After the MPs picked up Ganani, Jordan got a call from the tech lab. She ran the stairs to the fourth floor, pounding out her frustration on the concrete steps. What the hell had Cline been up to?
The tech who’d come in handed her a form.
“I needed it yesterday,” she said, looking around for a pen.
“Get in line.” The tech plucked a pen from his pocket and handed it to her.
“How long before you’ll know anything?” she asked, signing her name and handing everything over.
“Hopefully, sometime tomorrow. We’ll call you.”
“You’re kidding. We need to know what’s on there immediately.”
“You and everybody else. Right now, we have every free hand setting up the IT network for the secretary’s speech and visit. I’m just one person.”
“You might be holding the key to who killed Steven Cline.”
The tech scrubbed the side of his face with his hand. “Enough already. I’ll move it to the front of the line. I will do my best to get you some answers, but no promises.”
“You rock.”
“Yeah?” The tech turned away. “Tell my mother.”
*
After a quick trip home for a power nap and a shower, Jordan was back in the office by 6:00 a.m. Daugherty passed her doorway on his way in.
“You’re here early,” he said.
She stood and went after him in the hall. “I wanted to talk with you.”
Daugherty jerked his head for her to follow him to his office. He made a beeline for the coffee machine. “Shoot.”
While he started a pot of coffee, Jordan sat down in a chair by the desk. “I think Cline was trading state secrets.”
“Want some?” he asked, grabbing some mugs out of the cupboard and cream from the small refrigerator. He poured himself a double of cream.
“You did hear what I said?” Jordan had expected more of a reaction. “Doesn’t it bother you?”
He lifted the pot in her direction. She shook her head.
“It would bother me a lot if he’d actually succeeded. It appears he didn’t.” Daugherty carried his mug to his desk. “Now tell me again what happened, and this time I want details, starting with what happened at the doctor’s office.”
Jordan recapped the events, beginning with the attempt to kidnap Lucy, finding the USB drive, and Ganani’s visit to her office.
“You took on a Shin Bet agent? You don’t look too much worse for the wear.”
“That’s because I kicked her ass.” Jordan rubbed her shoulder. “You should see Ganani. I think I broke her nose.”
“Good job.” Daugherty sounded impressed.
He should be. Jordan hadn’t incapacitated the woman, but she’d done some damage.
“Now, from what I just heard,” Daugherty said, refocusing on the matter at hand, “you think Cline is connected with some radical Jewish movement and was attempting to pass off encrypted DSS intel to some joker tied to the PLC?”
Put like that, her theory sounded farfetched.
“Sir, it’s a fact that Cline, or at least his wife, has connections to people tied to some radical Jewish factions. Based on recent events, it seems clear his intent was to pass information to Najm Tibi. We won’t know what until we crack the files.”
Daugherty turned his chair and stared out the window. “Have you questioned his wife?”
“She’s refusing to speak with anyone. She has her rabbi, Tiran Marzel, acting as her voice. He claims it violates her religious beliefs to speak to anyone outside her religious sect during this period of mourning.” Jordan leaned forward, wishing she could see Daugherty’s face, maybe read his expression. “Rabbi Marzel was once connected with Kach, a Jewish nationalist extremist group that operated out of the West Bank. He now leads a group of Neturei Karta living in Bnei Brak.”
“Tell me about them.” His voice sounded clipped, and he kept his back to her.
“The Neturei Karta is a group of ultra-Orthodox Litvish Jews—Haredis from the former Grand duchy of Lithuania.” In the present day, the region included Belarus, Lithuania, Ukraine, and the northeastern Suwalki region of Poland.
“What’s their philosophy?”
Having lived in Tel Aviv for nearly two years, Jordan was surprised he didn’t know.
“The Neturei Karta opposes the political ideology of Zionism,” she said. “In a nutshell, they believe that Jews are forbidden to have their own state until the coming of the Messiah.” This made them a potential recruiting ground for anti-Israeli factions. “Marzel is a self-proclaimed follower of Rabbi Meir Kahane.”
“I’ve heard the name. Refresh my memory.”
“Kahane founded the Kach Party and supported the annexation of all the land occupied during the Six-Day War—the Sinai Peninsula, the Gaza Strip, the West Bank, East Jerusalem, and the Golan Heights—all of it. He also advocated the forced transfer of the four million Palestinians living there. Kach’s main focus was to disrupt the peace process and oppose any steps taken to hand the land back to the Palestinians.”
Daugherty swung his chair back around and set his coffee on the desk. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t Kahane die?”
“Back in 1990, which is when his son formed a splinter group called Kahane Chai, or ‘Kahane Lives.’”
“As I recall, the son died, too. Neither of these groups has been active for years.”
“True.” Kach and Kahane Chai still existed, but the groups had been banned from participating in Israeli politics for making threats against politicians. Ironically, now they refrained from violence in hopes the government would lift the ban and allow them to run members for political office. Jordan doubted it would happen.
Daugherty took a sip of his coffee. “I don’t see the relevance.”
“There was a third splinter group called Irgun Yehudi Lohem, or EYAL, better known as the Fighting Jewish Organization, formed by a man named Avishai Raviv. He’s the man they believe planned and executed the assassination of Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin. That’s where Marzel comes in.”
Raviv was alleged to be an agent of the Israeli Domestic Intelligence, better known as Shin Bet or Shabak. His original assignment was to gather information on right-wing extremists. Many believed Shin Bet established EYAL in order to spy on extremist groups. One of the most outspoken was Rabbi Tiran Marzel.
“And you think Rabbi Marzel partnered with Cline?”
“I think it’s possible.”
Daugherty tapped the side of his mug. “Tell me about this Tibi character.”
“He seems to be more of an opportunist for hire than a true jihadist. All anyone has to do is look inside his apartment to see what he was about. Suffice it to say, he liked the finer things. Detective Weizman confirms it.”
“What else do we know about him?”
“He was a maintenance worker at the GG&B Engineering headquarters in Haifa. He swept floors, mopped, cleaned blinds—that sort of thing.”
“And he lived in Yafo, in al-Ajami?”
“It’s not that uncommon. Some of the embassy employees commute from Haifa. It’s all highway. An hour’s drive, tops. A coveted position at GG&B would be worth the commute.”
“For an Israeli Arab.”
Stated like that, it sounded bigoted. Not exactly what she had meant.
“I mean for anyone,” she said. “GG&B designed the National Water Carrier and is the go-to on all issues connected with water, energy resources, and waste management. They’re in business for the long haul, pay top wages, give good benefits, and have lots of prestige.” Jordan waited to see if he connected the dots the way she had. GG&B held the key.
“What’s your theory, Jordan?”
He apparently wanted her to spell it out.
“The goal of these groups is to disrupt the peace process, right?”
Daugherty nodded.
“Maybe what they’re doing is connected with the National Water Carrier?”
“No way,” Daugherty said, dismissing the idea. “Israeli security is impeccable. Everyone here depends on the water, including the Arabs. Terrorists have tried chemical spills, poisonings, bombings.” He ticked the items off on his fingers. “You name it, it’s been tried.”
“What if they’re planning something that’s never been tried before?”
“Let’s back up the truck. Consider what we have to go on. A maintenance worker and Cline, who you’ve loosely connected to a radical sect of Judaism . . .”
“His wife, Tamar’s, connection to Neturei Karta is fact,” Jordan said, trying to establish her case. “It’s logical to assume her husband is also connected. If Cline had information for Tibi, then Tibi had something for Cline.”
“I’ll concede that it looks like Cline might have been radicalized, but it sounds like you’re suggesting the Neturei Karta is in cahoots with the PLC.”
“They share a common anti-Zionist belief. What’s the old Arabic saying? ‘I against my brother, my brothers and I against my cousins, then my cousins and I against strangers.’”
“That doesn’t mean they’ve formed the Brotherhood of Anti-Israel.” Daugherty picked up his mug. “Let’s face it. There are plenty of Jews in this country that don’t even talk to each other. How the fuck could enemies plan a covert op?”
“I’m not saying they’ve joined ranks. But they could both want something the other can provide. They could have separate agendas and still be facilitating each other’s plans.”
“You’re sure it’s not about money?”
“Positive. I checked Cline’s bank records. There haven’t been any unusual transactions.”
“Maybe he has hidden accounts.”
“None that I could find.” She tapped her finger on his desk. “There’s no evidence money was the motive, so it has to be about a cause, about beliefs. There’s no way Cline would come away empty-handed.”
Daugherty’s mouth tightened. She couldn’t tell if he was angry with Cline or angry with her because of the tack she was taking. It was time to press.
“I’d like to pay a visit to GG&B,” she said.
“No.” His answer came hard and fast.
“Sir, if I’m right, I’m convinced the information Tibi was trading came from GG&B.”
“And if you’re wrong?”
“We walk away.”
“Jordan, what you have is a gut feeling and a boatload of conjecture. GG&B carries a fleet full of political clout. We’re not riling them up without proof.” Daugherty cupped his hands together. “Call Weizman. Let the local police investigate.”
“Sir, the Palestinians may not have gotten what they came after, but what if these guys have a backup plan?”
“You bring me some proof, and I’ll let you widen your investigation. Until then, we need to focus on protecting the secretary of state against the enemies we know.”
“Damn right, we do,” said Dan Posner, stepping into the office. “You find out anything useful, Agent Jordan?”
“Dan,” Jordan said. Pushing herself out of the chair, she turned to Daugherty. “I’ll check with the tech guys and see how close they are to having answers.”
“Keep me informed,” he said, waving Posner toward a chair. “Have a seat. Want some coffee?”
“Guess this means you’re off babysitting detail,” Posner said as she walked past him.
How much had Daugherty told him? “Not until we figure out what’s going on.”
“You better get to it, then.” Posner plopped down in the seat she had vacated, as if squashing her like a bug.
The meeting was over.