The president wasn’t convinced. “I think you’re talking from your heart and not your head,” he said. “You loathe this Cobra. I do, too. I can barely mention him by name. Dirty traitor. Piece of filth. That’s who he is. But all you can think about is exacting revenge. And I’m trying to figure out how we can limit the terrible damage he’s caused.” He fixed Aharon Levin with a weary look, the look of someone who has seen too much already. “But there is something to what you’re saying. Unfortunately, in practice, in the real world, we probably won’t be able to sustain a counterintelligence ploy of the kind I thought of for any length of time. It would be too complicated, someone will make a mistake, and the SVR will pick up on it. Those Russians aren’t amateurs. Not at all.”
“Under such circumstances,” Aharon said, “revenge isn’t such a bad thing at all. But we still have a way to go before making a decision. What we have thus far is a collection of circumstantial evidence only. We’re one hundred percent sure, but we have nothing that actually incriminates Regev. My advice, Mr. President, is that we allow the Shin Bet to assume responsibility for handling the entire affair. Because we now know Cobra’s identity, and since we know he’s not a Shin Bet official, I can meet discreetly with the Shin Bet chief. The Shin Bet can handle things with caution, as they know how to do, without alerting Cobra before they decide to move against him. The Shin Bet has all the tools needed to deal with an incident of this kind. They have an excellent investigations division. If anyone can get a confession out of that man, they are the ones who will do so.”
“Aharon. You convinced me earlier that the idea of turning Cobra into a double agent isn’t a good one. Now I’m convinced that your idea to allow the Shin Bet to handle the investigation from here onward is problematic. We’re dealing here with an unprecedented situation. Handling the affair through the official channels would exact a heavy price. Our hands would be tied in terms of the courses of action at our disposal, and the public exposure would be terribly costly for us, for the country as a whole. It would be impossible to keep the affair quiet for very long. Shame and a slap in the face aren’t legal grounds for secrecy and a gag order. And in today’s world, if the story is a good enough one, it’ll come out anyway. If not here, then abroad. Gag orders or not. Nothing can be kept a secret in the world of the Internet and cyberspace. If there will be official documentation, it would simply be a matter of time.”
“We could argue that publication of the affair would undermine Israel’s foreign relations, and lead to a crisis of faith between ourselves and our allies, and the United States first and foremost. There you have cause to justify casting a cloak of secrecy over everything.”
“We could argue anything and everything, and even rightly so in that regard. After all, the Americans would lose all faith in us if espionage of such proportions were to come to light. Who knows how many American secrets have found their way to the Russians via Cobra? That’s all we need. And the Americans won’t forgo an orderly process of damage control. They will want to know about every classified U.S. document that has ever passed through Regev’s hands. There’ll be no end to it. It’ll be a nightmare, a nightmare for generations to come.”
“Well, there you have your reason for imposing the gag order.”
“Aharon, Aharon, there’s one thing no one’s ever accused you of. Naïveté. Do you really think the story can be kept quiet?”
Aharon conceded. “If we bring more people into the know and if we initiate official proceedings, then you’re right. There’s zero chance of keeping the affair under wraps. None whatsoever. Not in today’s world.”
“And so,” the president responded, “I want you to listen to me carefully now. I want you to have a talk with Alon Regev, with Cobra. To hear what that snake has to say. True, we won’t be able to do damage control with respect to all the intelligence he’s passed on over the years. But it’s vital that we ascertain what he knows about the main project that we’re currently working on; and if he does know something, we have to find out if he’s passed on anything, even suggestively, to his handlers. It’s critical, Aharon. It’s our biggest problem right now, and you have to clarify this matter. You can bring another two or three former Shin Bet investigators into your team. That I’ll sanction. I don’t want any formal process. No official documentation. Get to the truth on this. We have to know. And you’ll brief me again word for word. And then I want you to take care of him as you see fit. Do whatever needs to be done.”
“Mr. President.” Aharon stood, a stern, grave look on his face. The president appeared to be reading through some document on his desk and didn’t look up. Without shaking the president’s hand and without bidding him farewell, Aharon exited the office and headed toward the staircase leading to the dimly lit entrance hall. The courtyard outside the residence was bathed in the afternoon sunlight, and Aharon squinted his eyes against the glare.
60
HERZLIYA, DAN ACCADIA HOTEL, APRIL 2013
Aharon stood up when he saw Alon Regev enter the hotel and start walking through the lobby. Aslan and Amir were keeping an eye on him from behind, from the street outside. Aharon approached Alon and shook his hand.
“You wanted to meet with me,” Alon said, a smile on his face, his eyes icy. The last time they had met, Alon was serving as aide to Daniel Shalev.
“I have a few things to tell you, and I have several questions, too. I think you’ll find our talk interesting, and certainly important. Let’s go upstairs. I have a room where we can talk undisturbed.”
Two hours earlier, Amir and Aslan were getting into position outside Alon Regev’s home in Tzahala. They used their vehicle to block the driveway to the home’s parking garage and made sure they also had a view of the gate to the residence. There was one car in the garage, a silver Audi TT, with two mountain bikes standing by its side. The Regev family’s second car, a dark blue BMW 730, was parked on the street. Someone had been too lazy to drive into the garage, Aslan remarked to himself. He and Amir had a wager on which car Alon intended to use. Amir emerged victorious following a stakeout that lasted an hour and a half. Alon opened the gate and walked toward the BMW. Aslan and Amir got out of their vehicle and approached him. They moved up very close to him, and Alon felt trapped between them and the door of his car.
“Alon Regev?” Aslan asked in a pleasant tone of voice.
“And who are you?” Alon asked with a degree of belligerence he didn’t feel he truly had in him.
“Good morning. I’m Eitan, and this is Eli,” Aslan responded, glancing briefly at Amir. Aharon Levin you surely know. He’d like to talk to you.”
“So why doesn’t Aharon Levin take it upon himself to call and make an appointment?”
“Mr. Levin would like you to accompany us and to join him for a meeting right now. It’s important and urgent, and he wanted us to inform you in person that he expects you to come, and will be very sorry if you refuse to do so.”
“Do I have a choice?”
“Yes, you have a choice. We aren’t here in an official capacity, and Aharon Levin isn’t on official duty either. We thought that would be better for all parties involved.”