Authors: Ben Brunson
Exactly fourteen minutes later, Zvi Avner was the last man to return to the conference room. Cohen spoke up as he massaged a new cigar. “Are we all here now? Okay, we have more to cover today. Let me start by saying that this decision ultimately rests on my shoulders and I accept that. However, I want to have a consensus among this group. I don’t expect that to happen today or tomorrow, but I would like to continue to have this option available in our planning.”
Benjamin Raibani was thinking and close to speaking. Cohen read his mind and cut him off by continuing. “We need time. Time to plan. Time to obtain all the weapons we need. I think everyone here will agree that all covert efforts will be undertaken and accelerat
ed to slow down their program.”
Heads nodded in agreement. Danny Stein spoke up for the first time. “How do we gain time, if I may ask?” Stein, the 60
-year-old minister of industry, trade and labor, was respected in the group. He had spent more than a decade in the military before a successful career as an executive of Israeli Military Industries. He was the rare person who moved comfortably through the halls of politics, the military and the private sector. He had been decorated for his command of an infantry company during fighting in the Golan Heights during the Yom Kippur War. His performance during that war had made his subsequent career, just as those men who faltered under combat were often ruined in Israel. He had been wounded by shrapnel from a mortar round, a wound that caused him to limp slightly the rest of life. The nation was in a perpetual state of war and relationships and respect were earned through blood on the battlefield.
“Ah, good question,
” Cohen answered.“Not everything went wrong with the president. We discussed Olympic Games. He gave it the green light to continue. We …”
“Excuse me, Mister Prime Minister. What is Olympic Games?” asked Danny Stein.
“I’m sorry, Danny. Operation Olympic Games was begun about two years ago. I guess now is the time to talk about it. Only myself, Zvi, Ben and Yavi know about it. Yavi, you want to provide an overview?”
Yavi Aitan shifted forward in his seat. “Yes. Let me start by giving a little context. As
was probably clear from our earlier discussion, there are a couple of key choke points in the Iranian program. The most important choke point is that they have to enrich uranium. There are a number of ways to do that, but Iran uses just one: gas centrifuges. These are not terribly complex devices, but they have to be built to fairly precise tolerances. The faster they spin, the more efficient they are. The rotor – the tube inside the centrifuge that is spinning – in a good modern centrifuge is made of carbon fiber. If, like Iran, you don’t have access to the right quality of carbon fiber, you have use a metal like aluminum. But for reasons I am not going to get into now, aluminum tubes need internal support. The support comes in the forms of rings of an alloy known as maraging steel. This is what the Iranians are using in their IR-1s and what they will probably use in the next generation centrifuges they are working on. There is a lot we are doing to keep them from getting maraging steel. But that is another discussion.”
Around the room, the three men who knew nothing about Operation Olympic Games were devoted to Aitan’s words. The minister of intelligence and atomic affairs looked at his prime minister. Cohen could tell that Aitan was not comfortable expanding the group of people who knew about Olympic Games, known inside Israel under the codename Operation Myrtus, even when it was three of the most senior members of Israeli government. Cohen spoke to reassure his young minister. “Go ahead Yavi.”
“About two years ago we were approached by the Americans,” continued Aitan. “They had an idea that was, well, inspirational. They suggested a computer virus – a worm – that can secretly take control of the software that controls the centrifuges at Natanz. They agreed to fund the project if we accepted responsibility for getting the worm into the right computers in Iran. It took a while to research and design, but about eighteen months ago a team began writing code.” He paused and exhaled noticeably. “How do I describe this? All centrifuges are controlled by computer. In the case of Iran, the controlling program is written by Siemens. The …”
“Goddamn Germans,” exclaimed Mort Yaguda involuntarily.
“Yes. Well, anyway, the Americans led the effort to write a new code for the Siemens controller. We led the effort to write the code necessary to inject the software into the Iranian network, look for the right computers, propagate and hide. The software is designed to cause early failure of their centrifuge rotors and related parts, such as the motor. At the same time, it sends signals to the monitor stations that tell them that everything is running fine. By the way, Mort, the Germans cooperated with the Americans on this project.” Yaguda just shook his head.
Aitan continued. “The Americans tested the software inside the United States on exact replicas of the IR-1 centrifuge. The process creates extraordinary stress on the rotors and takes a couple of months, but I can tell you that it works. If the rotor cracks or the spinning motor on the IR-1 fails, the unit is trash and has to be replaced. Our job – that is the job of Mossad – is to introduce this virus into the right computers in Iran. Unit 8200 is responsible for the coding. This project is known as Operation Myrtus here. We have made some test runs on early versions, but the real worm was finished up this winter. We will start straight away now that we have a green light from the new president.”
“Assuming we can get this virus onto the right computers, what do we expect to happen?” Avi Gresch asked.
“As of last week, there were three thousand nine hundred and thirty-six centrifuges operational inside Hall A at Natanz and another eight thousand under construction. We expect most of the centrifuges under construction to become operational by the end of summer. We hope that our worm will also be in place and fully operational by the end of summer. If all goes well, we will destroy every operational centrifuge before the end of the year. Ami Levy is very confident of the ability of Mossad to get this worm onto the right computers.”
“How will we know if this worked?” asked Gresch.
“So far, the Iranians are allowing continued IAEA access to Natanz. But even if that changes, we have sources,” Aitan
responded.
“This seems like a long shot. What else are we doing?” The question came from Danny Stein this time.
“Let me tell you that this software virus is like nothing ever unleashed before. It is very sophisticated and it targets only the software that controls the Iranian centrifuges. So like Director Levy, I am also confident. As for other activities, we are active on many fronts. This includes an extensive program to cut off their access to maraging steel for new centrifuges, killing any scientist working on the program that we can get to, and good old-fashioned sabotage. We have a close relationship with the CIA and MI6 in these activities.”
“How much time can we gain with all of this?” asked Stein.
Aitan exhaled loudly. “Impossible to tell, really. The most promising outcome is combining Myrtus with our activities to reduce their ability to build new centrifuges. Look, it isn’t realistic that we will destroy all of their current centrifuges, but I think we have a real chance to destroy a third to half of them. If we do that over the next year and we can slow down their construction of new units, we can set them back a couple of years.”
“That’s best case scenario, right?”
“Well, best case may be longer, but I think that I am giving you an achievable scenario. We will know this year whether or not it has worked and to what extent.”
There was a brief pause in the room which the prime minister decided to end. “Okay, gentlemen. I have meetings coming up and I would like to leave here with some consensus. We are, after all, here to make decisions.” Cohen took time to drink some water. “I’ll tell you what, I have a timing question of my own. What is the time it will take us to be in a position to go? To strike Iran.” He pointed to his defense minister.
Zvi Avner drummed his pen on the manila folder still open in front of him. “Honestly, that’s a tough question. We don’t have a plan and we don’t have the weapons we need. If the president comes through with delivery of the GBU-28s and we come up with a viable plan, we still need time to train and get our forces in position. If the plan is complex, we need more time, etcetera. I don’t know.”
Cohen was not happy with that non-response. “Off the record. Okay, Zvi? I want some type of timeline to work against. What is the fastest we could pull the trigger?”
Avner was not happy with being penned down. He was a career military man who had the necessary political instincts to rise to chief of staff of the IDF. His time in government since leaving that role had only sharpened his political skills. “If you are telling me this is guideline only and not for the record, I think we could be ready to go around year end if a plan is agreed to this summer and if the weapons we need are ready by the fall. I can also tell you that winter time is not when we will go, so the realistic answer is that the earliest we can go is next spring.”
Cohen looked to his immediate left to get the opinion of the other ex-chief of staff of the IDF in the room. Ben Raibani was not as reticent. He did not worry about politics. “I think Zvi is in the right ballpark. I would only add that with the U.S. out of the equation, being ready by next spring is going to be a monumental task. This plan will require a lot of thought and then a lot more introspection. After that we will need to prepare and to train. After that we need to rehearse. And then rehearse more. I would say eighteen months, but that puts us back into the wrong season. I agree with Zvi.
This is a spring or summer event.”
Cohen just shook his head. “You guys sound like old men. Maybe we should look into testosterone pills. Maybe some Viagra.” Eli Cohen wasn’t happy and no one around the table was amused. The prime minister’s reaction was knee-jerk. He rubbed his forehead as he looked down at the ashtray in front of him. Raibani recognized this body language as capitulation on the part of his boss. “Sorry guys. It’s been a long few days and right now I am probably even a bigger son-of-a-bitch than usual.
“Okay, we need to take this a step at a time. Zvi, I would like for you to return here with the outlines of two plans. The key assumption for each plan is that we are alone. But one will assume we use only conventional weapons and the other will, as a contingency, assume we use nuclear weapons. When can you be ready?”
“No,” uttered Ben Raibani as he shook his head, not allowing Avner time to respond.
“Ben, you do not agree?” asked the prime minister.
“No, I do not. I have been watching and participating in military and government planning in this country for too long. If we have a contingency plan, it means we will work to build this tactical nuclear device. Of course, we will do so just for the sake of contingency.
But if we have the plan and the device, we will use it. I cannot support planning for something that we cannot and we must not do.”
Eli Cohen had hoped to skip past Raibani’s resistance, but had instead ignited a furious ten minute debate – really an argument – between two clear factions. The argument was ostensibly about the wisdom of creating a contingency plan, but that was a thin veil. Everyone knew exactly what the discussion was about. As before, Zvi Avner led the arguments in favor with support from his prime minister. Ben Raibani led the arguments against with support from Avi Gresch and an increasingly vocal Danny Stein. Everyone found themselves talking to Mort Yaguda, who was clearly undecided
, as if he were the swing vote.
Finally Eli Cohen turned to Yavi Aitan, who had been silently absorbing each argument, his mind processing the issues a dozen steps into the future. “Yavi, you have kept quiet. What do you think?”
Aitan once again leaned forward in his chair. The youngest man in the room had just been vested by his prime minister with tremendous authority. “I think that Iran with nuclear weapons is catastrophic. I think that the State of Israel nuking them may be worse. Ben is right, if we use a nuclear weapon first, we will lose all support and our tiny country will stand utterly alone. I have come to learn and appreciate much in the seat that I currently have the honor to occupy. One thing I have learned is that the last thing I want to see happen is for us to lose the support of the American military and intelligence community.” Aitan was looking directly at his boss. “I am sorry Mister Prime Minister, but I have been thinking through how using nukes would play out and, while the tactical advantage is obvious, I cannot come to a conclusion that is good for us in the long-run.”
Eli Cohen threw his hands up in the air. “May I remind everyone in this room that we are deciding whether or not to allow Iran into the nuclear club.” He looked around the room. “This cannot happen.” He knew that every man in the room at least agreed with that statement. He suddenly relaxed and leaned back into his chair. “Okay, let’s do this. Zvi, come back with the outline of a conventional plan. Let’s go from there. All I ask each man here to do is to think about the alternative if we come to the conclusion that we have no viable conventional plan. Is that a fair request?” Each man in the room nodded in consent.
Raibani turned to his old colleague Avner. “But you have to give your planning group real support. You can’t sabotage their planning or poison the well.” Only he or Cohen could admonish Zvi Avner in this manner.