Jerusalem
Four days after Assassinations
Seven Days to Announcement
Avichai Levin broke the brooding silence that followed his words. ‘Prime Minister,’ he stated firmly, ‘I can’t guarantee I can prove my kidon are innocent or are involved by that deadline. However, there’s a way we can build confidence in the coalition partners.’
‘I am listening,’ Cantor replied.
‘Take the American ambassador’s help. Her speaking outside Beit Aghion made a difference. The opinion polls showed a slight increase in support for you.’
‘I am aware of that. What more can she do, however?’ the prime minister ground out in frustration.
‘Lots, Prime Minister. Arrange meetings for her with your coalition partners. Get her to convey that America is firmly behind you. She has to state that calling off the negotiations is not an option, regardless of who the killers are. Talk to President Baruti as well. Arrange Alice Monash to have similar discussions with his party and political partners. Believe me, her presence and her message will make a significant difference.’
Yago Cantor stared unseeingly at his ramsad as he considered Levin’s words. He had been in his position this long because he considered politics to be one enormous game of chess. And he had few equals in the political maneuvering such a game required. Levin is right. I should have thought of it earlier.
‘That’s a good idea,’ he nodded. ‘Let me work on it. Can you stay back, Avichai?’ He signaled the end of the meeting and waited for the others to leave the room.
‘Avichai,’ he crossed his arms behind his neck, a ghost of a smile behind his lips. ‘What I said earlier … you do have a career in politics. It comes naturally to you.’
His face turned serious. His hands dropped to his sides. ‘We still need to find those killers. If they are Mossad—’
‘I know. My house will need to be cleaned up.’
‘This man you have appointed … he’s good?’
‘The best, prime minister.’
‘From which agency?’
‘He’s not from our country.’
‘U.S.’ Cantor worked it out quickly. ‘There’s no other country you would trust.’
‘Correct, sir.’
‘Do I know him?’
‘You have met him, prime minister. It was some time back. You won’t remember him. I can’t say more.’
‘You trust him?’
‘He found my daughter’s killers, Prime Minister,’ he said, simply.
Moscow
Andropov’s call with the FSB director hadn’t yielded much. All he got was that Peter Raskov was an agent, which he had known in any case. Zeb wanted to know where he was, as well.
The spymaster brooded for a moment and then yelled, ‘Yuri!’
‘Peter Raskov,’ he told the flunky, one of his best hackers, when he arrived. ‘He’s FSB. Find out where he lives.’
‘He should be in our system.’
‘He isn’t,’ Andropov replied testily.
Yuri’s face glowed. A challenge. He loved those.
‘You want this yesterday?’
‘Yes,’ the spymaster glared at him, and the man disappeared.
Ein Kerem
‘We go as who we are?’ Navon looked at the map of the hotel spread out on the dining table.
‘Yes,’ Magal replied. ‘We are Mossad operatives. We have been cleared by Epstein. No one will stop us. Once inside the hotel, we find out where the negotiations are happening, check out the security, and then we’ll make our plan.’
The handler had confirmed that his intel was correct. The negotiators were in the hotel to the right, not the one where they had spotted the ambassador.
The two kidon had figured out that either the two hotels were connected in some way and the one on the left was a decoy, or Alice Monash had another meeting in the other establishment.
‘Tomorrow?’
‘Tomorrow. I’ll let the handler know.’
They didn’t consider disguises or cover stories. They were working to a plan the two had agreed on, a long way back. This would be their last job for the handler. It wasn’t that they didn’t enjoy it or had fallen out with him.
The heat on Mossad after the killings will be too high. Every agent will be under a microscope. Chances are good we will be found.
No, Magal shook his head unconsciously. It’s best we disappear after killing those remaining Palestinians.
Eliel Magal and Navon Shiri would no longer exist. They had worked out a new career path for themselves. The two would turn into international assassins. That career move would provide them with all the darkness and edge they wanted.
They would be international criminals, wanted by the world’s agencies. Magal shivered in anticipation. Yes, that was the right move. They would work as a team, taking jobs from whomever bid the highest.
It was time to branch out on their own.
But first, they had to finish the Palestinians.
Somewhere in Jerusalem
‘You have the suicide killers lined up?’ Masih asked his lieutenants.
‘Yes, sayidi. Four of them.’
‘The car is ready?’
‘Yes. A Peugeot, packed with explosives.’
‘Those men know the route?’
‘It is easy. Down Emek Refaim. The hotel cannot be missed. It is to the right. They will blast through the security cordon, firing as they drive. They will smash through the glass doors. There are just three steps, which the car can easily climb. Once inside, they will detonate the explosives.’
Masih nodded approvingly. He had come up with the plan after further recon on the hotel. There was too much security, outside and inside, for him to risk himself.
No, he had told himself. Let the suicide killers take out as many as possible. The Israelis will evacuate the hotel. They will escort the negotiators to vehicles in the basement car park. Once they exit the hotel and reach the street … he smiled in satisfaction.
He would be at street level. In an ambulance, wearing an EMS worker’s uniform. He would be in the right vehicle in the right place at the right time.
Of course, no other ambulance in Jerusalem carried a grenade launcher.