The Chameleon Conspiracy (18 page)

“Dan, there’s no need to be sarcastic. We need to generate a report that is acceptable to both of us. Therefore, before I
put my name on any such report I want to make sure I can live with the facts it describes. What good will our recommendations
do, if some guy with average common sense can punch a hole in the tower of facts we’re building?”

“Fine with me,” I said. “Other than the prints, we have no facts, only a bunch of leads and pieces of information. The case
isn’t over. We aren’t writing an autopsy report. We’re summing up a case that has just gotten closer to breaking than at any
time during the past twenty years. The report will set the path to go forward, not to bury a corpse.”

“And it has characteristics of national security, rather than just catching a successful serial thief,” she added. She’d finally
jumped on the wagon of enthusiasm I had been single-handedly pushing uphill.

“By the way,” I said. “We’ve got some indication that there’s at least one sleeper agent in the U.S. other than the Chameleon.”

“What indication?”

“Loretta Otis. She was murdered a few days after she reported to a rabbi in Sydney that Goldman was in fact Ward. The rabbi
confronted the Chameleon, asking for his explanation. When no satisfactory responses came, the rabbi refused to marry the
Chameleon. Now, knowing that his new identity as Goldman was in jeopardy, the Chameleon sealed Loretta Otis’s fate. The Chameleon
was still in Australia when Otis was killed. That means he must have arranged for her elimination in the U.S., either by calling
Iran or directly calling another member of Department 81 in the U.S.”

“So he’s probably in trouble in Australia for that, and for the fraud.”

“The Australian Federal Police is looking for him as well.” “OK. I think we should spend some time in making recommendations
concerning our next move.”

“We’ve a plenary meeting with the other working groups in a week. Do you think Casey set up Monday as our deadline to submit
our report so that he could use our paper during the plenary meeting?” I asked.

“I think he’s doing the same with the other groups—asking them for their reports. Since Bauer is acting as liaison, not as
a decision maker, I think the real evaluation and decision making will be done at Langley.”

“In Tel Aviv as well,” I added. “One working group consists of Mossad guys.”

Nicole yawned and stretched. “Right. Well, let’s adjourn until the morning. I’m exhausted.”

I looked at my watch. It was one thirty A.M. Based on my past experience, the bigger the operation, the shorter the time that
management would give us to finish it. But at least because there were a few of us, we could always find someone to blame
for any failure.

In the morning, it took four hours of debating and document review to write our report. The room was the worse for wear: empty
beer cans, three half-empty bags of potato chips—a
quarter of the chips on the floor and the rest in my stomach, giving me heartburn.

“Let’s clean up the mess,” said Nicole. “We can’t have cleaners here.” We spent the next hour sweeping the floor and removing
garbage, not before making sure we didn’t accidentally throw away any pieces of paper. Nicole went to the communication room
and returned twenty minutes later.

“There has been a change of plans. There’s a meeting in another safe apartment in northern Paris in two days. We should send
our report immediately.”

On the day of the meeting, we took Nicole’s car from a nearby parking garage and drove to the outskirts of Paris, to a leafy
residential area. More out of habit than as a result of any suspicion, I routinely checked our backs to make sure we had no
unwanted company. I wondered whether there was any security backup. There was too much activity around our safe apartment,
and if any of the visitors was unknowingly compromised to the opposition, they’d contaminate us as well. Opposition? I wondered
who our opposition would be, here. There were too many contenders for the title. I decided to raise the issue with Casey.
I was uncomfortable. We were too visible.

When we entered the meeting room, a large one with high ceilings, there were several other people already waiting. I recognized
Casey, Arnold Kyle, and Benny. Four other men and one woman looked unfamiliar. In the center of the room was a big nineteenth-century-style
dining table. We sat around it. I counted the participants. We were ten in all.

Arnold started. “The work of all the teams ended sooner than expected. That’s a good sign. We’re here today to review the
various options following the recent developments in the Chameleon case, which now seems more than ever to be connected to
Iran’s terror financing.”

“Chameleon?” I muttered to Benny, who sat next to me. “Since when is he using that name?”

“Dan, you’re a lawyer. You know as well as anyone that
you haven’t secured trademark protection for that name,” he said, grinning.

“The purpose of this meeting is to explore whether a recommendation should be made to our respective governments to take additional
measures. But before we begin, Jack Randolph, our security officer, will say a few words.”

A man in his late fifties with a shaven head and dressed in a blue blazer addressed us. “Good intelligence is the best weapon
in the battle against international terrorism. However, gathering intelligence about the identities, intentions, capabilities,
and vulnerabilities of terrorists is extremely difficult. On top of that, we’ve realized that leaks of intelligence and law-enforcement
information, some due to negligence and carelessness, but some intentionally stolen—or worse, secretly and illegally transferred—
have endangered sources, alienated friendly nations, and inhibited their cooperation, thereby jeopardizing the U.S. government’s
ability to obtain further information. Therefore, I insist that each and every one of you understand the gravity of this issue.
Particular security measures are undertaken concerning this meeting and the operation planned. Please respect these limitations,
and protect all information received and treat it as top secret. I’ll go over the security instructions before the conclusion
of this session. Thank you.”

Kyle proceeded to provide us with a brief history of the battle against terror financing. Then we went into specific cases,
and finally, when I was about to lose interest, he discussed our case, mostly using the report Nicole and I had submitted
earlier. “This report is an early-stage operational road map. I say early stage, because there’s a lot of work to be done
here. For starters, I need your input on two points: risk/benefit analysis of such an operation, and whether, how, and where
to enter Iran—and once entered, the ways and means of achieving our ultimate goals.”

He paused. “We’re here to look at operational aspects. Any suggestions?”

“Dan, any ideas?” nudged Benny.

I spoke up. “If we want to crack the mystery of Atashbon or Department 81—if they are in fact separate entities—we just
can’t exclusively rely on ELINT/SIGINT. We must have HUMINT. We need someone with a pulse, an informer, or for one of us to
get it independently.”

“Not that I disagree with you,” said Kyle, “but look at the results that NSA has brought. It’s all ELINT based. They’ve just
been intercepting electronic transmissions.”

“Sure, but did they tell us where the Chameleon is? Did they tell us whether there are other sleeper cells in the U.S.? They
just brought us the ladder. Now we need a person to climb it,” I said. “We must have the human touch to bring in the smoking
gun. If we can do it by remote control, then I’m all for it. But if we can’t—and I do believe that to be the case here—then
we should do the job ourselves, even if that means penetration into Iran.” I was sounding more decisive than I actually was.
I hoped I wasn’t going too far.

“You do realize that such a mission could get you killed,” said Bob Holliday. It was more of a statement than a question.
“Is it worth it just to get even with someone who stole money?”

Though I was initially surprised, I realized with a quick flash of eye contact that he was handing me the ball to score. Maybe
working for this guy wasn’t going to be so stiff after all.

“It started as a case of stolen money,” I said. “No longer. This is a case that concerns U.S. national security. For the first
time we’ve got evidence to suggest that there could be Iranian sleeper cells in the U.S. If the suspicion is established as
fact, do you think their hibernation will continue forever? We tentatively concluded that the Chameleon was assigned by his
controllers to steal money. We know from the physical description of the other perpetrators of the banking fraud in the U.S.
that there are probably other members of Department 81 in the U.S., because they didn’t look like the Chameleon. Do we know,
in case there are additional sleeper cells in the U.S., what
their missions are? Do we even know that they were in fact asleep during the past twenty years? Maybe some of the unsolved
mysteries during those two decades were connected to one or more of them. Remember, the U.S. is called the Great Satan by
the Iranian ayatollahs, while Israel is the Small Satan. The Iranian message is, don’t play with Satan—kill him.”

“So you’re suggesting we get the still-missing information regarding their identity directly in Iran,” said Arnold.

I nodded. “Yes. But I want to make clear that my support for the recommendation for penetration is contingent upon identifying
and finding a potential source, or a plan that could provide us with the necessary information or be a conduit to others who
could give us that. I’m not suggesting we enter first and then start looking around. I hope you give me credit for not being
that unprofessional and careless. We suggested a preliminary plan in our team’s report.”

“Have you also done a risk assessment?” asked Casey.

“No. I was asked to deal with finding the Chameleon. Another team made the assessment. But since you asked, I agree that there
are significant risks involved in penetration, even under our proposed plan, and I understand them. If caught, whoever goes
there has little or no chance of walking away from it alive. But a more accurate risk assessment must be made once a plan
is in place. And we don’t have an approved plan yet.”

I took a deep breath. “But if there’s a good plan, I’m willing to volunteer to be a singleton for that mission.” I knew that
I’d fare better as a lone wolf in an operation designed for a single operative. During my military service I’d realized that
many would volunteer for a mission until it was time to go. But not here; I was willing.

Benny, who sat next to me, said quietly in Hebrew, “Dan, you’re crazy.”

Everyone else just silently stared at me. We continued discussing various options for three more hours until Kyle said, looking
at his watch, “OK, I think we’ve accomplished
something today. I ask for your summary operational suggestions by the end of the week. I’m going back to the U.S., and we’ll
review the options there. Benny, any suggestions?”

“Not at this time,” said Benny. “I need to talk to the director of the Mossad before we continue. In general, I’ve got his
blessing, but when concrete plans are drawn that assume our participation, we must revisit the entire matter.”

When everyone was about to leave, Kyle asked Bob, Benny, Casey, Nicole, and me to stay behind.

“Let’s talk shop,” he said. “For the kind of detail I want to get into, we don’t need the whole assembly. Under what guise
do you think an entry into Iran could succeed?”

“There are two ways,” I said. “The legal and the illegal. Well, both are illegal. What I call legal is an entry through the
international airport of Tehran, with a cover story.”

“And the illegal entry?”

“Through one of the extremely long borders Iran has with its seven neighbors. Preferably penetration through Turkey, or from
Turkmenistan.”

“If penetration isn’t through the international airport, whoever we send has to be physically fit,” said Nicole. “I’m sure
you’re aware of the distances, the heights, the lack of transportation, and the rivalry between various factions living in
these areas that don’t particularly like snooping strangers, regardless of their nationality.”

“I know that. We submitted a general plan, which may or may not be plausible,” I said. “But just two comments in that regard.
One, we don’t have to dwell on that now, because it’s not our mandate to determine means of penetration. The operation departments
of the CIA and Mossad are better qualified to recommend that. Also, the Mossad has an excellent long-term relationship with
the Kurds, as we heard from Benny in Giverny, so maybe we could have a route here. But for the sake of our mock war game,
and as suggested in our plan, let’s assume entry through Tehran’s airport. It has a lot of advantages.”

“Such as what?” asked Bob.

“Such as support for the legend. Let’s say, for example, that our men enter Iran posing as representatives of European companies
selling pharmaceuticals to Iranian drug importers. Would their cover story make sense if they’re stopped en route from the
Turkish border on the back of a mule, or in a beat-up bus that travels twelve hours, seated among peasants carrying their
goats? On top of these problems we must bear in mind that the border areas in the north are infested with informers and part-time
spies in numbers greater than those operating in Berlin during the Cold War.”

“I realize that illegal border crossing severely limits the options for a plausible legend,” agreed Kyle.

“OK. That leaves a ‘lawful’ entry as a preferred option. Next, let’s talk about a legend, just for the sake of our discussion,
to see if we aren’t too optimistic in the evaluation of risks,” I said.

“Your report suggested several options, including posing as a European businessman. Why?” asked Bob.

“Because they’re preferred as business partners by the Iranians. The idea can fly, provided we can show real links on both
sides. A real company in Europe that upon inquiry will confirm that our men actually work for it, and an Iranian company that
will confirm prior business contacts and scheduled meetings to discuss some business—can we show that?”