been my specialty for twenty years. I doubt if there is anyone among the 110,000 employees of your committee who is as well qualified as I am to oppose this formidable Zionist operative. I therefore recommend that you assign me to discover what Dickstein's mission is and, if appropriate, to stop him. (signed) David Rostov.
TO: Acting Chief, European Desk FROM: Chairman, Committee for State Security COPY: Chief, European Desk DATE: 24 May 1968 Comrade Rostov: Your recommendation is approved. (signed) Yuri Andropov. TIUPLE
To: Chairman, Committee for State Security PRom: Chief, European Desk copy: Deputy Chief, European Desk DATE: 26 May 1968 Comrade Andropov: I refer to the exchange of memoranda which took place between yourself and my deputy, David Rostov, during my recent short absence on State business in Novosibirsk. Naturally I agree wholeheartedly with Comrade Rostov's concern and your approval thereof, although I feel there was no good reason for his haste. As a field agent Rostov does not, of course, see things in quite the mane broad perspective as his superiors, and there is one aspect of the situation which he failed to bring to your attention. The current investigation of Dickstein was initiated by our Egyptian allies, and indeed at this moment remains exclusively their undertaking. For political reasons I would not recommend that we brush them aside without a second thought, as Rostov seems to think we can. At most, we should offer them our cooperation. Needless to say, this latter undertaking, involving as it would international liaison between intelligence services, ought to be handled at chief- of-desk level rather than deputy-chief level. (Signed) Feliks Vorontsov.
TO: Chief, European Desk FRom: Office of the Chairman, Committee for State Security copy: Deputy Chief, European Desk DATE: 28 May 1968 Comrade Vorontsov: Comrade AndrGpov has asked me to deal with your memorandum of 26 May. He agrees that the political implications of Rostov's scheme must be taken into account but he is unwilling to leave the initiative in Egyptian hands while we merely 'cooperate.' I have now spoken with our allies in Cairo, and they have agreed that Rostov should command the team investigating Dickstein on condition that one of their agents serves as a full member of the team. (Signed) Maksim Bykov, personal assistant to the Chairman.
(penciled addendum) Feliks: Don't bother me with this again until you've got a result. And keep an eye on Rostov-he wants your job, and unless you shape up I'm going to give it to him. Yuri.
To: Deputy Chief, European Desk FRom: Office of the Chairman, Committee for State Security copy: Chief, European Desk DATE: 29 May 1968 Comrade Rostov: Cairo has now nominated the agent to serve with your team in the Dickstein investigation. He is in fact the agent who first spotted Dickstein in Luxembourg. His nitme is Yasif Hassan. (Signed) Maksim Bykov, personal assistant to the Chairman.
When he gave lectures at the training school, Pierre Borg would say, 'Call in. Always call in. Not just when you need something, but every day if possible. We need to know what you're doing-and we may have vital information for you.' Then the trainees went into the bar and heard that Nat Dickstein's motto was: 'Never call in for less than $100,000.' Borg was angry with Dickstein. Anger came easily to him, especially when he did not know what was happening. Fortu. nately anger rarely interfered with his judgment. He was angry with Kawash, too. He could understand why Kawash had wanted to meet in Rome-the Egyptians had a big team here, so it was easy for Kawash to find an excuse to visit-but there was no reason why they should meet in a godd bathhouse. Borg got angry by sitting in his office in Tel Aviv, wondering and worrying about Dickstein and Kawash and the others, waiting for messages, until he began to think they would not call because they did not like him.; and so he got mad and broke pencils and fired his secretary. A bathhouse in Rome, for God's sake-the place was bound to be full of queers. Also, Borg did not like his body. He slept in pajamas, never went swimming, never tried on clothes in shops, never went naked except to take a quick shower in the morning. Now he stood in the steamroom, wearing around his waist the largest towel he could find, conscious that he was white except for his face and hands, his flesh softly plump, with a pelt of graying hair across his shoulders. He saw Kawash. Ile Arab's body was lean and dark brown, with very little hair. Their eyes met across the steamroom and, Me secret lovers, they went side by side, not looking at one another, into a private room with a bed. Borg was relieved to get out of public view and impatient to hear KawasWa news. The Arab switched on the machine that made the bed vibrate: its hum would swamp a listening deviM N them were one. The two men stood close together and spoke in low voices. Embarrassed, Borg turned his body so that he was facing away from Kawash and had to speak over his shoulder. 'Ne got a man into Qattara,' Kawash said. 'For?Wdable,' Borg Wd, pronouncing it the French way In his great relief. 'Your department isnt even involved in the project.' 'I have a cousin in Military Intelligence.' 'Well done. Who is the man in Qattara?' 'Saman Hussein, one of yours.' 'Good, good, good. What did he findT' 'The construction work is finished. They've built the reactor housing, plus an administration block, staff quarters, and an airstrip. They're much farther ahead than anyone imagined.' 'What about the reactor itself? That's what counts.' 'They're working on it now. It's hard to say how long it Will take-there's a certain amount of precision work.' 'Are they going to be able to manage that?' Borg wondered. 'I mean, all those complex control systems . . .' 'The controls don't need to be sophisticated, I understand. You slow the speed of the nuclear reaction simply by pushing metal rods into the atomic pile. Anyway, there!s been another development. Saman found the place crawling with Russions. Borg said, 'Oh, fuck.' 'So now I guess they'll have all the fancy electronics they need.91 Borg sat on the chair, forgetting the bathhouse and the vibrating bed and his soft white body. 'This is bad news,' he said. ''Ibere's worse. Dickstein is blown.' Borg stared at Kawash, thunderstruck. 'Blown?' he said as if he did not know what the word meant. 'Blown!' 'Yes. Borg felt furious and despairing by turns. After a moment he said, 'How did he manage that ... the prick?' 'He was recognized by an agent of ours in Luxembourg.' 'What was he doing there?' 'You should know.' 'Apparently it was just a chance meeting- The agent is called Yasif Hassan. He!s small fry-works for a Lebanese bank and keeps an eye on visiting Israelis. Of course, our people recognized the name Dickstein----~' 'He's using his real nameT' Borg said incredulously. It got worse and worse. 'I don't think so,' Kawash said. 'This Hassan knew him from way back.' Borg shook his head slowly. 'You wouldn't think we were the Chosen People, with our luck.' 'We put Dickstein under surveillance and informed Moscow,' Kawash continued. 'He lost the surveillance team quite quickly, of course, but Moscow is puffing together a big effort to find him again.' Borg put his chin in his hand and stared without seeing at the erotic frieze on the tiled wall. It was as if there were a world-wide conspiracy to frustrate Israeli policy in general and his plans in particular. He wanted to give it all up and go back to Quebec; he wanted to hit Dickstein over the head with a blunt instrument; he wanted to wipe that imperturbable look off Kawash's handsome face. He made a gesture of throwing something away. 'Great,' he said. 'Me Egyptians are well ahead with their reactor; the Russians are helping them; Dickstein is blown; the KGB has put a team on him. We could lose this race, do you realize that? Then they'll have a nuclear bomb and we won't. And do you think they will use it?' He had Kawash by the shoulders now, shaking him. 'Mey're your people, you tell me, will they drop the bomb on Israel? You bet your ass they will!,, 'Stop shouting,' Kawash said calmly. He detached Borg's hands from his shoulders. 'Theres a long road ahead before one side or the other has won.' 'Yeah.' Borg turned away. 'You'll have to contact Dickstein and warn him,' Kawash said. 'Where is he now?' 'Fucked if I know,' said Pierre Borg.
Chapter Five
The only completely innocent person whose life was ruined by the spies during the affair of the yellowcake was the Euratom official whom Dickstein named Stiffcollar. After losing the surveillance team in France Dickstein returned to Luxembourg by road, guessing they would have set a twenty-four-hours-a-day watch for him at Luxembourg airport. And, since they had the number of his,rented car, he stopped off in Paris to turn it in and hire another from a different company. On his first evening in Luxembourg he went to the discreet nightclub in the Rue Dicks and sat alone, sipping beer, waiting for Stiflcollar to come in. But it was the fair-haired friend who arrived first. He was a younger man, perhaps twenty-five or thirty, broad-shouldered and in good shape underneath his maroon double-breasted jacket. He walked across to the booth they had occupied last time. He was graceful, like a dancer: Dickstein thought he might be the goalkeeper on a soccer team. The booth was vacant. If the couple met here every night it was probably kept for them. The fair-haired man ordered a drink and looked at his watch. He did not see Dickstein observing him. Stiffcollar entered a few minutes later. He wore a red V-necked sweater and a white shirt with a button-down collar. As before, he went straight to the table where his friend sat waiting. They greeted each other with a double handshake. They seemed happy. Dickstein prepared to shatter their world. He called a waiter. 'Please take a bottle of champagne to that table for the man in the red sweater. And bring me another beer.' Ile waiter brought his beer first, then took the champagne in a bucket of ice to Stiffcollar's table. Dickstein saw the waiter point him out to the couple as the donor of the champagne. When they looked at him, he
