Jerusalem
Present Day
Shiri held the elevator door open for Magal and pressed the button for the ground floor. He wasn’t worried about prints. Both men were wearing adhesive pads on their fingers and, before leaving their apartment, had wiped it clean. They wouldn’t be returning to it again.
He held the door open for Magal, and to any onlooker it would have looked like an act of politeness. A young man helping an old woman.
The old woman turned right when she reached the street, trudging slowly. Shiri donned shades and looked in her direction casually, until she turned a corner and disappeared from sight.
He walked a hundred yards and came to a parked vehicle, a white Skoda, bearing the logo of a taxi company. He turned off the yellow sign on the roof and drove out.
He headed down Hazefira Street, turned left on Yehoshafat Street, went toward the Museum of Natural History, where he circled round to join Emek Refaim, the main drag of German Colony.
He parked on the street opposite the entrance to a luxury hotel. Lowered the sun visor, leaned back in his seat and half-closed his eyes. A cab driver resting between jobs.
An hour passed. Traffic picked up. Tourists walked past. A uniformed cop strolled past, glancing at Shiri. The cab driver didn’t react. The taxi was the real deal; his driver credentials would stand up to any scrutiny.
At ten am he stirred and made a show of rubbing his eyes and yawning lustily.
Half an hour later, there was movement at the hotel’s entrance.
A couple came out of the revolving doors and stood outside. The man was bearded and dressed in an ill-fitting suit. The woman was slim, in a dress, and was laughing. Two men came behind them and waited.
A Range Rover drove up. The couple climbed down the steps, greeted the driver and settled into the back.
Another Range Rover arrived. The two men, who looked like heavies, got inside.
The two vehicles left, the couple’s vehicle in the lead.
‘They are coming your way,’ Shiri murmured.
Maryam Razak snorted a laugh at Farhan Ba’s joke and wriggled back in her seat in the first Range Rover. The two of them had this routine.
They went out for a drive after breakfast, a brief spin through German Colony, the city center, further if there was time, or else they returned to the hotel. The outing cleared her mind and prepared her for the day ahead. Farhan? She had a sneaking suspicion he came along with her just for her company. That flattered her, but she wasn’t looking for a relationship.
She whipped out her make-up kit and reapplied her lipstick, listening as Farhan talked about the previous day.
Their vehicle slowed. It came to a stop.
She flicked her eyes up.
A pedestrian crossing. An old woman walking slowly, hunched, a bag in her hand.
Maryam and Farhan and the rest of them had been briefed about security. The vehicle behind them had their protectors.
She saw no reason to be alarmed by an elderly woman getting to the other side of the street. Maryam went back to her lipstick while Farhan fidgeted beside her.
He gasped. She didn’t look up, dabbed the corner of her mouth with her forefinger.
He yelled. Fright in his voice. She jerked her head up. Her eyes widened when she took in the scene.
The old woman had stopped in the middle of the street. She had whipped out something long and metallic from her bag.
Their driver was cursing and reversing when a starburst pattern appeared on the windshield. A hole appeared. More of them. Maryam screamed when she realized what was happening. The driver slumped forward. Their vehicle yawed to the left.
The old woman came to their right. Windows shattered. Farhan shuddered and jerked. Something hit Maryam. She looked down, amazed at the red blossoming on her blouse. She felt like she was underwater, everything was moving so slowly. Her mouth opened to scream when she looked up and saw a cannon, the weapon’s barrel, trained on her.
Maryam Razak didn’t see anything else.
Magal moved swiftly and cut down the occupants from the second vehicle as they lunged out of their Range Rover. They were police officers, trained, but not as well-trained as he. They fell before any of them could reach for a weapon.
He threw the MAR, moving fast down the pavement. There was screaming on the streets. Pedestrians fled. Cars swerved and their occupants cowered. He saw movement from the corner of his eye. A driver raising his hand, holding a cell phone. The man ducked when he felt Magal’s eyes on him.
Ahead, he saw the white Skoda, a barely perceptible trail of exhaust coming out of its pipe. He broke into a jog when he heard the wail of sirens in the distance.
He glanced back briefly. A few people had gathered around the wreckage of the two vehicles. At least two hands were pointing at him, but no one made any move toward him.
The Skoda was moving as he reached it. He opened the rear door, jumped in, and Shiri took off with a squeal of tires.
Magal removed his wig and the mask over his face and ripped the dress away as Shiri took the first left, then right, straight ahead and another left. A residential street.
The Skoda stopped behind a van parked on the street. The two men got out, moving in controlled haste, and went down the line of parked vehicles.
Shiri opened the driver’s door to a dusty Volkswagen and slid inside. He reached beneath his seat and extracted a mustache from a plastic bag. He attached it to his upper lip and looked at Magal, who nodded.
Shiri nosed out of the parking space, circled back and joined the growing line of traffic on Emek Refaim. People were bunched on the pavement. Huddled together. Heads bent, talking softly as if they could be overheard.
Magal lowered the window and snatches of conversation floated in.
‘Six people shot …’
‘Old woman …’
‘No, that must be a disguise …’
‘Escaped …’
Their VW came to a stop at a police cordon. A bunch of cops, alert-eyed, hands on weapons, approached them.
Shiri lowered his window and answered their questions respectfully.
They were office workers. He pointed to the briefcases in the rear seat. They were already late to the office.
Did the cops want to see their identity cards?
No, they didn’t.
Did Shiri or Magal see anything suspicious?
The police officers directed them to a detour and waved them away.
Magal drew out his phone when they were heading away.
He went to a social media app.
‘Now?’ he asked his partner.
‘Yes.’
Magal typed out a single sentence.
Mossad Killers Assassinate Palestinian Peace Negotiators.
And with that, the Middle East exploded.