Jerusalem
One day after Assassinations
‘Prove it,’ Dalia demanded, not relaxing on top of him.
‘Call the ramsad. Ask him.’ He could have given them the card Levin had provided him. They won’t trust me, however. They’ll think it’s a forgery.
Carmel fished out her work phone and dialed a number.
‘Sir,’ she told him, ‘there’s a man in our apartment. Says he’s Epstein, the investigator.’
She turned away and described him softly. ‘We passed the lie tests,’ she added. Fell silent, listened, then nodded several times. ‘Rega.’ One moment. She came to Zeb, who was still being held down by Dalia, and held the phone to his ear.
‘Carmel says they’ve captured you.’ There was a hint of a smile in Levin’s voice.
‘That’s one way of putting it,’ Zeb acknowledged.
‘You think they’re—’
‘No.’
‘I’m glad to hear that. They’re two of my best. You can trust them fully, now. Give the phone back to her.’
Carmel rose, listened and nodded some more. ‘Toda,’ she said, thank you, and hung up.
‘He’s Epstein,’ she told her partner, and only then did Dalia release her hold on Zeb and climb off.
‘Levin explained?’ he asked Carmel.
‘Yes. We’re clear?’
‘Yes, unless you’ve tampered with your phones.’
He knew they hadn’t. Meghan would have run through a few checks before confirming her Tunisia announcement.
‘We haven’t.’
Dalia kept quiet as she went to the couch and straightened it. She pocketed their phones and returned the chair and the fruit to their positions. No questions from her, and that impressed Zeb again.
They aren’t asking why I tapped their apartment. They know I had to use any means to investigate.
‘What now?’ Carmel asked him.
‘What do you know of the rest of the kidon?’ He went to his backpack and stuffed its contents back inside.
‘Not much,’ she shrugged. ‘We, Dalia and me, have been working together for a few years now. Before that, we were in different teams. It’s not as if we socialize a lot. Some kidon are good friends with others. We aren’t like that.’
‘You’ve met all of them?’
‘I don’t know. It’s not as if the ramsad tells us who else is a kidon. For instance, we didn’t know about you.’
‘He isn’t one of us,’ Dalia asserted.
‘Is she right?’ Carmel asked him.
Zeb debated with himself for a moment. Levin said I can trust them. His gut agreed with the director. He decided to go with his gut.
‘Yes. Dalia was right. I’m from the U.S. A long-time friend of the ramsad.’
‘You’re with the CIA?’ Dalia probed. ‘You speak Hebrew fluently. With the right accent. I have never come across any American who can speak so well. Your name … Epstein. Why do I think that’s a cover?’
‘None of that’s important,’ he deflected. He headed to the table and occupied a chair. His lips quirked when Carmel sat to his right, Dalia to his left, pinning him between the two of them.
He brought out the list of operatives and laid it on the table.
‘You know them?’ he asked the kidon.
Dalia ran a finger down the list and nodded. ‘Yes, we both have either trained with them, met them or have worked with them.’
She lingered over two crossed names, Riva and Adir. ‘What about them?’ she asked.
‘How well do you know those two?’ he countered.
‘Carmel said we didn’t have friends. She was wrong. We have one. Riva. We know Adir well, but not like a friend.’
‘You know what this is all about?’
‘Let me guess,’ Carmel replied sarcastically. She held a finger up. ‘First, there were those killings.’ Another finger shot out. ‘Then those accusations on social media.’ A third digit extended. ‘Of course, there was that email from the ramsad, about Epstein. We aren’t stupid,’ she glared at him.
Zeb made a peace sign and brought out a pen. He crossed out their names on the list as they watched in silence.
‘Riva and Adir,’ Dalia persisted. ‘You checked them out?’
‘Let’s just say I know they weren’t in Jerusalem when those killings happened.’
The kidon looked at each other, pondering his choice of words. They seemed to know what that implied. ‘We don’t work with other country operatives,’ Dalia said softly. ‘The ramsad must trust you a lot if you worked with those two.’
‘Levin and I, we go back a long way,’ Zeb offered, and with that, he won them over.
‘How can we help?’ Carmel leaned forward, staring at the list.
‘What do you know about these others?’
A frown creased her forehead. ‘You have to understand something … there will be some of us who think we shouldn’t negotiate with Palestine. That everything that’s happening is their fault. They started it. Not just Palestine. Iran, Jordan, Saudi Arabia, all the Arab countries. These operatives think Israel should always treat these nations as enemies. There will be others who think both Palestine and Israel need to compromise.’
‘Where do the two of you stand?’
‘Dalia lost her parents several years ago when Hamas bombed a bus in Jerusalem.’ She reached out and grabbed her partner’s hand. ‘My brother was killed in another suicide bombing attack. Our families have lost a lot.’
‘You both think Israel is wrong to negotiate?’
A smile ghosted over her lips. ‘Lo,’ no. She shook her head. ‘It’s easy to make that assumption. You’re wrong, however. We want our country to have a long future. That will not happen unless both sides agree to live as good neighbors. That will only happen with dialogue.’
‘How many others think like you?’
‘We rarely talk politics when we meet,’ Dalia answered. She took the pen from him and added asterisks next to several names. She slid the sheet across to her partner, who made more marks.
Zeb studied the list when they had finished. Fourteen names were marked, all male.
‘They think like you?’
‘No. Those, they don’t want negotiations.’