The Volunteer (16 page)

While working for Tevel, I always took a smug satisfaction in surprising my U.S. colleagues with stunning revelations about an enemy operative working clandestinely in their own backyard. The combination of gratitude, respect, and humility that my counterparts exhibited on those occasions was one of the things that made the job worthwhile.

In this case, our plan was to avoid running the operation through our hopelessly out-of-the-loop FBI contacts at the Tel Aviv Legat, and instead work through Sarah, a Mossad liaison officer working in the Washington station. Before going to her, Sheila and I met with Paul and Wayne to ensure that the Legat had a heads-up on what we were doing. I had anticipated that their noses would be out of joint, but they actually appeared relieved to remain on the sidelines. As it turned out, they had more than enough files on the go to keep themselves busy. Plus, a secretary had screwed up their computer system so badly that a technician had to be flown in from D.C. to fix it. And to top things off, Bill Clinton's people were starting to act like peacemaking busybodies during this period, which meant the FBI had to deal with various Palestinian factions and warlords on non-intelligence related matters.

Without further ado, we sent Sarah a package of material to take to FBI HQ, along with our recommendations on how best to proceed. We emphasized that the Mossad should retain as much control as possible, even though the operation was going to take place on U.S. territory. It was an ambitious request but, since we were the ones bringing the Americans the intelligence, we figured they owed us one.

A short time later, Sarah told us that her FBI contacts were stunned by our intelligence and eager to take up the chase. Within another day or two, they'd procured FISA warrants that allowed them to eavesdrop on Ramez's phone calls. FISA stands for
Foreign Intelligence Surveillance Act
, a 1978 law that sets out the procedures the FBI and other government agencies must (theoretically) follow before spying on the movements and communications of individuals suspected of being agents of a “foreign power.” FISA was a fairly obscure statute until December 2005, when the
New York Times
broke the story that the Bush administration was ignoring FISA, and had given the National Security Agency (NSA) carte blanche to spy on domestic phone calls.

Many of the Bush administration's critics have argued that the NSA's so-called Terrorist Surveillance Program is not only illegal (a U.S. District judge ruled it unconstitutional in August 2006), but unnecessary as well—since it's always been fairly easy for law enforcement agencies to get FISA authorization for surveillance. I can't comment on that as a general principle, but I definitely was amazed at how fast the FBI got its FISA mandate against Ramez. I later learned that the newly appointed chief of the international terrorism section at the FBI's National Security Division, a man named Dale Watson, was enthusiastic about the operation, and had given instructions that we were to have at our disposal all the resources necessary to bring Ramez and his procurement operation down.

Ramez, we all discovered from the ensuing surveillance, was traveling all over the United States, methodically seeking to locate and purchase military equipment for Hezbollah. We listened to his calls for almost a year, generating almost thirteen hundred transcripts, which the FBI and Mossad shared.

In our reading of the translated intercepts we received, we kept hoping that Ramez would tip us off to other Hezbollah operatives and networks in the United States, but it became clear he was operating as a “singleton,” or lone operative. Being a former combatant myself, I could relate to his compartmentalized modus operandi (if not his murderous ideology). Unlike some of the amateurish operations that have been busted in Western nations since 9/11, Hezbollah is not a ragtag group of fanatics. Thanks to all the help they get from their sponsors in Tehran, they are adept at foreign intelligence and counterintelligence operations.

As the months rolled on, Ramez slowly ticked off the items on Laqis's list. He took his time and proceeded carefully; none of his purchases, taken in isolation, would have alerted anyone of his intentions. But Laqis wasn't impressed. He would call Ramez occasionally and berate him for the slow pace. He regularly played the guilt-trip card, reminding him how Hezbollah terrorists were falling prey to Israeli soldiers while Ramez dilly-dallied in the United States.

By late spring 1998, with Ramez's shopping list almost complete, Sarah called my office and told me that the FBI was about to make an arrest. But there was a catch: the Bureau wanted one of us to testify against Ramez in court. This was a problem. The Mossad is a covert intelligence-gathering operation. Our agency would be compromised if we were forced to disclose sensitive details about our methods (including many I am omitting in this book) under cross-examination in open court. This was exactly the sort of conflict that inevitably materialized when you paired up scofflaw spies with buttoned-down G-men.

“No way are we going to put either one of you on the witness stand,” Uri told Sheila and me.

I played devil's advocate. “What if this is our only chance to bring him down? Maybe I could do it in camera or by way of a written affidavit ?”

“No way,” Uri replied. “The DG won't go for it and it isn't going to happen. Besides, they've got mountains of evidence. What do they need you for?”

We went back to Sarah and she took the matter up with FBI HQ. A few hours later, she called us back. “Watson is coming out to see you guys,” she said. “And he seems kind of pissed.”

I met Dale Watson, along with Paul and Wayne, at a seafood restaurant on the beach in north Tel Aviv. This was essentially a getto-know-you gathering in anticipation of a substantive meeting the following day at Mossad HQ. Watson was an amiable fellow with a southern drawl, not very tall, with blue eyes and neatly combed brown hair. While he commanded respect, the man was far from overbearing.

Watson was intrigued by my Western appearance and lack of Israeli accent, and took a particular interest in my background. I answered his questions as vaguely as I could, but he probably guessed I was from the operational side of the business. We drank lots of wine and kept the discussion away from Ramez. He appreciated the hospitality and invited me to give him a call if I ever visited D.C.

The next morning I received a call from Andy at the Tel Aviv CIA station. Andy was an easygoing Californian, complete with goatee and laid back Haight-Ashbury attitude. Like Kerouac, he didn't fit the spy stereotype. But he was competent and professional all the same. He told me that one of their officers would be sitting in on the meeting with the FBI.

“What for?” I asked, sensing some kind of CIA-FBI turf battle was in the works.

“Hezbollah is a foreign terrorist organization and therefore falls within our mandate, so we have to be in on it.”

“Does the Bureau know you're going to be there?” I asked. “Because if they don't, you'd better tell them now.” I felt like a dinner party host trying to preempt an embarrassing catfight between two guests.

“Yeah, they know. And they ain't happy about it. But don't worry. We're just in observation mode.”

Sure enough, Mike from the CIA Tel Aviv station presented himself at the meeting. He was deferential and didn't say a word, but he sure took a lot of notes. The FBI folks ignored him as if he wasn't there. I marvelled at how cold and adversarial their relationship was. It was particularly ironic in this case, as Watson had served the previous year as deputy head of the CIA's Counterterrorism Center.

When we got down to business, Watson surprised everyone by announcing he didn't need our testimony. The FBI, he told us, was going to launch a sting operation in concert with U.S. Customs. It appeared that many of the articles were export-restricted to Lebanon under customs rules, a fact that would facilitate a criminal proceeding under a 1996 law that outlaws material support to terrorist organizations such as Hezbollah. Watson told us that Ramez could face up to life in prison and a $750,000 fine if convicted.

“That works for us,” I said. In fact, it seemed like such a win-win that I wondered why he'd bothered to fly ten hours to give us the news.

After the meeting, I took Watson over to meet Admiral Ami Ayalon, the head of the Israel Security Agency, at their HQ near Tel Aviv University. It was a courtesy meeting, and we met in a boardroom that adjoined Ayalon's office.

Although I'd never met the man before, I knew the Ayalon legend. As a member (and, subsequently, commander) of Israel's elite naval commando unit, Flotilla 13, he'd been decorated numerous times for bravery. He had been put in the ISA job after the assassination of Yitzhak Rabin in 1995 to revitalize the demoralized service and, by all reports, he'd succeeded in turning things around. Now fifty-three years old, he had the gruff but friendly demeanor of a native-born Israeli, and the terse speaking manner of a military veteran. Everyone regarded him as a man's man. The ISA's rank and file adored him.

Despite being on the short side, Ayalon was an intimidating presence. He was bald and well muscled. One glance told you he was tough as nails. One of my office mates told me he would see Ayalon swim a few miles in the Tel Aviv University pool and then do hundreds of push-ups and sit-ups in the dirt and mud outside the building—even on rainy days—as if he were back in boot camp. That's old-school tough.

When I introduced myself, he practically crushed my hand and looked me up and down. I could tell what he was thinking: here's another wimpy, foreign-born Mossad aristocrat.

Watson and the admiral briefly discussed issues related to cooperation between their two services. I politely waited until the meeting concluded, then I returned Watson to his hotel, where we exchanged parting pleasantries. The next time I would see him would be on CNN in 2002, testifying before the Senate Select Committee on Intelligence and the Permanent Select Committee on Intelligence about the events that led to 9/11.

A few weeks later, Ramez began trying to ship out some of the goodies he'd purchased from the Detroit airport. His first shipment included seven pairs of night-vision goggles, one infrared heat detection device, and two global positioning satellite modules. The FBI arranged for U.S. Customs to conduct a “random” search of his packages and—lo and behold—they were full of export-restricted items. In an act of calculated leniency, Customs seized the items and let Ramez go with a fine. He immediately called Laqis, who told him to sit tight.

But Ramez, sensing (correctly) that the gig was up, began to panic. One night, he tried to get rid of all the items he'd purchased for Hezbollah by putting them into a dumpster near his home in Dearborn. Fortunately, he was still under surveillance, and the FBI was able to seize the discarded goods—which included more night-vision devices, thermal imaging scopes, and literature on Israeli Cabinet members with details of their home addresses. This gave the FBI all they'd need for a conviction.

FBI agents arrested Ramez without incident at his house. From that moment on, it became a criminal proceeding and the Mossad was cut out of the loop. But Sarah learned that more incriminating items had been discovered hidden in his house, and at his Ford office. Evidence seized by the FBI also indicated that he'd already managed to ship Kevlar bulletproof vests and various other items to Laqis before we got a hold of him. No doubt, some of those very items were used by the Hezbollah troops Israel fought against in 2006.

Ramez was to become the first person in American legal history to be indicted using the “material support” provisions of the 1996 anti-terrorist law, and we were all looking forward to the successful prosecution of this case after such a long build-up.

At this point, however, the story goes south. Ramez was charged and brought before U.S. Magistrate Virginia Morgan who, despite the pleas of all concerned, granted Ramez bail—he put his parents' house up as a hundred-thousand-dollar bond—with the condition that he wear an electronic tether. Once released, Ramez promptly cut the tether, grabbed his brother's passport, crossed into Canada, and fled to Lebanon.

After September 11, 2001, this sort of thing would never be allowed to happen, of course. But back in 1998 few Americans took the threat of terrorism seriously—despite the fact that Hezbollah had been tied to numerous terrorist attacks against American targets, including the 1996 Khobar Towers attack in Saudi Arabia, which left nineteen American servicemen dead. The judge's reckless action was as perfect an example as I'd ever encountered of the pre-9/11 mindset.

When I heard the news, I was dumbstruck, and I fumed around the office for days. We just watched a year's worth of work get poured down the drain. What really bugged me was the tantalizing prospect of what we could have gotten out of Ramez. He had a jittery personality, and probably would have provided a wealth of intelligence about Hezbollah's procurement methods and Laqis in return for leniency.

For Hezbollah, Ramez's capture was but a minor setback. In recent years, the group has received an estimated $120 million in aid from Iran, as well as a roughly equal amount through overseas donations from sympathetic Shiite expatriates. The group used this cash to acquire a wide range of valuable military hardware—as its deadly attacks against Israel in 2006 demonstrated.

Moreover, Hezbollah is still active in the United States, Canada, and other Western nations, and in Southeast Asia. If push comes to shove between the United States and Iran over the Islamic Republic's nuclear program, one of the ways Iran can be expected to attack the U.S. is through Hezbollah's network of North American and worldwide cells.