“Just the usual skulduggery,” said the Director. “Before we start, Frank, I wonder if I could have a Tab?”
“What’s a Tab?” asked Hoffman.
“It’s a soft drink,” said the Director. “A dietetic soft drink.”
“I’m afraid we don’t have any of those in Lebanon, sir,” said Hoffman. “I can check, but I kind of doubt that we can find any.”
“Don’t bother,” said the Director. “How about a Sprite?”
Hoffman looked at Rogers quizzically. Evidently he didn’t know what a Sprite was, either.
“Tom,” said Hoffman. “See if you can find a Sprite for the Director.”
Rogers left the room. He returned a few moments later with a bottle of Seven-Up and a straw.
“That’s just fine,” said the Director. “Thank you, Tom.”
“So what’s up?” asked Hoffman.
“I think we have an opportunity to do a favor for our Israeli friends,” said the Director.
“Oh yeah?” said Hoffman, already slightly on guard. “What’s that?”
“I understand you’re running a Palestinian agent who is a member of Black September. Is that right?”
“What our boys do on their own time is up to them,” said Hoffman.
The Director didn’t laugh.
“Is he a member of Black September?”
“Beats me,” said Hoffman. “Tom?”
“Yes, probably he is,” said Rogers.
“Why don’t you ask Mr. Stone?” said Hoffman. “He knows this case as well as we do. He was in the room when the little pecker agreed to work with us. Isn’t that right, Mr. Stone? In fact, if memory serves, Mr. Stone was not entirely uninvolved in the recruitment.”
“I’m quite aware of Edward’s involvement, Frank, and I don’t question what anyone has done up to this point.”
“You don’t?” asked Hoffman warily.
“No,” said the Director.
“Good,” said Hoffman. “Because we haven’t done anything wrong. Least of all Tom Rogers, who has done a first-rate job on this case from the beginning.”
“Of course. The point is that now we have an opportunity to do something useful with the leverage we have acquired through our contacts with this fellow.”
“Such as?”
“Edward,” said the Director, turning to Stone. “Why don’t you explain the interesting discussion we had in Tel Aviv?”
“Yes, Director,” said Stone. He looked embarrassed.
“The Israelis seem to have stumbled onto the fact that we have a relationship with Ramlawi.”
“So what?” said Hoffman. “Who we talk to is none of their fucking business.”
“Perhaps, but in this case, they believe that we’re dealing with someone who is planning terrorist operations against Israel. They even seem to think that Ramlawi was behind the Munich hostage incident.”
“Tough shit,” said Hoffman.
Stone shot a glance at Hoffman, as if to say: Calm down, boy. But it did little good. Hoffman was angry. Rogers watched the conversation unfold with a sense of dread. Another station chief might have tried to duck the issue, say what was politically sensible, cover his ass. But not Hoffman.
The Director spoke up.
“The Israelis have asked for our help in dealing with Black September. They have implied, but not said directly, that they would like us to do one of two things: either provide them with some of the intelligence we’re getting from Ramlawi, or help them find him.”
“And suppose we tell them to fuck off?” said Hoffman.
“They have made it clear that they intend to kill the leaders of Black September, including Ramlawi.”
“What did you tell them, Director, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“I told them that we would get back to them.”
“I trust, sir, that you didn’t in any way confirm their speculation that we have been in contact with Ramlawi?”
“Of course not,” said the Director. “That would be unprofessional.”
“You’re God-damned right it would be, sir,” said Hoffman.
The Director narrowed his eyes. He was a man who prided himself on his composure. He displayed emotion rarely, and only when he was very angry.
“Easy, Frank,” said Stone gently.
“I apologize, Director. But this whole conversation makes me very uneasy, to be honest.”
“And why is that?” asked the Director.
“Because what the Israelis are proposing is totally outrageous. We should be telling them to take a walk, instead of driving ourselves crazy like this. Ramlawi may be the biggest shit who ever lived. But he met with us in good faith. We shouldn’t throw him to the wolves now, just because it may be expedient. When we decide to work with someone, we make an implicit promise that we’re not going to shop him to the next guy that comes along.”
“Oh come now,” said the Director. “Let’s grow up. We shop people every day. That’s part of our business.”
That remark seemed to touch an especially raw nerve in Hoffman. He grew red in the face.
“I don’t need any lectures about the real world, Director. I may not have gone to Yale, it’s true. But that doesn’t mean I don’t understand the way the world works. I’ve been running agents for nearly thirty years. In that time, I have screwed enough people simply because someone from Yale told me to. I don’t want to do it again.”
“Don’t press your luck, Mr. Hoffman,” said the Director.
Hoffman ignored the warning.
“We used to have a saying in the FBI,” he said. “It was very simple: ‘Protect your sources.’ Even the dumbest FBI agent understands that. He knows that when someone trusts you, you don’t knife him in the back. But I guess we’re too smart for that in the agency.”
The Director, who had regained his own composure, affected a weary look.
“Frank, we needn’t turn this into group therapy. It’s very simple. The Israelis have asked for our help. I have decided that we should respond positively. The only question you need to think about is how to carry it out.”
“Carry what out?”
“Provide the Israelis the information they want about Ramlawi.”
“So they can kill our agent?”
“I have no idea what they will do with the information.” That’s their problem.”
“Let them get their own fucking information.”
“Frank,” said the Director. “This isn’t a debating topic. It is an order.”
Hoffman stood up from the conference table. His tie was hanging loose in his collar because of the popped shirt button, and his belly had pushed out even farther over the tops of his trousers. He looked exhausted. He strolled to the translucent wall of the bubble, deep in thought, while Rogers, Stone, and the Director watched in silence. All of them were dreading what they knew was coming next.
“I’m sorry to sound like a troublemaker, Director,” said Hoffman slowly. “But what you’re proposing to me just doesn’t sound right. I wish I could just tell you what you want to hear. But just this morning I was telling my staff that anyone who lies to the Director ought to be fired, on the spot. So I have to tell you the truth, which is that I don’t feel comfortable about shopping Ramlawi to the Israelis. Even if it is an order.”
Rogers took a deep breath. He felt as if he had just heard someone dictate his resignation letter.
“What about you, Tom?” said the Director to Rogers. “You’re Ramlawi’s case officer. Do you feel the same way as Frank?”
“Can’t we keep the kid out of it?” asked Hoffman.
“I’d like to answer the question,” said Rogers.
“Don’t,” said Hoffman. “You have a good career. Don’t screw it up.”
Rogers ignored Hoffman’s advice and turned to the Director. His voice was calm and even.
“I agree with Frank,” said Rogers. “I don’t think we should betray Ramlawi. I think the Israelis will understand. They don’t betray their agents, even to help their friends. And we shouldn’t either.”
Stone, who had watched the confrontation develop during the last few minutes and move nearer and nearer to an irrevocable break, decided at this point to intervene.
“Perhaps we should take a breather for a few moments,” he suggested, “Cool off a bit.”