Ein Kerem, Amman
Six days after Assassinations
Five days to Announcement
Magal left early in the morning armed with nothing but his backpack. It contained toiletries. No weapons. Identification, showing that he was a businessman, was in his wallet.
He and Shiri had stayed up the previous night and watched the news in fascination. Yago Cantor had come on TV several hours after the hotel attack. He had stated that the EQB was responsible for the suicide bombings. That Abdul Masih and Alam Qadir had been killed during the shootout. The prime minister declared that the terrorist organization was also behind the Palestinians’ assassination and that Israel would hit back at anyone who threatened its security and peace.
He ended up with declaring that while the hotel attacks weren’t related to the negotiations with Palestine, those discussions were going ahead smoothly.
He took questions from journalists and in every answer blamed EQB for the spate of recent killings. He denied that the negotiators were in the affected hotels. A dogged reporter said a fleet of armored vehicles had been spotted leaving the scene. He asked who its occupants were. ‘You want me to tell you who was in every car on Emek Refaim?’ the prime minister had responded sarcastically. That had brought a titter of laughter.
‘Clever,’ Shiri murmured, ‘EQB is responsible for everything. That takes the heat away from them.’
Social media was already responding. The terrorist organization had replaced Mossad as the trending topic.
‘You think they believe it?’
Magal shrugged. He didn’t know what to believe. He exchanged a flurry of messages with the handler while Shiri looked on. ‘He, too, is confused. Doesn’t know why Cantor is adopting this strategy. Said he will try to find out.’
‘What do you think Epstein will do now?’
‘Let’s wait and find out. If he continues the investigation, then Cantor’s statement was a ruse.’
Magal took a cab from their apartment to Beit Shean, a historic city in the northern part of Israel, standing at the convergence of the Harod and Jordan valleys. That location made it one of the gateways to the neighboring country.
The taxi ride took a couple of hours. Not much traffic on the road, but the military and police presence were unmissable. His cab was stopped a couple of times, and he was questioned. His credentials were checked and they were waved on.
He made a checklist as the cab drove on.
Find where the negotiators are. That’s for the handler to discover.
Find a way to infiltrate that location. That shouldn’t be hard. He and Shiri would offer their protection services to the ramsad.
Then make plans.
That was the hardest part.
Magal was reasonably sure that the Israeli and Palestinian teams were in an IDF base. There was no other location that could be more secure.
Attacking such a camp from inside isn’t impossible. But what about getting away?
Let the handler discover the location. We’ll then figure out a way.
He cleared his mind and focused on Peter Raskov.
The taxi dropped him off on the Israeli side of the border, where his passport was checked, his story listened to. Several calls were made as hard-eyed guards checked him out. One of them finally waved his hand and Magal was free to go.
He received similar treatment on the Jordanian side, with the difference that his passport was stamped. That didn’t bother him. It’s a fake passport.
A line of taxis awaited on the other side of the border, standard practice at border crossings in Israel.
‘Amman,’ he told the bearded cab driver, whose eyes lit up. It would be a minimum two-hour drive. Money to be made.
Magal reached the Jordanian capital at eleven am. He had slept for most of the ride, and when he stepped out of the cab, he was refreshed, good to go.
The taxi dropped him at Jabal Amman, downtown, where he wolfed down a meal at a food truck. He washed it down with water and set off toward Abdoun. Shades and a cap over his head to combat the heat, and a brisk forty minutes later he was in the most affluent neighborhood of Amman.
It was where embassies were located and diplomats resided. He knew where Raskov lived from their countersurveillance. A gated, three-bedroom house bordered by thick vegetation, not far from Abdoun Circle.
Magal passed the house twice. It didn’t look occupied. He leaped over the small gate on his third approach and ducked behind the bushes. No car in the garage. Windows shut, which was normal given the heat. However, no sound from the air-conditioning equipment.
He crouched low and darted to the rear of the house. Peered through several windows. The house looked empty.
He checked the rear door. No visible alarms. It took a minute to break through the adjacent window and enter the house.
No questioning shouts.
He went to the kitchen. The sink was empty. The tap looked like it hadn’t been used in a while. He grabbed a knife from its stand and checked out the rest of the house.
It took him only twenty minutes to confirm that Raskov no longer lived in the house.
He returned to the kitchen and poured water into a glass as he made a call to the handler. He was using a burner phone, but it still was a risk.
Can’t be helped.
‘He isn’t here.’
The handler didn’t reply for several moments. ‘He might have returned to Moscow.’
‘How urgent is this?’
‘Very.’
‘It will affect the plans.’
‘Those are already affected … by the other developments. Can you go to Moscow?’
Magal calculated swiftly. The Russian capital was a four-hour flight away. He knew there were evening flights from Amman. If I catch the first one, I will be in Moscow by midnight. Which will work, because chances are good Raskov will be home. I can be back in Jerusalem tomorrow.
‘Do you have an address?’
‘Yes.’
‘I can go.’
Moscow
Grigor Andropov hadn’t made as much progress on Raskov as he wanted. He had to depute the hacker on another mission: finding the money trail of a Russian Mafia boss who was suspected of smuggling nukes. That took priority over an FSB agent. His attention was brought back to Raskov when he heard about the attacks in Jerusalem.
Zeb. This may or may not be connected to Raskov. He felt guilty at not helping his friend.
‘Yuri,’ he shouted.
The hacker came running.
‘Where does Raskov live?’
‘You called me off that assignment,’ the flunky protested. ‘You put me on another job.’
‘Don’t you multitask?’ Andropov roared.
Yuri disappeared, shaking his head at the injustice.
It was an act. The Russian spymaster made out like he was a tyrant, and his staff behaved as if they were terrified of him. The reality was, Andropov’s employees revered him.
Jerusalem
‘I need a hotel which can be destroyed,’ Zeb told Levin.
They were in an anonymous Mossad office in the city. Zeb on one side of the table, the ramsad on the other, flanked by Alice Monash. The ambassador had insisted on knowing what his plan was when she heard his mysterious comment the previous day. Beth and Meghan were where they wanted to be: by his side, on their screens, working with Werner, going through the footage of the previous day’s carnage.
Levin pursed his lips as the ambassador gasped. ‘Destroyed? Just what do you intend to do?’
‘If Mossad has traitors, they’ll be very careful. After yesterday.’
‘Agreed.’
‘We have to assume they, whoever the killers are, still want to kill the remaining Palestinians.’
‘Yes.’
‘Let’s make it easy for them. Let’s tell them where they are.’
The ambassador looked uncomprehendingly at the two of them and then at the sisters.
‘That’s the way he is, ma’am,’ Beth said helpfully. ‘He comes up with these outrageous ideas. Like reducing a hotel to rubble.’
‘Hotels. Especially them. Something about their glass fronts makes him want to crush them,’ Meghan piped up.
‘You see who I have to work with?’ Zeb told Levin.
‘I can take them off your hands,’ Levin offered. ‘I would love to have them in Mossad.’
Meghan nudged Zeb in the direction of the ambassador, who was staring at them glassy-eyed and slack-jawed.
‘You’ll arrange to leak that the negotiators are at this hotel,’ he carried on, seriously. ‘I’ll take the fifteen kidon, the ones we are sure of, into confidence. They, along with the three of us, will set a trap.’
‘Whoever turns up will be the killers,’ Levin nodded his head. ‘You need those fifteen because they could recognize the killers, if they are Mossad.’
‘Correct. And we could do with their presence. More security.’
‘That easy?’ Alice Monash collected herself, ‘Surely you need more to make it look realistic. A military presence, police. Coming and going.’
‘You’re right, ma’am. But I can’t risk any more casualties.’
‘Those operatives, they are risking their lives, aren’t they?’
‘Yes, ma’am,’ Levin answered for Zeb. ‘But they’ll volunteer. It’s in their nature.’
‘Why can’t you ask for volunteers from the police and the army?’
Zeb looked at the ramsad, who fingered his cell. ‘We’ll get volunteers. I am sure of that. The trick, as Zeb said, is to reduce collateral damage. Let me work on that. I can get you the hotel, too. There’s one near the International Convention Center. Its management owes me.’
‘They’ll be okay with it being damaged?’ Alice Monash asked dubiously.
‘They owe me, ma’am,’ Levin emphasized.
‘I will be there, too,’ the ambassador stated.
Zeb choked on the water he was drinking. ‘Ma’am?’
‘You heard me. I can come and go at the hotel, just as I was at yesterday’s. That will build credibility.’
‘Ma’am, that’s a bad idea. We don’t know who will attack and how. Having you there—’
‘She’ll be protected,’ Levin said, supporting the ambassador’s idea. ‘She’ll have a ring of kidon around her. I like her suggestion.’
‘But—’
‘It’s agreed, Zeb,’ Alice Monash smiled sweetly at him. ‘I’ll be there. In fact, the other party leaders that I am meeting … I will call them to that hotel.’
‘I thought you were going to Palestine, ma’am.’
‘That won’t be needed. Not with what happened yesterday. Baruti has managed to bring them together. However, more work needs to be done on Cantor’s allies. Work on your plan. Tell me when to start going to the hotel.’ And with that, she left the room, leaving Zeb staring at the door in bemusement.
‘You haven’t worked with her before, have you?’ Levin chuckled at the expression on his and the sisters’ faces.
‘No. This is the first time.’ He scratched his cheek absentmindedly.
‘We know her well. She has a reputation for being a very hard negotiator and getting what she wants. You just saw why.’
Zeb stretched and tested his leg. It ached, but it wouldn’t hamper any swift movement. His temple had settled to a dull throb that the medics had promised would disappear in a few days.
‘When do you want me to release that hotel’s details?’
‘Today. I think any attack will come the day after tomorrow.’
‘Because?’ Beth tapped a pen to her lips.
‘Because Avichai will also let slip that on the fourth day the negotiators will be moved to an IDF base.’
‘You seem to be looking forward to this showdown,’ Levin said with a half-smile.
‘I am. Those killers, whoever they are, are good. Very good. They haven’t left any trail for us.’
‘If they are kidon,’ the ramsad replied, ‘they are the best.’