Enemy of My Enemy (31 page)

"I think it does." Jack signaled the waiter for the check.

She looked at Jack, and her eyes filled up again with tears. "I'm sorry for what I did to us. I really am. You've got to believe that. I was young then. If I could take it all back, I would do it differently." Her words were slurred.

Feeling disgust for her, he replied in a sharp tone, "We were all young."

"I had more than myself to think about at the time."

He didn't respond. He knew that she had been pregnant when she married Terry. His parents had told him in August of the year he had gone to Israel about the Goodmans' anguish at not attending their daughter's wedding. "We know how much she hurt you," his mother had said. Seven months later his mother had been in tears when she called to tell him that Sarah had had a baby girl, and the Goodmans had vowed they would never see their granddaughter.

Jack tossed a credit card on the silver tray with the check. The waiter discreetly picked it up.

Sarah was looking at him beseechingly. "Terry and I have nothing. I know that we can't go back thirty years in time, but maybe you and I can start from this point and create something new."

Her offer was absurd. He wanted to laugh. "You can't turn the clock back," he said as gently as he could manage.

"You're right." She was trying to get a grip on herself. It was a matter of pride. It was obvious what he thought of her. She refused to humiliate herself any further.

As she rose from her chair, her knees were wobbling. She steadied herself by gripping the table. "After you think about it, if you can do anything to help my Bobby," she said, trying to mask the desperation she was feeling, "I would appreciate it. That's all I came to tell you today."

He helped her find a cab; then he returned to the men's room in the Bristol to put his disguise back on. He decided to walk for a while on the Rue St. Honore to clear his brain after lunch with Sarah. He didn't have a good record with women.

Avi was right: He should break it off with Layla before it was too late. They didn't need Layla any longer to get at Nadim. That was the sensible thing to do, and it would avoid the great risk to himself. His head told him that.

He was a mature man now, not a college student, but he couldn't help himself. He was intoxicated with Layla.

* * *

For more than two hours, Shlomo, Eytan, and Michael sat in the Philadelphia Cafe drinking coffee, smoking cigarettes, and taking turns glancing out of the opening in the dirty, thin curtains at the front of the entrance to Suslov's building.

Suddenly Eytan said, "Nadim's on the way out."

"With whom?" Shlomo asked nervously.

"Alone. Headed toward his car."

Shlomo and Eytan bolted for the door. With his cell phone, Shlomo notified the other two teams.

A minute later all six Israelis were on the move in their three cars along with Nadim's gray Mercedes. They headed in a direction that led back to the airport.

In the cafe, Michael remained behind and took out his cell phone. He knew that calling Irina at her office was dangerous, but he had no choice. "I have to see you," he said as soon as he heard her voice.

"I can't talk now, Mother," she replied, trying to sound annoyed that her mother had called. But he also detected panic in her voice.

"Call me when you can. On my cell," Michael said, and hung up quickly.

What had happened? he wondered. He wanted to believe that Suslov or one of his people was close by when Michael had called. That was all. But the sound of her voice told him it might be more than that.

What was his next move? Michael wondered. Report to Joyner, or wait awhile to see if Irina called?

Wait, he finally decided. At this point he didn't have any hard information that Nadim's visit was related to Suslov's sale of nuclear arms.

At Sheremetyevo Airport two Israeli teams followed Nadim into the terminal. The third remained parked in the limo lot in case the Syrian went back to his car for a quick getaway.

Shlomo watched Nadim get in line at Alitalia. The Israeli queued up in the adjoining line. When Nadim reached the ticket counter first, Shlomo strained his ears to listen.

"Space has been reserved for me on flight four-fifty-three to Rome today," Nadim said, "and on your flight tomorrow at sixteen-thirty from Rome to Paris. Both in first class."

Having gotten the information he wanted, Shlomo drifted away from the ticket counter and headed toward the terminal exit. Eytan was a short distance away, watching Nadim. He continued doing that until Nadim walked through passport control, on the way to the boarding area. Then he joined Shlomo at the terminal exit.

He gave Shlomo a thumbs-up, which evoked a smile. They had accomplished their mission without a hitch. Nadim was gone. They could relax. But first Eytan drove Shlomo to the Israeli embassy so he could report to Moshe on a secure phone.

Shlomo had expected the director to chew him out for involving the Americans without approval from Jerusalem. To his pleasant surprise, Moshe responded, "Washington may be able to help us. Stick close to Michael Hanley. Also, try to find out what connection Suslov has to Rome. Meantime I'll alert Benny in Rome. He'll pick up Nadim at Fiumicino."

"What do you think is happening?"

Moshe's mind was processing what Shlomo had told him. "Every bit of information you gave me raised more questions." He decided not to tell Shlomo about the possible connection of any of this to Robert McCallister, particularly because he couldn't put the pieces together himself.

* * *

Ten minutes later Joyner listened to Moshe's report of what happened in Moscow with alarm. She didn't want to believe that the erratic and irrational Syrian government, blinded by its hatred for Israel, would be acquiring nuclear arms. An even worse scenario was that Nadim was somehow acting in coordination with the renegade Turks, and they would both be receiving the arms Suslov was selling. That meant they were planning some type of nuclear blackmail. Robert McCallister was a pawn in their scheme.

At the end of his report, Moshe put Joyner's fears into his own blunt words: "Suslov's nuclear arms will be moving to Syria and Turkey."

"You haven't established that," a grim Joyner responded, wanting to believe Moshe was wrong.

"You're deluding yourself if you don't accept it. And by the way, you'd better face the fact that your American pilot, Robert McCallister, has been tossed in the middle of this dangerous mix. That's why they moved him to Syria."

"You made a huge leap to get there."

"I may have, but I can't take a chance on that scenario. I intend to act on the assumption I'm right and do everything possible to block them."

Moshe's words further alarmed Joyner. She had set up, with painstaking care for several months, Michael Hanley's project in Russia. Assuming there was a transaction involving Suslov, Turkey, and Syria, the only way it could be blocked was if they caught Suslov in the act and Kendall went to Drozny, the Russian president.

"I'll be blunt," Joyner said in a harsh voice. "Your people stumbled onto Suslov by accident. We've been watching him for some time. We're now in the delicate final stages of a sting operation and—"

Moshe cut her off. "The answer's no." His voice was firm. "We won't back off and let you handle it alone. Once the Arabs get nuclear arms, the very existence of the state of Israel is at risk. You have no right to ask me to step aside and place our fate in the hands of your President Kendall."

His response was understandable as well as predictable. Joyner didn't argue. "At least keep me informed. Let me know before you make your next move."

"We'll coordinate with you in Russia," he replied tersely. He had omitted from his report to Joyner the fact that Nadim was now en route to Rome and what the Israelis planned to do there.

Joyner put the phone down and immediately called Michael Hanley on his cell phone. "Can you get to the embassy? We have to talk."

Twenty minutes later he called her back.

"The Israelis told me about Nadim's meeting with Suslov."

Michael was furious at himself for letting her find out from another source. "I waited to call you until I had more information. It was a mistake. I'm sorry."

Joyner didn't chastise him. There was no point. "In the future, call me immediately if anything happens."

"Absolutely, Ms. Joyner."

"Now the question is, Do you have any facts, reliable and confirmed, other than that Nadim met with Suslov, or more precisely someone in Suslov's building? Because that's as much as I got from the Israelis. As far as I'm concerned, everything else about the sale of nuclear arms and so forth is speculation."

"I'm working on it," he said tersely.

"What's that mean?" Joyner demanded to know.

"My contact called me a few minutes ago. We're meeting tonight."

"Irina?"

"Yeah," he said sheepishly. "I'm going to push her hard to find out what the deal is between Suslov and Nadim."

"Be careful, Michael," she said. "I want to find out, but I don't want to lose you."

 

 

 

Chapter 23

 

Jack knew there was a problem as soon as he saw Layla's face. She was following Monsieur Vrinat, the venerable proprietor of Taillevent, into the wood-paneled front room of the restaurant. Her broad smile from last evening was replaced by a tightly drawn mouth. The warm, twinkling eyes were shooting looks that stung. Today there had been no last-minute visit to the hairstylist. She had even omitted the perfume.

Jack stood up as a waiter pulled the table back so she could sit next to him with their backs against the wall on the red-cushioned banquette. He leaned forward to kiss her cheeks, but she pulled away, leaving him with air.

Once seated, she said coolly, "I almost didn't come."

"Why not?" He tried to sound innocent, but he could guess what happened.

"I don't like men who lie to me."

Before Jack could respond, Jean Marie, the black jacket clad maitre d' in the front room, approached the table and asked, "An aperitif?"

"Champagne, please," Jack responded.

"And for the lady?"

"Whatever the liar says."

Jean Marie, who had witnessed every conceivable domestic scene in his many years at Taillevent, gave a tiny smile, raised his finger, and pointed it at Jack. "I think you're in big trouble. I take her side."

"You're a smart man," Layla snapped. "You can't believe a word he tells you."

When Jean Marie left, Jack whispered, "Calm down, please."

"Don't tell me that. I hate it when anybody tells me that."

Jack didn't know what to say. His mind was racing, but so far without success. If there was a chance Avi was right, and she was doing Nadim's work, Jack couldn't possibly tell her the truth. Across the room, Monsieur Vrinat was leading a Frenchman in a military uniform to a table. Jack decided to try to toss the ball into her court.

Once their glasses of champagne arrived, he said, "Tell me what's bothering you. There may be an explanation."

"I doubt it."

"Well, at least give me a chance. I'm entitled to that much."

"Wrong. You're not entitled to anything." She raised her glass and said, "To honest men."

Jack sat in stoic silence, maintaining his composure. After several minutes she said, "Computers are wonderful things. And I have an effective research department."

She reached into her black leather bag and pulled out an e-mail from someone in her bank's research department, which she handed to him. "Here. You can see for yourself."

He handed it back to her without saying. Jack let his breath out slowly as he read.
There is no New York business named Calvert Wine Importers. Jack Cole is an Israeli citizen with Israeli and U.S. passports. He is the president of a company based in Tel Aviv, with offices in Paris, Milan and Barcelona, by the name of Mediterranean Wine Exports. Paris telephone number 1-23-43-68-68. Divorced. No children. Current banking connections are Bank Leumi in Tel Aviv and Credit Lyonais in Paris.

He handed it back to her without saying a word.

"That doesn't sound like the New York widower with motherless children I had dinner with last night at Guy Savoy. Does it?"

Jack swallowed hard, thinking. Finally he saw a way out. "There's so much animosity between Arabs and Israelis," he said. "If I had told you who I was, you'd never have gone out with me. I didn't want that. You're simply the most beautiful, the most sexually attractive woman I ever met in my life."

"It's amazing that you could discern all of that from a one minute conversation at the Latour tasting."

"Sometimes I form snap judgments about people."

She wasn't buying it. She looked into his eyes and shook her head. "I'm terribly disappointed. We had such a great time last evening. We clicked. I can't ever remember feeling that way about a man, and then bam, I find out that I had no idea whom I was even with."

Her face remained tight and drawn. Jack had only one more card to play. It was a dangerous one, because she was smart. She would know that he was in the intelligence game. But if Avi was right, and she was working for Nadim, that wouldn't be news to her.