The Red Syndrome (45 page)

Inside were numerous documents, mostly in German. "It looks like
bank records," I said, after giving them a glance.

He nodded. "These are banking documents reflecting the entire traffic
between Schiller Bank and six American banks - including Eagle Bank.
These are money changers and financial institutions in the U.S. that have
been actively laundering money for the Slaves of Allah for the past year.
You have names, addresses, dates, and everything else you'd need to nab
and nail the bastards."

"How reliable is the information?"

Benny smiled. "Remember the Mossad's Alphanumeric Source and
Information Evaluation System?"

"Sure."

"Then it's B-one."

I remembered Alex, my Mossad instructor, teaching me the system of
evaluation of sources and information graded on a descending scale of A
through E; A means completely reliable, since it is used only for Mossad
combatants; B means usually reliable; C means fairly reliable; D means
reliability cannot be judged; and E means unreliable. The value of information is described on a descending scale of i through 3; z is eyeball -
primary source; 2 is used for information obtained by an agent from a
usually reliable informant - that is, secondary source; 3 is rumor-based,
or unconfirmed information.

"Why is it only a B?"

"Because the bank may have created false files designated to mislead
hackers. Our analysis showed it to be a very remote possibility because we cross-referenced the money movement with other banking institutions
that either sent or received the money. It checked. Anyway, give it to your
boss. Should I add a card that says `courtesy of Dan Gordon'?"

"Don't bother. Hodson's not big on niceties."

"Okay, then just give it to him with my thanks for getting my men
back. Accounting balance for services rendered: zero."

ew York was both hectic and calm. My children were all over me,
and I was hugging them endlessly, while Snap jumped on me with
joy, face licking and everything. After three days of debriefing in
Langley about my Libyan and Yemenite ordeals, I was called for a
meeting at 26 Federal Plaza. Before going to Hodson's office, I went to
see my own office at the task force: The space was vacant. I then went to
see Hodson.

He was waiting for me with Eric and Brian. To my surprise and
delight, David Stone was also present. After exchanging greetings, I
asked, "Tell me how it ended." They were seated on chairs in front on
Hodson's desk. Frankly, I'd expected a hero's welcome, but when none
came, I said to myself, What the hell, I'm alive and free.

"Dan, we're trying to tie up some loose ends regarding your capture. Do
you know what happened?" Eric was pushy.

"I was tricked into thinking I was meeting you," I said. Didn't he read
the first chapter of my Langley briefing?

"Why did they use my name? I know you never said anything to Zhukov
about me," asked Eric.

"How do you know?"

"We were listening to your meeting with Zhukov, remember?" answered
Eric drily. "Or maybe there was another meeting with Zhukov that we are
not aware of?"

It all seemed so long ago. "There was only one meeting with him," I
said. "They must have gotten your name elsewhere. I had no idea until I learned during my Langley debriefing that the Slaves of Allah had
recruited a sympathizer in my hotel to help them listen to any phone
calls to or from my room. They must have heard our short conversation
and knew I'd be expecting a call from you. So talking to you exposed me
as well."

"They were on your tail well before that," said Brian.

"That's news to me," I said. "When did it start?"

"Remember the Belarusian translator?"

"Sure."

"She was Igor's girlfriend."

"I was the one who discovered that," I reminded him.

"So when Dr. Bermann talked to Igor about your forthcoming visit and
asked for his cooperation, Igor agreed. He probably had no intention of
talking to you, but wanted to glean from you, through your questioning,
what the U.S. government knew or suspected about his services to Zhukov.
He wanted to protect Zhukov at any cost, even if it meant spending the rest
of his life in prison."

"I can understand that," I said. "Better that than slow torture at the
hands of Zhukov's comrades."

"Exactly," said Eric wryly.

"The interpreter used my visit to the prison to plant a transmitter in my
coat, probably under Zhukov's direction."

"Right," agreed Brian, "and the attack on you in the street was also his
doing. Once you were identified as an investigator looking for evidence
on the connection between Zhukov, Igor, and the massive bank deposits,
you became a prime target for Zhukov. He could monitor you while you
were outside the U.S., but when you returned all his channels of information dried up. He needed inside info." He shot me an accusing look.

I felt as if an ice cube were slowly sliding down my back. What was
going on? Did they think I was the insider who'd provided Zhukov with
information? Maybe I was imagining things, but Eric and Brian seemed
to be coordinated with their subtle accusations and innuendo. It was no
coincidence. My stomach moved nervously.

"A garbage run of our files?" I suggested, trying to remember if I'd ever brought home any of the material and then absentmindedly thrown it
away. Very unlike me, but shit happens.

"No, the office trash is shredded."

"Wiretapping?" I asked hopefully. I dreaded the moment he'd realize the
truth. And I berated myself for having been blind for so long to what Laura
was doing, although I'd seen the light and reported her to Hodson. Still, my
hands weren't clean. I'd asked Laura to join me in France, which was
against the rules, and I'd been slow to correctly label her dubious activities.

"No," said Hodson.

"Dan," Eric said decisively, "we believe there's a mole working for
Zhukov."

"You mean, present tense?"

"Yes."

His answer was ominous. They couldn't mean Laura; I'd exposed her.
She had to be behind bars. So there had to be another mole. Did they
suspect me? As a foreign-born, naturalized citizen of the United States,
I could be an easy target of suspicion.

"Laura," I said. "I hope she's under arrest."

"Why Laura?" he asked.

"Bob, I exposed her," I said, "You mean she's not in custody? Didn't you
get my e-mail?"

"E-mail, what e-mail? You only called me once to tell me to look for
her," said Hodson shortly.

"That's crazy." I raised my voice. "I sent you an e-mail from my hotel
room in France telling you that I suspected Laura is a mole, and that she
had an accomplice."

"I never got any e-mail from you. Did you copy anyone else?"

"No. It was sent just to you." I told him the address I'd used, and he
confirmed that it was correct.

"But I never got any message from you," he continued. "Still, you must
have a copy on your laptop ... Oh, I forgot, you don't have a laptop because
it was left behind at the hotel when you were captured." The last sentence
dripped with scorn. "Well, I'm sure we can find a copy of your message on
your server, that'll be easy enough," he said blandly, looking me in the eye.

"Under instructions I received, I opened a onetime account at Yahoo,
and deleted the file after sending you the message, for security reasons.
Maybe your spam-blocking software rejected it? Under my instructions,
after sending the e-mail I had to delete it and purge the account. If it was
rejected by your mailbox I had no way of knowing it." I was becoming
increasingly nervous, feeling I was sinking into a black hole.

"So you have no record of ever writing or sending the message?"

"No," I said faintly. For a moment, I was lost for words. "Anyway, I
asked you to question Laura; she behaved really strangely." I told them
the whole story about Laura, and how I'd exposed her. They listened, but
only Brian took notes.

"Laura said the same thing about you," said Eric. I didn't like the tone
of his voice. But on the other hand, I'd never liked it.

"What did she say?"

"She said she'd exposed you. She told us that you invited her over, in
complete violation of the rules, and when she arrived you tried to talk her
into joining forces with you in making a cool million dollars by working
for Zhukov."

I couldn't believe my ears. "Is that what she said? That's crazy. I never
suggested that, or offered her any such thing. We had a brief relationship
while I was still in New York. I was bored in Marseilles, so I invited her
over. She wasn't the enemy, I remind you, or at least I didn't think she was
when I called her. She worked with me. What's wrong with that? I know I
broke a rule, but jumping from that to a conclusion that I betrayed is crazy."

"We don't take these things lightly. What you did was wrong, and you
know it," said Bob Hodson in his rumbling voice. "You were engaged in
a sensitive operation, and only those actually participating in it were supposed to be in the loop. You breached that and brought an unauthorized
person onto the scene. That's outright irresponsible."

"In retrospect, I agree. I was stupid to do it. But that has nothing to do
with the false allegation Laura has made. She's covering her tracks. I meant
to fully supplement my initial e-mailed report, but then I was kidnapped."

"She's denied any wrongdoing," Eric said. "You had to know that once
Laura refused your offer to spy for Zhukov and make a quick million dol lays, there'd be an investigation. I suspect that the e-mail you now purport
to have sent Bob is actually an alibi you're trying to create after the fact to
fend off Laura's accusation." Although Eric's tone was bland, I wouldn't
have been surprised if this scene was giving him satisfaction he was
working hard not to show.

"This is totally false," I said, feeling I had no air in my lungs. Was it possible I was actually being accused of malfeasance - even a kind of
treason? Once again I was faced with a situation I simply didn't know how
to deal with. I took a deep breath. I was fighting for my life here. I had to
appear confident. "She broke into my hotel room looking for documents.
When I confronted her, she concocted a story about being jealous of my
relations with other women. When I showed her the video of her
searching my room, she said she was working for you and testing whether
I was breaching security by leaving behind classified materials in my room.
What bullshit."

"Dan," said David in his soft voice, "that attitude is not helpful."

I knew David. He was tacitly telling me that I was digging my grave
deeper because of my arrogance. But this was not the time to be Mr. Nice.
It was time to get the truth out, no matter what. My defiant and militant
nature started kicking in again.

"I presume you don't have the handheld video viewer either," said Eric,
in a seemingly serious tone, but the cynicism wasn't far from the surface.

"No. Laura maced me and ran away with the viewer. I know that this
story sounds a bit wacko, but that's exactly what happened. Laura had
confessed earlier that she'd also sent her boyfriend to search my room.
Maybe I also arranged my own kidnapping?" I asked in contempt mixed
with rage.