The Chameleon Conspiracy (38 page)

Peter turned to him. “We have a visual from another building. We can see that he’s holding a tin can that is normally used
to store petrol, but we don’t know if it’s full or not. His face seems burned or injured. His demeanor seems as if he is badly
shaken; his hands are trembling and his speech is blurred. He could be deranged.”

“For how long did the neighbors hear the screaming?”

“A whole night. At the beginning they thought it was just a domestic quarrel, but then realized they were screams of pain,
so they called the police.”

“Maybe someone was torturing him,” I suggested, and Peter didn’t seem to reject the idea.

“There’s a crisis-management psychologist on the way,” he said. “Maybe he can talk him out of it.”

The next thing I saw and then heard was the sound of a bullet, followed by a fiery explosion that shattered windows in our
vicinity, then sent a shock wave. A black cloud of smoke
emerged from the house where the Chameleon had barricaded himself.

“Shit,” said Maxwell, expressing my thoughts as well. Police forces rushed into the building together with firemen and medics.
I stayed behind. I knew already what they’d discover when they entered the house. The Chameleon had perished.

Maxwell joined me twenty minutes later. “The petrol tank held by the Chameleon was directly hit by a bullet and exploded.
The Chameleon died instantly.”

McHanna or the Iranians got him first,
I thought.
That means that the Australians have an Atashbon of their own.

After hearing more details from Maxwell, I returned to my hotel.

As I took off my clothes, I smelled the smoke, although I was standing two hundred feet away. I sent a message to Hodson,
Casey, and Holliday reporting the Chameleon’s demise. Then I crashed.

When I woke up I received a one sentence response. “Return home.”

On the plane ride home, I was thinking what Goldilocks once said referring to that bowl of porridge:
This is just right.
After thumbing his nose at the law for so long, pay time for the Chameleon had come.

After getting over the jet lag, I went to see Hodson. Holliday and Casey were there as well.

“Did McHanna say anything about the Chameleon’s death?” I asked.

Hodson smiled. “We forgot to tell him. Instead, we suggested that the Chameleon was arrested and was cooperating, putting
all the blame on McHanna.”

“And what was McHanna’s reaction?” I asked in an amused tone.

“He threw everything back at the Chameleon and, in fact, filled in all the missing blanks.”

“Didn’t he suspect that you were pulling an interrogation trick on him? After all, he’s a sly fox.”

“We thought of that. But when we gave him details of where the Chameleon was hiding, he was convinced that we got him,” said
Casey.

“Does he know the truth now?” I was curious.

“Yes. Under the same plea we reached earlier, he confessed to sending a hit man to kill the Chameleon. He will be locked up
forever.”

“Was terminating the Chameleon McHanna’s idea or Iran’s order?”

“McHanna says Iran told him. Obviously we can’t ask Tehran for comment. That leaves us with McHanna to face murder charges.
As a lawyer, you know it makes no difference if he had him killed under orders from Tehran or on his own initiative. It’s
still murder,” concluded Casey.

“It’s all over but for the shouting,” Hodson said. “Iran’s most dangerous spy ring operating in the U.S. has been eliminated.”

“Are you sure?” I insisted. I had the clear impression that Bauer, Hodson, and maybe even Holliday were looking to wind it
down. But I still had unanswered questions.

“I am.”

“Well, I’m not. If I were you I wouldn’t ring the gong. I think we should continue digging. There were about eighteen members
of Atashbon, and we’ve accounted for only eleven.”

“We have accounted for all of them,” Hodson said, beginning to lose his patience. He looked at Holliday and Casey, who shrugged
their shoulders.

“That’s Dan Gordon,” said Bob Holliday. “You have to take him the way he is.”

Hodson smiled. “You may not know this, but Dan and I have worked together before. I’ve had enough ‘Dan hours’ to teach me
that he’s relentless and cannot be stopped.”

Holliday said in an amused tone, “My predecessor, David Stone, called him a pit bull who never lets go.”

“I’m blushing,” I said. “Stop.” But in my heart I hoped they wouldn’t. Admissions of imperfection? Not right now, and not
from yours truly.

“I have to admit I was wrong,” I said suddenly in a futile effort to improve off my image.

“That’s a first,” said Casey. “Enlighten us.”

“I labeled him a chameleon because he caught his prey with his tongue and changed his skin each time he changed location.
But apparently in nature, chameleons don’t change their color to blend in with their environment. In fact, they mostly change
their color when faced with imminent danger, or when their mood changes.”

So the lid was finally put on the Chameleon and his comrades, although belatedly, I thought as I walked out the door. The
forces of karma might have a good sense of justice, maybe even a sense of humor, but certainly a bad sense of timing.

I inherited the love of writing from my father, Yehiel Carmon. Like me, he had a “day job” and a “night job.” During the day,
he was a stern CEO of an Israeli bank. But come evening, he was sequestered in his library, which had a huge collection of
books squeezed on wall-to-wall shelves. There, he was glued to his noisy typewriter typing books and articles with two fingers.
His library was his shelter from the high-pressure banking world, and there he immersed himself in the mysteries of Far East
philosophies and Jewish wisdom. Little wonder that when I turned thirteen, my father’s gift was his first published book,
The Decanter and the Goblet
.

My intelligence thrillers were inspired by my Israeli professional background, as well as by my twenty years of service for
the United States government. Like my father before me, I also had a publicly known “daytime” activity as well as a “nighttime”
covert activity. Since 1985 I have been representing the United States government in its Israeli civil litigation, appearing
in Israeli courts in lawsuits to which the U.S. is a party. But away from the public eye, I was also engaged by the U.S. government
to perform intelligence gathering in multimillion-dollar white-collar crime cases that required sensitive undercover work
in more than thirty countries. Obviously, in my years working for the U.S. Department of Justice and other federal agencies,
I could not share the hair-raising aspects of my work with anyone but my supervisors, and some adventures not even with them.
Sadly, these events, which are sometimes more fascinating
and breathtaking than the best fiction I have ever read, will never see the light of day. The story of Dan Gordon and his
battle against the invisible FOE—forces of evil—is my idea of the next-best thing.

The Chameleon Conspiracy
is the third installment in the Dan Gordon Intelligence Thriller series, preceded by
Triple Identity
and
The Red Syndrome
. More thrillers in the series are to follow. In my professional life, first in Israel and then working for the United States
government, I have had enough adventures, frequently dangerous, to fill at least ten books, and those are just the ones I
can talk about. The others I can’t even fictionalize.

Many friends and family members helped me with this novel, to avoid pitfalls that loom when fiction and reality intertwine.
Although
The Chameleon Conspiracy
was inspired by my work, it is not an autobiography, but rather a work of fiction brought closer to reality with every passing
day. Apart from historical events, all names, characters, personal history, and events described in this book have never existed.

Many of my friends, after reading the barrage of my literary-related announcements and realizing I wrote four books in several
years, asked me whether I switched careers again. My answer is always the same: my love for law and my passion for writing
intelligence thrillers exist side by side. My novels, though fictional, carry a real-life message:
read the writing on the wall!
Terror, terrorists, and their state sponsors threaten the Free World and must be stopped. Unless we learn from the mistakes
of others, we are doomed to repeat them.

Sarah McKee, former Justice Department general counsel of Interpol’s U.S. Central Bureau, read the manuscript and helped me
avoid pitfalls while describing Interpol’s work. She also made suggestions based on her distinguished career as a federal
prosecutor prior to her top role at Interpol. I am grateful for the special efforts she made, and for her unfailing grace
and professionalism. My former supervisor and mentor,
David Epstein, is now retired, but in eighteen years of guidance he helped achieve that which inspired my novels, and I am
forever grateful to him for that.

Lee Harounian was very helpful steering me off potential mistakes writing about Iranian customs and using short conversations
in Farsi; visiting Iran was an unforgettable experience, but memory fades. Michael Valentino made important editing comments;
Dr. Ariel Blumenthal reviewed the manuscript and made helpful suggestions. My anonymous Mossad friend used his computer to
apply more “cut” than “paste” in his comments, and Jo Anne Shaw put an order into my otherwise erratic writing. Andre Le Gallo,
a former CIA senior officer, made important observations and wrote the introduction. I’m grateful for his professionalism
and friendly help. Don D’Auria, my editor, was encouraging and patient. I’m thankful for his efforts. My daughters Daria and
Irin spent many hours reading drafts and making suggestions, although it was difficult for them to be introduced to the far
and dark side of my work. Irin, my journalist daughter, applied to the manuscript her excellent editorial skills, and I’m
thankful to her for that. My wife also endured the nonfictional tension of my long absences. Many of the hours I spent writing
this book were taken away from my family, and my gratitude for their sacrifice is eternal.

“An impressively authentic debut thriller.”

—
Publishers Weekly

“Riveting, full of imagination, unusual characters, and fantastic events.”

—Shimon Peres, Nobel Peace Prize Laureate, President of Israel

“All the intrigue and plot machinations you’d expect from an author with professional ties to the Department of Justice.”

—
The Washington Post

Carmon “has managed to surprise even my skeptical mind with his seamless weaving of fact and fiction that has left me wondering
which is which.”

—Anonymous Former Member of Mossad’s Directorate

“A thriller debut to rival the masters.”

—
The Anniston Star

“A new espionage thriller star is born.”

—
The National Jewish Post and Opinion

“Shows an unusual familiarity with the gritty reality of intel ops and has the feel and smell of authenticity in the dialogue
and plot that will result in enthusiastic readers among our professional intel members. A number of tradecraft surprises,
too.”

—
Intelligencer

“A fast-paced, compelling whodunnit…a worthy page-turner for spending a day at the beach.”

—
New Jersey Jewish News

“This book is terrific. Great characters, settings, and superb trade knowledge. I am eager to buy the first sequel.”

—Jim Guy Tucker, former Governor of Arkansas

Other
Leisure
books by Haggai Carmon:

THE RED SYNDROME

TRIPLE IDENTITY

A LEISURE BOOK®

April 2009

Published by

Dorchester Publishing Co., Inc.
200 Madison Avenue
New York, NY 10016

Copyright © 2009 by Haggai Carmon

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