across Vladimir Tkachenko, a wheeler-dealer in everything, who promised that he had the right contacts in the Soviet Union. DeLouise challenged him to prove it, asking for trace residues of lithium-6. Within two weeks Vladimir delivered the goods wrapped in a plastic bag, stored in a lead container. Happy, DeLouise went back to Munich with the proof. From then on, things moved quickly.”
“Was it that simple?” I asked, finding it hard to believe you could buy nuclear materials so easily on the open market.
“No,” said Benny, “not quite. Let's take one step back. First DeLouise wanted to see if Guttmacher was for real – to make sure his offer wasn't a scam, or worse, a sting operation by a law-enforcement agency. So he hired a retired agent of BND, Bundesnachrichtendienst, the German federal intelligence service, to do a background check for him on Guttmacher.”
“Do you have his name?”
“Yes, Kurt Hansa. He operates out of,” Benny looked at his pad, “Kaiser Wilhelm Strasse number 311, Munich.”
I jotted down the name and address. Benny continued. “Hansa reported to DeLouise that Guttmacher's bank was legitimate but that Guttmacher himself had been under increased attention from Germany's federal police over his connections with the Iranians.”
“I guess Hansa reported to his former employers, the federal police, about DeLouise's inquiries, and from there the information flowed to the CIA and the Mossad,” I said.
Eric and Benny smiled the kind of a giveaway smile that says I ain't talking.
“Anyway, Hansa's report to DeLouise that the bank was a genuine institution and that there was no conclusive negative business information about Guttmacher was all DeLouise needed. Apparently Hansa never told DeLouise about the secret ongoing investigation of Guttmacher. DeLouise called Guttmacher and told him that he had the samples that Guttmacher had requested earlier as proof. Now it was quid pro quo time: DeLouise demanded that Guttmacher show his hand and bring his clients in for a meeting. Guttmacher called DiMarco in Italy and quickly arranged a meeting with DiMarco, plus Cyrus Armajani and Farbod Kutchemeshgi, the Iranian agents.”
“Here in Munich?”
“Yes, in Guttmacher's office. At the meeting DeLouise gave them the proof: a detectable trace of lithium-6. The Iranians were apparently gratified.”
“So the meeting ended with DeLouise having the deal he was hoping would extricate him from his problems with law enforcement?”
“Not exactly,” said Eric. “The Iranians wanted to make sure that they weren't walking into a trap of some sort. They knew that every Western intelligence service was snooping around them. They interrogated DeLouise about his personal background, his business and family connections. They asked him to prepare a family tree, telling him bluntly that they'd first check the accuracy of his family tree and if DeLouise didn't deliver or was discovered to be an agent of any foreign government, they would kill his relatives.”
“DeLouise couldn't give them his family tree,” I said. “He has family in Israel, and that would have revealed his Israeli background.”
“Precisely,” said Benny.
“So what did DeLouise do?”
“We don't know exactly,” said Eric, “but we think that DeLouise told them to forget the whole thing if they wanted to become so personal with him. Apparently he managed to persuade them to lower their level of suspicion.”
“How?” I asked.
“I don't know,” conceded Benny. “We know that he suggested that the delivery of whatever he could arrange be made to a country friendly to Iran. That was one way of insulating the Iranians from the transactions. I'm sure there were other guarantees.”
“Did they agree?” I asked, finding it hard to believe that they were so unsophisticated.
“I guess so,” said Benny, “since apparently there was some sort of an agreement. DeLouise received a list of materials and equipment the Iranians needed, and an advance of two million dollars.”
“Without collateral?” I asked.
“No,” added Eric. “Guttmacher's bank guaranteed the advance to the Iranians, and in return DeLouise gave Guttmacher a letter of assignment, through two correspondent banks acting as intermediaries, for a deposit of $2,050,000 that a company named Triple Technologies and Investments Ltd. had in a Swiss bank. I guess Guttmacher was satisfied with that guarantee.”
I felt like I'd been hit by lightning. I tried to hold my composure.
“Do you have further details about this company, the deposit, or the bank's name?”
“I guess we might have it somewhere,” said Eric, indifferently.
Was he a complete idiot, or was he so self-centered that he didn't see the obvious even when it was right under his nose? I needed that information. Triple Technologies and Investments was the name of the company on DeLouise's American Express card.
I said, “It might tell us where the DeLouise money is hidden.” I wrote the details on my pad and asked, “How long have you known about this?”
“About what?” asked Eric.
“About the bank account.”
“I don't know. We developed the information the Mossad gave us, and the results are somewhere in the file,” said Eric, tossing it off. “I wasn't really interested in the financial details.”
I looked at Eric, trying to decide if he was pretending, or if he was indeed the dumbest CIA agent I'd ever met. “I repeat,” I said at a snail's pace. “I'm here to find DeLouise's stolen assets. The U.S. government took over his collapsing bank and paid the depositors. The government sent me to recover that money. What you've just told me indicates that DeLouise had control over a company called Triple Technologies and Investments Ltd. that had at least two million dollars in its bank account. Do you get it?”
I took a gulp of beer because my throat was dry, but it didn't calm me down.
Eric still didn't seem to grasp the significance of what he'd just told me. I continued, “You know everything but understand nothing. Guttmacher is not a fool; he wouldn't have given the Iranians his bank's written guarantee unless he was sure that the letter of assignment DeLouise gave him was valid. That means he checked the Swiss account first. Banks do that, you know. He must have received the Swiss bank's written consent for the assignment of the deposit. So that brings the level of certainty concerning this information to a new high. Pay attention also to the fact that there were two intermediary banks. That shows that DeLouise must have insisted on using them as a buffer between the Swiss bank and Guttmacher's bank to avoid detection of the ultimate beneficiary.”
Eric finally realized what was going on. “We've only had the information for a few days now,” he said with some mild embarrassment.
“I'd like to see the actual copies of the documents.”
“Tom will get them for you; they're in our office.”
“Any other revelations that you've forgotten to give me?” I asked. Eric didn't answer.
“There is one final thing,” said Benny. “DeLouise knew that the only way to show he was working on the deal was for him to travel to the Soviet Union. But he was reluctant to use his U.S. passport, because he figured that there must be an INTERPOL lookout for him and border officials generally check these. He couldn't use his Israeli passport under the name Dov Peled either. Israeli citizens need a visa to visit the Soviet Union. He couldn't ask for a visa without attracting law-enforcement attention, uniformed or plainclothes. He also knew the Iranians would be watching him to make sure he didn't betray them. Therefore, the likelihood of their finding out that he traveled with an Israeli passport was too much of a risk. DeLouise knew what happened to those who betrayed the Iranians.”
“So he needed a third passport,” I said ironically.
“Exactly,” said Benny, ignoring the fact that I already knew about this part. “DeLouise aka Peled was also known as Bruno Popescu; that's his birth name. So he travels to Bonn, goes to the Romanian embassy, and asks for a Romanian passport under the name of Bruno Popescu. Traveling to the Soviet Union with a Romanian passport has another advantage: he doesn't need a visa, a privilege left over from the time Romania belonged to the Eastern Bloc countries.”
