The Montevideo Game

by J E Higgins

  “I have been looking more closely at Colonel Qalmini, who has been a most elusive and, until recently, mysterious figure. He seems to operate in the shadows of Iranian international affairs. When his name was mentioned in our intelligence reports, it was usually in concert with the more complex and large-scale operations being carried out by their intelligence community.

  “What is particularly interesting, and what I wish to bring to light is something else I discovered. Colonel Qalmini has always been involved in Iranian covert operations. In the 1980s, he was part of the Pasdaran liaison team working with the Iranian Ministry of Intelligence and Security, better known as the VEVAK, the intelligence arm of the Iranian State. This was during the days of Ali Falloni when he was initiating the infamous ‘Chain Murders’ across the world. As part of this liaison team, Qalmini was part of a military intelligence joint research team where he studied and wrote a paper discussing the idea of toppling a government by fomenting coups and rebellions consisting of leaders who would prove to be more favorable to Iran’s agenda. This study was largely directed toward neighboring Islamic states in the region, particularly the Sultanates of Qatar, United Arab Emirates and Oman ─ countries that have sizable Shiite populations.

  “Qalmini authored an addendum exploring the possibility of extending this strategy to overseas areas. The objective was to gain a greater strategic position against the United States by establishing Iranian friendly ‘puppet’ governments in the Western Hemisphere. He states using such methods would create a greater equilibrium between the two powers. Inevitably, the US will be more influential in the Middle East, but Iran would have governments beholden to them in the Western Hemisphere.”

  Cohen could already identify those whom he had convinced and those he would have to joust with for their support. Mr. Lupon, ever cerebral and no novice to such intrigues, was nodding his head as was Mr. Cincade, as the pieces were all coming together.

  As expected, Mr. Comfort seemed a little unsure and, given his apparant inexperience, was determined to prove he was worthy of the task he had been given by powerful people. He asked a plethora of questions suggesting he had a keen strategic prowess for this sort of affair.

  It was Mr. Greentree who would prove to be the significant complication. He was neither a novice nor was he impressed by Cohen or his sort of people. He was not the type to be drawn in by intrigue and secrecy and was experienced enough to intelligently challenge any analytical conclusions that might affirm a need to react. While this was expected, Cohen’s concern was that Greentree would have the ability to sway the others as well.

  Cohen moved around the room. “This brings us to what is happening now. After Qalmini withdrew from operations in the Middle East, he became the CEO of Saleed United Real Estate and Acquisitions. It is an established Pasdaran company mainly geared toward acquiring and developing real property assets primarily in South America. As of last month, our intelligence assets have traced Qalmini to Argentina accompanied by several persons we have identified as longtime operatives of the Quds Special Forces.”

  “So you think Iran is looking to orchestrate a coup somewhere in South America?” Mr. Lupon, concerned, held his fingers to his lips. “Where, do you believe?”

  “We don’t know,” Cohen knew that was not the answer they wanted to hear. “That is the issue that bears further examination.”

  “Let’s stop,” Greentree interjected. “Are you speaking for Israel? Is this analysis the official conclusion held by the Israeli Government?”

  With a sigh, Cohen replied, “No.”

  There was a rumble of confusion as the audience exchanged bewildered glances.

  “This is not what Israel believes, and you are not speaking for them?” Mr. Cincade asked in astonishment. He was quickly joined by Mr. Comfort. “How can we possibly entertain this project, if it’s not backed by your government? This is purely your theory ─ a conjecture.” Mr. Comfort was a mixture of a man expressing concern and enjoying a moment to participate and posture in front of his more seasoned counterparts.

  As predicted, Cohen could see the growing indignation of both Cincade and Lupon. “Gentlemen, if I may be allowed to explain myself.” The room fell silent, all eyes on him. “No, Israel does not draw the same conclusion I did from the analysis. I am speaking not as an agent of my government but more precisely….” Cohen trailed off as he prepared his next words carefully. “I guess you can say I am acting as a rogue operative who sees this situation as a threat. Because my government does not see any reason to act, I come to you and those whom you represent to aid me.”

  The room remained silent. Kafka felt apprehensive. By all the stone-faced looks, he believed they were all going to simply stand up and walk out the door. Watching the old covert operative, he found Micha Cohen somber and resolved. Cohen had his hands in his pockets and was rubbing his lips together as he waited for the next question.

  Mr. Greentree did not disappoint. “If your government doesn’t believe what you are saying, why should we?”

  Calmly, Cohen said, “Governments, like the most powerful corporate entities on earth, can make mistakes. In the world of politics — with a government that is constantly vacillating between pursuing aggressive covert warfare as a means of combating the enemies of Israel and worried about the repercussions of being caught carrying out these operations — it is inclined to consciously want to ignore uncomfortable findings or to explain them away. To concur with such findings would require some type of response, and because this is in the Western Hemisphere and not the Middle East, political and strategic leaders in Tel Aviv are apprehensive to support any conclusion that presumes what I just explained to you gentlemen.”

  “This is a serious risk you are asking us to buy into.” Mr. Cincade spoke up.

  “It is,” Cohen said. “I would not have called this meeting if I had any other avenues available.”

  “Presuming we agreed to support your cause,” Lupon interjected, “What then? Exactly what do you intend to do about this problem?”

  Cohen took another moment to formulate his words. This question was crucial and had to be answered without equivocation. “The response is to initiate operations against whatever they are trying to do. This would mean establishing an independent network of intelligence and covert operations. No state assets can be used. This must be a black operation from the financing to acquiring resources and recruiting personnel. The operation will be carried out in three stages: first, acquiring knowledge of their exact intentions and who, specifically, they are targeting; next, identify their network here — who they are working with, where they are being resourced, and where they are operating from; and, finally, we engage them through whatever means are most feasible to effectively neutralize the threat.”

  “That all seems extreme to me,” Mr. Comfort exclaimed, feeling his bravado. “I understand the intelligence aspect of this. What I cannot understand is why we should have to engage anyone as opposed to exposing them and letting the respective governments and authorities deal with it?”

  Cohen fixed his eyes on the young man. “That would seem like an obvious answer. Yet what you fail to understand is that since we ourselves don’t have a full picture of their operation, the first question is how can we convince the various governments here? More to the point, many of these countries have enough of their own civil unrest. They may lack the resources and would require better evidence than what we could produce. Furthermore, we may be informing the very people the Iranians are recruiting to carry out the operation. In which case, we have to assume there will be blood we must draw against the enemy. This may also be an operation that will be carried out over several countries across the continent.”

  The audience again displayed a mixture of facial expressions. What was being discussed was a vast divergence from the usual orthodoxies and protocols that commanded these secret meetings.

  “How do you propose setting up this network? I assume it will have to be expedited in a swif
t fashion,” Mr. Lupon asked with a reserved tone.

  Cohen was relieved the men were conversing as opposed to walking out. “I have already developed a list of various persons and entities that can be approached for either in-depth or temporary service for this operation. My assistant has a great deal of experience in this sort of operation and will be my resource on the ground. He will carry out mission executions and use of persons while I oversee and manage the overall mission.”

  “Him!” snorted Greentree, his finger pointing at the young commando managing the laptop. “He may have experience in the desserts and villages of the Middle East. This, however, is South America and an entirely different animal than dealing with a bunch of ragheads, sheiks, and whatever kind of sand nigger he is generally accustomed to dealing with. I’m not comfortable with some Israeli commando playing cowboy down here in this part of the world. There are considerations.”

  “Mr. Greentree,” Cincade interrupted. “I do not see the relevance of geography at this juncture. An operative is an operative capable of fighting a hostile foe. And hostility is certainly as uncontrolled here as in the Holy Land.”

  With an angry look, Greentree folded his arms and sat back in his chair. Cincade ignored him as he contemplated the information he had been fed. Cohen spoke to the men as a whole. “This will not be a simple affair. What I need is money, money that will not be missed or traced and can be moved easily into the shadows.”

  “You mean millions of dollars that you will never have to be accountable for,” Lupon interjected.

  “Yes, that is exactly what I’m talking about,” Cohen replied. “What I need in order to embark on this project has to be easily dismissible. If any part of this plan gets compromised, we must be able to dispense with it easily. Those you represent mustn’t have anything linking them to us and that means no connection to the money or the resources we will use.” Lupon slumped down in his chair, clearly uncomfortable with the suggested arrangement.

  “So, you are asking us to back your own personal operation with millions of dollars that you intend to just have disappear?” Comfort was practically out of his chair. “You’re asking us to give you money that you could run off with.”

  “If I were to do that,” Cohen said evenly, “I would be putting a huge target on my back. One phone call from those you serve alerting the Institute about any criminality on my part would be signing my death warrant. Not only would your masters pursue legal means to recoup their stolen losses but, if Israeli intelligence lost valuable slush accounts for their clandestine operations, they would be motivated to track me down and make an example of me. I would not consider it out of the realm to have some of their own people shadowing our operation to ensure the money is being effectively used.”

  The group shifted, glanced at one another, calmed. Their collective body language suggested they accepted Cohen’s answer as sufficient. Kafka sat back silently. As a soldier, he understood the importance of knowing when to keep quiet. He took his time evaluating each man in the room. He had learned long ago that careful evaluation of a subject could be crucial in dire moments.

  Over the course of the meeting, Kafka had decided he didn’t like Mr. Greentree. Though an old hand in these matters, he was too pompous and discriminatory. Kafka had fought and killed those ‘sand niggers’ the little man referred to so arrogantly. At that moment, he felt a greater kinship to those he had battled against in the Palestinian Hamas or the Lebanese Hezbollah than he did to those ‘fine-suited gentry’ Cohen was busy trying to win over. He felt the same animosity toward the young, ego-driven ‘Mr. Comfort’, so pleased with himself for being asked to the meeting and determined to play up his importance.

  Maybe Kafka’s reaction to these men was due to a youth spent on a kabutz farming collective in the rugged lands of North Israel along the Lebanese border where hot summer days were spent tilling the dirt and tending the livestock. Nights were spent listening to the teachings of the Torah mixed with a healthy dose of Marxist communism while huddled in a shelter from the storms of Kassam and Katyusha rockets fired from across the border in Lebanon. Or maybe, it was due to the years of adulthood fighting an endless war behind the lines in the various neighboring countries of his homeland, assassinating terrorists in their safe havens and debilitating the militaries of those who posed a threat.

  No matter how he rationalized it, he found both men obnoxious. They considered attending a secret meeting in a plush penthouse of an upscale hotel an adventure. He would like to see them smugly holding such a meeting in Beirut or in a militia controlled location in Iraq. Mr. Cincade, though more professional in his manner and inclined toward asking intelligent questions, had the air of a man who had seen the true world of violence and conflict; however, he had only viewed them from the vantage point of safety. Kafka could not hold any disdain for Mr. Lupon. Unlike his colleagues, Lupon seemed more familiar with the world in which both Cohen and Kafka Dayan lived. A small collection of scars Kafka had noticed on Lupon’s neck were recognizable. He had only seen those on survivors of grenade or mortar attacks.

  Cohen proceeded with the presentation. Kafka dutifully changed the images to complement the briefing. “I will need a minimum of twenty-million in dollars,” Cohen said. “I will also need assistance establishing a shell company ─ an already established venture capital and real estate firm or one that can be set up and given credentials.”

  “So in addition to money, you want us to help you set up and legitimize a front operation?” Mr. Comfort asked, shocked.

  “That is reasonable,” Cincade interrupted, keeping his young colleague from wasting time posturing.

  Embarrassed, Comfort sank back in his chair realizing he had just revealed his level of his inexperience.

  Cohen ignored the interruption. “In order to effectively move around, I will require a cover that explains constant movement from country to country as well as the movement of vast sums of money. I will also need names and introductions to arms and equipment providers. We will not be relying on any government support, and I am not familiar enough with the Western Hemisphere to establish contacts on my own. I believe the ‘Morning Coffee Club can best assist in this department, Mr. Cincade.”

  Cincade said nothing, only indicated his agreement with a light grunt.

  Mr. Lupon asked, “Upon completion of this mission or in the event of being compromised, how do you plan to liquidate your network and, more to the point, what protection will our clients have from exposure?”

  “Those recruited off the market will be done through me and my associate.” Cohen waved to acknowledge Kafka. “They will have no further contact or knowledge beyond that. For all they know, they will be working for the US or Israeli intelligence community. Furthermore, they will assume there is some special interest in South America with an agenda to keep foreign meddlers out of the country. Should our operation be compromised at all, the only serious issue will be the loss of the money put into this action, everything else can be dropped. Without me or my associate around to answer questions, they will have a network of rogue mercenaries and nothing more.”

  “You forget the part about our clients helping to legitimize your front companies,” Mr. Greentree interjected, scowling. “Will that not open them up to some considerable exposure?”

  “Not really. A few open contacts to give the impression that we are legitimately operating or perhaps scouting discretely for some larger interest should be enough to cause any already busy government to ignore us. That can all be done by accepting a few phone calls. In the end, any investigator would assume this would merely be old friends talking or our company fishing for business. Either way, they can easily be explained to anyone prying.” Cohen examined the audience again. It was obvious nothing would be decided today.

  A few more questions — for which Micha Cohen offered up educated yet vague answers — and the meeting ended. The men filed out of the room. Greentree and Comfort made a hasty exit, while Lupon and Cincade offere
d respectful goodbyes to their host before taking their own departures.

  Now alone in the penthouse, Kafka expressed his confusion to Cohen. “All right, what was all that we just went through? Who were those guys, and who the fuck were the people they were representing? The ‘Chess Players’, the ‘Investor’s Party’, the ‘Morning Coffee Club’; this all sounds like a bunch of old grandmas sitting in a kitchen.”

  Cohen headed for the collection of booze. “Not really. It’s more like a gathering of some of the most powerful Jewish capital interests in the world.”

  Kafka took a seat and waited for the old spymaster to elaborate further. Cohen obliged. “In the early days of World War II, several German-Jewish expatriates escaped the Nazis and infiltrated the financial powerhouses of New York and London. They recognized the threat posed by Fascist saboteurs and sympathizers long before the British and American governments did. On their own, they began to organize their own counter-intelligence operations which the Jewish financiers personally bankrolled. These expats became a private operation to combat Nazi threats. When the war ended, and the horror of the Holocaust was made known, several of these bankers and financiers continued maintaining their private operations.

  “When the first Arab-Israeli War broke out in 1949, and the world left us to fend for ourselves, these financiers realized that Jews needed to help Jews because the world has and will always turn its back on us. Those groups mentioned were some of the consortiums of those financiers. We approach them from time to time to help finance our covert operations, move money around, and provide cover for our operatives when necessary. Those men are a special type of attorney. They are professional covert representatives. Because the most powerful bankers and moneymen in the world cannot logically be seen attending meetings in a place like this or with people like us, these ‘special envoys’, attend for them. They listen to our pitch, evaluate our plan, and then coordinate the necessary arrangements.”