by Uzi Eilam
“That really is important information.”
Now it was Dr. Kayghobadi’s turn. “And what do you have for me?” he asked.
“It’s been decided to focus on the Iranian safe houses in Paris, the ones we know about, that is, and to place them under close audio and video surveillance using advanced devices,” Dominique said, in accordance with Bernard’s instructions. “Also, the gendarmerie’s elite unit was ordered to locate the Quds Force cells in the city. It’s going to be a major operation.”
“Do they know where the Quds Force teams are hiding?”
Gideon decided that he had heard enough and called Bernard, who issued the order to the gendarmerie team that had been waiting at the Church of Saint-Germain-des-Prés. Within a matter of seconds, Kayghobadi and Dominique were taken into custody. Dr. Kayghobadi immediately identified himself as a university professor and repeatedly insisted that there must be some mistake. Dominique, who never broke character, angrily maintained that she held a high post in the prime minister’s office and that she could not be arrested by the gendarmes. The members of the special unit were unimpressed by these claims, and both were taken briskly yet courteously to a car that was waiting to transport them to the special interrogations facility.
With a recording of the conversation in hand, Gideon and Dan rushed to Bernard’s office, where Deutsch, O’Connor, and the director of counterespionage were already seated. “Gideon and Dan, please join us,” said Bernard, “and thank you for your enormous professional assistance. And John, thank you for the idea.”
“Dr. Kayghobadi won’t be playing double agent again anytime soon,” O’Connor replied with a satisfied grin. “But we still have more work to do.”
“Indeed, we do,” Bernard agreed. “Our director of counterespionage is already preparing the interrogation.”
“Who’s going to do the honors?” O’Connor asked.
“We have an excellent man from the Interrogations Division. He has decades of experience, and he actually wrote his doctoral dissertation on Iranian culture.”
***
Dr. Kayghobadi’s interrogation took an entire day. The Iranian dodged all the questions he was asked and continued to insist that they were making a huge mistake, that he was a member of the university’s teaching staff, and that he was baffled by his arrest. He also asked that they inform his wife of his whereabouts, as she would certainly be worried.
The interrogators made it clear that before they did anything for him, he would need to answer their questions. At this point, he asked to be allowed to see his attorney. The division director played good cop and offered him a deal. One option was to be deported to Iran. Were he to do that, the Iranians would try him for treason and undoubtedly execute him. Another option was for him to remain in France and be given a new identity and state protection. All he had to do was supply them with information about his handlers and everything he knew about Iranian activity in France.
At the end of a long day, Kayghobadi caved under the pressure and started to talk. During his confession, the interrogators learned how Dominique had been enticed into working for the Iranians and about the large sums of money she had received in return for her services.
“And who recruited you?” the senior interrogator asked pointedly, exploiting the opening Kayghobadi had inadvertently left him.
“Well…uh…” Kayghobadi stammered hesitantly, with a dull, defeated look in his eyes. “It was General Jamshidi,” he said slowly, getting out the name with visible difficulty. “He’s the one who convinced me to find a place for myself at the university and to wait until I was called upon to act.”
Chapter 39
Farid Madani was shaken when he hung up with General Jamshidi. He had never heard his commander use such scathing language. Madani had called Tehran on the secure line the embassy had installed for him and reported the phone conversation he had just had with Dominique de Saint-Germaine. The information she had given him—regarding the task force’s intention to seize the safe houses and the tunnel—was important and required urgent action. Madani had tried to get more information out of her, but the line had gone dead in the middle of the call, leaving him with a sinking feeling. A few hours later, his worst fears were confirmed when he learned that de Saint-Germaine, one of their most useful agents in France, had been exposed and taken into custody.
“You and Arash Jawad need to leave Paris at once and get back here immediately!!” Jamshidi roared, following the venomous outpouring he had unleashed after hearing the news. “And be prepared to tell us what needs to be done to safeguard our country’s interests! One more fiasco like this and we may very well be forced to shut down our entire operation in Europe!”
***
“What happened?” Jamshidi asked, in a quiet but ominous tone, when Madani and Jawad entered his office late that night, coming directly from the airport. “Can you tell me?” It was clear to Madani that Jamshidi was not going to make this easy for him.
“For a period, the compromised agent, Dominique de Saint-Germaine, operated excellently, passing on reliable information in a timely manner,” Madani began, staring at the floor. “But at some point, she seems to have gotten overconfident and ceased operating in accordance with the cautionary procedures we insisted upon. Yesterday, she received important information about impending action by the French anti-espionage unit. She thought it was urgent, so she cut corners and reported it by calling me from a pay phone. The French caught her in the act, and our call was disconnected midsentence.”
“Did you know she was calling from an unsecure line?” the general growled, trying to keep his anger in check.
“No, not at first… Only after I understood she had been arrested,” Madani said apologetically.
“With your permission, sir,” Jawad spoke up, “I’d like to point out that it was their ability to monitor our communications channels that ultimately resulted in the agent’s being compromised. They possess capabilities that weren’t even affected by the measures we took to make our communications impenetrable—”
“But if you knew that, why didn’t you say anything?!” Jamshidi interrupted angrily. “Why didn’t you ask for help?!”
“We were certain that our security experts were aware of it,” Madani explained. “We were also working under the assumption that the president had promised us the assistance of the Quds Force. That’s what you told us.”
“The president truly did promise to help us,” said Jamshidi. “And he’s been going to great lengths to do so. But I don’t remember you pointing out a specific individual you wanted taken out in Europe. So tell me, who would you say is the primary obstacle?”
“Sir,” Jawad said, daring once again to speak to his high-ranking superior. “I would have to say that the Israelis are undoubtedly the major obstacle, particularly Dr. Ben-Ari and his young partner, Dan Avni.”
“Can I understand that to mean that once we take care of them, we’ll be able to operate securely in Europe?”
“It’s certainly a direction that’s worth trying,” said Madani. “I would classify the elimination of the Israeli obstacle as a top priority.”
“Okay. We can handle that. But remember, we have a meeting in the president’s office tomorrow morning. He’ll want to hear about successes, not only debacles.”
“We’ve put together an updated report on our operations,” replied Madani, holding up a file. “Everything’s here.” He handed it to Jamshidi. “As you’ll see, we’ve had quite a few successes.”
“Okay, gentlemen. I’ll go over the report tonight. You two should go get some sleep. Tomorrow is going to be a long day.”
***
It had been a sleepless night for Mohammed Ali Jamshidi, who tried his best not to wake Delakash with his constant tossing and turning. The report his aides had compiled had made a favorable impression, but the troubling development of Dominique
de Saint-Germaine’s arrest had kept his thoughts racing. The news of the arrest of the Israeli general had not yet appeared in the update from Paris.
“Welcome!” The president said, greeting Jamshidi and his two men, who bowed their heads as they entered his office.
“It’s good to see you, sir,” said General Jamshidi with a smile. “General Ja’afari,” he said coolly, nodding to the commander of the Guardians. “Always a pleasure.”
“So, what’s on your mind, my friend?” asked the president. Jamshidi was relieved by the president’s calm, supportive tone. “You requested an urgent meeting, and I see you’ve also brought your men from Europe. We’re all ears.”
“We’ve had some procurement successes in Europe,” Jamshidi began. “Despite close supervision by the major European countries, we’ve actually managed to get around the obstacles.” He stopped to glance down at the report he had received the night before. “The development plans for the long-range Shahab missile have progressed nicely, and we’ve also made strides in the advanced centrifuge development project, particularly in the technological knowledge we’ve accumulated and the planning of the centrifuges themselves. All that’s left to do is to overcome the obstacles to procuring the raw materials for the systematic production of centrifuges and the production of large missile engines. The Western countries have increased their supervision of the export of carbon and Kevlar fibers, and we need to come up with new ways to acquire them.”
“Wait a minute, General Jamshidi,” Ja’afari interrupted irritably. “Am I to understand that we do not already possess a sufficient supply of materials to produce missile engines?! And that, in terms of the centrifuges, all we have are plans on paper?!”
“That’s correct, Ali Mustafa—to a certain extent,” said Jamshidi. “We have backup plans based on the use of alternative materials that are heavier but that also offer a solution for the intermediate stage of both projects.”
“Please continue, Jamshidi. We’ll hear the entire report,” said the president firmly, shooting a restraining look at Ja’afari. “After that, there will be time for questions and comments.”
“We’ve built a diverse network of agents and safe houses, and in some places we’ve also managed to neutralize the listening systems of the enemy,” continued Jamshidi. “I must admit, it’s a never-ending battle, and we clearly can never sit back and relax—including during times of success.”
“And what about the French agent?” Ja’afari asked. “What happened to her?”
“I was just getting to that, General Ja’afari,” replied Jamshidi in a businesslike tone. “Madame de Saint-Germaine was positioned at the epicenter of the international effort to thwart our procurement work in Europe, and she made substantial contributions to our successes. However, she got overconfident and stopped taking the necessary precautions. Unfortunately, as a result of effective intelligence work by the enemy, she was exposed and arrested. It’s a loss, but it’s not the end of our network.” Jamshidi attempted to radiate optimism.
“And what about the red mercury you told me about during our last meeting?” the president asked.
“The suppliers misrepresented the product. Fortunately, we received the assistance of friends in the labs of the Max Planck Institute in Germany, who provided us with the results of a quick assessment by institute researchers. It saved us considerable time and effort.”
“But they didn’t save you the close to two million euros you spent on it—that is, if the report I received is accurate,” jabbed Ja’afari mercilessly.
“The scientific publications were impressive and encouraging,” Madani interjected. “Investigating the possibility of using the substance was the right thing to do. Dr. Jawad’s scientific connections with the German research institutes allowed us to do so quickly and accurately.”
“Sir,” General Ja’afari said to the president. “I’d like to remind you that we’ve still received no explanation for the seizure of the shipment at the airport in Lisbon. In addition to the equipment that never made it to the Iran Air plane, which waited until the last possible moment, we also compromised our relationship with good people who helped us in Portugal.”
“The transport operation based on planes in Europe and Portuguese collaborators may have failed,” Jamshidi admitted. “However, it allowed us to test ourselves and to learn the reasons for our failure. The main obstacle in this case, as in the unfortunate arrest of Madame de Saint-Germaine, was the effective intelligence work of the enemy. According to the information at our disposal, this work is being conducted by two Israelis on the international task force.”
“Do you have the necessary identifying information for them?” the president asked quickly.
“Yes sir. The senior of the two is Dr. Gideon Ben-Ari. We know him from our work with the network in California. The other is much younger. His name is Dan Avni, and he appears to be their communications monitoring expert. We already requested that these dangerous individuals be taken care of a number of days ago. But so far, we’ve seen no action to resolve the matter. I believe, sir, that the results of this failure are clear.”
“What do you have to say on the matter?” the president asked, turning to General Ja’afari. “Wasn’t that supposed to be the task of the Quds Force? We have a team in Paris, don’t we?”
“Uh…well…I don’t remember a request for action by the Quds Force pertaining specifically to the Israelis in Paris,” General Ja’afari said quietly, looking confused and going on the defensive for the first time since the beginning of the meeting. “I’ll look into it and issue new orders.”
“You’d better do it as soon as possible. These measures are critical for the success of us all.”
“I’ll take care of it immediately,” the general promised.
The president rose from his chair and shook hands with both generals, signaling the end of the meeting.
“Jamshidi, my friend,” the president said. “Could you stick around for a minute or two?”
“Yes, sir. Of course.” Jamshidi saw the pent-up rage building in his adversary as he walked out of the president’s office, followed by Madani and Jawad, who closed the door as they left.
“We’re at a dangerous crossroads, Muhammad Ali,” the president said soberly. “Every additional procurement failure endangers our strategic buildup. The fact that we’ve fallen behind schedule in our development of the missile systems and the nuclear project is also disconcerting. If you don’t turn things around quickly and get this cart out of the mud, we’ll both pay for it dearly. You heard what General Ja’afari had to say. And he’ll go directly from here to see the Supreme Leader—you can bet on it.”
“I’ll do everything in my power, sir. You can count on me and my men. We’re all infused with a sense of mission and, with Allah’s help, we’ll succeed.”
Chapter 40
The hour was late, and few lights were on in the Iranian embassy in Paris. Ali Reza Sulat, the cultural attaché, was just sitting down to meet with two members of the Quds Force who had been sent to Paris. Their elegant business attire could not conceal the muscular physique that was typical of members of the unit, who were carefully selected and underwent arduous training in a variety of types of warfare.
“I called you in so urgently at this late hour because of a special directive I have received from Tehran to take care of one of our enemies.”
“That’s why we’re here,” said the senior of the two operatives in a deep voice. “You know how anxious we are to be of service. After all, it was you who trained us—at the base near Tehran. As you may have been informed, we’ve already carried out a number of successful missions in various countries. Who’s the target?”
“Dr. Gideon Ben-Ari, the senior Israeli member of an international task force that’s working to impede our defense procurement in Europe,” replied Sulat. “Dr. Ben-Ari and his significantly younger collea
gue, Dan Avni. They’re extremely dangerous. Dr. Ben-Ari is the highest priority and must be taken out as soon as possible.”
“What do we know about this task force and about Ben-Ari in particular?” asked the higher ranking assassin.
“The intelligence experts at our embassy here have assembled a large amount of information on the task force and the targets.” Sulat tossed a thick file with red binding onto the table. “Take note of the fact that Ben-Ari and Avni have recently moved to the Hotel Soleil Saint Germain. So have the two Americans on the task force. We must assume that they’re taking precautionary measures and are aware of the possibility of an assassination attempt. It’s not at all a simple assignment. We mustn’t take for granted the capabilities of French security personnel. They’re on the ground, and they know every inch of the area. Go over the file, and come back within an hour with proposals for action.”
Fifty-five minutes later, after a focused planning session, the two operatives re-entered the office. “It’s an interesting and comprehensive file.”
“And what do you suggest?”
“We came up with a number of alternatives. The first is a shooting attack from a passing motorcycle or car—”
“I’m aware of your mastery of that method,” Sulat said, cutting him off quickly, “but here in Paris it could prove too dangerous. What else do you have?”
“We could replace the water bottles brought to their hotel rooms at night with bottles containing the poison you’re familiar with, sir. As you know, it has neither taste nor smell and results in cardiac arrest with no signs of foul play.”
“Not bad. What else?”