He had seen enough to know that anything was possible, especially when it came to those who sought power. Around the world, the majority of countries were ruled either by dictatorships or some form of Democratic Socialism. In those nations, power resided in the state. Only a handful of countries were truly free, with power residing in the hands of individual citizens. Any attempt to seat some sort of global system of government would have to sideline Israel and the United States first, or it would never succeed.
In his notes about dealing with the United States, Damien had scribbled two letters — MC. Were they initials? Roman numerals? He was anxious to have minds back at the Mossad unpack everything and begin connecting the dots.
While Nava had been angry about Mordechai pulling the plug on her operation, when he showed her the documents, she eventually conceded that it had been the right thing to do.
Once they were back in Tel Aviv and had turned over all the materials to the Institute, all they could do was wait.
Their biggest expectation was for what would be pulled off Damien’s hard drive and cell phone. Both turned out to be a bust. He was using a new form of encryption that they had never encountered before. Without his passwords, there was no telling how long it would take to crack. And even if they could crack it, there was no telling what they would find and if it would be in time. That was why Mordechai had decided to activate Helena.
With her background working for a human trafficking NGO, it didn’t take much to align her with a program at the United Nations in Geneva. She used her Eastern European passport. There was nothing in her file or the apartment that had been set up for her to connect her to Israel.
The fact that she was not a UN employee, but rather working on a co-UN/NGO trafficking program, was especially important. Damien wouldn’t have wanted to run afoul of the UN’s code of ethics regarding dating subordinates. It happened all the time, but he took his role as Under-Secretary-General seriously. He didn’t need a scandal hovering over him. Not with everything he had planned.
All Bentzi had to do was to “dangle” Helena. Damien’s dick would take over and do the rest.
He was well-known for the attractive women he dated. His relationships were like monsoon season, steamy and short. He showered his girlfriends with gifts and expensive trips and as soon as he grew bored, he was on to the next.
He liked the ambiance of the bar at La Réserve Genève hotel. The views were exceptional, they had an excellent selection of whiskeys, vodkas, and cognacs, and their sushi chef was top-notch. The fact that it was close to his apartment was icing on the cake.
Bentzi parked Helena in a provocative but stylish cocktail dress at La Réserve Genève and let nature take its course.
Damien wasn’t shy. He made a beeline right for her, and she played him like a pro. They had one drink together before she announced that she had to leave. He offered her a ride home. She declined. He asked if he might have her phone number. She said no. He offered her his personal card with his cell phone number written on the back. She placed it on the table and didn’t bother to pick it back up.
The only personal information she had revealed was that she was temporarily assigned to a human trafficking project at the UN.
The next day, there were flowers on her desk. Inside the envelope was the card Damien had handed her and which she had left on the table the night before. She gave the flowers to one of her colleagues.
The cat and mouse game continued on with Helena playing disinterested and hard to get. It drove Damien wild. He wasn’t used to women saying no to him.
He kept “coincidentally” bumping into her. His unsettling manservant-cum-assistant, Jeffery, had been following her. She had spotted him each time, but had never let on. Finally, she gave in and agreed to dinner.
To his credit, he didn’t overdo it. He picked a small, local restaurant with exceptional food. He was a gentleman and very charming.
For their second date, he asked her what kind of food was her favorite. She said Italian. He flew her to Rome in his private jet, and she ate the best meal of her life.
After their third date, she began sleeping with him. It was the best sex Pierre Damien had ever had.
Bentzi had given her one task — to capture the man’s passwords so that they could access his hard drive and cell phone.
To do that, she had been issued what looked like a wall charger for her cell phone, but what in reality was a covert keystroke logger. It had the ability to sniff, decrypt, log, and report all keystrokes within its immediate vicinity. It even had a small, rechargeable internal battery that allowed it to work even after being unplugged. All she had to do was to position it near Damien when he was logging onto his devices.
As she had explained multiple times to Bentzi, that was a lot harder than it sounded. Damien never used his laptop around her and the only phone she ever saw him use was his iPhone, which he unlocked with his fingerprint. Eventually, she assured him, she would get the passwords. It would just take time. But then everything changed.
Bentzi had told her she was being recalled and told her to go back to her apartment, wait for his call, and not have any contact with Damien other than to feign illness. How Bentzi thought he would ever be able to get anyone closer to Damien was beyond her. He was going to toss it all away, toss his precious Israel to the wolves. It was beyond insane.
Then her phone had rung. It was Bentzi. He wanted to make her an offer, or more appropriately, he wanted to offer her an incentive.
“Go ahead,” she had said.
Gripping the phone, she listened as the Mossad agent laid it all out. Her first reaction was panic. He had used a name they had agreed never to speak of. Like Damien previously showing up every time she went out, she didn’t believe this was a coincidence either. Bentzi was either lying to her, or had been lying to her all along.
“How do I know I can trust you?” she asked.
It was one of the biggest enticements he could have ever placed in front of her. The Israeli known as “Enoch” ran the trafficking ring that had kidnapped her back home and had forced her into the sex trade. She wanted to exact her revenge on him almost as badly as she wanted out of her life with the Mossad. Almost.
Offering up Enoch was an act of desperation. Bentzi knew he couldn’t pull off his operation without her. Whatever Damien was planning, it was already in motion. If it was as devastating as the Mossad feared, they needed to get to the bottom of it, now.
She, on the other hand, didn’t care what happened to Israel. She didn’t care what happened to the United States either. If everything went according to her plan, she would be so far away from both, anything could happen, and it wouldn’t matter. All she cared about was getting out.
But if she could figuratively run over Enoch and drag his corpse through the parking lot as she made her exit, it would close several disturbing chapters in her life and allow her to move on from a very troubling part of her past.
Bentzi knew she had been dragging her feet, he just didn’t know why. After threatening to recall her to Tel Aviv, he was now offering her an incentive to stay and finish the job. Typical Mossad — stick first, then carrot.
She was going to have to push things, which meant there was a good chance she might screw up and walk away with nothing. But it was too good an opportunity to pass up.
Taking a deep breath, she opened her lingerie drawer and said into the phone, “Deal.”
CHAPTER 21
Harvath never took his eyes from the man or his deaf son. Speaking to Jambo, he said, “Ask him again.”