“Not by a long shot.” said Crowley, who laughed Arbel’s description of Dimona, and went on to accuse the defense minister of dissembling at best, lying at worst.
Mina turned the babble out and thought on technical issues she and her brother had discussed the night before concerning the reactor and transport device. When she finally looked at her watch Arbel, Crowley and their various aides and translators had been going at it for better than an hour.
The gist was that the Americans indeed suspected Israel had developed some kind of fusion device, and had for some time. They suspected a link between the reactor and the Iranian raid, but did not know what it was. American intelligence assets had monitored both the immense power surge from the Dimona facility and the almost simultaneous destruction of the Natanz facility. Yet it quickly became clear to the Americans that the Nantaz operation was a commando raid—which seemed to have little to do with nuclear research or power surges in Dimona. Crowley, and by extension the America’s research and intelligence assets, could not reconcile the two events, but clearly believed that they were related.
Pressed heavily, Arbel not only conceded the raid, but also admitted that Israel had made significant strides in fusion research—but with a lot of jockeying, refused to say more. He had not needed Mina so far, and none of the Americans had addressed her. She was hoping that she might be able slink off at a break and go home. Then following a further round of tough questioning by the predatory Crowley, Arbel offered Mina up to the Americans.
For the next hour Mina parried a series of technical and theoretical questions about the Dimona, without revealing that there was a fiincfioning fusion reactor at the facility. The technical depth of the discussion quickly went beyond both Crowley and Arbel, but the stratagem seemed to be working. The Americans were getting actual data, while the Israelis were withholding information they deemed critical. Crowley suggested a break after another hour, and the Americans retreated to their ante-rooms where the IDF had put out some rather unappetizing refreshments—all the more to hurry their guests on their way. When the two sides returned to the table, Mina took up where she had left off. Had she been able to finish her scientific kabuki dance with her American counterparts, much might have gone differently, but suddenly Crowley changed tack again, and forced the issue. He interrupted Mina in the midst of a discourse on plasma containment issues.
“I’ve had enough of this technical mumbo jumbo Dr. Feldhandler” said Crowley haughtily. “Minister Arbel, with all due respect to Dr. Feldhandler, who is quite clearly a talented and knowledgeable scientist, and also a quite capable dissembler, you continue to evade the question. I feel we are now wasting each others time.”
“What question?” blurted Arbel, annoyed. “I assure you…” continued the Israeli, but Crowley again cut him off.
“I will remain in country with my team for another forty-eight hours. I suggest you convince your Prime Minister to end this charade and come clean about what is taking place at the Dimona facility. If you do not have something useful to tell me in two days I will have to report back accordingly; and I can tell you assuredly, that the government and people of the United State will not be pleased in that case” Crowley concluded.
Mina felt sick. Arbel and the rest of the Israeli team looked stunned. Clearly the Americans already knew more than the Israeli team had reckoned. Arbel recovered his composure, stood up and offered his hand, which Crowley took with an insincere smile. An Israeli colonel, hurriedly consulted with the Americans over travel arrangements to the American embassy in Tel Aviv, where Crowley and his aides would repair, awaiting the Israeli response.
Arbel left Ramat David immediately for Jerusalem, leaving Brom and Mina behind. They left the bunker together and walked past fortified aircraft hangers crowded with maintenance teams. Inside the huge buildings, technicians fussed over sleek and fearsome looking F-16s. Israel had built itself a huge and powerful air force with American equipment and money. That support could not be taken for granted, nor such a patron long kept at bay.
“That didn’t go very well” said Brom, stating the obvious, but irritated by the gloomy silence.
“It’s worse” said Mina. “The fact that Arbel left us both behind means that he has basically made up his mind to give the Americans everything that they want, and very soon.”
“We can’t know that for sure.”
“I think we can. I do anyway” said Mina.
Just like the brother thought Brom. The air of certainty, moral, scientific, logical—that was a Feldhandler family characteristic. He’d have like to have met the parents—on second thought, no.
“What will you do now?” asked Brom.
“Go back to Arad for the day I guess” said Mina resignedly “and then to Dimona tomorrow. It’s not that late, but I’m too spent to work today.”
“You can fly back with me if you like. I have a helicopter.”
“That would be nice” said Mina. Brom forced a smile.
Chapter 6
The Dimona facility and the desert cities of Beersheba and Arad formed an inverted triangle, with Dimona at the southern apex. Beersheba and Arad were roughly equidistant from the facility, but Arad was considered by most Israelis to be the more pleasant city. It was near the Dead Sea and the Judean mountains, while Beersheba was in the middle of the Negev desert.
Arad was also close to Masada, the site of a famous last stand by Jewish rebels in 73 C.E. during one of many revolts against Roman rule. The Masada plateau had been the site of a Herodian fortress and palace, and subsequently a Roman garrison. Jewish rebels took the position from the Romans, prompting a counter-attack and siege by the Roman tenth legion. According to the account of Josephus, a Romanized Jewish historian, the rebels committed mass suicide rather than surrender to the legionnaires. Modem historians and archeologists had come to question some aspects of Josephus’ story, as ancient historians liked to embellish their narration and Josephus had reason to invent facts both as a Roman and a Jew. But that a desperate group of Jews made a final stand at the site is beyond cavil. Many IDF units required recruits to march up to the top of the plateau, there to vow that Masada would never fall again. Feldhandler himself had marched there and made the vow, though Yatom, belonging to a different unit, had not.
Most of Feldhandler’s team at Dimona, as well as Yatom’s sayeret—except for the youngest single enlisted men-lived in Arad. It wasn’t a requirement, but it did make security less problematic. Feldhandler and Mina shared a small house in a district near the city center. Yatom lived in an apartment nearby, as did Brom. Like Yatom, Brom was divorced and lived alone. Mofaz lived in a newer neighborhood called Rananim, with a more suburban feel that suited his large family. Despite their relative proximity in the small city, they did not socialize.
The IAF Blackhawk deposited Mina and Brom at the Arad municipal airport late in the afternoon. From there they took a bus to the city center. Neither felt like switching to another bus at the station.
They decided to walk towards their homes in the sizzling but clean desert air. They’d both missed that air, especially after breathing aircraft exhaust fumes all day. They spoken since they’d left Ramat David, and it’s pretty difficult to speak in a military helicopter, so they didn’t.
As they walked in silence, it occurred to Brom that they had not eaten since the morning. “Would you like to get something to eat?” Brom asked Mina. “I’m not much of a cook, so I need to eat out or starve.”
Mina considered the invitation in her quick but deliberate way. She’d known Brom for two years and she had never taken a meal with him, not even in the miserable Dimona cafeteria. This wasn’t exactly a date but the most logical analysis was that he obviously wouldn’t have asked if he preferred to eat without her. Besides, she needed to talk to him anyway.