“LAP,” Cohen responded before Margolis could speak. LAP is the disinformation and psychological warfare group within Mossad.
“Yes, that’s it,” Schechter continued. “The goal of the operation is to get the Iranians thinking that we will use airbases in Azerbaijan to launch the attack.”
“Azerbaijan?” exclaimed Avner. “That makes no sense at all. The Russians would know everything we did. Hell, they would call the Persians with details of our strike packages an hour before we crossed into Persian airspace.”
“Militarily, no, it makes no sense. But the more we can get the Iranians nervous about it, the better. Any air defense unit transferred to the border with Azerbaijan is a positive for us. The added benefit is pulling Azerbaijan and Iran apart and even getting the Russians to chase their tails in Azerbaijan.”
Cohen looked at Avner, who nodded his head. Cohen spoke. “Okay, give the plan to Director Levy and let Mossad handle that. I like it. What else?”
General Schechter opened a manila folder and pulled out two original and identical letters, each two pages in length. “I have taken the liberty, Mister Prime Minister, to draw up a letter of authorization for Project Block G. I have two originals here. They are and will remain, of course, under the highest classification.”
“Let me see that,” said Cohen as Avner also reached out with his hand. Schechter gave one copy to each man.
Avner grew mad as he read the letter. “Who authorized this?”
Prime Minister Cohen reached out with his left hand and touched the right forearm of the defense minister. “Calm down, Zvi. Just read it.”
A couple of minutes later Cohen continued. “I understand this. I would prepare the same thing in your shoes. Where were you intending to keep these letters?”
“I assume, sir, that you will take one and I will retain one on behalf of Yahalom Group.”
“And you will keep this letter where?”
“In a safety deposit box here in Tel Aviv.”
“You know we have been working on this with such a small team and for so long now that I had not thought of the legal process of making this operational,” said Cohen. “We are clearly outside of the normal chain for military operations and we have to stay that way as long as we can. I think what you have drafted here is entirely appropriate. We will sign this and you will keep your copy. If this works, we are all heroes and you can sell your copy some day at Christie’s in New York. If we fail, there is not a man in this room who will survive the fallout.” Cohen paused for effect. “These are the stakes, gentlemen. If you want out, now is the time.”
General Fishel spoke up. “Can I at least read the letter?” The request was light-hearted.
Cohen laughed. “Yes, Natan. Read it and then sign it. Who has a pen?”
Cohen, Avner and Fishel signed each letter where indicated. Israel had committed itself to a course of action.
Defense Minister Avner spoke next. “Yahalom Group has done its job. The planning is done and the group is officially dissolved. I want to relocate the team to a hidden bunker complex at Sde Dov Airport. You will now be referred to as Olympus and your new location will be known as Mount Olympus.” Sde Dov was right on the Mediterranean and just north of Tel Aviv. It was convenient for all of the men who would now form a growing combat command to be known as Olympus. The bunker complex had been secretly constructed between 2002 and 2005, one of many built around the country in reaction to the growing vulnerability of Israel to massive attack. It had been designed as an emergency command post in the event of the destruction of the Campus and it had all of the communications necessary to exercise operational command of Project Block G.
“Is that it for this morning?” asked Cohen. No one offered any dissenting opinion. “If I don’t see you, I wish each of you Shanah Tovah.” Rosh Hashanah was two nights away.
17 — Business Matters
On November 8, 2010, a Russian businessman walked out of the Dubai offices of the prestigious law firm of Heinrik, Waddington & Smythe LLP in the Dubai International Financial Centre. The man’s name was Gennady Masrov and his navy pin-striped double-breasted Savile Row suit was hand tailored by Gieves & Hawkes at a cost of £4,750. The business card that he left behind had a London address, a serviced rent-an-office building in the upscale business neighborhood of Belgravia. He opened the rear door of his hired black Mercedes S600 sedan and was quickly driven away to the Armani Hotel. The middle-aged man carried himself with all of the confidence and arrogance of his role in life. As the trusted confidante of one of Russia’s billionaire tycoons, Masrov lived the lifestyle of modern royalty, confident in the knowledge that as long as his patron stayed on good terms with Vladimir Putin, the money would roll in as if on an endless conveyor belt.
The meeting was to finalize the terms and corporate governance structure of a new entity to be created by the lawyers. Its name would be “Swiss-Arab Air Cargo FZE” and it would be established in the Ras Al-Khaimah Free Trade Zone in and around the Ras Al-Khaimah International Airport. The new entity would be a wholly-owned subsidiary of a Swiss company named SAC Holdings AG. SAC Holdings was, in turn, owned by Gennady Masrov. But he had very intentionally and repeatedly dropped the name of his very wealthy patron, making it clear to the two attorneys in the meeting exactly who it was who would be the real capital behind Swiss-Arab Air Cargo.
One week later, Masrov returned to Dubai on a direct flight from London’s Heathrow Airport and checked back into the Armani Hotel, occupying a Signature Suite as he had the week before. The next day Masrov strolled into the lobby of the HSBC Middle East Bank. He asked for Branch Manager Mukhtar Al-Zubaidy. Within moments an excited banker emerged from his office, eager to meet the client who had been referred to him by the attorneys at Heinrik Waddington.
“Welcome to Dubai, Mister Masrov.” Al-Zubaidy extended his hand and quickly ushered the Russian into his office. Tea was prepared and waiting, the banker offering to pour Masrov a cup. The Russian accepted and several minutes of introductory conversation over tea followed. The men spoke in English, the accepted language of business in the Middle East. The banker’s English was perfect. He had been educated in England at the University of East London.
As Masrov finished his tea, he was ready for business. “Thank you for tea. Now, let’s get this done. Do you have the account paperwork ready?”
“Yes, sir,” Al-Zubaidy responded. “I was instructed to prepare for two accounts. Is this correct?”
“Yes. A checking account for the business and a sweep account.” The latter account would automatically sweep all funds in the checking account greater than $50,000 into a money market account.
“Exactly. I regret that rates are so low.” Al-Zubaidy looked at Masrov as he opened a file folder in front of the Russian. “Just to confirm, this is to be a dollar denominated account, correct?”
“Yes.” Masrov started to review the documents. The corporate resolutions had been prepared by Heinrik Waddington and were more thorough than the standard pre-printed form typically provided by the bank. “When will the accounts be open?” he asked as he simultaneously pulled a fat roll of money from his pocket. He removed ten crisp new $100 notes. As he folded the roll back up, the banker noticed that Masrov had at least another twenty or so $100 notes wrapped by larger £100 notes, the entire wad forming a stack a couple of inches thick when folded over. This was not uncommon for the types of customers that Al-Zubaidy took care of every day.
Masrov placed $1,000 on the desk. “Please open the accounts with this.”