Harpoon: Inside the Covert War Against Terrorism's Money Masters by Nitsana Darshan-Leitner & Samuel M. Katz

Author:Nitsana Darshan-Leitner & Samuel M. Katz [Darshan-Leitner, Nitsana]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Hachette Books
Published: 2017-11-07T05:00:00+00:00

The money that Hezbollah paid to the residents of south Beirut and south Lebanon following the 2006 Second Lebanon War was called “clean money” by the locals.11 The money was clean because it was brand-new. The money, fresh off flights from Tehran to Damascus or Beirut, came in enormous plastic-wrapped bundles in containers that held hundreds of thousands of dollars. Heavily armed Hezbollah teams guarded the transfer of cash. The money flowed generously, too generously. Some of the money, in turn, was given to Ezzedine to invest and to hold for safekeeping.

Ezzedine traveled to the Persian Gulf following the war in search of investment opportunities for his Hezbollah comrades. The Gulf could be a magical place for a wealthy Lebanese investor who grew up dirt-poor in a village that hadn’t changed much in hundreds of years. From Kuwait City to Doha, from Manama to Abu Dhabi, the opulence was mesmerizing. The sand was clean and endless. The robes worn by the sheikhs were pristine and snow white, the uniform of men who never had to work a day in their lives. Everything was polished to an exuberant shine. What wasn’t gold-plated was made to look like gold. Plush carpeting, often ruby red, made every hotel lobby or private home appear to be a palace.

Dubai was by far the most bedazzling of the cities. The city, the emirate, was built on a geyser of financial wheeling and dealing. Billion-dollar real estate deals were consummated with a handshake and a glass full of sweet mint tea. Other deals were concluded over filet mignon at one of the many Michelin-rated restaurants in the city; some negotiations and celebrations were conducted at the clubs where Russian women entertained the locals with their generous charms.

Dubai had replaced Beirut in its glory days as the Middle East’s ground zero for bankers, investors, scammers, and spies. Everyone was eager but wary once they landed at DXB, the three-letter airport code for Dubai. The contacts that Ezzedine met with, promising a portfolio of opportunities, were all referred to by friends of a friend. Some introductions were made by SMS. Text messages were king, and any millionaire worth his dinars carried several cellular phones—one in the blazer pocket, one in the trouser pocket, and one, the newest, always held in hand. Nokia was the brand of choice.

Dubai was a city of spies, riches, and despicable souls—intelligence professionals, heiresses, and shady arms merchants were everywhere in search of a deal. DXB was accessible from anywhere and everywhere. The men from Langley, Virginia, could fly to Dubai in business-class comfort on direct flights from Dulles International Airport. It took six hours and fifty minutes to fly from London to Dubai; it was only five hours from Moscow’s Domodedovo International Airport; and it was a mere two hours and ten minutes from IKA, Imam Khomeini International Airport in Tehran, to the emirate city. Flying via Amman or Istanbul, it took half a day to get to Dubai from Israel’s Ben-Gurion International Airport.

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