“I'll be a good girl,” promised Ariel. I didn't know if she was being facetious, sardonic, or yielding.
I went to the lobby and locked the file in the hotel safe. For the umpteenth time I used a pay phone in the street to call Stone in Washington.
“Dan, where are you? Still in Moscow?” came David's friendly voice.
“No, David. I'm back in Munich. I made real progress. Things look promising, in both areas – Eric's and ours. But first I need to study some documents I've just received. I simply called to report that I'm back in Munich at the Intercontinental. I'll call you soon with another report.”
And before David could comment, I added, “I have Ariel with me.”
“Good,” said David, “is she cooperating?”
“So far, so good,” I said, “but she still doesn't know who I really am, and that bothers me.”
“It never bothered you before,” said David.
“It's different this time. I hope to be able to explain – to you, to her, and to myself.”
Next I called Eric. He wasn't available. I left a message. I'd done my part. I retrieved the file from the safe, went back to my room, and continued going through its contents. Then I saw it – a handwritten note: “Cyrus Armajani, Schwanthalerstrasse 122, Munich. Tel (089) 555-6765.” That must be Armajani's private residence and phone number. There were many more documents that I was curious to read, but Ariel called and asked me to meet her downstairs for dinner. I took the file with me and back it went into the hotel safe.
We went casually into the hotel restaurant, almost as though we were going out on a date for the sixth or seventh time. We didn't talk about work, or about anything meaningful. Ariel spoke with her body. She liked to touch me with her hands. She touched my arm occasionally, my cheek, or my hand. This was her way of saying things and I needed to learn her language. I didn't want to miss a sentence, or even a single word.
After dinner we took a short walk. The streets were fairly empty and it was cold. This was no way to relax, with me having to constantly be on the alert, so back we went to the hotel.
“You must be tired,” I said. “We've had a long day.”
“Not really,” she countered, with, I thought, an invitation in her voice. But I couldn't ask her to my room again. Self-control was the order of the day, but it wasn't easy. I had to separate my work from all else.
“I'll see you in the morning,” I said.
“And I need to arrange a meeting with Guttmacher,” she reminded me matter-of-factly.
“Not just yet. Please. This is important and I've got to check some things out before you call him. Trust me.”
I couldn't tell her that I had to speak to Henderson first, clear her meeting with Guttmacher, and hear how the break-in operation was progressing. I went on.
“I'll see you for breakfast at eight. Is that too early?”
“No. That's fine.”
“Remember,” I repeated, “no phone calls.”
I stepped over to her, held her arms, and said, “We'll have a lot to talk about when it's all over, so forgive me for being a bit cool. I'm simply focused on my work, and it's not easy when you're around.”
It was the most direct statement I'd ever made to her.
She came closer, rose on her toes, kissed me lightly on my lips, turned around, and left without a word. I went to the lobby, took the file from the hotel safe, and asked the receptionist to let me do some photocopying. “The business center is closed now,” she said. “Why don't you try in the morning?”
“I can't wait; these are medical documents that are needed for an emergency surgery. I must send them out with a courier to the United States.”
That must have convinced her, and she unenthusiastically showed me to a back office. An hour later I was done. I returned the original file to the safe. I still had to satisfy my curiosity with respect to Armajani's Munich address, so I took a cab to the building and surveyed it. Upon my return there was a message waiting from Henderson. No need to wait. I called him back from the lobby.
“I need your report on Moscow,” said Eric. He must have had some advance warning from Hart.
“I think we should talk in person,” I said, “as soon as possible.”
“I'll send Tom around to pick you up. Be ready in thirty minutes.”
Eric was in the safe house when we arrived. “Benny came to Munich last night, and he called ten minutes after we spoke. I told him about this meeting. He'll be here shortly.”
“Good timing.” And, I thought, Benny's presence always instills sanity into a conversation. I proceeded to brief Eric on my Moscow trip, omitting the important details. I wanted Benny to be around to hear those.
A few minutes later Benny arrived.
“Greetings, friend. Looks like we coordinated our return to Munich.”
“Like clockwork.”
We sat down at the table and Eric began. “Benny came with a positive answer from his government. So the Mossad is in.”
“Great,” I said.
“There are certain conditions attached,” said Benny. “This will be a joint operation. We share everything – means and information. As to the operation itself, we condition our participation on silent entry without the use of explosives at the vault.”
“Does that complicate matters?” I queried.
I meant for Eric to answer, but Benny responded. “Not really. I think we solved that problem, largely thanks to you.”
I was flattered. “What did I do to deserve the honor?”
“You remember the woman you caught on film after she left Guttmacher's office?”
“Yes, I remember. So tell me more.”
“I had her followed during her lunch break. While she was having lunch in a restaurant, our guys picked her pocket and took her keys, went outside, made an electronic imprint, and returned the keys to her purse.”
I laughed, “And she didn't catch on?”
“No. My guy is an expert; he could strip you of your underwear while you're wearing your pants.”
“Tell him not to try.” I laughed. “So you have the vault keys now. But will Shimon still need to enter through the roof?”
“No. She had keys to the back door of the bank as well. We checked them already. Our copy works fine. But I don't know if the vault's copy will also work. Obviously we couldn't test it.”
“Talking about matched keys,” I said, “you may want to consider an additional target: Cyrus Armajani, the head of the Iranian's nuclear purchasing mission in Europe.”
“And where do we find him?” asked Eric.
“Right here in Munich.”
“And we call information to find his address?” asked Eric sarcastically. “We've been looking for him for months now.”
“Your search is over. Here's the address. I checked out the building; it's purely residential. It could be his home address in Munich.” I gave Eric the address I copied from DeLouise's file.
“How did you find it?”
“A present from hell or heaven, depending on where you think DeLouise is now. He left some documents behind and the address was among them. But that could be a stale address, so check it out.”
Eric didn't even blink when I gave him the information. “So you suggest we break into Cyrus Armajani's home?”
“Yes. Verify and break in. Since the Iranians don't seem to have an office here, I guess he'd be keeping some hot stuff. I'd plan it for the same night as the break-in at the bank.”
“Why?” asked Eric.
“Because if we do just one break-in and they suspect that the documents connected to him are the target, they'll move them from his place for sure.”
Eric gave me a long look and made some notes.
As usual, he demanded more. “Anything else I should know?”
“I prepared a copy of the complete file. See for yourself,” I said, and pushed the papers in his direction.
