Code of Conduct

CHAPTER 30

In the world of intelligence, biometric technology was a blessing and a curse. Facial recognition made it easier to identify and locate terrorists, but it also made it very difficult for spies to slip in and out of different countries while using an assumed identity.

After the 9/11 attacks, the United States cracked down particularly hard, requiring biometric scanning of visitors at its ports of entry. Only U.S. citizens were allowed to bypass these requirements, which was exactly why Bentzi Mordechai had acquired an authentic American passport under the name Vincent Geller.

The real Geller was an American Jew from Miami who had wanted to do his part for Israel and had been recruited by the Mossad. In exchange for surrendering his legitimate identity, he was set up in a new life with a monthly stipend. The U.S. Government had never been the wiser.

“Excuse me, sir,” said a pair of ICE agents at Dulles as they approached Mordechai. He was standing in the U.S. citizen lane, waiting for his passport to be inspected.

Mordechai acted as if they were addressing someone else, but it was obvious that they were speaking to him. “Me?”

“Yes, sir. Please step out of the line.”

Mordechai showed them his passport. “I’m in the right spot.”

Both agents put their hands on their weapons. “Right now, sir,” the lead agent ordered.

The people standing near Mordechai nervously backed away from him.

“No problem,” Bentzi said, making sure the officers could see his hands.

Once Mordechai had stepped out of the line, they closed on him. One agent covered him while the other put him in handcuffs.

Flying often exacerbated his arthritis. Despite having taken two pills, plus downing a handful of Scotches en route, his hands were still killing him. The force with which he had been cuffed, in addition to how tightly the cuffs had been applied, sent ripples of red-hot pain shooting through his entire body.

The agents walked him out of passport control and down a small corridor to a series of interrogation rooms. Unlocking one of the doors, the agents showed him inside. It wasn’t very large, just fifteen by fifteen. It was all white, with bright fluorescent overhead lighting. There was no two-way glass. Just a boring Formica table and four plastic chairs. Mordechai was instructed to sit.

As he knew any innocent person would, he had protested the entire way, getting more indignant as he went. He railed about being a taxpayer and raised his Constitutional rights.

It was quite a convincing performance, but the ICE agents had been told to ignore everything he said, not to offer him anything, and not to speak to him.

Soon after he sat down, there was a knock on the door. He looked up as an attractive woman with dark hair and green eyes entered. She was accompanied by a well-dressed man who crossed to the other side of the room and leaned casually against the wall.

The woman instructed the agents to remove Mordechai’s cuffs and then asked them to wait outside. Once they were gone, she sat down at the table and set a closed file folder in front of her.

“Mr. Mordechai,” she said, “do you know who I am?”

“My name’s not Mordechai,” he replied. “It’s Geller. Vincent Geller. I’m from Miami. I am an American citizen. You have no right to detain me like this. Those officers have my passport.”

“Mr. Mordechai,” she continued, “my name is Lydia Ryan. I’m Deputy Director of the Central Intelligence Agency. Now, you and I can play games, or we can work together. What’s it going to be?”

“I wish I could help you, but I can’t. My name’s Geller, not Mordechai.”

Harvath shifted his weight and moved a little closer.

“Who’s he?” Mordechai asked.

“Never mind,” Ryan replied, removing a photograph and sliding it over to him. “Let’s talk about Helena.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t know who she is. You have the wrong guy.”

Harvath moved so quickly, Mordechai didn’t even see him coming. He was just about to strike him when Ryan held up her hand and stopped him.

“Mr. Mordechai, I’m treating you with respect out of professional courtesy,” she stated. “But there’s a limit to just how far that courtesy goes. I highly recommend you don’t push it. Am I making myself clear?”

Mordechai remained silent.

“We know Helena is here. We know she is with Damien. We want to know why.”

Mordechai opened his mouth to speak, but Ryan held up her hand to cut him off.

“If I hear the name Vincent Geller one more time, I’ll have you rendered to a black site, and we can continue our conversation there. Is that clear?”

The Israeli sat perfectly still and said nothing, his face unreadable.

“At some point Mr. Mordechai, you are going to tell me what I want to know. The only question is when. And how difficult you want to make this for Helena.

“If you work with me, maybe I allow your operation to continue. If not, maybe we put a bag over Helena’s head and render her to a black site as well. Maybe I’ll give Pierre Damien everything I have in this file and let him decide what he wants to do with her.

“Part of me thinks it would be fun to get my matches out and watch all of you burn. And unless you give me a good reason not to, that’s exactly what I might do.”

Ryan then leaned back in her chair and said nothing further. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Harvath ready to strike if Mordechai made one false move.

Slowly, he reached his gnarled hand out for the file. Ryan came forward and put her hand down on top of it.

“That belongs to me,” she said. “Not you. You don’t get to see what we have until you start cooperating.”

“She’s small time. If I cooperate, will you let her go?” Mordechai asked.

“I know exactly what she is, Mr. Mordechai. What I want to know is why you have put her next to Damien.”

The Israeli smiled and shook his head. “Do you know what a pain in the ass Pierre Damien has been for Israel?”

“I’ve got a pretty good idea, but that doesn’t answer my question.”

“My government takes his efforts to undermine our nation very seriously.”

“So seriously in fact,” Ryan mocked, “that shortly after he and Helena arrived here you rushed to the airport, bought a plane ticket, and hightailed it to the United States.” Standing, she picked up her file and said, “I hope you enjoy our rendition program Mr. Mordechai.” She then looked at Harvath. “We’re done here. Let’s go.”

Mordechai was in an impossible situation. He didn’t want to work with the Americans. As soon as they knew what he knew, it would stop being about Israel and would be all about the United States. His mission would be subordinate to theirs.

He didn’t have a choice, though. If he didn’t cooperate, they’d throw him in a hole somewhere. By the time he got out, if he ever got out, the damage could already be done. It could be over for Israel. He was going to have to roll the dice. He was going to have to trust them.

Looking up at Ryan, he said, “What do you know about a United Nations body called the Secretary-General’s Senior Management Group?”