Obsession (Year of Fire) (11 page)

“Your idea is a utopia,” he concluded, finally.

“No, it’s not,” Shiloah refuted. “Anything is possible, and it pains me that you, of all mortals, would try to tell me that something can’t be
done. You, who does whatever he wants and successfully too. Regardless of what stands in your way.”

“There are too many complications. I’m just thinking of the opposition you’ll get from the Israeli parties and centers of power, not to mention the PLO, Hamas and Islamic Jihad. It’s overwhelming. If we add the United States into the equation, then prospects are really starting to look bleak.”

“Step by step. Little by little.”

“Moreover, in your newspaper,” Eliah said, referring to
Breaking News
, “you’ve always criticized the Mossad for not appearing in the budget and generally enjoying impunity. You’ve shaken up a hornet’s nest by saying they should be subject to Knesset supervision. Now you have them against you. And they’re not to be messed with, I’m warning you.”

“Ah, but that’s why I have you! So you can watch my back.”

“I’ve already told you how difficult you’re making it,
mon frère
. Tell me, Shiloah.” The tone of Al-Saud’s voice silenced Moses’s laugh. “What do you know about the Israeli Institute of Biological Research?”

“Not much. I can tell you that the residents of Ness-Ziona, the city where it’s located, have expressed their fears about the type of products manufactured there. In the last few years, six employees have died under pretty murky circumstances, probably as a result of handling highly toxic substances.”

The ring of a cell phone interrupted their conversation. Al-Saud checked who was calling before answering. Céline. He closed and turned off the phone.

“Answer it,” Moses encouraged him. “Don’t worry about me.”

“It’s not important. Tell me, Shiloah, do you remember the air disaster in Bijlmer?” He pronounced it correctly, “beilmer.”

“The cargo plane that crashed into a building in Amsterdam?” Al-Saud nodded. “It was a huge scandal for El Al.”

“We’re trying to find out what the El Al plane was carrying.”

“Mercure is investigating?” Moses was surprised. “Why would Mercure be doing that?”

“Mike”—Michael Thornton, Mercure’s other partner—“Tony and I are broadening our horizons. We’re working on expanding the business.
The pressure’s on with the UN resolution banning mercenary forces. We’ve decided to diversify.”

“Oh, mercenaries will never cease to exist!”

“I know, but the demand for our services might fall, and we have very high fixed costs. So we’ve decided to branch into other businesses, such as high-risk investigations and economic and industrial protection services. You already know that industrial and economic espionage is a serious issue. In the Bijlmer case, what we’re uncovering might help your political campaign.”

“That’s interesting. I’m listening.”

“We’ve been contracted by two of the largest insurance companies in the Netherlands, who have to cover the cost of property and human lives lost in the accident. They want to know what the El Al plane was carrying. Mike interviewed a few of the Bijlmer residents who swore that they saw four or five people dressed like astronauts wandering around in the middle of the chaos right after the accident. The health problems among the residents of Bijlmer have gotten worse since the accident. You can see it in the statistics from hospitals in the area.”

“That’s no proof of anything.”

“It is if the people all fall ill with the same symptoms, ranging from skin problems to a rare type of cancer. Though the causes of the accident are well known, it was never revealed what the cargo plane was carrying. The Dutch and Israeli authorities are not being very helpful with regard to handing over the freight documents, which has raised suspicions.”

“A great friend of mine is a manager at El Al. He doesn’t much like government shenanigans either. I’ll ask him if he knows anything.”

“That might be useful to us. We learned two interesting facts from Mike’s trip to Amsterdam. First, an employee from the Department of Cargo Operations at Amsterdam-Schiphol airport swore that there was a fourth man on flight 2681. It has always been claimed that only the crew were traveling: the pilot, the copilot and the plane engineer. However, this man swears he saw a fourth. Who is it? Why wasn’t his presence recorded? Secondly, this same employee, who was supervising the cargo, saw several
Danger
labels. He knew that the material was military. The man swears that while he was putting the boxes through the pressure chamber used to detect and detonate potential bombs, he saw a label he
hadn’t seen before. Next to the
Danger
sign it read, ‘Chemical Blahetter Inc. Origin: Córdoba—Argentina.’ He noticed it because it was written in Spanish and he knows the language a little. We’re following up on that clue. We are going to get to the heart of the matter and expose it in the press. It won’t be just the insurance companies who benefit from this investigation. No doubt you’ll have a better chance in the elections after a scandal of this magnitude.”

Shiloah listened to Al-Saud with his eyes on the floor and a hand on his chin.

“I’m now thinking about how best to prepare the terrain to take advantage of this news. What do you think the El Al plane was carrying?”

“Mike thinks that we’re dealing with compounds used to produce chemical weapons: nerve agents such as sarin gas, tabun, soman and others, all used by the Nazis during World War II.”

“What makes him suspect that?”

“A very interesting conversation he had with the air-traffic controller who was supervising flight 2681’s takeoff. The guy swears that after the pilot informed him that he couldn’t get control of the aircraft for the emergency landing and the plane seemed doomed, the tower at Amsterdam-Schiphol asked him repeatedly to try to ditch in Lake IJssel. Why would a pilot, an Israeli air force veteran with twenty-five thousand hours of flight experience, be unable to steer the plane toward the lake?” Al-Saud answered himself. “Because he wanted to avoid the water at all costs, even though that meant crashing in a densely populated area. A chemical weapons expert explained to Mike that dimethyl methyl phosphate and chlorine thionyl, both components of sarin gas, react furiously on contact with water. If the plane had ended up in Lake IJssel, the catastrophe would have been of unimaginable proportions. I think that the pilot did what he had to do to save the population of Amsterdam.”

“How would the pilot know that the dimethyl…chlorine…or whatever they were would react so lethally with the water? That’s hardly something everyone knows.”

“Either the pilot was warned about the cargo he was carrying and the dangers that were involved, which seems improbable, or the fourth man played an important role in the decision to crash into the Bijlmer estate.”

“Are these chemicals used in other processes that don’t involve making chemical weapons? Insecticides, fertilizers or pharmaceuticals, for example?”

“According to the UN Convention on Chemical Weapons, thionyl chlorate is classified in table three, which is to say that it’s listed as used in the manufacture of chemical weapons
as well as
other legitimate industrial products. Its sale is controlled and restricted. Dimethyl methyl phosphate, on the other hand, is classified in table two, elements that are essential to the production of chemical weapons and that aren’t used in large quantities for civilian purposes. Sale of table two substances is prohibited.”

“My country hasn’t yet ratified the Chemical Weapons Convention, has it?”

“No, it hasn’t.”

“They might claim,” Moses said, “that they need these products to manufacture small samples of lethal gases so that they can learn about their behavior and create antidotes in case of an attack from our enemies. You already know that during the Gulf War a great threat was the possibility that Saddam would use chemical weapons. We all ran around with masks on our backs and built sealed rooms where we could survive an attack.”

Al-Saud was well aware of the dangers of war. A gas mask was always part of the complex set of equipment that an NBC (nuclear, biological and chemical defense) aviator took with him on missions.

“It’s a plausible justification,” he admitted. “Since its creation in 1948, Israel has been surrounded by enemies ready to erase it from the face of the earth. They have a right to know what weapons they might have to face. However, there are details that don’t fit this explanation. If the situation is as you describe, why not admit it? I’ll tell you why. Because of the quantities being transported. It’s one thing to transport small amounts for sample studies and analysis and another for large-scale weapons manufacture.”

“Tel Aviv maintains that the construction of atomic bombs by Israel is a strategic decision to deter our enemies. We don’t plan on using them. They might put forward the same argument with chemical weapons.”

“Of course it’s safer for nuclear and chemical weapons to be in Israel’s hands instead of a psychopath like Saddam Hussein. However, deterrence
or not, the construction of these weapons violates a huge number of treaties and international conventions, and you can take advantage of it.” A silence passed; Al-Saud went on to say, “If we discover what the El Al plane was carrying, you shouldn’t publish it in
Breaking News
. It might affect the credibility of the story.”

“Yes, yes, you’re right. We’ll find another outlet.”

“A Dutch newspaper would be best. When can you get in touch with your friend, the El Al manager? I have to find out the identity of the fourth man as soon as possible.”

“I’ll do it this morning.” Shiloah got to his feet and touched his belly. “This conversation has made me hungry. Which reminds me we have an invitation to lunch at your parents’ house, where the food is always excellent. Shall we take the hotel limousine?”

“No. I’ll call for my car.”

Al-Saud called down to the attendant in the hotel garage and ordered him to bring his Aston Martin to the front door in five minutes. He put on a short black leather jacket and adjusted the wool collar before leaving the suite. On his way to the exit, as he talked to Moses, Al-Saud analyzed his surroundings, detecting changes, listening to the sounds around him, always alert to any unusual element that might set off his internal alarm. After the severe training he was given when he entered L’Agence, this behavior had become second nature, like breathing. He never entered a room without memorizing the position of the furniture, the appearances of all the people present, what they were wearing and their behavior, whether the windows and doors were open or closed, whether the clock gave the right time, or if the man in the corner was actually or just pretending to read the newspaper. All this was done in an attempt to eliminate the element of surprise. Al-Saud would never forget the saying he had learned at L’Agence: “If you don’t see them coming, then you’re a dead man.”

As they crossed the hotel lobby, Shiloah commented on the excellent renovation Shariar had carried out at the legendary Parisian hotel. They exited the forged iron and glass door just as the English sports car was pulling up on Avenue George V. Al-Saud took in everything at once: Moses’s whistle of admiration as he saw the Aston Martin DB7 Volante, the look that the bellboy exchanged with a passerby and the surreptitious
signal he made to indicate Eliah and Shiloah. The passerby moved toward the entrance of the hotel with his hand under his overcoat. He didn’t get the chance to remove it. Al-Saud threw his friend to the ground and launched himself in the air, landing on the suspect’s thorax. The unknown man ended up on his back on the sidewalk, with the air knocked out of his lungs. A second later, Al-Saud had him facedown, with his hands pinned against his shoulder blades and the back of his neck trapped with his knee. Before speaking, he surveyed the surroundings. Except for the upset gesturing of the bellboy, the garage attendant and a group of guests from the George V, he didn’t notice anything strange.

“Who are you?”

“
Personne!
” the man stammered, breathless and twisting his lips so that they wouldn’t rub against the sidewalk. “A Dutch journalist! My name is Lars Meijer. I work for the
NRC Handelsblad
. I just wanted to give you this, Mr. Al-Saud. I swear.” With difficulty, he opened one of the hands twisted behind his back and Eliah realized that the wrinkled piece of paper was a business card.

He got up and frisked him from head to toe; all he could find was a wallet, which he looked through until he found the alleged journalist’s credentials.

“I tried to contact you by telephone but your secretary always tells me you’re not available.”

“Nobody knows my schedule like my secretary, Mr.…Meijer,” he finished with the help of the document.

“Yes, Meijer. Lars Meijer. From the
NRC Handelsblad
. I’m also a correspondent for
Paris Match
and
Le Figaro
in Amsterdam. I can prove it if you like.”

Al-Saud threw the wallet at his chest and Lars Meijer had to be quick to catch it. The head of the hotel concierge appeared on the sidewalk.

“Didier, have this man”—Eliah pointed to the bellboy—“collect his things and leave this instant. He’s fired.”

“Yes, Monsieur Al-Saud. Are you all right?”

Al-Saud gave him a look that made him take a step backward.

“How are you, Shiloah?”

“A little bruised but fine,
mon frère
.”

“Let’s go.”

“Mr. Al-Saud!” The Dutch journalist stopped on seeing the ferocious look on Eliah’s face. “I’d like to speak with you. It will only take a moment.”

“What do you want?”

“To interview you.” As Al-Saud glowered at him, he explained, “I’m doing research for my next book about the new private military businesses, and yours is the most prominent in the market. It would be an honor to be able to interview you,” he repeated nervously.

“I’m not interested. Good day.”

“Please, even so, take my card!”

Al-Saud took it and without giving it another glance, put it in the pocket of his leather jacket. Shiloah was already sitting in the passenger seat. Eliah sat behind the steering wheel, put on his seat belt and tore off with a squeal of rubber.