Enemy of My Enemy (26 page)

Avi laughed. "Shows what's on your mind."

"Let's get serious."

"I was."

Jack ignored him and began thinking aloud. "She was a child of privilege. Private school in Switzerland."

"While a civil war raged in her country."

"And smart. Degree in economics from the Sorbonne. MBA from Harvard."

"Why don't you get past the personal stuff and go to page two, lover boy?"

"Knock it off, Avi," Jack said irritably. He flipped over the top sheet and began reading. "Jesus, her bank job's a cover. She's a funnel for money collected from Lebanese expats living around the world, which is being sent back into Lebanon. They're doing what we Jews, the Irish, and lots of other people do."

"Exactly. They're raising money all around Europe, even in the United States. The problem is, we don't know where the money's going in Lebanon. Our research people are trying to get an answer to that question."

"So it could be used to rearm the Christian militias in order to force Syria out of Lebanon. If that's the case, she would never be working for Nadim to set me up."

"Unless, of course, he's holding one of her family members hostage."

As Jack paused to think about that, Avi continued: "Another possibility is that the money she funnels ends up with the Lebanese government, which is controlled by the Syrians. In that case, she's really on Nadim's payroll, for all practical purposes."

"Either way you think I'm being set up by Nadim. So I shouldn't call her."

Avi shook his head. "I didn't say that."

"What do you really think?"

"You don't want to know."

Subconsciously, Jack rolled the e-mail into a tube. He was becoming exasperated. "Yes, I do. Tell me."

Avi sighed. "Okay, you asked for it. I think you should go out and get laid. That's what I think."

Jack's face turned beet red. "Very funny."

"No. I mean it. Go call some Frenchwoman you know, or hire one. After a few hours in the sack, you'll be thinking only with your big head."

Avi's words stung, but Jack kept his anger in check. Perhaps Avi had a point. Jack's attraction for Layla might be coloring his thinking.

Afraid he had gone too far, Avi pulled back. "Listen, Jack, I'm sorry. It's got to be your decision. If you make that call to Layla, you're putting your life on the line. We can't be sure either way. I just want to make certain you're focused. We laugh all the time about guys who get caught in the honey pot, but it's not always that easy to see it coming."

Jack got up and paced around the small kitchen, weighing the factors. Avi didn't say a word.

After several minutes Jack stopped moving and turned to him. "Okay. Here's how I look at it. If I call Layla, my life will be on the line, but it's likely that a lot of Israelis will be in danger as a result of whatever plot Nadim is hatching. As long as there's a chance that we can gain some information to foil Nadim's plan, I've got to call her. How can I afford not to?"

Avi smiled. He had known that would be Jack's decision. "Besides, look at the fun you might have."

"Oh, fuck you."

Jack picked up the phone on the kitchen wall, glanced down at Layla's card, and punched in the number of her office.

A woman answered in a very official-sounding French-accented voice. "Madame Gemayel's office."

"I'd like to speak with her please. It's Jack Cole."

"Just a minute. I'll see if she's available."

While he stared at the silent phone, Jack thought,
You know that she's available. What you mean is that you'll find out whether she'll talk to me.
Suppose Layla didn't take the call after all that he and Avi had gone through? Jack cracked a tiny smile. That would be a scream.

While Avi pretended to be reading a copy of
Haaretz
he had picked up at the embassy, he was in fact watching Jack carefully.
I'm not onstage for you,
Jack thought. He turned in his chair and faced the wall.

"Ah, Jack Cole," Layla said with enthusiasm. "How nice to hear from you."

"So what did you think of the wines?" Jack asked, deciding to warm up with small talk.

"The 'eighty-two, 'fifty-nine and 'sixty-one were phenomenal," she said with enthusiasm. "The 'seventy disappointed me, as it always does."

Jack was amused. "Don't hold back; express your opinion freely."

"And you?"

"The 'fifty-nine was beyond belief. I would add the 'eighty-five and 'seventy-eight to your list of top ones, but I'm partial to those years in general. All in all, an incredible performance."

"I agree with that. So what can I do for you?"

"I'd like to take you up on your offer," he said with confidence. "To talk about a loan. Maybe we can get together today."

"Let me check the schedule on my computer." Her
tone
was now brusque and businesslike. He felt as if he had chilled her by turning to business. She must have been hoping for a personal call from him. That was a good sign—unless Avi was right that she was working for Nadim.

"Three o'clock, I can do," she said. "My office."

"Let me look."

Jack glanced at the sweep of the black second hand on the white face of the kitchen clock. Thirty seconds would be long enough to pretend he was consulting his calendar. "Three will be tough for me. But, hey, I've got an idea," Jack said, trying to sound spontaneous. "How about if we talk over dinner?"

Her initial reaction was silence, which didn't surprise Jack. He had momentarily confused her by shifting back to the personal, which was exactly what he had wanted to do. He wanted her to know he was interested in her for something other than business.

A long silence hung in the air as she made him wait for his answer.

"That I can do," she finally said, still sounding as if she were setting a business meeting.

"How about nine o'clock at Guy Savoy?" he asked.

"Good choice. Guy is a friend. I'll be there."

Jack put the phone down and turned back toward Avi. "A success," he said with pride.

"For you or for Nadim?" Avi replied.

Jack felt as if someone had just tossed a bucket of ice water over his head.

Avi was getting ready to leave the apartment when Jack's cell phone rang. "This is Jack."

In response he heard Moshe's voice. The Mossad director was shouting loud enough that Avi heard him across the room. "What in the world is going on?"

"What do you mean?"

"Don't play games with me!" Jack had never heard Moshe sound so angry. "I learned from our research people that Avi Sassoon put in a request in your name for a bio on a Lebanese woman. Yesterday they downloaded the file on someone else for him in Paris."

Avi gave Jack a thumbs-up sign. "Don't let him intimidate you," Avi whispered.

Jack decided to hold his ground. "You told me that you didn't want to be involved in—"

Moshe cut him off midsentence. "Don't talk on this phone. Get over to the embassy right now and use a secure phone. If that joker is with you, bring him."

"You mean Avi?"

Moshe snarled. "No, Napoleon Bonaparte. Of course Avi."

* * *

They were in a tiny, metal-lined, poorly ventilated room in the Israeli embassy in Paris. A black phone sat on a battered wooden table in the speaker mode so both Jack and Avi could listen and speak.

Moshe began. "Jack, I assume this is all about the American pilot, Robert McCallister."

"That's right."

"Tell me everything that you've done since you left my office, and I mean everything."

Jack began with his call to Avi.

"You had no business recruiting him on your own," Moshe thundered. "For your sake, I hope that your wine business is self-sufficient, because I intend to cut off your monthly payments."

That threat didn't alarm Jack. He could operate on his own now if he had to. With Daniel Moreau on his tail, once this was over he'd be moving his European headquarters to Barcelona or Milan, either of which was less expensive, no matter how it came out.

"So what did you and the indomitable Mr. Sassoon do?"

Standing next to the phone with his hands in his pockets, Avi grinned broadly at the reference to him.

"We took a trip to Syria," Jack said calmly.

"You want to tell me why?"

"That's where they're holding Robert McCallister."

"Are you two out of your minds?"

Jack described what prompted them to go to Syria and what happened there.

"So you already killed a man," Moshe said.

Avi couldn't resist the temptation to needle his former boss. "You can call it a rogue operation like Kemal's. Off the books. Which this one was. As opposed to one in Aqaba last year."

"Very funny."

Jack signaled Avi to stop talking. They wouldn't gain anything by goading Moshe. He picked up and described what they'd been doing since they arrived in Paris. He was getting ready to tell Moshe about his date that night with Layla, when the director interrupted.

"Now let me tell you two something," Moshe said. Apprehension had replaced hostility in his voice. "I've received an unconfirmed report from a source in Turkey that the Syrians are trying to lure Kemal into a plot that involves the American pilot."

That was valuable confirmation, which Jack was relieved to hear. "So we're on the right track."

"Incredibly, you two geniuses stumbled onto something big. If the Syrians are players, we have to assume that we're the target, not merely the United States."

Jack held his breath, hoping that Moshe wouldn't tell them to back off in favor of regular, full-time Mossad agents. To his pleasant surprise, Moshe said, "What's your next move?" The director had reverted to his normal tone. The anger from not being kept in the loop was gone. There was too much at stake. Moshe was ready to deal with the issue on its merits.

"This evening I'm having dinner with Layla Gemayel," Jack said. "It's a way of getting close to Nadim."

"I don't like that," Moshe said.

"Why not?"

"It's also a way of getting yourself killed. You're playing with fire. Nadim's a tough customer."

Jack refused to yield. "Right now Layla's our only way of getting to Nadim, and we don't have much time."

"Are you sure you want to do this, Jack?" Moshe said. "Is it something Avi's manipulating you to do?"

Avi laughed. "It was his idea. He likes the girl."

Jack shot him a dirty look.

"Oy... oy... oy," Moshe said.

Now Avi was on Jack's side. "Layla could be just what we need to get to Nadim."

Moshe gave a deep sigh. "You two have pushed this so far already that I can't yank you, which is what I'd like to do. I guess that was your plan all along."

Jack winked at Avi, who was smiling.

Moshe continued: "Keep pursuing Nadim, with Layla or any other way. But report to me from now on—early and often. And I'm not kidding about that. I have to know what's happening. Whenever Avi's involved, things get out of control."

 

 

 

Chapter 20

 

Ali Hashim was nervous, as he always was when he had a meeting with the ayatollah, who served as the Iranian foreign minister. Hashim might have been the head of the Iranian Intelligence Agency, but he never forgot that he was still a layperson in a theocracy run by zealots whose goal was to turn the clock back ten centuries and for whom arbitrary action was the norm. One mistake and the executioner's razor-sharp sword would come down on his neck.

Today Hashim was even more apprehensive than usual. The minute he began reporting on his conversation with Nadim in Paris he knew that he had something to worry about. He understood quite clearly from body language what the ayatollah's reaction was to Nadim's plan.

At the end, the ayatollah was looking at him in mute rage. Hashim realized then that he had made a serious mistake by not simply telling Nadim no, and not even reporting on their meeting to the ayatollah. It was too late for that now.

"I don't want to hear any more about it," the ayatollah said in a low grumble. "Only a fool would suggest that we do anything cooperatively with those heathens in Turkey. Ahmed and the Syrians aren't much better."

The ayatollah waved his right hand toward the door, which Hashim took as the signal he was being dismissed. "Others will come and talk to you later," the ayatollah said.

"Talk to me about what?" Hashim asked nervously.

"Your reasons for advocating a plan like this. It raises questions about your loyalty to the republic."

Hashim cringed. That was what he was afraid the ayatollah might think.

"I saw it as a way to obtain valuable American technology."

The ayatollah wasn't persuaded. "Computers aren't necessary to run the Islamic republic we want. The Americans can choke on their technology."

Hashim realized that he had been a fool to think that gaining American technology would be enough of an incentive to overcome the ayatollah's hatred for the Turks and his unwillingness to work cooperatively with them. Full of despair, his back to the wall, Hashim suddenly thought of a way to save his neck. "Suppose," he said tentatively, "we pretend to be going along with Nadim and Kemal, but at the end we seize everything for ourselves... the pilot and everything else. And we leave them with nothing. How about that?"