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on the opening day of our course. “An intelligence service is expected to gather information concerning the enemy's intentions and capabilities — period,” Amit said. “Governments that extend the scope of these duties are likely to lose control, because secret organizations have dynamics of their own.”
    Years later I grew to appreciate how right he was. Amit had been in the middle of his term as head of the Mossad, but his earlier bitter struggle with Isser Harel, his predecessor who mixed internal politics with his official capacity, must have given him that wisdom.
    Two days later Benny called back.
    “I think I have what you want,” he told me, without much ado. “This person has a very interesting history. Write this down. Israeli records show that a Bruno Popescu left Israel with a Romanian passport on December 13, 1957. But we couldn't find a date of entry to Israel. The records from this period were handwritten and there is no information about what country's passport he used. Other records may have answered this question. A person named Bruno Popescu, with the same vital statistics as your Raymond DeLouise, entered Israel sometime between May and June 1948. These were the very first days of the state of Israel and there were no real records, as you very well know,” he said, as if I couldforget my background. “We rely on the immigration records of the Jewish Agency, which acted as an interim government from just before the British left to the time the state of Israel was created. Their records show that Popescu came by ship to Haifa and was sent to Shaar Ha'Aliya, a new immigrants’ camp nearby. They received new immigrant ID cards. After about two years the family changed their name to an Israeli-sounding one, like most immigrants. Bruno received an Israeli ID card bearing his new name, Dov Peled.” Benny paused. “Do you know what this means?”
    “Yes,” I said anxiously. “Go on, it's getting interesting. But how can you be sure that Peled-Popescu is indeed the same person as DeLouise?”
    “I'm certain,” said Benny. “In 1976 he entered Israel using his U.S. passport. Our computer matched his date and place of birth and other vital statistics with Dov Peled's. We compared your faxed photo with Peled's. DeLouise looks older, but it's the same guy.”
    “Fascinating,” I said. “That explains why we couldn't find him. He simply has three legal identities: as a U.S. citizen named Raymond DeLouise, as a Romanian citizen named Bruno Popescu, and as an Israeli citizen named Dov Peled. Triple identity,” I repeated in disbelief.
    “But wait,” he said, “it gets better. Why don't you come over to Israel and I'll show you something even more intriguing.”
    After finishing up with Benny, I called David Stone's office. Stone himself answered. It was not unusual for him to take his own calls. He was never formal.
    “David,” I said, “I need to go to Israel.”
    “Family?” he asked.
    “No, this time it's pure business.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “I think I found DeLouise's old tracks in Israel. I need to go deeper. I don't know much yet. I have footprints leading to Israel, so I hope to find out more while I'm there.”
    “Okay,” said David briefly, “you know the rules. The U.S. Embassy in Israel and the state of Israel must approve your visit.”
    “I know that. This red tape is totally unreasonable; I'm also an Israeli citizen.”
    David was serious. “Well, it has some reason. You're not going to Israel on a family trip. You're going on official United States government business. Official visits must meet the approval of the host country — that's common courtesy. Besides not stepping on Israel's toes, under the Federal Chief of Mission statute federal government employees are allowed in any given foreign country only on the sufferance of the chief of mission. That's our ambassador or, if the ambassador is out of the country, the deputy chief of mission. If they really