other-side-of-deception-victor-ostrovsky

THF OlHER SIDE OF DPCEP'l'lOii / 289Uri came to visit me a short while after I'd finished my first novel,Lion of ludah. It had been some time since we last met, and I'd hadhardly any contact with the clique since 1991. The book wasalready on the market in the United States, Germany, and Canada,and was ready to hit the market in Holland and Belgium. I was at thetime about to finish a second novel and was asked to go on tour topromote Lion of Judah in Holland. I had not crossed the Atlanticsince By Way of Deception had been published in 1990, and I wasreluctant to do so now. Things were going great on this hemisphere,and I didn't want to risk ending up in a prison cell in Israel. I'd contactedEphraim to ask for his advice, and he'd sent Uri to talk it overwith me."You are in no danger," Uri said flatly. "The Labor government isnot the right-wing Likud; things have changed since then. You havenothing to worry about. In fact, we recommend you go, to prove thepoint."I was very hesitant, but the chance to travel and at the same timeto get the adrenaline rush going was extremely tempting. I puttogether a small security team that consisted of three university studentsfrom Ottawa whom I taught to play the role of security people.They were there more for show than anything else. I knew that Icouldn't rely on any professional security companies because of thehigh numbers of Israelis they employ and the fact that many of themreport regularly to the Israeli authorities.I also knew that if it appeared I had a good security setup, variousfringe elements would refrain from trying anything. At the same time,if the Mossad wanted to do anything, they would, even if I was surroundedat all times by true professionals.Everything went well in Holland, and then we went to Belgium forthe two final days of the tour. Knowing the history of the Mossad inBelgium and the corruption of the Belgian police force, I knew I waswalking into a snake pit. But Ephraim's promise was all the shield Ineeded. On the last day in Belgium, I was scheduled to appear as aguest on a television show in Brussels. All was fine until the show wasover and my security team and I headed for the car that was supposedto be waiting to take us back to the hotel in Antwerp. The car wasn'tthere, and neither was the driver. There seemed to be some confusionregarding what had happened to him. Then an alternative car was sugptedby someone from the station. This didn't smell right to me ormy team, and since the television station wasn't far from the Brusselsinternational airport, we decided to move fast. We ordered taxir andsplit into groups. Our Belgian publisher drove one of the team and meto the hotel, and the others took two cabs. We left the place in threedifferent directions and even sent an empty cab off somewhere else.All I wanted to do was get out of that city and get Ephraim on theline. If something was going on, I was sure he'd know about it andinstruct me on what to do. It was after midnight when I made the call."Hello." I heard Ephraim's sleepy voice."Ephraim?""Yes, who is that?""It's me." I said, somewhat relieved that he wasn't alarmed."Me who?""Victor. Wake up, man.""I'm awake." I could hear a sudden tension in his voice. "Victorwho?""What is this? I'm not in the mood for games, Ephraim.""Is this Victor Ostrovsky?" He sounded genuinely surprised."What are you playing at?""How are you? Where are you?""You know where I am.""What are you talking - about?""Ephraim, 1'm warning you. Don't play games with me, I'm not inthe mood.""Don't you ever threaten me." I could clearly hear the menace inhis voice. "Don't make the same mistake Spiro did. Am I makingmyself clear, my boy?""You son of a bitch." I said and hung up. I was deeper in it than Icared to think. Ian Spiro was a sayan who'd worked with the Mossadfor many years. He was a very helpful contact to have, since he dealton numerous occasions with various Lebanese factions. He was aBritish citizen living in the United States. His contact with the Iranians