Rules of Deception

32

The time in Israel was three hours ahead of Switzerland. Instead of rain and snow, a blistering sun ruled the sky. The mercury nudged the century mark as the shores of the Eastern Mediterranean sweltered beneath an early spring heat wave.

Ten miles north of Tel Aviv, in the rocky coastal hillside town of Herzliya, an emergency meeting was under way on the second floor of the Institute for Intelligence and Special Operations, better known as the Mossad, Israel’s foreign intelligence service. Present were the heads of the organization’s most important divisions. Collections, which handled intelligence gathering. Political Action and Liaison, which was responsible for dealing with foreign intelligence services, and Special Operations, or Metsada, which supervised the dark side of the business: targeted assassination, sabotage, and kidnapping, among other activities.

“Since when do they have a facility in Chalus?” demanded the fat, proudly unattractive man pacing back and forth at the head of the room. “Last I heard, they’d concentrated their enrichment efforts at Natanz and Esfahan.” Dressed in short sleeves, with thi

“We can’t find anything on the maps. No satellite imagery. Nothing,” said Collections. “They’ve been very clever. They managed to keep its construction secret.”

“Secret, indeed!” said Zvi Hirsch. “How many centrifuges do they need to process that much uranium? We’re talking one hundred kilos in less than two years.”

“In so short a time? At least fifty thousand.”

“And how many companies manufacture the equipment needed to do that kind of job?”

“Less than a hundred,” said Collections. “Exports are strictly controlled and monitored.”

“I can see that,” Hirsch replied dryly.

“Clearly, they received their technology from outside the usual cha

“In Hebrew, please.”

“Products made for civilian purposes that can be used by the defense industry. In this case, it would be equipment to assist in the fuel enrichment cycle. High-speed centrifuges sold to dairies to make yogurt cultures that can also be used to separate uranium hexafluoride gas. Heat exchangers designed for steel mills that can be used to cool reactors. Those products aren’t subject to export licenses or end-user certificates. Think of it as a false flag operation.”

“False flag? I thought we’d cornered the market on that game.” Hirsch crossed his arms over his barrel chest. “Okay, so they have the stuff. Can they get it here?”

“They successfully test-fired the Shahab-4 long-range missile sixty days ago,” said Collections.

“How long from launch until it hits us?”

“An hour at the outside.”

“Can we shoot it down?” Hirsch asked.

“Theoretically, we’re as safe as a baby in her mother’s arms.”

Israel relied on a two-tier air defense structure to destroy incoming long-range missiles. The first was the Arrow II ground-to-air missile, and the second, the next-generation Patriot missile system. Each suffered from the same problems. They could only be launched once the incoming missile was within one hundred kilometers of the target-that is to say, within minutes of striking. And neither had ever been tested in combat.

“What about something that gets in under the radar? Do they have any cruise missiles?”

“Rumors, but that’s it.”

“Let’s hope so,” said Hirsch. “What about the Shahab’s accuracy?”

The man from Political Action and Liaison spoke up. “Accuracy is something that Germany and France and the U.S. have to worry about. In our case, it’s beside the point. Any hit within fifty miles of the target is a fatal blow. If they can smuggle fifty thousand centrifuges into the country under our eyes and build a state-of-the-art enrichment facility without anyone hearing about it, I wouldn’t be surprised if they’ve made advancements in that area as well.”

“And so,” said Hirsch, rubbing his thick, hairless forearms. “Are we supposed to put our hands up and surrender? Is that what our Persian friends desire? Do they expect us to stand still while they arm their rockets with warheads that can destroy our cities?”

A former major general in the Israeli Defense Force, he knew all too well the scenarios involving a nuclear strike on Israeli soil. Israel occupied a land mass three hundred miles long and one hundred fifty miles wide. However, ninety percent of the population was clustered around Jerusalem and Tel Aviv, cities just thirty miles apart. A nuclear strike on either would not only kill a significant percentage of the population, but would wipe out the country’s industrial infrastructure. The radioactive fallout would render the landscape uninhabitable for years to come. Simply put, there would be nowhere for the population to go, save out of the country. A new diaspora.

None of his section chiefs answered.

“I have a meeting with the prime minister in an hour,” Hirsch went on. “I’d like to be able to show that we haven’t been caught with our peckers in our hands. I imagine he’ll be interested in one question and one question only. Will they launch on us?”

Collections pursed his lips. “The president of Iran is a believer in the apocalyptic end times as stated in the Koran. He sees it as his personal mission to hasten the return of the twelfth Imam, known as the Mahdi, the rightful descendant of the Prophet Mohammed. It’s written that his return will be preceded by a confrontation between the forces of good and evil that will see a period of prolonged warfare, political upheaval, and bloodshed. At the end of the period, the Mahdi will lead the world to an era of universal peace. First, though, he has to destroy Israel.”

“Great,” said Hirsch. “Remind me not to come to you for good news next time.”

“There’s more. The president’s drive to gain control of the levers of power has been incredibly successful. He’s dismissed hundreds of the country’s leaders in education, medicine, and diplomacy who don’t share his beliefs, and replaced them with his cronies from the Republican Guard. Worse yet, he’s got his own man elected as the country’s supreme religious leader. Six months ago, the president’s ambitions might have been held in check by the top clerics. Not anymore. This new guy, Ayatollah Razdi, is certifiable. He’s on the horn to Mohammed on a regular basis. He is definitely not a rational actor.”

“You want to know if he’ll pull the trigger,” Metsada asked. “I think we have the answer already.”

Collections nodded. “The president is taking Iran back to the Age of Mohammed. On numerous occasions, he’s said publicly that the Prophet Himself has spoken to him and informed him that His return is only two years away. He’s got one hand on the Koran and the other on the trigger.”

“He can’t keep the program a secret forever.” Metsada’s voice had acquired a venomous edge. “When word gets out, he knows we’ll act.”

“Unless he acts first.” Hirsch dropped into his chair with a grunt. “It’s like March of 1936 all over again.”

“What do you mean?”

“When Hitler ordered his troops into the Rhineland to take back the territory a

“The French let the Boches walk right in, and even treated them like liberators. The commander opened the first set of orders. He was told to occupy the territory and hand out German flags to the citizens. The event was a watershed. Until that day, Hitler had been all bluster and hot air. After he took back the Rhineland, he began to take himself more seriously. And so did the rest of the world.”