by Allen Kupetz
“Fuck you very much,” CJ said as he left.
GOSSAMER was Dani Maoz. CJ called him “Danny Boy.” He was a 35-year-old ex-artillery man who went from one key advisory position in the Israeli government to another. Sometimes he actually held a portfolio; more often, like now, he was a “special assistant” to the Prime Minister for some issue. He had been special assistant for Lebanon, for Gaza, for Jordan, and now for national security affairs. Because he was officially outside the government and apolitical, the Prime Minister trusted him more than most of the insiders. Maoz had worked for both the prominent center-left and right-wing Prime Ministers. His critics called him a whore, willing to sleep with anyone in power. His fans, and there were many in both parties, said Maoz was one of the few people who could rise above politics and serve his country. Many wanted Maoz to run for Prime Minister, but he said he never wanted to be a politician. Langley certainly did not want Maoz to be elected Prime Minister. The Agency was forbidden to have a controlled asset who was a head of state, meaning CJ would have had to terminate the relationship and the U.S. government would have lost their best window on behind-the-scene happenings in Israel.
Like virtually all Israeli government officials, Maoz could not be approached and asked to commit treason against his country. Israelis, Langley believed, just didn’t do that. A case officer in the U.S. Embassy in Tel Aviv under political cover met Maoz at a diplomatic reception in Jerusalem. Maoz thought the Mossad knew all Agency officers in Tel Aviv and checked the case officer’s name against the Mossad list. When the case officer came up clean, Maoz developed a close relationship with the officer. Maoz and the recruiting case officer were about the same age, both had two young children, both were Jewish, and both enjoyed shooting pistols and martial arts. Maoz wanted to help the officer’s career and fed him small bits of information that the Israeli government certainly would have preferred the U.S. government not know. Maoz came to think the officer might be CIA, but at that point he didn’t really care – “strong America, strong Israel,” Maoz liked to say.
At the end of the officer’s three-year tour, he invited Maoz and his family for a vacation at Disney World in Florida. The officer made the pitch; Maoz agreed. Maoz would continue to supply information and respond to specific Agency requirements. The Agency would place $3,000 each month in a secret bank account for Maoz. He said he didn’t want the money, but the case officer called it a college fund for Maoz’s children and he agreed. That monthly sum had since doubled and with interest and bonuses, Maoz’s kids could now study anywhere.
The information Maoz provided was good. He gave advance warning of Israeli actions that he knew the United States would disapprove of. This, on occasion, allowed the U.S. to demarche Israel and prevent something from happening. All too often, however, the information was considered too sensitive to allow a formal government-to-government diplomatic note to be sent for fear that the Israelis would realize there had to be a leak. Maoz’s information had consistently proven correct. Nonetheless, the CI amateurs in Langley insisted Maoz be polygraphed. “Judge the information, not the breathing pattern,” CJ had argued unsuccessfully. Anyway, the polygraph was behind them.
CJ had been waiting in Orlando in the event Maoz agreed to the recruitment. Maoz was too sensitive to be handled by an inside officer. He was so sensitive, CJ found out later, that the President himself was asked to approve the recruitment pitch and did so only after consulting with the House and Senate Intelligence Committees – firsts in the hunting business.
Maoz accepted the turnover to CJ and the two still joked about that first meeting in the Dolphin hotel.
“Do you fast on Yom Kippur?” Maoz asked CJ in a polite but conspicuous query about CJ’s possible Jewish roots.
“No,” CJ responded immediately. “I fast on Passover because I’m always sick from eating all those Easter bunnies.”
The case officer from Tel Aviv had look horrified, but Maoz was glad that CJ, who looked so young and was quite junior, wasn’t someone who was going to be intimidated. CJ worked hard over the years to build a good relationship with Maoz, whom he now considered a true friend. Maoz was, on the surface, a simple man, straightforward and easy to handle. CJ always thought that Maoz must have some sleepless nights about what he was doing, but CJ could never ask, “What’s it like to sell out your country?” Maoz didn’t consider it treason and this must have been how he made his peace with himself.
CJ kissed Rachel and she got in a deluxe taxi in front of the Renaissance. He waited a couple of minutes and walked back to the hotel and changed $500 into won at the front counter. He walked back to the gift shop. He knew it would be closed, but he wanted a reason to leave from the back door. He walked up the stairs to the second floor and exited the back. He walked down a back road to the Yoksam metro station and took the train to the Shinsa station near the Riverside hotel. It was six in the morning; nothing was open. But it was still quiet outside and CJ was already pretty sure he had not been followed out of the Renaissance. CJ bought a cup of coffee at the hotel and then caught a taxi to Tongdaemun shopping market. He walked around for about 15 minutes, bought a few Disney knockoff ties, and then caught the subway to City Hall. He walked to a coffee shop in Myong-dong and went upstairs. GOSSAMER was there in a running suit.
“Is that you, Michael?” CJ joked, using Rachel’s line from last night.
“No time for humor Con man,” said Maoz stiffly. “I’m not here for the coffee.”
“Sorry. I know things must be serious, so I was trying to get a smile from you. How much time do you have now?”
“About 10 minutes. The boss thinks I am running.”
“You talk and I’ll listen.”
“We’ve both got problems. First, my problem. The Prime Minister was briefed four days ago by the head of the Mossad about a spy in the government. Mossad thinks it is in the Foreign Ministry. The Prime Minister told me he thinks it is in his executive staff. He told me Mossad told him they have detected some secret communications from Israel up to a U.S. defense satellite. Thought they were U.S. transmissions. Now Mossad thinks spy transmissions. This is how the Syrians caught Cohen, if you recall.”
“Is it correct to say that the Prime Minister would not have told you this if he suspected you?”
“Agreed. Anyway, I did not want to transmit more messages even though I have big news about your problem. I need new equipment. Something not satellite dependent. Don’t worry about it now. I’ll be in New York for the opening of the General Assembly in February. Bring me new gear then. I will have plenty of time to learn. Or better, can’t we just use the Internet? I’m always online anyway so it will not look funny.”
“I’ll ask for Internet stuff. I don’t know what they have. I’m a lawyer, not a tech.”
“You’re no lawyer. You quit after one year, remember?”
“Thanks for the history lesson, Danny boy. I’m glad your sense of humor is returning. Now, what is my problem?”
“The Prime Minister is here to fuck your country. He is afraid the North Koreans are going to sell new scud missiles and missile technology to Syria and Iran, maybe Libya too, though no one seems to be in charge over there. He wants South Korean agreement for an Israeli air strike against North Korea.”
“No way. Without U.S. approval? There are over 20,000 U.S. troops here. What if the North blames the South and retaliates? Is this just a negotiating position or a serious offer?”
“Serious. Israel attacks North Korea. Good news for the boss’s poll numbers. North attacks South later. Not Israel’s problem, Con man. In exchange for South Korean approval, by the way, Israel will jump start the local nuke research effort. Seoul will have to pay, but we both know they’ll pay because of the idiot running the North.”
“Shit.”
“Tell Langley. Tell them Danny boy says it is okay for them to demarche Jerusalem. Mossad is going to cut off my balls soon anyway.”
“Shut up. Mossad is not going to cut off those
little balls of yours. I can handle your problem. What I can’t handle is you fucking Israelis always going out on your own. Life’s a team sport, okay? What the fuck are you doing? Whose idea was this?”
“Not mine, I assure you. My job is national security policy. This is domestic politics. I hate those kind of guys too. What are you going to do?”
“I’ll call Langley from downstairs and tell them to launch a preemptive strike against the Israeli air force. They’ll listen to me.”
“I got to go, Con man. The boss has a dinner tonight with the President at the Blue House. I can meet you sometime afterwards – probably after ten, but before midnight – to let you know how the meeting went. Meet here again?”
“No. Around the corner there is the King Sejong Hotel. They have a 24-hour sauna. I’ll meet you in the hot bath. If anyone asks, tell them you remember the sauna from your last trip here. You met a masseuse and wanted to see if she was still there.”
“Oh great. What if they tell my wife?”
“Better they should bring your balls to your wife in a bag and tell her you had a secret American friend who is dead too?”
“Okay okay. I got to go now. The boss knows I can’t run that far.”
“Be well my friend. I’ll see you tonight between ten and twelve at the sauna at the King Sejong Hotel.”
Chapter Five
CJ was back in his hotel room typing away.
FOREIGN INTELLIGENCE REPORT – TOP SECRET HUMINT
Precedence: IMMEDIATE
Countries: Israel, South Korea, North Korea, Near East Region
Subject: Plans of the Israeli Prime Minister to Seek South Korean Permission for an Air Strike against North Korea to Prevent the Transfer of Scud Missiles and Missile Technology to Various Arab Countries and Iran
Intelligence Topics: Nuclear and Conventional Weapon Proliferation; Possible Danger to U.S. Military Personnel
Date of Information: 17 September 2014.
Source confidence: 10.
Text: On 17 September 2014, the Israeli Prime Minister will meet with the South Korean President to discuss an Israeli proposal to launch an air strike against North Korea to prevent the transfer of Scud missiles and missile technology to various Arab countries (Syria and perhaps Libya) and Iran. In exchange for Seoul’s concurrence, Israel will agree to sell South Korea technology and materiel to support its nuclear weapons development program. According to an Israeli government official, one reason the Prime Minister is making this proposal is to boost his domestic political standing.
He also wrote the following:
1. Action required: None.
2. Had first meeting with GOSSAMER on 17 Sep 2014. He provided immediate report that is being submitted concurrently in FI reporting channels. He advised that the Mossad has briefed the Prime Minister on a possible spy in the Israeli government. Mossad suspects MFA staffer. PM told GOSSAMER that he suspects someone on the PM’s staff. Mossad has detected unauthorized transmissions from within Israel to a U.S. defense satellite. GOSSAMER will no longer transmit messages that way. I’ll advise him to write messages on paper, take a picture of them, and forward those messages along with the copies of the documents. He will be in New York in Feb 2015 and requested Internet-based commo gear. Next meeting is scheduled for this evening between 2200-2400. Will advise results.
3. Met the techs from Japan yesterday. Will see them again tonight regarding Rachel [[Lee]]. Will ask them for ideas re interim commo for GOSSAMER.
CJ checked that no one else had booted up his computer during his absence and sent his messages to Langley. He got the confirmation of delivery and a beep noting there was traffic in his inbox. He retrieved the message:
*** IMMEDIATE ACTION REQUIRED ***
1. ACTION REQUIRED (IMMEDIATE): SEE BELOW.
2. DISREGARD THE MESSAGE YOU REQUESTED BE RETRANSMITTED. RACHEL [[LEE’S]] 1-800 IS A DALLAS NUMBER. OLD RECORD TYING IT TO FORMER WDC USER HAD NOT BEEN UPDATED. WE CALLED THE NUMBER AND GOT “HANBOK IMPORTS” IN DALLAS. WE CONTACTED THE TECHS BEFORE THEY LEFT JAPAN AND CANCELLED THEIR TRIP. THEY ADVISED IF YOU NEED THEM, THEY CAN BE THERE IN EIGHT HOURS OR LESS. GOOD LUCK WITH GOSSAMER. BEST WISHES AND REGARDS.
“Then who the hell was in my shower yesterday?” CJ cursed out loud. CJ knew Langley would be in a complete panic when they saw his message advising he had met the techs. And what about GOSSAMER? Maybe Langley was wrong and the techs never got the message and showed up in Seoul anyway. They said they hadn’t logged on in a while. GOSSAMER was right: CJ did have a problem, maybe two – Bill and Clayton.
It was almost 10:30 and CJ needed to get back north of the river to meet Rachel for lunch. It wasn’t that he couldn’t cancel it, but he didn’t want to and he didn’t really know what else to do between now and tonight’s meeting with GOSSAMER. He reset the trap on his computer, went downstairs, and caught a taxi to the Chosun. It was only 11:15, but Rachel was already sitting on a sofa in the lobby.
“What’s wrong?” she asked as CJ headed her way.
“What do mean, ‘what’s wrong’?” CJ responded a little sharply.
“Oh this is going to be a great lunch. I can tell already. Bad day at the office, honey?”
“Yes. Sorry for my tone. Bad day at the office. I’m sorry. Let’s eat.”
“Apology accepted. I got here early and reserved a private room downstairs. They wouldn’t reserve it for just two people, so I told them there would be four in our party. Let’s go down, get the silverware dirty, and tell them the other two must not be showing up and we’ll start without them. Old Korean trick.”
“Palee palee.”
“Wow. I’m so impressed. Are you learning Korean in an attempt to woo me and win my heart? If so, faster faster is not the most romantic phrase, but I appreciate the gesture. Come on. I’m buying.”
The two went down a beautiful wooden staircase.
“I don’t remember this from the last time I was here,” said CJ pointing to the staircase.
“All the hotels are upgrading since they opened a Ritz and a JW Marriott, even the Hyatt. I think that has my favorite western restaurant in Seoul, the Paris Grill. They have an antipasto bar with the lunch special that you can make a whole meal of. It’s not cheap, but for the Seoul Hyatt, it’s reasonable.”
The two went into the nearly empty restaurant and were seated in a private room. Every Korean in Seoul eats from exactly 12:00 to 1:00. Rachel said something in Korean and the waiter nodded unhappily, cleared two of the four place settings, and left.
“I’m feeling better,” CJ volunteered.
“It’s me. I have that effect on all my men.”
“I agree. It is you. After a bad day in the office, it is nice to come home to you. Where do you live in Dallas?”
“Oh that’s right! We’ve got to finish those first date questions now that we’ve slept together. I live in University Park. It’s the poor side of Park Cities between SMU and the toll road. By the way, I still live with my parents. Should I be embarrassed? I told you I am still part Korean and single Korean women do not live alone.”
“Unbelievable.”
“That I live with my parents? I have several reasons. First, I don’t drive. We run the business out of the house. I know that’s against zoning codes or something, but they’ll never know. We’re just the middlemen. We import from Korea and ship directly to retailers. We have no storefront or warehouse. It is point-to-point and we take our cut.”
“No, no, no,” CJ interrupted. “It’s unbelievable that you live in Park Cities. I’m on Druid Lane, near the toll road.”
“I’m just off Lover’s Lane, closer to SMU. How come I haven’t seen you at the grocery store?”
“I’m always traveling. This is funny. There’s a Liza Minnelli song about a woman who goes to Dubrovnik and meets some guy for the first time who is her next door neighbor in New York. It’s ‘I traveled halfway around the world to meet the boy next door,’ or something like that.”
“You a big
Liza fan?”
“Shut up. You live with your mother.” They were both laughing hard. “Actually, my dad had an old eight-track tape that I was forced to listen to.”
The food started to arrive and the smell made CJ’s appetite kick in. All he’d had since dinner the night before was two cups of coffee.
“I ordered sushi and sashimi,” Rachel said. “You chose Japanese so I figured you wanted something fishy and raw.”
“Will you eat it too?”
“Yes, I love any and all food. Can’t you tell?”
“Give me a break.”
“That’s what I love about American men. They all think I’m thin. In Korea I’m a twaege, a pig. My aunt, the one who pays my phone bill, is always telling me how I could and should lose some weight. Maybe you can meet her if you want.”
“Why not? And I am definitely feeling better,” CJ said as he drank the hot miso soup. When will I see you next?”
“I’m almost done for the day.”
“I have meetings tonight. I’m going to try to salvage this morning’s disasters.”
“Please don’t tell me you’re going to one of those room salons with a bunch of Korean men to drink scotch, sing songs, and meet young girls.”
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be out late, but I’ll come home alone.”
“Will you come to my room when you’re finished tonight?”
“Sure. I thought you didn’t want anyone to know.”
“The heck with it. I don’t care anymore. I got an extra key this morning to give to you.” She reached into her purse and pulled out a key. “This is so weird. This morning, my phone was off. So I turned it on. I know I did because it beeps when you turn it on. Listen. Now it’s off again. I didn’t turn it off. You wouldn’t have been able to call me. I guess it’s time for a new phone. Anyway, here’s the extra key. I don’t care how late. Please wake me up when you come in. I’m in 1202.”