Jerusalem
Five days after Assassinations
Six days to Announcement
Jaedon Haber was short, stocky and white-haired. His black suit fit him poorly, but he didn’t seem to be one interested in sartorial elegance. He wasn’t a man who stood still. He paced, he waved his hands, he grimaced.
‘Ambassador,’ he greeted Alice Monash with a firm shake of the hand, ‘it is an honor to meet you.’ His belligerent voice indicated it was anything but an honor. He ignored Zeb; clearly, anyone who looked like an underling was of no interest to the politician.
Alice Monash greeted him and began to make small talk. The politician wasn’t interested. He cut her off with a shake of his head.
‘You asked to meet me, Ambassador, at short notice. Can we get down to it?’
‘We can,’ she said, and just then the door opened to admit Prime Minister Yago Cantor.
‘Yago, I didn’t know you would be here.’
‘I wasn’t expecting to be, Jaedon, but when Alice summons, who am I to refuse?’ He shook the ambassador’s hand and cast a quizzical look at Zeb.
‘If you’re here to persuade me to support the prime minister,’ Haber snapped, his brows twitching angrily, ‘you have wasted your time, Ambassador. I intend to table a no-confidence motion in—’
‘Jaedon, surely we can talk—’ the prime minister interrupted.
‘Talk!’ the One Israel leader flared. ‘That’s what has gotten us to this state. If you hadn’t initiated those talks, those Palestinians wouldn’t be dead.’
‘You want us to keep fighting with them? With our neighbors? Forever?’
‘They’re the ones who are bombing our people.’
‘Enough!’ Alice Monash’s voice was steel. Her eyes flashed dangerously. ‘Haber, these negotiations will proceed whether you like them or not. The United States supports them fully. So do the British, the French and numerous other governments.’
‘In that case, this government will fall. I have enough support to enable that,’ the party leader said, wagging his finger menacingly.
‘You won’t.’
‘Who’s stopping me?’
‘I am. Or rather, the FBI. This man,’ the ambassador nodded her head in Zeb’s direction, ‘is investigating your family. They believe you and your uncle are laundering money. You stifled a previous investigation. If you persist—’
‘LIES!’ Haber thundered. An aide poked his head into the room and withdrew it hastily when four heads turned in his direction. ‘My uncle runs a clean business. You are misusing your position, Ambassador, with these threats. I will write to the president immediately. I will ask him to remove you from your position.’
‘Zeb,’ Meghan whispered. ‘We have found an account in the Caymans. Connected to the Habers. We haven’t checked the money trail in and out of it, but it looks shady.’
‘Mr. Haber,’ Zeb uttered his first words since entering the room.
Everyone fell silent and looked at him.
‘This number mean anything to you?’ he recited a ten-digit figure.
The One Israel party leader blanched. His fingers trembled.
‘You and your uncle are signatories to that account. You should have covered your trail better.’
‘How did you—’ Haber started to bluster.
‘Enough,’ Zeb said coldly. ‘You’re done talking. It’s time to listen to the Ambassador.’
An hour later, Alice Monash and Zeb were alone with the prime minister in another room. Cantor looked weary and yet relieved as he sipped the coffee an aide served them.
Haber had heard the ambassador out and nodded just once before leaving the room, a broken man.
‘I can’t thank you enough, Alice. One Israel has been a thorn in my side for quite some time. But it isn’t the only one. You need to work your magic with my other coalition partners and then do the same with President Baruti’s.’
‘One win at a time, Yago.’ Alice Monash raised her cup in a silent toast.
‘How did you wrangle that?’
‘I didn’t,’ she replied drily, ‘the FBI did.’
Cantor looked at Zeb, who was leaning against the wall, arms crossed on his chest.
‘FBI, huh? What’s your name, agent?’
Zeb straightened and grabbed the card dangling from the lanyard. Rookie mistake. I should have looked at the name the ambassador made out for me.
‘Tom,’ Alice Monash spared him his blushes. ‘Special Agent Tom Brown.’
‘Tom Brown,’ Cantor’s eyes twinkled. ‘That’s an original name. I have to say, Alice, I haven’t come across any FBI agent looking like him.’
He’s right. I’m wearing jeans and a jacket.
‘Especially one who speaks Hebrew like him. Like a native of Israel.’
He kept looking at Zeb, his gaze sharpening. ‘Agent Brown … you must know Avichai Levin well.’
‘Levin, sir? I don’t know anyone by that name.’
The prime minister looked at him with hooded eyes and nodded to himself once. ‘Now I know,’ he said mysteriously and turned to the ambassador. ‘When are your next meetings, Alice?’
‘Right away. We need to get going.’
It was nearing five pm by the time they headed back to the hotel. They had met two more leaders, and with each of them, the ambassador had been firm. Their parties needed to support the prime minister, or else face the wrath of the United States. Both leaders had caved in without Special Agent Tom Brown needing to speak a word.
‘The next one won’t be this easy,’ Alice Monash told Zeb as they turned into the hotel’s drive. ‘We’ll be meeting Omet Zeev, leader of the Jewish Party of Israel. I’ll need you to find anything you can get on him.’
‘Ma’am, you didn’t need to come to us for this. There are enough agencies back home to help you.’
‘Yeah. But none who will work this fast. And none whom I know so well.’
Zeb didn’t reply. He knew Clare and Alice Monash were good friends. In any case, Clare has asked me to help her. Directive from the president.
‘Wish me luck, Zeb.’ The ambassador stepped out of the vehicle and adjusted her suit jacket. ‘The negotiators are nervous. They follow the news. They know the political situation in both countries is tense.’
‘Sweet-talk them, ma’am. If that doesn’t do the job … Special Agent Tom Brown is available.’
‘Is everyone in place?’ Abdul Masih asked. He was in his ambulance, heading toward the hotel. His lieutenant was next to him, the grenade launcher in the rear.
‘Yes, sayidi,’ came a voice over his cell phone. ‘You give the signal and the suicide bombers will drive. The fighters will follow.’
‘How many of them?’
‘Four in the car. A dozen gunmen.’
‘Remember, both teams have to act only on my signal, not before.’
‘They will, sayidi.’
Magal parked their car between a Ford and a Peugeot. He stepped out and joined Shiri on the pavement. Both were in disguise. Long hair falling to their shoulders, colorful shirts over jeans, padding in their cheeks and around their waists. They didn’t look anything like lean Mossad operatives.
The two looked at the hotel. They could see a few armed guards outside, as was the case with all hotels on Emek Refaim. From their earlier surveillance they knew more security would be present inside.
If the handler’s intel is right.
‘It will be,’ Shiri replied, and only then realized he had spoken aloud.
The two men walked quickly without drawing attention to themselves. They scanned the various vehicles on the street, both parked and rolling. No one looked at them.
An ambulance jostled behind a bus and parked behind another hospital vehicle. A car door opened and slammed shut somewhere, the sound loud.
‘He’s there,’ Shiri spoke from the side of his mouth. ‘That man we saw with the ambassador.’
Magal looked in the direction his partner was discreetly pointing.
Yes, there he was. The American, if he was that. Leaning against a vehicle, talking to someone inside, hands crossed across his chest, facing the hotel.
‘Should we proceed?’ Shiri asked.
‘Yes, we should go.’
‘Go!’ Masih shouted in his cell phone.