on."
'Tell the Director about Towfik. Say that Maraji, for all his considerable
talents, makes mistakes in picking his men, because he is young and
inexperienced by comparison with someone such as yourself. Insist that you
should have charge of personnel for the Qattara project. Then put a man
loyal to us into a job there."
Assam nodded slowly. "I see."
The taste of success was in Kawash's mouth. He leaned forward. "Me Director
will be grateful to you for having discovered this area of slackness in a
top-security matter. And you will be able to keep track of everything
Maraji does."
'This is a very good plan," Assam said. "I will speak to the Director
today. I'm grateful to you, cousin."
Kawash had one more thing to say-the most important thing-and he wanted to
say it at the best possible moment. It would wait a few minutes, he
decided. He stood up and said, "Haven't you always been my patron?"
They went arm-in-arm out into the heat of the city. Assam said, "And I will
find a suitable man immediately."
"Ali, yes," Kawash said, as if that reminded him of another small detail.
"I have a man who would be ideal. He is intelligent, resourceful,' and very
discreet-and the son of my late wife's brother."
Assam's eyes narrowed. "So he would report to you, too."
Kawash looked hurt. "If this is too much for me to ask He spread his hands in
4 gesture of resignation.
48
TRIPLE
"No," Assam said. "We have always helped one another."
They reached the comer where they parted company. Kawash struggled to keep
his feeling of triumph from showing in his face. "I will send the man to
see you. You will find him completely reliable."
"So be it," said Assam.
Pierre Borg had known Nat Dickstein for twenty years. Back in 1948 Borg had
been sure the boy was not agent material, despite that stroke with the
boatload of rifles. He had been thin, pale, awkward, unprepossessing. But
it had not been Borg's decision, and they had given Dickstein a trial. Borg
had rapidly come to acknowledge that the kid might not look like much but
he was smart as shit. He also had an odd charm that Borg never understood.
Some of the women in the Mossad were crazy about him-while others, like
Borg, failed to see the attraction. Dickstein showed no interest either
way--.his dossier said, "Sex life: none."
Over the years Dickstein had grown in skill and confidence, and now Borg
would rely on him more than any other agent. Indeed, if Dickstein had been
more personally ambitious he could have had the job Borg now held.
Nevertheless, Borg did not see how Dickstein could fulfill his brief. The
result of the policy debate over nuclear weapons had been one of those
asinine political compromises which bedeviled the work of all civil
servants: they bad agreed to steal the uranium only if it could be done in
such a way that nobody would know, at least for many years, that Israel had
been the thief. Borg had fought the decision-he had been all for a sudden,
swift piece of buccaneering and to hell with the consequences. A more
judicious view had prevailed in the Cabinet; but it was Borg and his team
who had to put the decision into effect.
There were other men in the Mossad who could carry out
ibed scheme as well as Dickstein-Mike, the head of a prescri Special
Operations, was one, and Borg himself was another. But there was nobody else
to whom Borg could say, as he had said to Dickstein: This is the
problern--go solve it.
The two men spent a day in a Mossad safe house in the town of Ramat Gan,
just outside Tel Aviv. Security-vetted Mossad employees made coffee, served
meals, and patrolled thegarden with revolvers under their jackets. In the
morning
49
Ken Folleff
Dickstein saw a young physics teacher from the Weizmann Institute at
Rehovot. The scientist had long hair and a flowered tie., and he explamed
the chemistry of uranium, the natm of radioactivity and the working of an
atomic pile with limpid clarity and endless
'Tell the Director about Towfik. Say that Maraji, for all his considerable
talents, makes mistakes in picking his men, because he is young and
inexperienced by comparison with someone such as yourself. Insist that you
should have charge of personnel for the Qattara project. Then put a man
loyal to us into a job there."
Assam nodded slowly. "I see."
The taste of success was in Kawash's mouth. He leaned forward. "Me Director
will be grateful to you for having discovered this area of slackness in a
top-security matter. And you will be able to keep track of everything
Maraji does."
'This is a very good plan," Assam said. "I will speak to the Director
today. I'm grateful to you, cousin."
Kawash had one more thing to say-the most important thing-and he wanted to
say it at the best possible moment. It would wait a few minutes, he
decided. He stood up and said, "Haven't you always been my patron?"
They went arm-in-arm out into the heat of the city. Assam said, "And I will
find a suitable man immediately."
"Ali, yes," Kawash said, as if that reminded him of another small detail.
"I have a man who would be ideal. He is intelligent, resourceful,' and very
discreet-and the son of my late wife's brother."
Assam's eyes narrowed. "So he would report to you, too."
Kawash looked hurt. "If this is too much for me to ask He spread his hands in
4 gesture of resignation.
48
TRIPLE
"No," Assam said. "We have always helped one another."
They reached the comer where they parted company. Kawash struggled to keep
his feeling of triumph from showing in his face. "I will send the man to
see you. You will find him completely reliable."
"So be it," said Assam.
Pierre Borg had known Nat Dickstein for twenty years. Back in 1948 Borg had
been sure the boy was not agent material, despite that stroke with the
boatload of rifles. He had been thin, pale, awkward, unprepossessing. But
it had not been Borg's decision, and they had given Dickstein a trial. Borg
had rapidly come to acknowledge that the kid might not look like much but
he was smart as shit. He also had an odd charm that Borg never understood.
Some of the women in the Mossad were crazy about him-while others, like
Borg, failed to see the attraction. Dickstein showed no interest either
way--.his dossier said, "Sex life: none."
Over the years Dickstein had grown in skill and confidence, and now Borg
would rely on him more than any other agent. Indeed, if Dickstein had been
more personally ambitious he could have had the job Borg now held.
Nevertheless, Borg did not see how Dickstein could fulfill his brief. The
result of the policy debate over nuclear weapons had been one of those
asinine political compromises which bedeviled the work of all civil
servants: they bad agreed to steal the uranium only if it could be done in
such a way that nobody would know, at least for many years, that Israel had
been the thief. Borg had fought the decision-he had been all for a sudden,
swift piece of buccaneering and to hell with the consequences. A more
judicious view had prevailed in the Cabinet; but it was Borg and his team
who had to put the decision into effect.
There were other men in the Mossad who could carry out
ibed scheme as well as Dickstein-Mike, the head of a prescri Special
Operations, was one, and Borg himself was another. But there was nobody else
to whom Borg could say, as he had said to Dickstein: This is the
problern--go solve it.
The two men spent a day in a Mossad safe house in the town of Ramat Gan,
just outside Tel Aviv. Security-vetted Mossad employees made coffee, served
meals, and patrolled thegarden with revolvers under their jackets. In the
morning
49
Ken Folleff
Dickstein saw a young physics teacher from the Weizmann Institute at
Rehovot. The scientist had long hair and a flowered tie., and he explamed
the chemistry of uranium, the natm of radioactivity and the working of an
atomic pile with limpid clarity and endless
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