“You’re Jewish, but your casinos stay open on Friday nights.”
“That’s business.”
“So is this, for me. I don’t want you to trick the United States into war.”
“And that’s all.”
Wells decided to believe that Duberman’s question was sincere. “I came to Islam to survive. In a place where I was the only American, surrounded by people who wanted to destroy my country. I needed something to hold on to and I had to choose, their religion or their hate. I chose their religion.”
“All right. I respect that.” Duberman spread his hands as if to push away the unpleasantness he’d created. He radiated charm like a banked furnace. “You strike me as a plainspoken man.”
This close, Wells saw the unnatural tightening of the skin around Duberman’s jaw, the fullness in his cheeks. “It’s good.”
“What’s that?”
“Your face-lift.”
“Thank you. For what I paid, it should be.” You’ll need more than that to rattle me, his smile said. “You know our former operations officer is no longer with us. Early retirement.” A sly joke. They all knew Wells had killed Mason. “We have a vacancy. I doubt the new DCI will invite you back to Langley. And you’ve seen my resources.”
Could Duberman really be pitching? He was using a classic technique. Unbalance Wells by opening the conversation with an unpleasant question, then dismiss it and focus on what they had in common. E and E, Wells remembered an instructor at the Farm telling him. Empathize and emphasize.
“Even if we disagree about Iran, we have plenty in common. We both know the world would be safer without certain members of the Saudi royal family. Those Hamas cowards who live in Qatar and let their people serve as human shields. Salome tells me you have unique talents. The fact you’ve stayed alive for the last month suggests she’s right.” Duberman was laying on the flattery thick now.
“Mainly, I’m lucky.”
“You would have complete operational freedom. We, the three of us, would choose projects together. But after that you’d make every decision. Hire one person, a hundred, none. I can give you whatever resources you need. Salome has spent years setting up safe houses and communications all over the world.”
The offer tempted the way a syringe of heroin might. A bubble of sweet venom at the tip. Try me. Once. Once can’t hurt. Wells wondered if Duberman had planned this offer all along or whether he’d invented it when Salome told him that Wells hadn’t come alone.
“You’re serious.”
“Why not? I’d rather have you working for me than against.”
“Killing people you don’t like.”
“We both know that’s not what this is.”
Wells looked at Salome. “You on board? We’d be working closely.”
She gave him a real smile, the one that lit her face. “Oh, I think so. Look how much Mason pulled off. And that was Mason.”
“What about Iran?”
“Forget Iran,” Duberman said. “It’s done.”
“Maybe not.” Wells nodded at Salome. “We have her CIA contact. Jess Bunshaft.”
Duberman didn’t blink. “So? My customers come from all over. China. Russia. I know who has money problems, who likes little boys, who’s an addict. Of course she talks to the CIA sometimes. I admire you, Mr. Wells. Truly. But you have no chips left.” Duberman looked at Duto. “He’s the only one who can protect you, and his enemies are even bigger than yours. You played as best you could, but the cards didn’t come. Let’s move forward. Please. For all of us and our families.”
Families. The threat, again.
“My turn to ask a question.”
“Anything.”
“The Iranians say they don’t even want the bomb. Why are you so sure you’re doing the right thing? I’m sure you heard what happened today. Two more planes, five hundred more dead.”
“Do you think that means we should trust Iran more, John?”
Wells didn’t have an answer.
“What do you know about me? Besides that I’m rich.”
“That you’re very rich.”
“I was lucky to be born. My parents were Austrian. Nathan and Gisa. They came to America from Shanghai. I know, I don’t look Chinese.” A wisp of a smile. A joke he’d made before. “They spent World War II in Shanghai. Before that, they lived in Vienna. They had a store on the north side of the city that specialized in trinkets and cameras. I never understood the connection, but that’s what they sold. Silver candlesticks and Leicas. One day they saw the future goose-stepping in from Munich. They’d been successful. The kind of Jews the Nazis hated.”
Salome said something in Hebrew. Duberman nodded.
“Right. How silly of me. The Nazis hated every Jew. The ones who prayed, and the ones who didn’t. The ones in Berlin who spoke perfect German and the ones who never left their shtetls. The homosexuals and the ones with families of ten. The rich and the poor. They were all guilty of the same crime. They all received the same punishment. You see?”
Wells nodded.
“You think so, but you don’t. Anyway. My parents had a piano, an apartment. They sold all of it in two weeks, took whatever they could get, so they could pay for visas and passage to China. Shanghai was practically the only place left still taking Jews by ’38. The United States sent an ocean liner filled with them back to Europe. No more refugees, Roosevelt said. Except if they knew physics. Those Jews were fine.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“Of course you didn’t. Why would you? Your friends from Afghanistan, it’s not on their curriculum. So. Shanghai was still open. Nathan’s parents, Gisa’s brother Josef, they said, Don’t go. The Germans want to scare us. Steal our money. They’re jealous. Hitler doesn’t mean those terrible things. He’s playing to the crowds. We’ll keep our heads down and this storm will pass. Like all the others. You know what happened to those people, John?”
Wells didn’t want to answer, but Duberman’s stare insisted the question wasn’t rhetorical. “They died.”
“Todt. The Austrians were even more thorough than the Germans. Not one person my parents knew in Vienna survived. So excuse me when I tell you that when the Iranians publish maps that don’t show Israel, that when Ahmadinejad”—Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, the former Iranian president—“says the Holocaust didn’t happen, that the Jews must be eradicated, I listen. If I can manage it, those people will never have a nuclear weapon. Not now. Not ever.” He leaned forward, squeezed Wells’s biceps. “I want you on our side, John. The right side.”
Duberman smiled like he believed Wells might agree. Maybe he did. All those billions would bolster anyone’s confidence.
“Can I have a minute alone? To think.”
“In here? You want us to leave—” Duberman shook his head in puzzlement.
“No, of course not. Bathroom’s fine.”
Duberman nodded at a door on the wall behind Duto. “Right there.”
“You can’t seriously be considering this,” Duto said.
“Worried you’ll need a new errand boy, Vinny?”
Wells closed the bathroom door, eyed the tired face in the mirror. Duberman had made a surprisingly persuasive pitch. Asking Wells about Islam had been a brilliant move. The question had planted a seed of doubt. Was it possible he was anti-Semitic? No. No. He knew himself that much, anyway.