Jerusalem
Three days after Assassinations
Eight days to Announcement
Zeb reached the U.S. embassy early in the morning and waited for the ambassador to emerge. He was in standard undercover operator clothing. A tee, over which his Glock was strapped. A jacket. Cargo pants, their pockets filled with all that he would need. Shades over his eyes and a cap low over his head. Backpack over his shoulders.
Alice Monash walked out of the embassy flanked by three men in suits. They were hard-faced, hard-edged, their weapons clearly outlined beneath their jackets. She made brief introductions, only one name staying in Zeb’s mind: Bob, who seemed to be team leader for the detail.
The men headed to an armored Mercedes with darkened windows, and one held the door open for her. Zeb climbed in the front and sat next to the driver. The others got in beside the ambassador, Bob on one side of her, the second man on the other. None batted an eyelid at Zeb’s presence.
Good. Looks like she’s briefed them about me.
The driver got in and adjusted his rearview mirror.
‘Where to, ma’am?’
‘Beit Aghion, the prime minister’s residence.’
They set off, the car moving smoothly, like the finely tuned machine it was.
‘You’re in the service?’ The driver snatched a glance at Zeb when at a light.
‘Was. You?’
‘Marines. All three of us.’
No further discussion. Forty-five minutes later, the vehicle pulled up in front of their destination.
Zeb climbed out, checked the surroundings and tapped his window.
The two suits got out and surveyed the street before escorting the ambassador inside the residence.
‘You hanging around?’ the driver asked him.
‘Nope. I’ll be back in the evening.’ Zeb waved a hand and made his way toward Malha, a neighborhood in the southwest part of the city.
It was a brisk hour’s walk. It gave him time to review the next kidon he was going to face.
Nachman, thirty-three years old, another operative who had a girlfriend with whom he lived. He was back from Germany, where he had been gathering intel on anti-Jewish hate groups.
When in Jerusalem, he and his partner went for a run at six am. Two hours later, the two walked their dog in the neighborhood. At ten am, the girlfriend went to work in an ad agency in downtown Jerusalem.
I’ll catch them as they’re returning home, if I time it right. And if they stick to schedule.
Which reminded him. He searched for a hotel and found one not far from the Jerusalem Botanical Gardens. He ducked inside its bathroom and pasted a mustache above his lips. He made sure it was securely fastened. Don’t want it falling off, as it had with Carmel and Dalia.
He applied a fast-acting dye to his hair and colored it black. He inserted the cheek pads, gave one last look, and was good to go.
I need more disguises. I’ll run out of ideas soon.
He shelved the thought and picked up his pace.
Zeb’s estimate was correct. Nachman and his girlfriend were heading toward a block of apartments when he turned into their quiet street.
The building was made of pale limestone, as many were in Jerusalem. Green vines crawled over its walls, some blooming with flowers. A few cars were visible behind gated entrances.
Zeb reduced the distance to them until he could hear their conversation. The couple made no effort to keep their voices down as they indulged in a playful argument.
The kidon heard Zeb’s footsteps and looked back. He didn’t seem to sense any threat in the thickset man heading their way. He clasped his girlfriend’s hand tighter and pulled her closer.
‘Nachman?’ Zeb called out.
The kidon reacted fast. He shoved his partner to the left and leapt to the right. He pivoted on his heel to face Zeb, his hand reaching beneath his shirt.
Zeb held up both hands in a pacifying gesture. The girlfriend’s eyes were wide, her palm cupping her mouth. She didn’t scream, however.
She probably knows what he does.
‘Send her inside,’ he told the kidon.
‘Who are you?’
‘She’s not part of this.’
‘WHO … ARE … YOU?’ Nachman asked slowly, his voice menacing. ‘How do you know my name?’
‘Think. Somebody must have told you a stranger would approach each one of you.’
Nachman’s eyes flickered. He seemed to get Zeb’s emphasis. ‘Ela,’ he told his girlfriend without looking at her, ‘go inside. I’ll be in, shortly.’
‘Ela,’ he snapped impatiently when she didn’t move.
‘Should … I … call … someone?’ she asked tremulously.
‘No. He’s from my office.’
‘You didn’t recognize him just a minute ago.’
‘I work in the same organization, ma’am. We’ve never met. It’s just work stuff that we need to discuss. Nothing dangerous, I assure you,’ Zeb butted in, hoping to calm her.
She looked at him quickly and then at her boyfriend, who nodded reassuringly. She took a few steps toward the building, looked back once again and then went inside.
‘You are Epstein?’ Nachman asked, still crouching, still alert.
‘Yes.’
‘Show some proof.’
‘Proof?’ Zeb snorted. ‘You think we work in some normal office, carrying a card hanging around our necks? Ask the ramsad about me.’
The kidon called. It was a brief conversation that made him relax.
‘You could have arranged a meeting,’ he said, leaning against a parked car.
No invite to his house. Doesn’t look like I’m his friend. But then, that’s to be expected. I’m investigating all of them.
‘Did you kill Maryam Razak and Farhan Ba?’
His eyes blinked at Zeb’s bluntness.
‘No. I was in Germany.’
‘Can you prove it?’
‘The ramsad knows it.’
‘He wouldn’t have appointed me if he didn’t want to verify every kidon’s movements. Don’t make this difficult.’
Nachman considered him for a long time. ‘I was undercover … there will be train ticket stubs from Berlin. Restaurant receipts.’
‘Don’t mean anything.’
‘Airports—’
‘You’re a kidon.’ Zeb laughed mockingly. ‘You walked about with your face to the cameras in public places?’
‘Ela can confirm.’
‘Yeah, that you were away. Surely you didn’t—’
‘I called her every night. On Skype.’
That stopped Zeb. Not good tradecraft. Hope he has a good reason for it.
Nachman had. ‘She’s pregnant. We found out before I went to Germany.’
That is a good reason.
‘That still—’
‘She records all our calls,’ the kidon hurried to respond. ‘She’s a little emotional now. They are on her computer.’
That’ll do for me. I can trace his location from those calls. But one more data point will help.
‘What about your cell phone?’
The operative’s brow furrowed as he wondered where Zeb was going with his question. It cleared when he made the connection.
He fished his mobile phone out of his pocket and tossed it at Zeb.
‘This is yours?’
‘Only Ela knows the number.’
‘Not even the ramsad?’
‘I have another phone for him.’
The kidon watched as Zeb copied the phone’s data. ‘You’re allowed to do that?’
‘The ramsad gave me a free hand.’
Nachman took back his phone, turned it on, checked that Zeb hadn’t tampered with it, and slid it back into his trousers.
‘I’m clear?’
‘I need those Skype recordings. And also, the data on your laptop.’
‘That’s private.’
‘You know how a Mossad investigation works.’
The operative shrugged defeatedly, made a follow-me gesture and led him to his apartment. Zeb waited in the living room while the kidon went to a bedroom. He heard murmuring, and presently Nachman returned with two laptops.
He gestured toward a couch and sat next to Zeb. Powered on his girlfriend’s laptop, went through a directory and located the recordings folder.
Zeb extracted a cable and connected his screen to the other machine. He ran a few commands and connected to Werner using his cell phone’s signal. He turned his screen away from Nachman and got the supercomputer to analyze the files.
‘Do they still have high ceilings and fans in their rooms?’ he asked when it returned a location in Berlin. A hotel in the Kreuzberg neighborhood, one that he had stayed at, several times.
‘Huh? That hotel? No, they have central AC.’
Correct. They had fans but revamped last year.
He disconnected the machine and reached out silently for Nachman’s. The operative handed it over and watched him as he copied the hard drive.
‘I am clear?’ he asked when Zeb had finished.
‘Looks like it. I still need to run more checks on all the data, however.’
‘I passed the polygraph, you know. I don’t know why the ramsad suspected me. I wouldn’t do anything like that.’
‘Those tests aren’t impossible to beat for trained operatives. You know that. You don’t like these ongoing negotiations, do you?’
His head jerked up so fast that Zeb thought he heard a click from his bones.
‘You know that?’ his eyes hard, challenging. ‘How?’
‘It is my job to know. Don’t forget, you work in Mossad. We keep tabs on everything.’
‘So what if I don’t like what’s happening? I don’t allow my feelings to interfere with my work,’ Nachman said angrily.
‘I never said it was a problem.’
‘Then why did you say that?’
Zeb had had enough of the kidon. I’m sure he’s a good operative, but he wouldn’t work in my team.
‘You can work it out yourself,’ he said shortly and walked out of the apartment.
‘It means I had moved up the suspect list?’ Nachman called after him.
Zeb didn’t answer.
He rolled his shoulder when he reached the street and found a small garden in between buildings. A bench was unoccupied. He claimed it and smiled absentmindedly when a mother looked in his direction.
He opened his screen and sent Nachman’s data to the twins. He was reasonably sure the kidon wasn’t one of the killers, but the sisters would have final say once they analyzed it.
He clicked on a new message from Beth. The twins had found nothing suspicious on Carmel and Dalia’s data dumps. The two women were clear. Yakov was uninvolved, too. His cellphone history put him out of the country.
Zeb brought up the list of male kidons and was perusing it when another mother settled next to him on the bench. He shut down his screen and headed out, aiming to find another quiet spot or a café.
It was then that he got the call.
Beit Aghion
Alice Monash knew she had put a crimp in Zeb’s plans by insisting on his presence, even if part-time.
I feel safer with him, she thought as she entered the cool interior of Prime Minister Cantor’s residence.
Monash knew Israel like the back of her hand. It was as good as her second home. She knew how volatile the Middle East was, and yet the country and Jerusalem felt very safe.
Those killings had made her jumpy, however. If those assassins could find where those negotiators were, they could target anyone else.
She put on her game face when the Israeli leader approached her with a broad smile.
‘Alice,’ he beamed, ‘It is good to have you back.’
The two were good friends and used first names in private. She hugged him and inquired about him as she followed him to his office.
And stopped suddenly when she saw the person awaiting them.
‘President Baruti,’ she breathed. ‘I had no idea you were here.’
‘No one does,’ Cantor said, shutting the door, ‘other than my security detail and a few cabinet ministers.’
‘Is there a problem?’ She shook hands with the Palestinian and settled on a couch.
‘We don’t know,’ Baruti replied. ‘You have briefed her?’ he asked his Israeli counterpart.
‘No.’
‘What’s up?’ Alice Monash looked at both of them, still coming to terms with the Palestinian’s presence. ‘It must be important for such a secretive meeting.’
‘Both our governments are nearing collapse.’