other-side-of-deception-victor-ostrovsky

1.HE OTHER SIllE O F DECEPTION / 187I reached the hotel just before eleven and managed to buy aMcDLT and a shake to go. I was so hungry I could have eaten theburger in the wrapping. After eating and taking a shower, I calledBella again. She told me that she was arriving in Washington .the dayafter tomorrow.I told her that I was going to change hotels and that I would pickher up from the airport. She was going to call me the next daybefore leaving for the airport, and I agreed not to leave this hoteluntil she did. I started to count the minutes. After I'd hung up, Itried sleeping, only to realize that I was too tired even to do that.When Bella called again at four A.M., I was still watching television.She was leaving for the airport, and Arik was going to take herthere. That was a surprise to me, since contact between ex-Mossadmembers and active workers was prohibited. You weren't expectedto ignore the person if you met him on the street, but neither wereyou to create a contact, not with the person or with members of hisimmediate family. There had to be something to the fact that Arikwas driving Bella to the airport. The phone, however, was not theproper tool on which to do the asking.I had a bad feeling that someone might be trying to play a dirtytrick. There was only one man to whom I could turn to see if thingswere as they appeared to be: Uri, my friend from Al. If there was anyoperation planned for the United States, at any time, he'd be the oneto know about it, and I was sure that I could get him to give me awarning. He was a man who'd seen it all. The only problem was makingcontact with him. It wasn't as if he had a number I could call or anaddress he could be reached at. The man was a katsa at work. All Iknew was that he was in the United States. There was one other thingI knew about him, though: He had a lady friend in Chevy Chase,Maryland, which wasn't that far from my hotel. Reaching himthrough her had a double significance: First, she was working in a sensitiveposition in the Pentagon and was Jewish, which made his personalrelationship with her something of a no-no; second, her husbandwas prominent in Washington circles. Even so, I found the address inthe phone book and headed out to the house. There was no point intrying to do it over the phone; I knew I'd get nowhere because thewoman would have been told in her training not to respond to anyoneon the phone except Uri. I had the cab wait about a block away; Iwalked up to the large, red-brick, mansionlike residence.The quiet neighborhood was clearly home to the more affluentmembers of society. I rang the bell and waited in the cathedral-likeentranceway. The heavy wooden door opened; a glass door still sepa-rated me from the very elegant blond woman who was now staring atme with a faint smile. "Yes?"She was about five foot five and small-figured. Her brown eyeswere large and shiny, and she appeared to be very cheerful."I would like to ask you to please give a message to Uri, if youcould."Her smile faded instantly. She wanted to know who I was andwhat my connection was to Uri. A tall, slim man came to the dooras we spoke; it was her husband. She told him that I was a friend ofUri's. He seemed to know who that was and asked if I'd like tocome in.I had gained his instant respect just for being Uri's friend. I agreedto come in, saying that it would have to be only for a moment since Ihad to be on my way. The woman was clearly uncomfortable, not surewhether I knew she was having a fling with Uri. The husband wasobviously not in tune with what was going on, and from the way hespoke, it sounded as if he wouldn't notice if he was present when itdid. He left us in the round vestibule to answer the phone. I could seepart of a tastefully decorated living room through a large arched doorway.On a small table by the wall, beneath a large gilded mirror, was aphotograph of the couple standing on either side of President RonaldReagan. " , in what seemed to be a black-tie state function.I declined a drink and a cool invitation to dinner from the woman.My declining seemed to make her very happy. I jotted my phone numberon a piece of paper and handed it to her. "I would very muchappreciate it if you could pass that on to Uri."The husband was not in the room when she said that she had noidea when she would see him."Use the emergency hone," I said and headed back to the door. Iwas relieved to be out of there; the awkwardness of the situation didnot at all amuse me. I could understand what Uri saw in her, and aftermeeting her husband, I realized how easy it must have been for Uri towin her over.I knew she could get hold of him since she had to have an emergencycall setup; after all, she was a sayan. I'd never intended to usethis contact, but I was worried that the office was up to somethingand that Bella and the girls might get caught in the middle. I had tomake a move.The first time I'd met Uri was when I was still in the militarypolice, in 1968-69. I was serving in the Jordan Valley in a base calledGiftlick, later renamed Arik after Colonel Arik Regev, who was killedby a Palestinian guerrilla in a chase. The colonel was killed with