Enemy of My Enemy

by Allan Topol

  "But why the posters at the train station? Why are the French police looking for you?"

  Jack gave him a sardonic smile. "C'mon, Sam. You know the politics of this part of the world."

  Sam grimaced. "Yeah, that was a stupid comment. I'm really glad that you called me over to tell me this."

  "There's something else I want you to know."

  With tears in his eyes, Sam put his hand on Jack's arm, dreading what was coming next.

  "My work here for the government of Israel is the reason I wasn't in Chicago more when Mother and Father were dying. I was involved then in something equally important."

  Sam looked chagrined. "I'm so sorry. All these years I busted your chops over that. Please forgive me."

  "Don't worry. You didn't know. I couldn't tell you. In your situation I would have done the same."

  "Will this be over soon?"

  "In a matter of days. One way or the other."

  Chapter 31

  Major General Nadim leaned forward in the chair and studied the map of the former USSR spread out on the breakfast table in his apartment. He took a sip of coffee, then extended his finger and traced a line south from Volgograd, trying to estimate where the nuclear convoy was right now.

  Nadim was ecstatic. Everything was going so well. He was close to his goal of becoming the Syrian leader, a player in world politics with Layla at his side.

  Then his balloon burst with a vengeance.

  The telephone jarred him. Nadim jumped up to answer. It was his secretary at the embassy. In a halting voice she said, "President Ahmed is calling you from Damascus. His assistant says it's a matter of extreme urgency."

  Nadim cursed under his breath. The last thing he needed right now was for that imbecile Ahmed to disrupt his plans.

  It took several more minutes before Ahmed was on the phone.

  "Good morning, Mr. President," Nadim said, using the form of address Ahmed preferred and trying to sound obsequious.

  "There's nothing at all good about it," Ahmed fired back. "I'm furious at you." He sounded like a stern teacher addressing a student who had been caught cheating.

  One thought kept running through Nadim's mind: Uh-oh, he knows about the pilot. He found out. Nadim sat down to steady himself and took deep breaths, gulping for air. One good thing about being unmarried was that there was no wife and children back in Damascus for Ahmed to hold hostage and torture.

  Nadim decided to tough it out. "I'm sorry, sir. What did I do?"

  Ahmed was shouting now. "You know damn well what you did. You had no business letting the Turks hide the American pilot in Syrian territory without my knowledge and agreement. It was only because of a comment my physician made—that he had been called north to treat a bullet wound of the pilot—that I managed to find out. Have you lost your mind?"

  Nadim didn't like the idea of having this conversation on an unsecured phone. "We should talk later," he said. "When I get to the embassy. We have a special phone that—"

  Ahmed was in too much of a rage to listen. "You have a choice," he said. "You can talk to me right now. Tell me what's happening... Or you can fly home and explain it to a board of inquiry at your treason trial."

  "But—"

  "No buts. Those are your choices."

  Nadim swallowed hard. There was only one thing he could do to save his own life: level with Ahmed now. Well, at least partially.

  "I have been working on a plan, Mr. President," Nadim said, returning to his subservient voice. "I didn't want to bother you until I knew I could get it all together. I expect that to be later today. Then I had planned to call you and seek your approval before moving forward."

  "A plan to do what?" Ahmed said, still sounding hostile.

  Well, here goes. If he doesn't understand it and buy in, I'm a dead man. Speak slowly, Nadim cautioned himself. The man's not the sharpest blade in the knife drawer.

  "Acquire nuclear weapons for our military... Put Israel on the defensive... Change the entire political landscape of the Middle East."

  "That's quite an objective, isn't it?"

  Nadim could sense Ahmed's wrath abating as his curiosity took over. "It's easily attainable.... But the American pilot is a critical component. I had to gain temporary control over him until the rest came together." Nadim knew how much Ahmed despised the Turks. He decided to play on that. "They're such fools in Ankara. You know that."

  Ahmed laughed. "Very well."

  "They might have done something stupid, like killing him, and then we would have lost our bargaining chip."

  Ahmed was now intrigued. "What is it you're trading him for?"

  Nadim hesitated for an instant, wanting to select his words carefully, making certain to conceal his disgust for this fool Ahmed. The plan was complicated, but Ahmed had to understand each and every term. Only if he appreciated the great benefit of what Nadim had conceived would he remove the death sentence that was hanging over Nadim.

  "It goes like this, Mr. President," Nadim said. "Early on Friday morning, at first light, which will be five a.m., an exchange will take place at a truck stop at a key crossroads fifty miles northwest of Baku in Azerbaijan. A former Russian general, Dmitri Suslov, will be bringing to the meeting four trucks loaded with nuclear weapons from the former USSR arsenal."

  "Nuclear weapons. Are you serious?" Ahmed was becoming excited. "With nuclear weapons we could become a real power. A match for the Israelis."

  Nadim smiled. He now had Ahmed where he wanted him.

  "I have it all worked out with Dmitri Suslov, a powerful economic figure in Moscow."

  "How do we know we can trust this Suslov? My father always said, 'You can't trust the Russians.'"

  "Suslov won't get his money until he turns over the weapons."

  Ahmed was outraged. "You stole money from our limited reserves for this without my approval?" The president sounded belligerent.

  Nadim pounced. "We don't have to put up a cent. That's the beauty of my plan. The Iranians have agreed to finance the entire transaction. One point two billion dollars for Suslov."

  There was a heavy silence while Ahmed absorbed what Nadim had said.

  "Why don't we get any money?" he finally asked.

  "We get two of the truckloads of nuclear weapons. Iran gets one. General Kemal in Turkey gets the other to threaten the Kurds with. The idea is that after the exchange, the convoy will move south into Iran. One truckload stays there. The other three move west into Turkey. One stops there. The final two move south into Syria."

  Ahmed still wasn't satisfied. "The Turks will cheat us and keep all three."

  "I don't think so. General Kemal is operating without his government's knowledge, and he is also receiving a personal payment from the Iranians. I made it clear to him that if he doesn't follow the plan, I will make certain word reaches his prime minister that he took a bribe in an important government matter. Their prime minister has sworn to clean up corruption. Kemal's life will be worth less than dog shit."

  "What happens to the American pilot under this great plan of yours?"

  "The Iranians will take him back to Tehran from Baku. They can use him in a quiet trade with the Americans to obtain sophisticated technology that the Americans have prohibited them from acquiring. The same way that Iran has made other secret exchanges with Washington over the years."

  "So everybody gets something," Ahmed said, thinking aloud as he weighed Nadim's words.

  "I think so, Mr. President. Except the Israelis, of course. After this exchange, they will find two of their most mortal enemies armed with nuclear weapons."

  "What are you missing to move forward?"

  "Only your approval, Mr. President. As I said, I had planned to seek it this afternoon, but since you called, I wish to ask for it now."

  Nadim held his breath. God, please don't let that moron call it off.

  "You have it," Ahmed said, although he sounded tentative, worrying whether there was some downside he had missed. "If you pull this off, I'
ll present you with the Presidential Medal."

  And if I fail, you'll put me before a firing squad, provided you can catch me. But don't spend much time worrying about that possibility, because I will succeed. Then I'll be generous after I seize control from you. I'll present you with a choice of death by a firing squad or a hangman's noose. You'll pay for the humiliating way you've treated me, he silently vowed.

  * * *

  Jack Cole could not believe what he had just heard. He was in the lab with a technician. Every word that Nadim had said to Ahmed had been broadcast directly to Jack via both transmitters, which meant that Nadim was still at home. The sound had been clear. Nadim's words had been recorded and were now on a tape that was perfect.

  Unlike the botched operation at the Hassler, this time the technology had worked. Jack now knew exactly what Nadim's plan was. It was more diabolical than he had ever imagined. He had to find a way of blocking it.

  Jack's first call was to Avi, who was at his hotel. "Get over here fast," was all Jack said.

  "I'm on my way," Avi replied, without asking any questions.

  Then Jack called Layla at her office at the bank.

  "You may have saved the world," Jack said, his voice ringing with excitement.

  It took her a minute to absorb what he said. "Sounds like you heard what you were looking for."

  "Exactly."

  "What happens now?"

  "There's no need for you to meet Nadim tonight or any other time."

  She gave a deep sigh of relief.

  "Call his office," Jack continued. "Don't talk to him, but leave a message with his secretary that something came up, and you can't make dinner this evening. Tell him you're free tomorrow, so he won't become suspicious."

  Layla was confused. "But you said—"

  "You don't have to worry. He'll never be able to meet you tomorrow. He has to be somewhere far from Paris."

  "I'll do what you said," she replied softly.

  "Good. Then come to the sound lab after work. I'll fill you in."

  * * *

  With mounting concern, Avi listened to the tape of Nadim's call with Ahmed. At the end he asked Jack, "Why Baku?"

  "Think about the geography. It's between Russia and the other countries involved. It means Suslov doesn't have to do the deal on Russian soil. He also must have powerful friends in Azerbaijan."

  Avi mulled it over and nodded. "Layla did great work. I was wrong about her.... But how are we going to stop the shipment?"

  "I have an idea," Jack said. "I can pitch it, but Moshe has to implement it. I'll go to the embassy and call him. You stay here with the sound technician." The receiver was broadcasting what was being picked up by the bugs Layla had planted. There was no way of knowing what further gems Nadim might give them. "Call me if you hear anything important."

  * * *

  During Jack's monologue about what Nadim had planned, the Mossad director gave grunts, followed by a long sigh. At the end, Jack said, "I want to fly with Avi to Baku tomorrow. We'll try to locate the meeting site when we arrive. The question is, Can you arrange to send in some commandos so we can block this exchange from taking place? I know I'm not giving you much time. It's all happening Friday morning. That's less than forty-eight hours from now."

  There was a long silence while Moshe digested Jack's words. "I like your proposal," he finally said. "But I'll need the prime minister's approval. If he gives me a green light, I'll fly commandos into Baku. We've got to block that exchange. It's a grave threat to our national security."

  "You have to make the prime minister go along."

  "With politicians you never know, but I'll present it in a way that he has no choice. Meantime, make sure either Avi or you are at the embassy. I'll call as soon as I have the answer."

  Something else was troubling Jack. "What about the government of Azerbaijan? Do you think they'd help us? After all, they can't be in favor of the spread of nuclear weapons so close to their border."

  Moshe didn't hesitate before answering. "Don't waste a minute thinking about it. Their president is a former KGB general and big deal in the Communist party. He's not exactly known for his integrity. We have to assume that Suslov has paid him off to keep his troops out of the area. We'd better spend our time worrying about..."

  Jack completed Moshe's sentence for him. "Washington."

  "You guessed it. That, my friend, will be a tougher sell, but it won't hold us up. The time for playing games is over. We have to act to protect our own interests, regardless of what Washington says."

  Chapter 32

  Margaret Joyner was worried. Everything was spiraling out of control, and she didn't know what to do about it. Her late husband, Ken, was fond of the expression, "He popped his cork," when someone got really angry.

  Watching Kendall during the report she gave to the president and General Childress in the Oval Office, she thought those words fit the situation.

  "I can't believe that the Mossad director told you his government would do whatever it had to do, regardless of how we decide the issue."

  Joyner had been infuriated by Moshe's words as well, and by his unwillingness to tell her whether the Israelis were planning to send troops to Baku in response to her direct question. Still, she found herself once more defending the Mossad director. "Israel has a great deal at risk. Moshe didn't take the hard line with me until I said that I couldn't assure him that we would send American troops to block the exchange."

  That didn't mollify Kendall. "Well, I sure as hell don't want to send our boys uninvited onto Russian soil unless it's absolutely necessary."

  Gingerly, Joyner corrected the president. "Baku's not Russian soil. It's in Azerbaijan."

  Kendall turned as red as his necktie. "Of course, I know that, Margaret."

  She wasn't certain whether he did until he added, "My point is that since it's one of those countries that used to be in the USSR, the Russians figure they can exert control."

  "Fair enough."

  Kendall reached for the phone. "What I should really do is call the Israeli prime minister, raise hell with him, and get them to back off."

  Joyner looked at General Childress, who was undecided on the issue. On the one hand, he sided with Joyner. He wanted to do everything possible now to block Turkey, Syria, and Iran from acquiring nuclear weapons, rather than having to commence an operation later where they threatened to use them. On the other hand, the idea of American military action that close to Russian soil could lead to a nuclear war. Childress was grasping for a way out of the dilemma. "Suppose you call back President Drozny," the general said. "Maybe he's moving up on the issue. If he can stop the convoy of nuclear weapons before it leaves Russia, that'll make everything a lot easier."

  Kendall looked at Joyner. "What do you think?"

  She shrugged. "Can't hurt."

  Kendall summoned Vince, the interpreter, before placing the call. Again, Kendall got nowhere with Drozny. "We're still investigating this matter," the Russian president said in a kiss-off. "If it's necessary to act, we'll do what's appropriate." The implication was clear: This is a matter within the Russian sphere of influence. Keep out.

  Drozny's response further infuriated the president. "He's giving me the runaround," Kendall said when he hung up the phone. "No-good Russian fuck."

  Joyner tried to seize the initiative. "Let's get a special-operations unit out of Afghanistan, or on the base in Uzbekistan. They could be ready to move into Baku quickly."

  Kendall had practiced law with a large New York firm for a decade before going into politics. His legal education and training had taught him to avoid making a decision whenever possible. To those outside the legal profession, this was perceived as being indecisive. Now he frowned and pursed his lips. At this point he wasn't willing to take the step urged by Joyner. "It's only Wednesday. We have two more days. If I did that and Drozny found out about it, he'd view it as a hostile act. Besides, if we move too soon, we'll get Robert McCallister killed."

&n
bsp; Kendall rapped his hand on the table, trying to appear as if he were taking control of the situation, while he was in fact doing precisely the opposite. "We can move rapidly later on, if we have to. Can't we, General Childress?"

  "It will be more difficult, Mr. President."

  That didn't deter Kendall. He was always capable of hearing what he wanted to hear. "But you can do it."

  Childress nodded. Inside he was feeling uncomfortable. It took time to mount an operation like this. Civilian leaders never had a grasp of military logistics.

  Kendall had one other justification for his inaction. "Hell, Nadim may have been giving Ahmed misinformation. Perhaps Baku's not the meeting point at all."

  Joyner jumped on Kendall's words. "I'll get satellites focused on the area. We'll find the convoy and track its movement."

  Kendall liked that idea, which eliminated the necessity for an immediate decision.

  * * *

  The minute she got back to her office, Joyner made a call to the satellite command center. Implementation was immediate. Her next call was to Michael in Russia.

  She found him sitting in the American embassy in Moscow, where he'd been staring glumly at his cell phone waiting for Irina to call with information about Suslov's operation with Nadim. Once they switched to a secure phone, she told him, "The Israelis got what we needed."

  She then described what Moshe had reported.

  "I'm sorry. I let you down," he said, sounding dejected.

  She was puzzled. "What did you do?"

  "I couldn't come up with the Suslov/Nadim plan myself. You had to find it out from the Israelis."

  Joyner didn't have patience for this nonsense. "It's not about credit. You're the one who learned about the warehouse in Volgograd. I don't care who found out what. The point is that now we all know what's happening."

  "What do we intend to do about it?"

  Joyner took a deep breath and blew it out in a whoosh. "That, Michael, is up to our distinguished president." She made no effort to conceal her frustration at Kendall's indecisiveness and unwillingness to act.