Triple Identity (40 page)

Benny put down the document, removed his eyeglasses, and looked at Eric. “What's this bullshit? Is it for real?”

Eric smiled. “Please continue,” he asked.

Benny let out a sigh and said, “Let me read it first.” Five minutes later, Benny came up with an answer: “This is garbage. Somebody was trying to create a document purportedly written by the CIA, while in fact it is a compilation of several different news reports appearing in the media in recent years.”

“The problem is that although Iranian sources claim their scientists have the necessary skills and technology to master the construction of an atom bomb, we don't think they do,” said Eric in a decisive tone. “Therefore, they're also working in other directions: purchasing gas centrifuges and developing gaseous diffusion, chemical enrichment, and laser isotope separation to produce highly enriched uranium and plutonium to build a bomb. Substantial resources and effort are going into gaseous diffusion.”

Benny looked at Eric with a puzzled look. “Is there a purpose for this fake document? Where are the secrets?”

“There aren't any,” said Eric. “Although Iranian agents were having trouble trying to buy essential equipment on the open market, which is now embargoed, we think the Iranians may nevertheless have been successful in their purchasing missions.”

My heart started beating faster. Iranian A-bombs and the trigger in the hands of the ayatollahs?

Eric continued. “Iran is capitalizing on the strong desire of Western technology companies to make sales wherever they can. They look the
other way when questions come up about the true end-use of the technology or equipment they supplied. The Iranians are toying with business-hungry companies, and they are able to obtain a considerable amount of proprietary information from these firms for free.”

Benny didn't comment, but nodded his head and obediently continued reading the document: “The atomic bomb design ‘weaponization’ is the responsibility of the Iranian scientists and technicians. At this time Iran has detailed plans for building an implosion nuclear device containing a mass of highly enriched uranium at its core. They are also purchasing conventional explosives to be put around the central mass to detonate simultaneously. They implode and compress the fissile material into a supercritical mass. At that instant, neutrons are injected into the material to initiate a chain reaction and explosion.”

Eric suddenly moved in. “Benny, no point in reading any more. This is a fake document. The Iranians doctored one of our official publications to make it look like a secret document. They inserted some accurate information, a lot of bullshit, and some half-truths. I wouldn't be surprised if they intended to leak it to a newspaper that would then publish it as a genuine CIA document.”

“As psychological warfare,” I said, “that document could still serve a purpose. By appearing in the media it would achieve two goals. The first would be to embarrass the United States at a crucial point when President Bush is trying to complete his coalition of countries to fight Saddam's invasion of Kuwait. I guess exposing the United States as a leaking sieve would not be too popular with the coalition countries. And if the Iranians could manage to hint that they have a mole within the CIA, then they'd score double. The second goal would be to spread fear among Iran's oil-rich neighbors concerning Iran's nuclear might. That may have a domino effect on the Gulf States and even Saudi Arabia. They could fall into the Iranian's hands like ripe fruit off the tree.”

“Precisely,” said Eric, in one of the very few instances in which he completely agreed with me. Well, after all, I was supporting his line of thinking.

There was a moment of silence in the room. Benny was the first one to
break it. “The Iranian document is excellent for us. I could think of some interesting operations following these leads. Israel can't allow the Iranian fanatics to become the new Nazis of the Middle East. We have to believe him when they say they want the Jews thrown into the sea.”

“Would Israel consider preventive measures against the suppliers to Iran?” asked Phil.

“I wouldn't rule anything out,” said Benny candidly. “We could do it ourselves or let the public do a preparatory job.”

“What do you mean?” asked Phil.

“Well, if we leak some of this stuff to the media, or just the identity of the European suppliers, Israel would again be justified in its effort to bury the Iranian nuclear program.”

“I see,” said Phil.

“Let me share with you recent intelligence,” said Benny. “We have indications that the Iranians are negotiating with the Soviets to purchase an advanced AVRII uranium enrichment processor system to be installed at Natanz and at Moallen Kalayeh sites. They plan a ‘close-looped fuel cycle.’ That means that Iran will be able to produce fuel for its nuclear bombs.”

Benny paused, drank a sip of water, and continued. “We know that Iran is also getting technical cooperation from Syria, which in 1989 deployed its Scud-C missiles along its southern border with Israel and equipped the Iranians with sarin nerve gas. Iran may try to use the Scud-C missiles for the delivery of their bomb to Israel.”

“They would have to reduce the bomb's weight first,” said Phil, “otherwise the missiles wouldn't get to Israel from Iran.”

“But from Syria they could,” snapped Benny. “Syrian-Iranian cooperation is not limited to exchange of technical information.”

Phil Richards and Arthur Brown nodded in agreement.

“I'm sure you know,” added Benny in a serious tone, “that Iran has sent several thousand students to Western universities to study physics and chemistry, to acquire the necessary expertise. The Iranians refrain from sending too many students at the same time to the same university or region, to make it difficult for the Western intelligence services to appreciate the number of Iranian students abroad and the technical skills they acquire.”

“Yes, we know that,” said Phil. “We are closely monitoring this activity.”

Benny paused, while we patiently waited for him to continue. I saw how Benny was arming the bomb he was about to drop. Here it came.

“We also know that until 1988 the United States had been providing classified satellite intelligence to the Iraqi government during their war with Iran. Iranian agents in Iraq stole that information. Now the Iranians know what the U.S. can see, and therefore, how to deceive you.”

Phil Richards, Arthur Brown, and Eric Henderson didn't blink. “That was a strategic decision that was appropriate at the time,” said Eric.

“Some decision,” said Benny, with a hint of mockery. “Take this as an example: knowing the limitations of the U.S. satellites, the Iranians are building large disguised and dispersed bombproof facilities. They are fooling you.”

Eric was not deterred. “Let's work with what we have,” he said, completely undistracted by Benny's criticism. “We know that Iran's uranium-enrichment program is being pushed ahead. They are preparing to convert uranium to enriched uranium metal, a must for an A-bomb. Iran is also working on laser technology to enrich uranium. They are planning a highly advanced laboratory, the Jabr Ibn Hayan at the Tehran Nuclear Research Center.”

“Why uranium and not plutonium?” asked Benny.

“Because plutonium requires reprocessing spent nuclear fuel, which in turn requires a reprocessing plant.”

“How do we know that these planned facilities are not for energy-production purposes?”

Eric waved his hand. “Because if they were meant as an alternate fuel supply, why are they planning a heavy-water installation? The Bushehr plant will be operated by light-water reactor. But if they plan on using heavy water, with its extra hydrogen atom, that's an indication that they are making weapons-grade plutonium.”

“I‘ve always believed our own reports that Iran's nuclear weapons program is substantial,” said Benny. “They're not doing it as a public relations stunt. The Iranian clerics really want to export their Islamic revolution by force. With an A-bomb in their arsenal, more people would listen.”

Nobody responded. The room went silent. Brown and Eric were collecting their papers; it seemed that the meeting was ending.

Now it was my chance to turn up the heat. All this political and scientific detail was in my way.

“Eric, I have a question. How long did DeLouise work for you?”

Eric smiled in embarrassed surprise. “What makes you think he ever did?” he asked, while avoiding my eyes and arranging his papers.

“I guess it's true, then,” I said. I had known the answer already.

“Tell me about it,” countered Eric.

“DeLouise received a tourist visa to the United States on an expired Romanian passport. It's impossible today, and it was definitely impossible in 1957, when Romania was a part of the Communist Bloc. So I gathered the restrictions were deliberately ignored. Given DeLouise's identity, it's obvious who was interested in him. One plus one is two.”

“Not so fast,” said Eric. “It was a one-time deal. In 1957I was still in elementary school, but I recently looked this thing up. DeLouise wanted to emigrate to the United States but he didn't qualify for an immigrant visa because he lacked a sponsor. So he offered us information about recent French nuclear developments in exchange for permanent residence in the United States. The price was right and we agreed. That's the whole story.”

“But why did he receive the visa on his expired Romanian passport rather than on his valid Israeli passport?”

“He didn't qualify for a regular immigrant visa, so the only way to grant him a green card was through the asylum program. Under that program, it would look better to grant the status on a Romanian passport even though it was expired. In fact it even helped, because if ever questioned on that he could claim that his persecution by the government included a denial of a valid passport. Romania was a country with a dictatorial regime, which could explain to any probing eyes why he received asylum. We couldn't offer the same explanation with respect to a democracy like Israel.”

I took a step forward and ventured, “Was DeLouise doubled?” Meaning, was he recruited by the CIA to be a double agent.

“Definitely not,” said Eric. “It all happened after DeLouise had already left the Mossad, and he specifically conditioned the deal on the insistence
that no questions concerning Israel or the Mossad be asked during his debriefing. For us, DeLouise was a ‘walk-in,’ a one-time informer.”

I didn't say anything, but Eric's explanation seemed to answer the question I'd been asking myself since September, when I'd received David Stone's memo assigning me to DeLouise's case: why had DeLouise received a U.S. passport on an expired visa? — a circumstance so unusual that it had immediately set off alarm bells in my head. DeLouise's deal with the CIA may have been only a one-time deal but he'd left enough of a trail to help me make a breakthrough in my own case.

“That was why the Justice Department and the FBI couldn't locate him thirty-three years later,” I said. “There was no indication in his file that he had lived in Israel for a few years as Dov Peled.” Eric didn't respond. I knew why. CIA could not share the information with other U.S. government agencies.

We had to get back to the present. I was about to get up and leave but Eric stopped me.

“Here's what I want you to do. Call Guttmacher and ask to see him together with Armajani and Kutchemeshgi as soon as possible.”

“Why?” I asked, “I thought this thing was over.”

“Not yet. We asked you here and showed you the documents for a purpose. We need postoperation reconnaissance. We need to know their next move after the break-in. You're the only one who can do that. Tell them you want to report on your Moscow trip.”

“But you still have the transmitting pen on his desk. That should tell you what's going on,” I said.

“No. It stopped working the day after the break-in. Either they found it or the battery is dead.”

“So they'll be looking for anyone who had access to Guttmacher's office and could have put the pen there. Is that a wise idea, to return to the lion's den now?”

“There is some risk,” conceded Eric, “but you'll be wired again, and our men will be outside if the meeting gets ugly.”

“OK,” I said, not particularly liking the idea but nevertheless willing.

“Duty calls,” said Benny, who'd picked up my tone.

On Monday afternoon I called Guttmacher from a street pay phone. “I've just returned from Moscow and I need to see you and the Iranian gentlemen,” I said matter-of-factly.

“I'm glad you called,” said Guttmacher hastily. “There have been some developments and we're meeting tomorrow morning at ten o'clock in my office. Please be there.”

That was easy. I called Eric to report.

“Good, we'll come to your hotel at eight-thirty to dress you up.”

On Tuesday at 10:00
A.M
., wired for sound, I walked into Guttmacher's office. Kutchemeshgi, Armajani, Guttmacher, and a somber-looking Iranian man in his early forties were waiting in the adjacent conference room. DiMarco, Broncotrade's president, wasn't there, as I'd expected.

“Good morning gentlemen,” I said, and sat down next to Guttmacher. I looked at the newcomer sitting across the table next to Kutchemeshgi and Armajani, waiting to be introduced. When that didn't happen, I said, “I'm Peter Wooten.”