The Angel (15 page)

In considering Zeira's far-reaching claim, two points must be made. First, other than Zeira and to some extent Bandman, everybody who knew about Marwan and saw the material he provided over many years has completely rejected the double-agent hypothesis. Brig. Gen. Arieh Shalev, who served directly under Zeira as commander of MI-Research, for example, conducted a series of investigations and concluded unequivocally that Ashraf Marwan was no double agent—even if he never fully sold his soul to the Jewish state.
³⁰
Aharon Levran, a self-described admirer of Eli Zeira, still believes that Marwan was an authentic spy and takes issue with Zeira on that subject.
³¹
Other, more junior officers from MI at the time, such as the chief of the political desk at MI-Research Branch 6 (Egypt), Albert Sudai; the chief of the same division's military desk, Yaakov Rosenfeld; and his predecessor at the military desk, who saw a great deal of Marwan's intelligence, Zusia Kaniazer—all of them are convinced that Marwan was a true agent, as are all of the Mossad officials who saw the material.

The second point has to do with how wide the double agent theory has spread both in Israel and around the world. But if it has become something of an urban legend, it is because almost everything published about Marwan until now was heavily influenced by conversations conducted with Eli Zeira. Zeira was, simply, the only Israeli in the know who was willing to speak with anyone on the subject—because until Marwan's death in 2007, no one who knew the truth dared talk about it for fear of risking his life. As a result, the great majority of what was said in public was said either by people directly influenced by Zeira, or senior Egyptian officials, members of Marwan's and Nasser's family, and others who had far
too much to lose by saying that Marwan was anything but a loyal citizen of Egypt.

ANY ANALYSIS OF
one of the most fascinating agents in the history of modern espionage would be incomplete without discussion of the methods used in his handling. Over the years, outlandish claims have been made about the amounts he was paid, with some putting the figure at up to $200,000 per meeting, or about $1 million in today's dollars.
³²
The Mossad was willing to go very far to satisfy Marwan—but the actual numbers were far smaller.

Marwan would meet with Dubi whenever he traveled to Europe, sometimes as part of an official delegation, sometimes on business or even vacation. Every trip included one or more meetings over a few days. After the first few encounters, when payment was not even discussed, he began receiving $10,000 per set of meetings, but only when he asked for it. Later he asked to double the fee. Naturally, some in the Mossad were alarmed by the unprecedented outlays for a single agent. But after he threatened to cut off contact, they met his demands. In rare cases he received even more. Payments were made directly by Dubi to Marwan in cash, in used bills of smallish denominations in a small Samsonite case. At the end of each meeting, Marwan would take the case with him without opening it.

Yet even if the amounts were smaller than legends told, they were still big enough to cause a major deficit in the Mossad's European Operations budget. Covering it required express authorization from the Finance Ministry. Golda Meir did, at one point, hint to Finance Minister Pinchas Sapir that the Mossad had secured a top-level source with direct access to Sadat, but she wasn't more specific than that. The deficit kept growing, and at a certain point Sapir sent one of his bureaucrats to demand an explanation from the Mossad's chief of European Operations, Shmuel Goren.
Goren needed several bottles of French wine, and more than one gourmet dinner, to secure the Finance Ministry's approval for the expenditures—without even giving him the explanation he had wanted.

Another nagging question for the Mossad was that of the handler. Again, from the very beginning, top officers had insisted that such a source must be directed by a top-notch, veteran intelligence gatherer. But Zamir kept Dubi on despite his having joined the Mossad only three years earlier. The decision was spot-on: Dubi successfully managed the relationship in a way that minimized trouble and maximized Marwan's effectiveness. The core of Dubi's approach was his insistence on always giving Marwan the impression that Dubi's first loyalty was to the Angel rather than the Mossad. “Alex,” he would come to believe, was somehow different from the rest of the agency. He could effectively represent Marwan's interests, taking his side in disagreements with the hierarchy on questions like the level of payment, who knew his identity or joined the meetings, and even who should be his handler.

Handling Marwan was no simple task. For starters, he didn't take the basic steps needed to ensure his security. Despite being given alternative phone numbers, for the first few months he kept calling up the Israeli embassy in London to set up meetings. To get him to stop, Dubi set up an offsite phone line manned by a go-between known as a “dead letter box.” Marwan was told to call that number, rather than the embassy, whenever he needed to get a message to Dubi. The go-between was a London woman in her fifties who rarely left home. Whenever Marwan called, she immediately contacted Dubi. At just around this time, the first answering machines had been introduced, and Dubi installed one in the apartment so that Marwan could call at any time of night.

Yet Marwan continued to take needless risks. At least once he arrived at a meeting in an Egyptian embassy car, with an Egyptian
embassy driver. Another time, Dubi and Meir Meir met Marwan in his apartment in London's Mayfair district. The entire time they were talking in the living room, a local prostitute was waiting for Marwan in the bedroom. She could have heard every word. Marwan didn't care.

He took risks in the documents he brought, as well. Many of them were originals—not even photocopies. When Dubi asked why he wasn't worried about getting caught with the documents, he just smiled and said, “They won't search me.” In some cases he gave them to Dubi. In others, when they were especially sensitive, Dubi would photograph them with a handheld camera and give them back. Only in extreme cases, when the documents were too sensitive to bring along, would he write down the key points and then dictate them to Dubi.

Marwan's recklessness went further. A few months after Marwan started working with the Mossad, Dubi once noticed the butt of a handgun popping out from behind his jacket. When he asked him about it, Marwan drew the loaded Smith & Wesson .38 and offered it to Dubi as a gift. Dubi was aghast. He explained to Marwan that what might be acceptable in Cairo was entirely unacceptable in the British capital, where even mafia bosses refrained from carrying firearms. Marwan was unmoved. His diplomatic passport, he said, meant that the local authorities couldn't touch him. He offered the gun again. It was a beautiful weapon, with the hammer hidden inside the stock so you could shoot it from inside your pants or jacket pocket without worrying that the fabric would get caught in the mechanism. Dubi was tempted but turned down the offer. The next meeting, Marwan brought another gun, this time as a clear and premeditated gift. Dubi had little choice. He took the gun and thanked his Angel.

The one area where Marwan was pointedly risk-averse was in anything having to do with wireless communication. Given his easy
access to the most important Egyptian secrets, the Mossad wanted to position him as an “alarm agent” who could give a real-time warning if the Egyptians were about to attack. They sent an expert to London to give Marwan a crash course in using a wireless device. He sent Marwan off with the device, means to hide it, and a list of frequencies. Marwan, however, wasn't very good with gadgets. Somebody in the Mossad defined him as having “two left hands.” At his next meeting with his handlers, Marwan told them that it was just too dangerous and that he had tossed it into the Nile. In all his years working for the Mossad, the greatest spy in Israel's history never once passed information via wireless communication.

And yet, despite the relatively smooth relationship that developed, the question of the handler kept coming up. Dubi, it was claimed, had “defected” to Marwan's side, a problem of overidentification common to inexperienced handlers. There were other questions as well, like what would happen if Dubi were unavailable to meet when Marwan needed to—say in the event of illness, vacation, or professional transfer. Indeed, intelligence agencies usually try to prevent a situation where a single handler becomes too closely connected with an agent over an extended period of time, so they change handlers from time to time or add a second handler. But Marwan adamantly refused any effort to replace Dubi or bring in someone else, and every time the subject came up he threatened to quit. Zamir found himself at a dead end, with only one, somewhat unusual, way to move forward. He would directly involve himself in handling the Angel. To this, even Ashraf Marwan could not object.

Beyond just solving the problem of Marwan's exclusive connection with Dubi, Zamir also wanted to boost the Angel's motivation. From the outset it was clear that his psychological needs—particularly the need to compensate for the insult he had received at the hands of Nasser and his men—played an important role in
his decision to work for the Mossad. So it was only natural that if he were allowed to meet on a regular basis with a former general in the legendary Israeli army, who now headed the most storied intelligence agency on earth, this would serve to pump up Marwan's ego and to motivate him to work hard for Israel. And indeed, from the moment Dubi brought it up, Marwan was happy to go along.

The first meeting between Israel's top spymaster, “the General,” as Marwan used to call him, and Israel's greatest spy was a success. From Marwan's perspective, the very fact of the meeting reflected an upgrade in his status, an expression of his importance in the Israelis' eyes. Zamir enjoyed it as well. Beyond the operational challenge that this sort of secret meeting entailed, one he had never personally experienced during his military career, it turned out that Marwan was charismatic and interesting, with a wonderful sense of humor—a true conversationalist. Small wonder, then, that their relationship developed very quickly; the two met, with Dubi in tow, whenever the opportunity arose. Sometimes, due to operational requirements, they would even stay at the same hotel and meet on successive days.
³³

Zamir did not get into specifics about the information Marwan had delivered. Instead they spoke broadly, about global affairs, with Zamir asking just a few questions and letting Marwan do the talking. For Zamir, hearing what Marwan had to say on these issues was less important than giving him the feeling that the chief of the Mossad was hanging on his every word. When it came to Egypt's war strategy, Marwan's insights were more important. Since their first meeting, he described the gap between Sadat, who wanted to initiate hostilities as soon as possible in order to generate a political process to get back the Sinai, and his generals, who clung to what Marwan termed as “the Nasser plan,” which aimed at the occupation of the whole of the Sinai by military means alone. Since the generals knew that their plan was not feasible without receiving
additional weapon systems from the Soviets, they refused to go to war. At the same time, Sadat was looking for generals who would accept his strategic vision and would be ready to launch a war with limited territorial goals.
³⁴

The Mossad helped Marwan in other ways as well. His quick climb up the Egyptian hierarchy and his careless behavior drew attention, much of it negative. The Mossad tried to help him deflect the accusations, apparently with no small measure of success. Sometimes a little gesture went a long way. For example, when Marwan went through marital troubles, Zamir ordered his people to buy a diamond ring in Tel Aviv and pass it to Marwan, who then gave it to his wife. Thus the flowering of renewed affection between Nasser's daughter and her husband was subsidized by the Israeli taxpayer.

Yet despite Zamir's participation in meetings with Dubi and Marwan, there were still officials in the Mossad who thought it would be better to involve a more experienced officer to replace Dubi. Zamir was convinced that Dubi was doing an excellent job, but the pressure finally had its effect. In advance of one of their London meetings in 1971, it was agreed that the designated replacement, a man with significant experience in the Egypt branch at MI-Research, would wait outside the room until Zamir had explained to Marwan the reasons for the change of handler. Yet as soon as Zamir began raising the issue, Marwan immediately and forcefully refused. Zamir asked the intended handler to join them, and the latter began telling Marwan about himself and his experience, in Arabic. Marwan wouldn't even look at him. After the man left, Marwan took Zamir and Dubi to task for bringing “that Iraqi” to the meeting. Zamir explained that the man was Jewish, an Israeli intelligence officer, an expert. Marwan was unimpressed. “In the Arab world,” he explained, “there is a hierarchy. The Egyptians are on top. Then come the Syrians, the Jordanians, the Saudis, and on it
goes.” Marwan blinked, and then continued. “The Iraqis are at the bottom. Egyptians step on them when they walk,” he concluded, illustrating these last words with a gesture of walking.

Zamir needed no further convincing. The question of replacing Dubi would not come up again as long as he remained the Mossad chief.

MARWAN'S STELLAR SUCCESS
posed an unprecedented professional dilemma for the Mossad. On the one hand, Zamir was aware that responsibility for the Israeli government's overall intelligence assessment was not in the hands of his agency, but of IDF Military Intelligence. For this reason, MI-Research was supposed to be the address for everything Marwan provided. There it would be analyzed, processed, and integrated with all the other information that reached Israel, and then packaged for use by Israel's top military and diplomatic decision makers. On the other hand, because of the sensitivity of the source and the fear that Marwan's identity might be compromised if more than a handful of people knew he existed, his materials could be given to MI only in bits and pieces. But that, in turn, would run the serious risk that when his materials were integrated with all the other data, the unique quality of his intelligence would be drowned out, and it wouldn't enjoy anything like the weight it deserved in helping the Israeli leadership understand what was happening in Egypt.