Ari Ben-Menashe - Profits of War: Inside the Secret U.S.-Israeli Arms Network

PROFITS OF WAR

INSIDE THE SECRET U.S.-ISRAELI ARMS NETWORK

Ari Ben-Menashe

TrineDay
Oregon

{Reprint Edition}

Profits of War: Inside the Secret U.S. Israeli Arms Network

Copyright 1992, 2015 Ari Ben-Menashe. All Rights Reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording or any information storage and retrieval system now known or to be invented, without permission in writing from the publisher except by a reviewer who wishes to quote brief passages in connection with a review written for inclusion in a magazine, newspaper or broadcast.

Published by:

Trine Day LLC

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Walterville, OR 97489

1-800-556-2012

www.TrineDay.com

publisher@TrineDay.net

Library of Congress Control Number: 2015937537

Ben-Menashe, Ari

Profits of War1st ed.

p. cm.

Includes index and references.

Epub (ISBN-13) 978-1-63424-050-5

Mobi (ISBN-13) 978-1-63424-051-2

Print (ISBN-13) 978-1-63424-049-9

1. Arms transfers -- Israel. 2. United States -- Military policy. 3. Military assistance, Israeli. 4. Arms transfers. Military policy. Israel . 7. United States. I. Ben-Menashe, Ari. II. Title

Originally published by Sheridan Square Press, Inc. (ISBN: 1-879823-01-2)

First Edition {Reprint Edition}

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

Printed in the USA

Distribution to the Trade by:

Independent Publishers Group (IPG)

814 North Franklin Street

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312.337.0747

www.ipgbook.com

This book is dedicated to Ellen Ray,
who changed my life.

W RITING INTELLIGENCE REPORTS does not make one an author. This book would not have been possible without the heroic efforts of Richard Shears and Isabelle Gidley, who listened to me recount my experiences for months on end, painstakingly turning my recollections into a book. Nor could it have been possible without the meticulous craftsmanship, writing, and editing of Zachary Sklar, who, almost singlehandedly, turned that first version into the book you are about to read.

Twelve years as an intelligence officer also does not prepare one for the Byzantine world of publishing. I am most indebted to John Young, my agent, and Patrick Gallagher and Paul Donovan of Allen & Unwin Australia, who together had faith in this project at its inception. Then, I especially needed the counsel, friendship, and courage of Ellen Ray, Bill Schaap, and Danny Mintz of Sheridan Square Press in New York, who brought this book to fruition.

Of course, had I not been acquitted of the charges leveled against me by the U.S. government, my memoirs would be a futile dream. For this I will always be grateful to Thomas F.X. Dunn, who not only successfully defended me but also continued to encourage my efforts to tell my story.

I must also thank the journalists, researchers, friends, and family who had enough respect for me to listen to what I had to say and maintain my faith that it would, ultimately, be made public. My mother, Khatoun, my brother-in-law Michael, and Marian Gail were extremely supportive. Robert Parry, Gary Sick, and Phil Linsalata heard me out and assisted me when I needed it most. In Australia, Grant Vandenberg, Jan Roberts, and Mark Corcoran were also very helpful.

Finally, I want to thank those of my former colleagues in Israeli intelligence who must remain unnamed who have renewed contact with me over these last few years, despite personal dangers to themselves and their careers.

Ari Ben-Menashe

Sundown, New York

July 1992

Table of Contents

E ARLY ONE MORNING in the spring of 1990, I lay on my bunk in the Metropolitan Correctional Center in New York, unable to sleep, my mind restless. I stared at the ceiling of my tiny cell, and the fluorescent lights stared back, unblinking. I glanced over at the depressing furnishings a sink, a toilet, two metal cabinets.

This was federal prison my home for the time being. It wasnt terribly violent no murders, no gang rapes. My neighbors on the high-status white tier, as opposed to the black and Hispanic tiers, were mostly white-collar criminals. John Gotti, the Mafia don, had been here for a short time, but had been released on bail. (He won that case, but he was to return later.) Adnan Kashoggi spent a few nights in residence. And Joe Doherty, the Irish revolutionary, was present all the time I was.

The conditions werent that awful either nothing like what I had been subjected to at El Reno in Oklahoma while being transported across the country. No overcrowding, no debilitating noise, no guard brutality as in many state and city jails. MCC was more like a third-class, flea-bag hotel with one important exception. You werent free to leave.

Below me, on the lower bunk, my cellmate, Nick Lante, later convicted of conspiracy to sell heroin in the pizza connection case, snored. How in the world had I ended up here? Living with this guy? In this place? What had gone wrong?

The events of the last few months flashed through my mind. In the fall of 1989 I had been on top of the world a healthy 37-year old Israeli citizen, married with a delightful young daughter, a prestigious job in the Prime Ministers Office, a considerable amount of money in the bank, and a two-week vacation in Australia awaiting me. Then one day I was arrested and tossed into jail in Los Angeles on phony charges of illegally trying to sell three C-130 transport planes to Iran.

Id been expecting something to happen for a while in Australia, Israel, the U.S., anywhere, anytime. I didnt know exactly what, but ever since my friend Amiram Nir had died in a mysterious plane crash in late November 1988, two years after his involvement in the Iran-Contra affair had been revealed, Id been worried.

So this was it an arms-dealing rap. Actually I felt a measure of relief. At least it wasnt death. Nobody was likely to kill me in jail in the custody of the U.S. government.

But then the reality began to sink in, and I felt deeply hurt. Id been set up, betrayed, by the American and Israeli governments. The Americans I could understand. I knew a lot about the CIAs arms deals with Iran and Iraq; in fact part of my job had been to threaten to go public with that information if the CIA didnt halt chemical weapons sales to Saddam Hussein. Naturally, the Americans were not pleased.

But the Israelis, my own people, my own government that Id served for all my adult working life that was hard to swallow. Id started working for the government as a codebreaker on the Iranian
desk in Signals Intelligence during my three years of compulsory military service, 1974 to 1977. Then, as a civilian, Id put in ten years with Israels military intelligence, in the prestigious External Relations Department; from 1980 I also served on the Joint Committee for Iran-Israel Relations. Finally, I had spent two years as a roving troubleshooter for Prime Minister Yitzhak Shamir, working directly out of his office, with the title of special intelligence consultant.

It was secret missions for Israel that had resulted in my being jailed. When word of Shamirs communications with the PLO leaked out and embarrassed the government, someone had to be sacrificed. I was the one.

Thats how I had ended up at Metropolitan Correctional Center, in this metal bunkbed, staring at the fluorescent lights, unable to sleep. I had believed that my work was part of the effort to ensure the survival of the State of Israel and the Jewish people. But here I was in prison, my future in peril, and nobody was coming forward to help me. When I was needed by my employers, I was always there. When I needed them, they turned their backs on me. Shamir, for whom I had felt great respect, and who had known my father since the 1940s, had had a hand in setting me up. And then two lawyers representing the Israeli government had visited me in prison and asked me to make a deal plead guilty, keep silent, go live in obscurity somewhere. Id refused, and now that government was publicly denying that Id ever worked for it.