other-side-of-deception-victor-ostrovsky

Mossad and on expert advice he received from LMossad analyses).What was sinister about it, aside from the theft, was that anyone in hisnews organization, anywhere in the Middle East, was automaticallysuspected of working for Israel and was only one rumor away fromthe hangman's noose.I explained to my host, as I had to the British, that in the beginningthe Mossad would help Maxwell purchase the newspapers bylending him money and causing labor disputes and other problems,making the target purchases more vulnerable. Later, the tacticschanged; they would target in advance a paper that he was to purchaseand start it on a collision course with bankruptcy using all availablestrategies, starting with workforce agitation and ending with pullbackof funds from the paper through bankers and advertisers sympatheticto the Mossad. Then, once the target was softened, they'd sendMaxwell in for the kill.That night, my host took me on a drive into the city of Cairo. Iknew the man felt safe with me when he took me in his car, just thetwo of us, out in the big city. For the first few minutes, he had meblindfolded, and I was blindfolded again on the way back. The citydidn't really impress me, nor did the pyramids. I was far too frustratedand tense to take in much of it. But I enjoyed the open spaces and thesemifree feeling I had. By midnight, I was back in my cell, with myhost's guarantee that he would be back in the morning and that Iwould in fact be on board Egypt Air Flight 985 to New York on Sundav.I lay on my back in the cell, staring at the ceiling, wearing only myunderwear. I had a feeling that the man had not lied to me and that Iwould indeed be on that flight, but since things so far had not gonethe way I'd anticipated, there was no guarantee that they'd start now.I made a pledge to myself that if I got out of this place, I wouldnot leave Canada again as long as I lived. I'd been a normal humanbeing when I had entered the Mossad, maybe a bit on the naive side,placing my trust in just about anyone. The Mossad had changed me; ithad programmed me for survival, which meant I could no longer trustanyone for anything. It had made me callous, and it had also made metenacious. Once I had a goal, nothing but death could stop me fromreaching it. It had tried to brainwash me into agreeing with its twistedpolitical agenda. As a result of its failure, it had created what it wouldlater call its worst nightmare: a man with the perseverance of aMossad officer who is devofed to the destruction of the Mossad.I knew there and then, in that small cell, that the only way to killthe Mossad would be to expose it. By now I knew that it was not theTHt IIOTHER SIIIE OF UECEPTIOX / 205organization it wanted everyone to think it was. Yes, it was dangerous.Yes, it was vicious, but it was not efficient. Nor was it what itpretended to be: an intelligence agency dedicated to warning the stateof potential danger.I was put on the flight to New York as promised. I was given tenthousand dollars for my help. I had to sign a form saying that I hadcome to Egypt of my own free will, had been well treated, and hadreceived the sum of ten thousand dollars as a gift.When the plane touched down in New York, I wanted to kiss theground. I'd promised the Egyptians that I would come back if theywanted me to, and go over some things with them if they felt the need.But I knew when I said it that if I could help it, my foot would nottouch Egyptian soil again.It was some time later that I learned the reason for the treatment Ihad received in Cairo. The Egyptians never gave me any explanation,except to say it was a misunderstanding.What really happened was that someone had tipped them off thatI was a Mossad operative still working for the Mossad. I was to disinformthem and cause havoc inside their organization by pointing thefinger at someone who I would say was a mole working for theMossad.They decided to hold me in isolation and see what they couldextract from the Mossad by devious means. They informed theembassy that they had found the body of a man answering my descriptionwho'd come to Egypt on the same flight as I had and who was aresident of Canada. They also said that they believed he might be anIsraeli. The message made its way to the Mossad, and because theMossad had no one in the area answering the description, it didn'trespond. After four days, the Egyptians were convinced that I was notwith the Mossad, because they believed the Mossad would, by thattime, have at least asked to see the body. All that came back from theIsraeli embassy was that no Israeli answering that description wasmissing and that the Canadian authorities would be a much better bet.Meanwhile, back in headquarters, Ephraim was climbing the walls,thinking I'd somehow slipped, revealing my true identity, and was notcoming out or, much worse, that-as he later put it-I had sold himout.