to go to Moscow to get some more samples of materials from my father's contacts.”

  “Why? What was the purpose?” I asked, although I already knew the answer.

  “I don't know, they just wanted me to meet with them, get another sample, give them some money, and tell them that we'd like to do more business in the future.”

  “I guess you met them before I came to Moscow, because you were under my radar as soon I arrived. Besides, who's ‘we’?” I asked.

  “Me and my dad,” she said,

  “But he's dead,” I responded. “I saw him dead.”

  “The Russians didn't know that.”

  “Aha,” I said, “so Benny pulled off another brilliant one, keeping the flame burning for future reference.”

  Ariel's eyes shone. “Flame?”

  “Yes, by sending you to follow up on your father's initial contacts while they were still hot, the Mossad was letting the Russians think that the Iranians were genuinely interested in their merchandise. Now the Mossad could infiltrate their rogue operation, manipulate it, maybe get to the bottom and the top at the same time. So now are we even in the truth department?” I asked.

  “Well, not exactly. My father had left his will with Mr. Bart to be delivered to me.” This got my attention yet again.

  “You never mentioned it when we talked in Moscow. You mean there was a third envelope?”

  “Yes,” she said. “I didn't know about it until I read my father's letter again, the one you retrieved from the safe-deposit box. Do you remember the last sentence in that letter?”

  “Not exactly. What did it say?”

  “I was to tell Mr. Bart the nickname my father called me when I was just five years old, and that Mr. Bart would laugh.”

  “Yes,” I remembered now, “I didn't understand what it all meant.”

  “I couldn't either,” said Ariel, “but when I reread it, I decided to see Mr. Bart again. I had the chance ten days ago when Blecher asked me to return from Israel as a potential witness. Otherwise, I'd have gone on my own.”

  “Did he laugh?” I asked, realizing, of course, that there was a code in the instruction.

  “No. He didn't laugh, but he gave me the third big envelope. The nickname was a code word my father gave him to release the envelope only to me. My father paid him nicely for the service.”

  “What was your nickname?”

  “Ponchick,” she said, smiling in embarrassment. “As you know, the word means ‘jelly donut.’”

  I laughed too. “And what was in the third envelope?”

  “The final truth, the resolution, and the rewards,” she said enigmatically. “My father wrote me in the accompanying letter that his second wife and her son, who is my half-brother, had been taken care of financially through a maze of family trusts he had established while they were still living in California. Therefore, he wrote, his entire estate should be mine. To guarantee that only I would get the money, he prepared notarized assignment instruments, surviving his death, which transferred title of all his assets to my name. He even wrote checks made out to me on all his cash accounts.”

  “Good for you,” I said, fearing that now I'd find myself fighting Ariel over the money her father left her. What else could go wrong? “Are you a rich woman now?” I asked bitterly, seeing where the conversation was going.

  “What would you like me to be?” she asked teasingly.

  I didn't like this conversation, and I wasn't about to continue with it.

  “Look, Ariel,” I said. “Please, you're tormenting me. I admit I made mistakes. I apologized once, I'm apologizing again, but please don't rub my nose in them. Since you are your father's sole heir, I guess you understand that the U.S. government has a civil judgment against your father that can be satisfied from his estate. You're up for a long battle with them over that.”

  “No,” she smiled, “there will be no battle.”

  “What do you mean? The judgment is valid and can be enforced against your father's assets, even if they are outside the United States and have already been transferred to you.”

  “Oh, I know that,” said Ariel, “but still, there'll be no battle over the money.”

  From my lowest point, which was my exact location at that moment, I didn't see what she meant.

  “How much is the judgment for? Do you know?” she asked.

  “Yes, I have a copy somewhere.”

  “Let me help you. The amount is $91,211,435.09, according to the clerk of the United States Court for the Central District of California.”

  “You mean you called there to find out?”

  “Yes,” she said, “I needed to know.”

  “Why?”

  “How else could I write this check?” she asked, and pulled out a check and gave it to me.

  It was a Credit Suisse bank check made out to “United States Treasury” in the amount of $91,211,435.09.

  I couldn't help it, my hand shook a bit as I held the check.

  “Take it to your boss. This is at least some reward for everything you did for me. I know I could have battled the government for years in courts to reduce this amount, but I decided against it. Judgment is satisfied in full.”

  “Why” I asked, “are you giving up all these millions if you think you could keep some of it?”

  “Because there's plenty more where it came from. After making this payment to the government, I'm still left with more than sixty-five million dollars in cash and securities and a lot of real estate throughout Europe and Japan. That's a lot of money for a single woman who's lived until now on an annual salary of eighteen thousand dollars and occasional gifts from her dad. Life is too short to spend it on litigation over more money. I have enough. And that money, or the majority of it, belongs to the U.S. government. I don't believe my father stole it, but the bottom line is that his bank collapsed and the government had to make good on its promise to the depositors to guarantee their deposits. So under either theory, the government has some right to receive back what it paid to the depositors.”

  I folded the check and put it in my pocket. I wasn't in t
he mood to tell her that her legal theory was suspect, if her father was indeed innocent.

  “I'll deliver the check to the U.S. Treasury through the consulate.” I realized that although I'd be a hero in Washington, I would never see Ariel again. Wealth and anger in a woman are a lethal combination in any relationship.

  I managed politeness, as unhappy as I was. “Thank you, Ariel. It's very considerate of you to let me deliver the check and get the credit.”

  “You deserve it, Dan. After all, you saved my life.”

  This whole hallway conversation was ridiculously formal and artificial. I'd gone through it, but I hated every moment of it.

  I put out my hand, and Ariel shook it in return. I left without another word. My eyes were damp. I tried to pretend that it was because of the cold Munich wind, or dust. But it wasn't cold inside the room, and there was no dust. I'd lied to myself. Again.

  I went to the American Consulate, walked directly into Ron's office, and handed him the check. “Please send this in the diplomatic pouch to Washington, for transmission to the Treasury. Ariel Peled gave me the money. The case is closed. The estate of Raymond DeLouise has satisfied the judgment in full.”

  “She did what?”

  I told him about the conversation I'd just had.

  “You must have done something to that woman,” Ron said, shaking his head in disbelief.

  I didn't comment, trying not to think what she'd done to me.

  Ron made a copy of the check, wrote on the copy “Received from Dan Gordon for delivery to the U.S. Treasury,” dated and signed it, and gave it to me.

  “Congratulations,” he said. I didn't feel like celebrating.

  I called Stone and reported the collection I had just made. He was elated, and after congratulating me he said, “I don't hear any joy there, Dan.”