Jerusalem
Five days after Assassinations
Six days to Announcement
‘You’re hit.’ Levin snapped his fingers and EMS personnel hurried across.
‘A gash.’ Zeb felt his temple gingerly. It hurt. He had been injured far worse. He would live. A medic clicked his tongue and started cleaning the wound. ‘That’s Masih?’
The ramsad followed his gaze, at the body of the man Zeb had shot. IDF and police officers milled around it, several crouching. The grenade launcher had been taken away to a military vehicle.
‘That’s him. Identity confirmed. The second man is Alam Qadir, the second most-wanted man in Israel. His lieutenant. Beth and Meghan shot him. They couldn’t take out Masih; you were in their way.’
A chopper flew overhead, low, drowning out their voices. Zeb squinted up and saw the bird was a military one, shooters leaning out of it, searching, alert, ready. He spotted a couple more in the distance. He lowered his gaze, became conscious of the ambient noise. Sirens blaring, officers barking orders, crying and screams, police and military officers thick on the ground, herding away civilians within the perimeter they had set up, keeping out curious onlookers. TV vans had rolled up; they, too, were kept outside the cordon.
It looked like a war zone.
It is war, he thought bleakly.
‘Zeb!’ Meghan brought him back from his thoughts. Beth was beside her. Both of them pale, their eyes wide. Beyond them, the negotiators’ vehicles were tightly bunched and parked on the street, surrounded by a ring of grim-faced IDF personnel who looked as if they would shoot first, ask questions later.
‘I’m fine,’ he replied. ‘It’s nothing.’
‘Not that wound,’ the elder sister snapped and pointed to his leg.
Only then did he become aware of the throbbing in his left thigh. He looked down to see his jeans soaked in blood. Another medic crouched and inspected it.
‘A flesh wound,’ she said. ‘You got lucky. The round grazed your leg, took some flesh, but it’s nothing serious. We’ll clean it, dress it. You might limp for a few days, but you’ll be fine.’
Zeb leaned against the nearest vehicle and let the EMS staff work. ‘You and Beth?’ he asked softly.
‘Unhurt. As good as new.’ Her attempt at humor fell flat.
‘If he had fired …’ Beth looked at the fallen EQB leader and shivered.
‘He didn’t,’ Levin said decisively. He read the speculative look on Zeb’s face. ‘They,’ he nodded at the bunch of police officers who were speaking through the lowered window of one of the vehicles, ‘are taking statements from the occupants of each vehicle. Shouldn’t take long. Once done, they’ll be driven to a secure location. Care to tell me what happened?’
Zeb narrated the events, the sisters chiming in. The medics attending to him gaped, slammed their jaws shut and nodded their heads in assent when Levin barked, ‘This remains confidential.’
‘Those IDF men at the elevator. They came close to shooting you,’ the Mossad director said grimly.
‘I know. How many?’ He voiced the question he had been dreading to ask.
Levin understood. His voice was like sandpaper. ‘Eighteen civilians dead. Dozens injured. Body count not complete.’
‘The terrorists?’
‘All dead, those who were in the car. Seven others killed. Five in custody, of whom two are critical.’
‘Where are they? The ones who are alive?’
‘Some place where they will never be heard from again.’
They drove away half an hour later, following the convoy of negotiators’ vehicles. They were in Levin’s vehicle, his security men in the front. The ramsad was continually on his cell, listening, giving instructions.
He broke away momentarily when the ambassador’s ride separated and headed to the embassy. ‘Follow it,’ he told his driver, and got back to his calls.
Bob rounded on Zeb once they were inside the building.
‘You,’ his finger shot out, ‘put the ambassador at risk. Her vehicle should have been in the middle.’
‘You aren’t looking at the big picture.’
‘I’m here to protect Ms. Monash,’ Bob snarled, thrusting his face against Zeb’s.
‘Bob!’ Alice Monash voice’s cut like a whip, ‘Zeb did the right thing. If my vehicle had been fired on … that was a risk I was prepared to take. Maybe you didn’t notice, but Zeb, Beth and Meghan were on foot. Way ahead of any vehicle. They would have been the first to be shot at. The first to be killed.’
Bob stayed where he was, his eyes burning in anger until Zeb shoved him away and went searching for a shower.
An hour later they were back in Levin’s vehicle. Freshly showered, wearing clean clothing that the embassy had miraculously procured for them.
No Bob or his team. Just the four of them, the Mossad director and his security team.
‘Avichai, where are we going?’ the ambassador broke the silence.
‘Beit Aghion.’
‘The negotiators?’
‘At an IDF base in the Negev desert. They can’t be more secure.’
‘Why weren’t they based there in the first place?’
‘Optics and perception. Palestine looks at Israel as a heavily militarized state. Conducting peace negotiations in an army camp … will not build a lot of trust.’
They drove through streets that had a very visible military presence. Groups of soldiers watching traffic go past, occasionally stopping cars and questioning their occupants.
‘We don’t know if any of the EQB men got away,’ Levin answered an unvoiced question. ‘Or if there are more active cells.’
‘I thought Masih was in Gaza.’ Zeb stretched his legs and winced when his thigh flared in agony. He caught sight of himself in the rearview mirror. He looked gaunt. His temple had been stitched; the wound was looking ugly. He had stopped the medics from applying a dressing, despite their protests. He didn’t want anything around his head.
‘There are tunnels,’ the ramsad said bitterly, ‘between Gaza and Israel. They keep digging, we keep closing the ones we find. He must have crawled through one we hadn’t detected.’
‘How did he know which hotel to attack?’ Beth asked.
‘Beats me.’ Levin lowered his window when they arrived at the prime minister’s residence. He showed his credentials and waited for the security personnel to complete their inspection.
Zeb lingered, along with the sisters, while Levin marched inside with Alice Monash. The director sensed their absence and turned around.
‘Zeb—’
‘We’ll wait in the vehicle.’
‘No,’ he beckoned them. ‘I brought you here for a reason.’
Levin took them down a hallway and nodded at a security guard outside a door, who opened it for them.
Prime Minister Yago Cantor waved them inside and waited for them to seat themselves.
‘Let’s start,’ he said grimly.
Somewhere in the Middle East
The handler watched the Jerusalem scenes unfold on his TV, in shock. Of all the outcomes he had planned for and imagined, this wasn’t one. He knew Magal and Shiri weren’t involved. They were going to check out the hotel but hadn’t gone through with the plan.
A TV chopper was hovering above the hotels, broadcasting live footage of Emek Refaim. A host in the studio added commentary and brought in experts.
‘No one knows who the attackers are,’ a talking head reported. ‘The entire area is sealed. No journalist is allowed to go inside the perimeter. All cell phone signals have been blocked. The government isn’t commenting.’
‘There are some rumors that the negotiators were in one of those hotels.’
‘I have heard those, too, but until we receive official confirmation, all this is speculation.’
More experts arrived and gave their views; some claimed that Hamas had struck, others said the attack was related to the Palestinian killings.
That gave the handler an idea. He logged into a fake social media account and posted a tweet.
MOSSAD STRIKES AGAIN. ATTACKS PALESTINIANS’ HOTEL.
Over the years his cyber team had created hundreds of bots to spread fake messages. Those accounts kicked in now. They retweeted his message in rapid succession until it started trending on social media.
Ein Kerem
Magal and Shiri watched the coverage in silence. They had left the scene the moment the American had shouted at them. They, too, knew what would unfold once the car headed to the hotel. They had felt the ground move when the car bomb exploded.
‘Who do you think it was?’ Shiri mused, ‘and did they get the negotiators?’
Magal didn’t reply. He channel-surfed but found that every station was showing the same footage. ‘The Israelis have clamped down on news,’ he said finally. ‘They’ll release a statement when they are ready. And when they have come up with a story that suits them.’
‘Where does this leave us?’
‘We’ll have to wait and see.’
Shiri’s face darkened. He knew what that meant. Chances were high that they would have to act only on the day of the announcement. They had discussed that eventuality, too. It would be extremely risky but not impossible. There wasn’t any security setup that couldn’t be breached. At a cost. Magal and Shiri knew what price they were prepared to pay—anything that didn’t involve their dying was an acceptable risk.
Magal’s phone buzzed. He checked it: a text from an unknown number.
‘It’s the handler.’ He showed the message to Shiri.
You cut short your sightseeing trip?
Yes, Magal replied. It wasn’t safe.
Did you manage to see any attractions?
Not in enough detail. We’ll have to go another day.
You can visit that other attraction until the security issue resolves.
Shiri frowned. ‘What does he mean?’
‘He wants me to take care of Peter Raskov.’