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PROFITS OF WAR -- INSIDE THE SECRET U.S.-ISRAELI ARMS NETWORK

15.  The Judge

HAPPY WITH MY progress, I flew to London in early June 1988. I asked Barbara to join me because I was aware that anywhere along the way things could go wrong and I might need a witness. My sudden diversion to London had been on Prime Minister Shamir's instructions. Iran's defense minister, Col. Jalali, had requested a meeting with me. The last time I'd seen him had been with Robert Gates in Kansas City when the defense minister had sought assurances that arms to Iran would continue, despite the exposure of the Iran-contra affair. Since then, however, Israel had decided to stop the flow of arms to Iran because the war with Iraq had reached an uneasy ceasefire. Now Jalali wanted to start up another channel.

Accompanied by Barbara, I caught a taxi to a large house in Belgravia. London policemen stood on duty at the gates. Iranian security men patrolled the grounds. It was, in fact, a house owned by Col. Jalali. He was waiting, his face anxious. I introduced him to Barbara as "my friend Hussein," the pseudonym he used in London.

He led us into the lounge where other guests were assembled -- Jalali's wife, Mina; Jalali's aide and his wife; John de Laroque; and a German arms dealer, Werner Kruger, who was working with the Israelis. After pleasantries were exchanged, Col. Jalali and I went out to the garden and got down to business. He expressed dismay that the Iraqis were growing in strength -- thanks to the Americans. The U.S. was supporting the manufacture of unconventional weapons and chemicals in Chile, which were then being flown to Baghdad.

"If Saddam Hussein doesn't attack us again," said Jalali, "he'll turn his attention to Saudi Arabia or Kuwait."

Jalali handed me an official letter from the Defense Ministry of the Islamic Republic and asked me to pass it on to the prime minister. In essence, it pointed out Tehran's concerns about Iraq's supply of chemicals. But I had a request to put to him. We needed Iran's help in securing the freedom of three Israeli soldiers being held in Lebanon.

"We'll be glad to help," said Jalali, "but we'll have to take the arrangement further. I'm going to have to show the Revolutionary Guard that we have got something out of Israel in return -- even though we're already asking for your help in stopping the chemical supplies to Iraq."

"What do you have in mind?" I asked.

"We need three C-130s, and we'll pay for them, of course. I'll tell the radical mullahs that we're getting one plane for each soldier. You get us these planes, and we'll get the soldiers out."

The business end of our meeting concluded, we strolled over to the barbeque, where meats were cooking. Later, as a farewell gesture, each guest was given a gift box of pistachio nuts.

***

I arranged to meet Barbara in Lima and then flew by myself to Israel. In El Al's first-class lounge at Heathrow Airport I met by coincidence Gen. David Ivry, director general of Israel's Ministry of Defense. He was basically a Labor Party man, but I nevertheless mentioned to him the question of the C-130s because he would learn of the Iranian request anyway. He was not very encouraging.

"You realize, of course, that Prime Minister Shamir will not be able to arrange this on his own," he said. "He will need the support of the Labor Party in the coalition, too, because of the complete shut-down of all arms to Iran."

At Shamir's office the following day, I gave his adviser, Avi Pazner, a full briefing on the arrangements with Guzman. I was told the extra $18 million would be paid into the Swiss bank account and money would be authorized for the purchase of the newspaper chain and a house for the Shining Path in Lima.

However, I felt I should discuss the issue of the C-130s with the prime minister himself. Pazner arranged it.

"Israel owes you a lot," Shamir told me when I entered his office, accompanied by Pazner. Directing me to the guest sofa, the prime minister sat behind his desk, his tiny body lost in a huge leather chair, his large head appearing out of proportion. The office was expensively decorated with stylish leather furniture and a coffee table at which Shamir entertained his guests. On his desk was a small Israeli flag, while on the wall were pictures of David Stern and Vladimir Jabotinski, who founded the militant Zionist Revisionist movement which had such an important role to play in the establishment of the State of Israel; and Theodor Herzl, founder of the political form of Zionism and more popularly known as the socialist father.

I told Shamir in detail about the Peruvian situation, and he was happy about how little money had been spent.

"We were expecting to spend $50 million up to this point," he said. "You have my blessing to continue to do whatever is necessary. And I appreciate the time you are giving up when your wife is expecting a baby at any moment."

I then produced the letter from the Iranians and pointed out the verbal request for C-130s. Shamir read the letter asking Israel to help with more arms and to try to stop the chemical weapons from Chile, then placed it carefully back on his desk.

"I'm not going to answer this officially," he said. "We have an agreement with the United States not to continue to supply arms to Iran at this point." I was aware of this. Earlier that year, after the Iran-Iraq war came to an uneasy halt, Robert Gates, representing the U.S., and Avi Pazner, representing Israel, had reached a secret agreement that neither country would supply the Iranians. It also said that the U.S. would try to stop the chemical weapons going to Iraq. But as I was to learn, neither country abided by the agreement. "Please tell your Iranian contact that I have received the letter and it is being considered," said Shamir.

I wondered whether this meant he was turning down the request for the C-130s. If that were the case, the soldiers would have to remain in enemy hands in Lebanon.

He appeared to read my thoughts. "Regarding those C-l30s," said the prime minister, "go ahead and make the arrangements. You have my blessing in this affair."

I had to return to Peru, but I was determined to spend some time with Ora. It was June, and although it was very hot, those days together were magical. We traveled to the Dead Sea, and as she stood on the shores and looked out across the water, she looked fabulous, glowing. Then we went north to the Sea of Galilee, where we spent the night. I put my hand on her stomach and felt our baby kicking. And back in Jerusalem, after an ultrasound test, they told us we were going to have a girl. I was over the moon.

But something was on Ora's mind. I asked her what the problem was.

"Who is Barbara?" she wanted to know.

My heart leaped. There was good reason for Ora to be suspicious. What had begun as insurance for me had become a friendship and had now drifted into something more intimate. "How do you know about her?"

"Every time I've called you in Peru she's answered the phone."

"She's around because of work," I said. "An American journalist working for a prominent British newspaper. She provides protection for me -- insurance." I felt like a louse as I said it. But Ora accepted my explanation -- or so I thought at the time.

Five days later I took the Lufthansa flight from Tel Aviv to Frankfurt. Col. Jalali's aide, a soft-spoken man with a small goatee, was waiting for me in the lobby of the airport hotel. Over dinner, I explained that the letter requesting more arms had been passed on to the prime minister and would be considered in the cabinet. In the meantime, I said, we were ready to move on the C-130s.

"How much are you asking?" he wanted to know.

I'd been given no briefing on the price of the aircraft. I plucked a figure out of the air, based on my previous experience of Hercules sales: $12 million each.

"You want $36 million and the soldiers for three C-130s?"

"No, we want $36 million for the planes. But we also want the soldiers back." Israel would not be put into a position where it could be seen to be giving arms for hostages' release. Other governments might do that, but it was not our policy -- at least not publicly.

I gave him two bank-account numbers with the request that $18 million go into each. The payment would take about ten days. He promised to do his best to get the soldiers freed.

"Are you also interested," he asked, "in getting any American hostages freed?"

"That's not Israel's business. But if you can manage to get some released, we'd be happy."

I returned to Peru in early July, and did some house-hunting on behalf of the Shining Path. I found a fantastic mansion with a pool and nine servants. I made no commitments to the man who showed me around, Enrique, who was selling the property for his mother. The family also owned the Ocho newspaper chain, which was perfect. I would have to speak to Guzman, of course, and I wondered what he might make of the house and all its trappings.

Enrique suggested that I meet a friend of his, who turned out to be the Peruvian minister of finance. He wanted to know why I was investing in Peru in such an unstable political situation.

"The market is low," I said. "And one day it will go up."

"That's reasonable thinking," he said thoughtfully. "But under a Sendero government, it will be worthless."

I flew to Ayacucho, and, that evening I went to see Guzman, who told me that arrangements had been made for a Peruvian businessman to receive the house and the newspaper chain once Israel had paid for them. And he had good news for me. I could call my logistics man and tell him that Friday had been set for the next airlift of the materials. That was only four days away. If I traveled back to Lima to make a safe call to Israel, they would not have much notice. I decided to chance a call from the Ayacucho hotel.

From my room, I asked the operator to connect me to Jerusalem. When Ora answered, I told her to call Avi Pazner and simply tell him it was the same plan for this coming Friday. Then I hung up. Half an hour later I received a call from the logistics man in Caracas. He just asked whether it was Friday; I confirmed it, and hung up again. I had to take as few chances as possible.

I went back to Lima and, on July 12 and 13, made all the arrangements for the purchase of the house and the newspapers -- $400,000 for the house and $2 million for the newspapers. I need not have bothered. The Shining Path leadership changed its mind, deciding that to base some of its key people in Lima at this stage would be too dangerous.  In the volatile political atmosphere they would be easy targets for the military.

With this shipment on its way, I planned to leave Peru. But the Israeli scientists, evidently considering that they might not get another opportunity to stockpile the necessary substances, had decided they wanted another 500 kilograms. I was instructed to get it in the works before I left. I phoned Roberto and told him I needed another shipment right away. This was arranged, again following the now familiar routine.

***

With this final shipment on its way to Israel, I flew back to Jerusalem -- in time for the birth of my daughter Shira on July 22, 1988. I remained with Ora through the birth at Hadassah Hospital. I was overwhelmed. Right then, Lima, the Shining Path, Col. Cordova, and Barbara all seemed a long way away. I felt I had left the dangers of Peru behind me. The mission had been successful, and Israel could continue its bomb program.

Two days after Shira's birth, I was shocked to hear my next orders. There had been a miscalculation. The scientists had blundered. They decided they needed another 50 kilograms of one of the metals, and I had to return to Peru to make the arrangements.

I returned to Lima in early August. I had phoned Barbara and she met me at the airport. Roberto had also been told I was coming back, and had flown to Lima. We all met in the lobby of the Caesar Hotel and then strolled down the street. I explained why I was back.

"I'll help you," said Roberto. "I'll relay the message back to Ayacucho and let you know."

"Roberto, I don't want to hang around too long. It's getting dangerous for me here, and besides, I have a new-born daughter back in Israel. I'd like to know very quickly."

He promised to discuss the new request with "the boss" in Ayacucho first thing in the morning.

After Roberto left, Barbara told me that the U.S. consul general, Donna Hamilton, wanted to speak to me. I went to her office immediately. A very gracious woman, she told me that she needed my help. Cynthia McNamara, the American woman, had been rearrested on August 2, because a judge in Cangallo, a small village in the Andes some 40 kilometers from Ayacucho, wanted her extradited to his jurisdiction. It was a district controlled by the Shining Path, with a heavy Peruvian military presence only inside the village, and the only way she could get there safely would be with a military escort. The consulate had tried to get a court order in Lima that would effectively detain McNamara in the capital, but it was not looking good.

The charge against her was that she had been involved in smuggling medical goods to the Shining Path. When a truck containing medical supplies had been stopped for inspection, three people had been shot dead. Among the attackers, it was said, was a foreign woman fitting her description, although there was no real evidence it was McNamara.

"This judge drinks quite a bit," said Hamilton. "If someone can get to him and talk him out of this...."

I knew what she was asking. Because I was able to travel in areas occupied by the Shining Path and also able to get a permit from the military to go on their base, where the judge's office was located, I was one of the few people who could do the job. I said I would see what I could do.

The following morning, over a late breakfast with Enrique, with whom I had become quite friendly, I mentioned I was planning to travel to Cangallo to see the judge. He shook his head.

"If the Sendero don't get you, the military will. And if they don't get you, you're still up against the village thieves, who will be after you for your shirt and your shoes. You should ask your professor friend to give you protection. It's his people who might end up attacking you."

"I don't really want to do that," I said. "I'm neutral in this war. I have nothing to do with either side."

I realized that Enrique was testing me to find out if I was a Shining Path sympathizer.

Accompanied by Barbara, I flew to Ayacucho where, after giving it much thought, I asked Roberto for safe passage to meet the judge. He assured me he would take care of things.

The following morning I asked a cab driver to take Barbara and me to Cangallo.

"You're mad," he said and drove away.

The fourth attempt to find a driver worked. I waved a $100 bill in front of him. There was no real road, he explained, and he would have to take spare tires and gas cans. Later that morning Barbara and I left for ... well, who knew what?

It was a painstakingly slow drive along a very bad dirt road with rocky outcrops protruding from the sparse vegetation. Occasionally we were stopped by groups of Shining Path members who let us proceed after looking at me. Somehow word had gone ahead that we were on our way. I had Roberto to thank for this.

By six in the evening, we reached a bridge at the entrance to the village. On the far side of the bridge was a military post. Soldiers stared in amazement at the taxi rumbling along toward them. They raised their rifles as we approached. This time I produced a letter I had obtained in Lima from Col. Cordova, who had agreed to assist.

The judge, I had been told, could be found at the military barracks, but when we arrived there and introduced ourselves to the commander, we were told the judge would not be back until the morning.

"He's investigating a massacre," said the commander, a captain. A few more casual questions elicited the information that the judge was looking into the massacre I had tried to stop Col. Cordova from committing earlier that year.

We found a small pension in the village and treated ourselves to one room and the driver to another. We dined on rice and beans by candlelight, because there was no electricity.

In the morning we met the judge in his office. When I explained I had come on behalf of Cynthia McNamara, and he found out I was not a lawyer, he declared, "I can't talk to you." Then he thought about it a moment and added: "Actually, you can act on her behalf because, under Peruvian law, anyone can defend someone else in court."

The judge, a good-looking, informally dressed man in his mid-30s, explained that McNamara was wanted in his court for subversive activity -- aiding and abetting terrorism. He seemed very agitated, walking back and forth. He made a few phone calls, and shortly afterward a group of antiterrorist police arrived. He relaxed then and got out McNamara's file. As I glanced at the police, I wondered if he felt I had come to threaten him.

"A pretty girl," he said looking at her photo. "I would have liked to meet her, but they took her to court in Lima. I don't want to try her again; that might be double jeopardy. And I think the evidence is inconclusive. I'll rescind my order."

I was surprised at the quick decision and asked him if I could carry the papers documenting his decision. I was also interested in finding out more about the massacre, and as I started asking, I put three bottles of Johnny Walker I had brought with me on the table.

He looked taken aback, but I insisted they were for him as a friend. Then I pressed a little harder on the massacre, and he told me how he had been taken to the scene by the police -- not the military -- where he had been shown some 90 bodies in a mass grave. The military had blamed the Sendero; the peasants said it was the military.

"Sir," I said, "I'd like to give you a sworn statement about this massacre. I can tell you who was behind it."

I told him about Cordova's plans to get revenge for the death of his soldiers and how I had tried to prevent the tragedy by getting Barbara to send a radio report on his intentions. After my statement had been signed -- and witnessed by two of the police -- the judge said, "Rafael [Cordova] is my friend, but my friends can also make mistakes. Some peasants have also identified him, and for the past two days he has been in Lima. We have found some women who were witnesses to the killing of their husbands, and we've taken them back to Ayacucho in a helicopter. It's terrible that such a thing has happened in my jurisdiction. Whoever is responsible will be brought to justice -- the Sendero people, Rafael, whoever. I will see to it that justice is done."

By signing the statement, of course, I was putting myself at odds with Col. Cordova. "I wonder if we're going to live long enough to make it back to Lima," said Barbara.

As a start, we made it back to Ayacucho. I had to present the judge's rescinding papers to the court there, but it was five in the evening and everyone had gone home. So I found out where the clerk of the court lived and took the documents around to his house. He refused to accept the package, saying it could only be sent by legal mail.

I told him I'd be back in half an hour and went off in search of Marcus, the Communist Party member. I gave him $300 and asked him to spread it around to the clerk of the court and the president of the tribunal. It wasn't long before Marcus returned with the message that the senior president of the court would see me at his house immediately.

There I was told by the judge that at first he had thought it was illegal to meet someone after court hours, but he had consulted his books and discovered that in an emergency situation a good citizen can carry papers. Once they had passed through his hands, however, they had to be signed by two other judges and then sent to Lima. After further discussion, he agreed to call the prosecutor and the clerk of the court together right then. An hour later we were ready to proceed with a hearing into the case against Cynthia McNamara in the judge's living room.

The prosecutor said the case against her was strong -- two peasants had seen her with the group, but they didn't have any names. Acting as McNamara's lawyer, I said the judge in Cangallo had looked into the case and had found no evidence against her and that I agreed with his findings.

The tribunal president thought about things for a short time, then declared, "I accept the motion put by Miss McNamara's lawyer, good citizen Ben-Menashe. The case is dismissed."

Even so, as it happened, the Ayacucho prosecutor tried to bring additional charges against McNamara, and she was held in jail another ten days. The night of August 22, she was released, and, the next day, she left the country for Ireland.

Back in Lima a few days after my successful debut as a defense attorney, I was awaiting word from Roberto on the final shipment. There was soon shocking news: The newspapers were filled with a story about what was described as a Sendero attack on a military base near Cangallo, in which a judge was killed. It was the same judge I had met just a few days earlier and to whom I had described Cordova's role in the village massacre. I had no doubt who was really responsible for his murder.

Within 24 hours all hell broke loose. In the wake of more stories about the investigation into the massacre and the gradual turn of suspicion toward the military, Peruvian radio reported that two military helicopters in the Ayacucho area had been brought down by Stinger missiles. Twenty military personnel had died. It was clear to me that these were the Stingers Cordova had sold to the Shining Path. They, in turn, had used them to shoot down the colonel's helicopters. He should, of course, have foreseen that.

News of the Shining Path attack had broken shortly before Barbara and I were due to have dinner with Col. Cordova. It was an appointment I was determined to keep. We met in a fancy restaurant in Lima.

"There's a lot of news about," I told him. "And I have my thoughts on a few things." I didn't have to explain.

"Whatever you may think or hear, I am working in the interests of my nation."

"Yes, I'm sure," I said.

"Whatever I do is for the good of the people, so they will learn who is in authority. We want to build bridges and roads for these poor peasants, but if they go wild and become lawless we sometimes have to use force. Once they behave, we can start helping them. I'm sure you understand how we work. You guys kill Palestinians, don't you?"

"I don't accept your argument."

Our meal continued in this fashion. It was obvious he wanted to leave, but he was determined to have the last word. "What we do is not your business. Keep yourself out of it. In fact, I think it is time you both left the country. Guests are always welcome in Peru, of course, but I think it is becoming dangerous for you. These Sendero people are very angry at you."

"Oh?"

He didn't explain that, but it wasn't hard to imagine that whatever force might be used against me would be blamed on the Shining Path. Still, we had the Stinger deal on him, Barbara was with me, and anyone who killed us would have to face the wrath of the Israeli government. I was willing to take my chances.

I wanted to leave Peru, but I had to complete my work first. The next morning, Roberto called. As promised, there would be no problem in supplying the metal, but it would take three or four weeks. Although the same aircraft and airstrips would be used, it was important that our logistics man be in place in Caracas, because the phone call would come in at the last minute. I made the necessary reports.

My work in Peru was now over. I had just one more errand to perform before returning to Israel for a full briefing on my next assignment. I flew to London, where I met with Nick Davies to discuss the deal we had set up with the Iranians involving the three C-130s, an arrangement that had the full blessing of Prime Minister Shamir.

The Iranians had paid the requested $36 million into two accounts in the Cayman Islands, but it was necessary to brief Davies on the Israeli conditions. He was to tell the Iranian buyers that even though the money had been paid in advance, the planes would not leave Israel until they could assure us that our three soldiers would be released from Lebanon.

Happy that everything was in place, I returned to Israel. My experiences in Peru were to prove to be invaluable in helping me cope with the ordeals that lay ahead.

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