Jerusalem
Three days after Assassinations
Eight days to Announcement
The driver slammed his brakes.
‘What? What’s up?’
Zeb held his hand up to silence him. He was looking straight ahead, trying to get a hang for his feel.
What he had wasn’t really a radar, of course. It was a survival instinct, one that predators in the jungle had. Battle-hardened operatives, those who spent long spells in hostile territory, had it. A warning that they weren’t alone, were being observed, or were in danger.
‘Carter, we’re running late,’ Bob said impatiently from the rear. ‘Why did you stop us?’
Zeb didn’t reply. He was scanning the area in front of them. A stronger than usual police presence on account of the press conference. Traffic returning to normal. Onlookers dissipating away. No parked vehicles in sight.
He turned his head slowly. No one could see inside the vehicle, but sometimes sharp movements gave themselves away.
‘Carter!’ Bob repeated.
‘Bob, quiet,’ Alice Monash stopped him, steel in her voice. ‘I trust Zeb. Leave him be. My schedule can afford some delays.’
Zeb ignored all of them. Focused on two vehicles that appeared in their rearview mirror, one behind the other. A Toyota at the front. Its blinker came on as it swung around their Mercedes and sped away. It, too, had dark windows, but he thought he saw two shadows inside.
The second vehicle was empty. He craned his head to look out of the rear window. Everyone copied his move.
‘You saw something? Someone?’ Bob asked, his tone conciliatory.
‘I felt something. Like someone was watching us.’
He met Bob’s eyes and saw something flicker in them. Something like respect.
‘You’ve been in the field long?’
‘Yes … let’s go. I think whoever it was has gone. It could have been a false alarm as well. It happens sometimes, in crowded areas.’
The ambassador’s eyes were curious, but she made no comment.
‘Let’s do this. Let’s do an evasive maneuver, however. Ma’am, where are we heading? Which hotel?’
Alice Monash gave them the name.
I know where it is. Not far from where the attacks happened. Good hotel. Great security.
‘That name doesn’t leave the four of you,’ the diplomat warned. ‘You know the reason.’
They knew.
‘Ma’am, won’t people recognize this vehicle?’ Zeb objected.
‘I am not sure if you noticed, Zeb.’ There was a smile in her voice. ‘It has Israeli plates. It is registered to a local politician who is opposed to the prime minister. We’ll be parking at an adjacent hotel.’
He turned around to look at her, confused.
‘That hotel and our target have a common wall. A while back, a passage was made between the two. Conference rooms in each hotel on the ground floor on either side of that opening. Both rooms are situated at the back. Not much traffic to them. All that is why that hotel was chosen.’
‘That must be public knowledge.’
‘Not many know. At least, that’s what the prime minister tells me. In any case, both locations are crammed with police. Every resident has been checked out. The negotiators are on a floor of their own. Access to it is blocked. Various security measures are in place. I think it’s safe.’
‘What about the entrance, the driveway?’
‘Those are separated by a waist-high wall. Relax, Zeb. The police have checked it out. They approved the hotel and our deception.’
Zeb turned back to the front. It’s not my place to pick locations. If the Israelis are satisfied, I am good.
The driver swung out. He drove randomly, circling back every now and then. He passed through red lights at will, often overtaking on the wrong side.
Zeb didn’t spot any tails. Neither did any suit, and after an hour, they headed to their destination.
‘Do you think they spotted us?’ Masih asked his driver. His heart was thumping, his palms sweaty, yet his face was expressionless, as was his voice.
He and the driver, one of his most trusted shooters, were in the Toyota. The vehicle had diplomatic plates that they had stolen from one of the parked vehicles around the prime minister’s residence.
He had infiltrated into Israel the previous night, after hearing that more tunnels had been destroyed by the IDF. He hadn’t wanted to risk being stranded in Gaza if all passages were blocked.
He and his men had moved in the darkness of the night and had sought cover in their safe house in the Old City. And then he had taken over tailing Alice Monash.
The two men had mingled in the crowd around Beit Aghion and watched the conference. This was a recon mission. Opening fire in the midst of tight security was suicidal. Abdul Masih harbored no such notions. He left the suicide bombing attacks to his juniors.
No, this was just surveillance, to see how well protected Alice Monash was and to see where she went after the conference. Masih was hoping she would lead him to the negotiators.
He had expected the ambassador’s vehicle to drive away immediately. It hadn’t, and that had raised his suspicions.
‘We’ll have to follow her tomorrow,’ Masih said, slamming his palm against the dash in frustration. ‘From the embassy.’
‘Is that advisable?’ the driver asked, concerned. ‘There will be tight security around the place.’
‘The Israelis and the Americans haven’t caught Abdul Masih in these many years,’ the terrorist boasted. ‘They won’t, now.’
Magal and Shiri were more careful. The two men had split up and were hunkered down in two off-duty cabs on Emek Refaim. The presence of their vehicles wasn’t unusual. There was a long line of cabs on the street, waiting to serve the patrons of various hotels. They had papers to back their identities; their covers were tight.
Magal was at the front, pretending to read a newspaper, while Shiri was several vehicles to the rear, shades over his eyes, snoozing.
Magal noticed a vehicle with darkened windows arriving in the hotel next to their target. He didn’t pay it much attention, since they were casing the place where all the negotiators were staying.
He couldn’t control his gasp when Alice Monash stepped out and was immediately surrounded by three suits.
‘What?’ Shiri asked in his earbud.
‘The American ambassador, at your ten.’
‘What’s she doing there?’ his partner asked incredulously, after a while.
‘No idea.’
‘She must be here to meet both teams. Why else would she be here? But they’re in the neighboring hotel. Not this one.’
‘No idea,’ Magal repeated, watching the woman disappear into the interior of the establishment.
‘We’ve got the right one?’
‘Yes.’
‘Has the handler given us the wrong address?’
‘His intel has never been wrong before.’ Magal’s voice was tight. They had been making an attack plan for the hotel based on their surveillance. However, if the negotiators were in the adjacent … ‘Let’s see when she leaves. She might be here for another meeting.’
Shiri grunted unconvincingly.
There was movement from within the diplomat’s vehicle even as they watched. A tall man climbed out, black-haired, clean-shaven. He stood relaxed, one arm on its roof, as he looked around.
A hundred yards separated Magal from the stranger, but even through the distance, the kidon felt the man’s stare as he checked out every vehicle on the street.
The agent’s lips barely moved as he voiced the thought in his head.
‘Who’s this man?’