Spies Against Armageddon (47 page)

The Americans, again with the British and a few partners, invaded Iraq in March 2003 and provoked a painful headache that lasted almost a decade. By the classic measure of Middle East trends, Israeli strategists had reasons to be cheerful: In and around Iraq, there were now Arabs battling Arabs and Muslims killing Muslims. And the loudly anti-Israel dictator Saddam was out.

Israeli intelligence could see, however, that a miasma of confusing and rapid events added up to a net gain for the Islamic Republic of Iran. That, in a region of rival hegemons, threatened to be a net loss to Israel.

Iran seemed to be achieving a strong partnership with its fellow Shi’ite Muslims in Iraq—and even a measure of dominion over them. They had been suppressed by Saddam, and while Iraqi Shi’ites had hardly any attention or energy to direct toward Israel, they had many reasons to pledge allegiance to Iran’s religious leaders.

By the end of 2003, while battling an insurgency in Iraq that had separate but potent al-Qaeda and Shi’ite elements, American strategic planners were coming around to the notion that neighboring Iran was a major trouble-maker. Senior officers at the Pentagon spoke of Iranian operatives, known to be part of the Revolutionary Guards, crossing into Iraq to deliver and plant bombs that were killing United States soldiers.

Israel had already been fighting its largely secret war against Iran and its clients, notably Hezbollah, for two decades. The Israelis thus were prepared to tell the CIA and the U.S. military a great deal about the al-Quds Force élite of the Revolutionary Guard Corps.

Very much unlike the Israel pattern, however, U.S. forces were constrained by their political masters from crossing into Iran to deal the al-Quds men—their unit using the Arabic name, “the Holy,” for Jerusalem—the blow they richly deserved.

The Mossad had its opening now to highlight the dangers posed by Iran both to Israel and to the United States, to its oil suppliers in the Arabian Gulf, and even to American allies in Europe who could soon be within the range of Iranian missiles.

This was around the time that Meir Dagan, whom Ariel Sharon appointed as director of the Mossad in 2002, was completing his dramatic re-direction of priorities: away from Palestinian issues, and focusing instead on Iran.

Dagan and a Mossad department known as Nabak—an acronym for
Neshek Bilti-Conventzionali
(Non-Conventional Weapons)—were building up huge dossiers on the sites within Iran where nuclear enrichment had begun. International inspectors already suspected, in 2003, that the Iranians were hiding a lot of uranium.

Based in part on their own experience, secretly developing a nuclear arsenal with materials acquired in unorthodox ways, the Israelis were even more suspicious than the International Atomic Energy Agency. Dagan himself became a frequent traveler to Washington, where he presented evidence to the CIA, to the Pentagon, and to members of Congress. The Mossad wanted the United States, as distracted as it was by wars in Afghanistan and now Iraq, to accept that Iran was trying to build nuclear weapons and must be stopped.

The CIA, the military, and the National Security Council in the Bush White House all hesitated, due to varying degrees of concern that the Israelis were “playing” them. Despite the common ideals and interests frequently espoused by American and Israeli politicians, security agencies—including the CIA and the FBI—felt that they were paid to be skeptical. They did not automatically trust any foreigners, with the general exception of the British; Israel’s espionage agencies had often shown that they had their own agenda and interests, not always coinciding with America’s.

The U.S. intelligence community, many senior officers in the military, and a majority of veteran diplomats in the State Department were still smarting over the espionage conducted by Jonathan Pollard in Washington. Every time Israeli leaders asked the United States to commute his life sentence and set him free, the CIA and other agencies would advise the president not to do so—because Americans who were risking their lives and toiling in secret would never accept that a man who violated his secrecy oath should be released. Still, Israel renewed the request in 2012 when Pollard was reported to be very ill.

Despite the reality of old friction between the American and Israeli intelligence communities, a new focus on Iran as a joint enemy gained ground and a genuine head of steam. The Bush administration—and, after 2008, the Obama White House—showed great interest in applying financial pressure on Iran: freezing the bank accounts, for instance, of al-Quds Force commanders and banning their travel abroad. Over the years, much broader and tougher sanctions against Iranian officials and institutions would be introduced, leading to a significant decision by the European Union to stop purchasing oil from Iran in the summer of 2012.

Dagan’s Mossad stepped forward with many more ideas for applying pressure on Iran’s economy. Dagan felt that unrest by students, ethnic minorities, and other freedom-seekers in Iran could be stirred up if Iranians were hungry, fuelless, and frustrated at their Islamic government. In 2004 and the years that followed, Israel was a significant partner in United States finance-based efforts to fight terrorists and box in the Iranians.

There was no denying, however, that the entire environment for Israel-U.S. relations had changed from the relatively easygoing days of assuming that both nations were natural friends. Critics, many of them in Washington, but also in academe and in other Western capitals, more frequently cast doubt on the notions of shared democratic values and strategic interests.

Some of the critics focused on the continuing occupation of the West Bank, even after Israel withdrew all its troops and Jewish settlers from the Gaza Strip in 2005. These writers wondered what kind of values were represented by controlling the lives of Palestinians who had no voting rights.

Strategic goals also, at times, seemed out of sync. When Barack Obama came into office at the start of 2009, he immediately tried to distance the United States from Israeli policies. He repeatedly called for a freeze on the construction of Jewish settlements in the West Bank and parts of Jerusalem captured in 1967, as he felt that only then could serious peace negotiations with the Palestinians resume. The talks went nowhere, fizzling out and leaving Obama frustrated at both the Israelis and the Palestinians.

Israel’s intelligence community was not unduly alarmed. Mossad and Aman analysts are highly professional and rejected the nonsense promulgated by some right-wing politicians that Obama was a Muslim or, at least, pro-Arab. Because he was determined to be the anti-Bush, he was attempting some new initiatives. His top Middle East advisors said that he had to offer talks with Iran, because only then could he persuade more countries that he was trying everything—and that now they should join in tough sanctions against the Iranians.

Obama’s policies in the region were, through little fault of his own, thrown into disarray in 2011 when pro-democracy uprisings occurred in Tunisia, Egypt, Yemen, and then more violently in Bahrain, Libya, and Syria. Egypt’s president, the now deposed Hosni Mubarak, had for 29 years been the glue that held together a collection of common interests that helped both the United States and Israel.

Neither the CIA nor the Mossad could save their old friend Mubarak, and officials of his regime who had warm relations with both those agencies were either arrested or disgraced. President Obama and Prime Minister Netanyahu, despite personal and political friction between them, shared a sense of disappointment over losing Egypt as a firm ally.

Netanyahu drove home the point that unrest, and especially gains for Muslim Brotherhood-type parties in various countries, would help expand Iran’s influence. The United States government increasingly viewed the Middle East through a prism not too different from Netanyahu’s.

Pressure on the Israeli prime minister to make concessions toward Palestinians abated. Obama, especially when he faced re-election in 2012 and wanted Jewish voters to stay in their traditional Democratic camp, stepped up his frequent repetition of his assurance that his administration was “unwavering in our support of Israel’s security.”

Israelis, including leaders of the intelligence community, took note of his constant insertion of the word “security.” Obama desired a secure Israel, but he did not approve of settlements or of the wide borders that a rightwing-dominated cabinet in Jerusalem would want.

The United States and Israeli governments were brought closer by their shared concern over Iran’s nuclear program. That had a definite impact, too, on the intelligence communities.

However, there was also a corrosive element: each side feeling that the other was not revealing all of its options and plans. Netanyahu, while visiting Washington, made a point of declaring that Israel’s patience with Tehran was wearing thin. He hinted that Israel had military plans for dealing with Iran’s nuclear facilities not only on the table, but ready to take to the air.

Senior U.S. officials made it clear, in early 2012, that they did not want the Israelis to attack Iran. Yet, they understood the Israeli attitude—rooted in the core value of being an independent Jewish state—that Jews would never rely on others to fight their battles for them.

Obama, when personally asked by Netanyahu in March to endorse Israel’s right to take action of its choosing, declared: “Israel must always have the ability to defend itself, by itself, against any threat.”

Netanyahu and his defense minister, Ehud Barak, indicated that they could postpone an attack on Iran’s nuclear facilities—and perhaps miss the Israeli military’s best window of opportunity to do significant damage—but only if they heard a key assurance from the United States. They wanted Obama to pledge that the U.S. would use its much larger forces to strike Iran if negotiations, sanctions, sabotage, and all other steps should fail.

The President would not give that absolute promise. But he did say that a nuclear-armed Iran would run counter to the interests of both America and Israel, and “I will not hesitate to use force when it is necessary to defend the United States and its interests.”

At the huge annual policy conference of the AIPAC lobby, Obama added: “When the chips are down, I have Israel’s back!” His motives, facing perhaps his toughest foreign policy challenge, surely included a desire to please pro-Israel voters and campaign contributors.

Obama also wanted to reassure Israel, so that it would not—in the American view—unnecessarily start a new war in the Middle East.

Word leaked out from Israel that the heads of Israel’s intelligence agencies opposed the idea of attacking Iran anytime soon. Recently retired agency directors, including Dagan, hinted that they had some doubts about what their air force could accomplish. Current and former espionage chiefs also hinted that there was still a lot more damage on Iran’s program to be inflicted through cyberwarfare and other sabotage.

While differences over tactics could not be papered over, the Mossad did take part in a concerted Israeli government campaign to get the world’s attention.

Israel’s political leaders pointedly combined genuine information and analysis, sometimes exaggerated alarm tied to historical tragedies of the past, and a measure of poker-style bluff. They were emphasizing that if the United States and other large countries did not stop Iran’s march toward creating nuclear bombs, Israel would take action. Their campaign clearly succeeded, because the world was listening. The Iran issue was not being ignored.

Chapter Twenty-two

Assassins

Kidon is one of the Mossad’s most secretive units—if not the most secretive. Whether it is a mini-Mossad within the agency, or even a planet of its own, the fact is that Kidon operatives are obscured by strict secrecy and further protected by military censorship of the Israeli media. Yet, an accurate window into the structure of Kidon, its modes of operation, and the moods and psyches of its members can be found in the pages of a novel.

The author is Mishka Ben-David, and a thorough dossier describing the Kidon unit is nestled in a seemingly innocent book of fiction he wrote,
Duet in Beirut
, published in Hebrew in 2002. Ben-David, though, is not just a novelist. He was an intelligence officer. He was in the Mossad. And if that is not real enough, then consider that he was the chief intelligence officer of Caesarea, the agency’s operations department that runs combatants—Jewish and non-Jewish—who penetrate such enemy countries as Syria, Egypt, and Iran.

Caesarea also has, at its service for special occasions, Kidon. This “Bayonet” unit is kept small but sharp, and it recruits men and women who already have proven themselves in their military service or in other intelligence work. They are judged, through a process that includes copious psychological profiling, to have excellent self-discipline. Even more importantly, they have the skills needed for operations that are on the edge. Many of them come from special forces units, such as Sayeret Matkal and Flotilla 13.

They are trained by highly motivated instructors and work in small teams of two or four—each of them known as a
khuliya
(a Hebrew word for “team” or “connected link”). Although Kidon’s overall size has never been published, there are several dozen khuliyot, and the entire secretive organization is referred to as “The Team.”

They are so compartmentalized that their office is not inside the Mossad headquarters at the Glilot junction. They hardly ever go there, and even with the very few Mossad operatives with whom they interact, they use assumed names—so as to be anonymous even to them.

In the field, they use a third name, and sometimes even fourth and fifth identities.

Their training includes almost anything one might imagine is needed for a thorough intelligence operation: surveillance, shaking off surveillance, and how to study an object—things, buildings, or even people—and memorize everything about it.

They become proficient at remembering codes and securely communicating during missions without raising suspicion. On top of conventional communication gear, this can include an agent touching her nose or pulling her earlobe, or some other form of sanitized signal to colleagues.

One of the skills is to remain cool as a cucumber in all circumstances, and not to be shaken by any unexpected interruption, question, or approach by people—never hinting that you are involved in anything unusual.

In Ben-David’s adventure novel, a female Kidon combatant and the senior man who trained her are sent to penetrate a factory in a foreign country that manufactures parts for Iran’s nonconventional weapons. They are interrupted when another Kidon team, serving as their perimeter guard, informs them with urgency that unexpected guests are arriving. The guards disperse, according to plan, and the duo know precisely where to go to meet a car that is waiting there for such an eventuality. Everyone keeps their cool. Panic is not in their lexicon.

Kidon personnel excel at the manual skills that are often required in the field: picking or breaking a lock, surreptitiously taking photographs, and planting electronic devices.

They also learn to master a variety of vehicles: not only cars and vans, but also motorcycles, which have become Kidon’s vehicle of choice—almost a trademark of a team that leaves few traces.

The Team’s members are constantly practicing the use of weapons, and as wide a variety of weapons as has ever been invented. They are very good at firing pistols, often with silencers, whether while standing, running, driving, or riding a motorcycle. They know how to shape, plant, and detonate explosives, including innovatively designed bombs. They are well practiced at stabbing enemies with knives, injecting them with hypodermic needles, or administering poison by way of newly minted delivery methods. In addition, well trained in martial arts, Kidon operatives are adept at using their own hands and feet as weapons.

The description of their skills may seem torn from a James Bond novel or movie, but they are not figments of a writer’s imagination. Kidon men and women are authentic intelligence officers who are taught a wide range of crafts. It is a barely concealed fact, within the Mossad, that they are Israel’s assassins. Moreover, they are considered to be supreme intelligence officers for all seasons—not simply a death squad.

Because they are the cream of the crop, they are the ones the Mossad director selects for very dangerous missions —including complex intelligence operations of an information-gathering nature—that require the top professionals.

Over the years, although hardly ever intentionally, some stories about Kidon’s prowess leaked to the public. With the little that was known about them, The Team’s operatives were considered synonymous—in Israel and outside—with assassins, liquidators, and murderers.

The truth about the myth is that since the Mossad’s creation in the early 1950s, it has been involved in only a few dozen killing operations—certainly fewer than 50. But the public imagination worldwide has been captured by the notion of constant assassinations, and the Mossad might find it difficult to refute the image with facts. So it does not bother. Indeed, the murderous image is useful.

True, Israel has targeted and killed hundreds, throughout its history, in surgical strikes against individuals who are considered notably dangerous. But the vast majority of those killings were by army units, mainly in uniform, crossing into occupied or enemy territory. Whether in the West Bank and Gaza, or in a raid on the PLO in Beirut, these were generally acknowledged.

The Mossad has never claimed responsibility for any killing or attempted assassination.

Another difference between military-style assassinations and the occasional killings by the Mossad lies in the deniability factor. Soldiers on an official army mission feel that they have back-up—substantial forces ready to help or rescue, if necessary. A small Mossad team is on its own, however, and Israel would rarely recognize and assist them publicly if trouble broke out.

Assuming a foreign army or government is the captor, a soldier in uniform when captured would be protected by the Geneva Conventions. A spy who was captured might well be tortured and executed, as he or she would not have the benefit of “prisoner of war” status under international law.

For Israeli intelligence, killing is a last resort. Before eliminating a target, the Israelis typically try to turn him into an agent, warn him, or terrorize him. If he does not bend or break, then the Mossad might have to remove him from the field of battle.

Analyzing the Mossad’s dozens of assassinations in various time periods, three broad categories of targets may be noted: former Nazis, scientists who worked in non-conventional and other weapons programs in enemy countries, and senior operatives and leaders of terrorist organizations. The latter two categories have continued to be threads of Mossad activity woven throughout Israel’s clandestine history—and still part of today’s tapestry.

The pursuit of Nazi war criminals was never a central tenet of Mossad strategy or priorities, and this assassination category ended in 1965 with the murder of Herbert Cukurs. (
See Chapter 7.
) These were among the rare cases in which revenge and historic justice were the motives.

The first scientists who were targeted—well before the birth of the Kidon unit—were Germans who were not leaders of the Nazi regime but had been employed by it. About half a dozen men, trying to cash in on their technical knowledge, had contracts with the Egyptian missile program in the first half of the 1960s. Egypt hired them to help it develop missiles that could reach Tel Aviv: an ambitious goal and a very dangerous one, in Israel’s eyes.

The Mossad conducted a systematic campaign against these Germans. Their families were approached, in the hope that ominous messages would prompt them to persuade their loved ones to quit the Egyptian program. Threatening letters were sent, some bullets were fired at the scientists’ cars, and eventually letter bombs arrived in the mail.

Part of the aim was larger than targeting only these scientists. A message was being sent, in effect, to other Germans to think twice and thrice before signing a contract to work for Israel’s Arab enemies. The Mossad was making it a dangerous job for any European to accept, so it would not be seen as a safe way of earning some money.

The campaign lasted for only two years and resulted in several injuries, sometimes of innocent people. Egypt’s missile program, for various reasons, made little progress and ran out of steam.

Attacks on the Nazis and on the German scientists were not yet the actions of Kidon. The Team did not yet exist. Lacking a specialized assassinations unit, the Mossad relied on its pool of operatives from various units scattered around the agency.

The Egyptians did renew their missile aspirations in the 1980s. Realizing that they could not succeed with a home-grown program, they reached a partnership accord with Argentina. That country was making good progress with its Condor missiles.

Naturally, Israel was alarmed and interested in learning all about this project to build long-range missiles. Experts from Aman managed to obtain invitations to Argentina, and they were even able to examine the Condor prototype.

Luckily for Israeli intelligence, it had a long record of military cooperation with Buenos Aires—a link with dictators that led to much criticism of Israel, but also one of many examples in which relationships with pariah regimes yielded fruit for Israeli intelligence.

The Mossad simultaneously exercised its own talents. It launched a terrorizing campaign, now with Kidon up and running, aimed at European experts who supported the Condor joint venture.

A German engineer who lived in the tiny principality of Monaco and had offices near Salzburg, Austria, was approached gently by Mossad operatives who asked him to cut his ties to the Condor project. They thought that a threat was implicit, but he simply continued his work.

Next, his car was blown up. He was not in it at the time. He stubbornly stayed with his Condor work, so a few weeks later his Salzburg offices were set on fire. That was the German’s breaking point, and he quit the program.

Argentina eventually succumbed to pressure by Israel, and, more importantly, by the United States government and ended the project. The Egyptians were left empty-handed and wanted to get something from their investment. They sold their part of the missile work to Saddam Hussein’s Iraq.

The Iraqi dictator was a megalomaniac, constantly active on all possible aggressive fronts. Saddam was working on chemical, biological, and nuclear weapons. He was also working on a wide array of delivery systems.

In early 1990, he threatened that he would “scorch half of Israel,” wording that was interpreted by Aman analysts as a hint that he seriously intended to launch his missiles westward with chemical warheads atop them.

All of his projects were seen by Israel as major threats, perhaps even to the Jewish state’s existence. They naturally became high-priority targets for Israeli intelligence.

The Mossad discovered the key role of an Egyptian nuclear scientist who worked for the Iraqis, Yehia Meshad. Following its traditional pattern, the Mossad first tried to persuade him to cooperate with Israel. When he refused, a Kidon team was sent to locate him. The trail led to a hotel in Paris, a much easier place to strike than Baghdad would be. Meshad was murdered in his room in June 1980. French police found no traces of the killers and concluded that it was a professional job. That was all they ever said about it.

The Iraqi nuclear program continued to make progress, however, and Saddam’s regime was investing heavily in ways to launch or drop the bomb he hoped to build. He was attracted by an innovative but doubtful idea: the Super Gun. This was the brainchild of an obsessed Canadian scientist, Gerald Bull, who had made a career of designing weapons for anyone who would finance his pet projects. He did some work for America’s Pentagon, for South Africa, and for other clients, and then moved his operations to Europe.

Along the way, Bull offered his services to Israel. His ideas were deemed interesting, but not something that the Israelis needed. They already had technologically advanced delivery systems: warplanes and missiles.

Bull’s big gun concept fascinated Saddam: an enormous rifle, to be aimed threateningly at his enemies—very, very far away. Bull was hired to start building, in an Iraqi desert, a mammoth cannon. His calculations indicated that it could even launch a payload into orbit. Pointed at Israel or other countries, the Super Gun would probably not be accurate—but if the warhead were nuclear, it would not have to be.

Bull worked out of his home in Brussels, actually an apartment rented by his Belgian girlfriend. It was on the sixth floor of a modern building in the Uccle district of the capital.

The Mossad, with its former operative, Prime Minister Yitzhak Shamir giving approval, decided to eliminate Bull. After all, he might succeed at perfecting his giant artillery, and thus he was an active danger.

Kidon teams did thorough reconnaissance of Bull’s habits, his travels, and his home. Before long, three “Moroccan” men rented an apartment in a different wing of his building. The key they were issued would not open the entrance to Bull’s part of the block, but the building’s wings were connected through an underground garage. It was an excellent situation: The Team was easily able to get to the target, but it was not living too close to him. No one would remember any connection between them.

One day in March 1990, told by lookouts that Bull was heading back to his apartment—and after checking to be sure that the man’s girlfriend was not at home—Kidon men with silencers screwed onto their pistols waited outside his door. As he walked up the hallway, they shot him several times in the head.