IDF Base
Ten days after Assassinations
One day to Announcement
Zeb’s world shrank. He bowed his head to focus on Andropov’s words.
‘EQB arms supplier?’
‘Yes. He was on our radar, too. We would have taken him out, but someone acted faster. He had enemies. Many. In Russia as well as outside.’
Zeb thanked him and headed blindly to the drink stand. He looked at no one. Was dimly conscious of Meghan’s eyes on him. He didn’t speak to her.
He took his coffee mug, thinking rapidly. EQB. Israel could have killed him. Don’t jump to conclusions. He had other enemies too, according to Grigor. What’s his link to Raskov?
‘EQB!’ He hurried to the sisters. Coffee spilled on his wrist and burned. He didn’t register it. Beth sprang up and mopped his hand with paper towels. ‘And Hamas. Search for those.’
‘On it,’ Meghan typed.
‘Avichai,’ Zeb called out softly on his collar mic.
Levin didn’t respond.
Must be with the commander.
That feeling returned. The one he’d had the previous day. Like he was missing something obvious.
Twelve pm
Magal and Shiri drifted casually toward the kitchen. The cook was arranging plates on a counter. His assistant was working a blender. Its sound merged with that of a noisy exhaust fan, drowning out conversation.
Neither man looked up at the visitors.
Magal picked up two carrots, tossed one to Shiri, munched on his and went inside the supply room.
The servers were at the back. They were straightening their uniforms and putting on white gloves.
‘You both checked these racks?’ Magal asked them. ‘Carmel said we have to inspect them.’
‘Nothing here,’ a soldier replied as he tugged at his clothing.
‘Let’s do it again. It shouldn’t take long. NOW!’
He used his command voice. The soldiers looked at each other and shrugged. It really wouldn’t take long. They still had time.
‘Let’s start at the back.’
Magal and Shiri spread apart. They followed the soldiers and, when it was deepest and darkest in the supply room, they struck.
‘Nothing about EQB,’ Meghan announced over his earbud.
‘Zeb?’
‘Yeah, I heard.’ He went to the central space and looked down the hallway. Nothing jumped out at him. His radar was pinging, however, soft and low. He looked at the entrance.
Soldiers on guard. No vehicles arriving. Clear passage.
‘Search for Hamas.’
‘Copy.’
He took a step forward. Brought his mug to his mouth and sipped. Assured himself that it was nothing. He was overreacting. We are possibly in the most secure location in Israel.
Even as he thought that, a memory stirred. Something about knife work. Someone preferred a blade.
He tried to grab it. It remained elusive.
He took another step. Slower this time, because he wanted to focus on knife.
Meghan’s voice came on. Strained. ‘Zeb. Raskov was on someone else’s payroll. Zarab Tousi. He was a double agent.’
Tousi! Shock raced through him. Major General Zarab Tousi, head of the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps. It was the most powerful military outfit in Iran. Its influence was far-reaching. It brutally suppressed protests in Iran and used violence and fear to keep liberal-minded citizens in check.
Tousi had openly stated that destruction of Israel was his aim.
Zeb knew of Tousi. Every intelligence agency in the world knew him. He was dubbed the Handler in some circles for running successful double-agent operations in several countries.
Iran!
Eliel and Navon are of Iranian origin. Their grandparents migrated from that country. Eliel has a Persian soldier’s tattoo.
‘Meg,’ he knew his voice sounded coarse. ‘Search for Eliel and Navon. Their second names. Magal, Shiri.’
He moved quickly toward the hallway.
Looked around him. Didn’t see the two kidon.
‘Beth?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Get Levin. The prime minister. I don’t care who. Send the police to Magal’s house. Check if his foster mother is really ill.’
Another thought struck him. ‘Is she really his foster parent? Just who are those folks in Haifa?’
‘Got it.’
‘Carmel?’
The kidon didn’t reply.
‘Zeb,’ Meghan said, taking a deep breath. ‘It’s them.’
His mug crashed to the floor as he burst into a sprint. Adrenaline surged through him, drowning out the protests his body made. Her voice faded in and out as other thoughts scrambled for attention.
‘Raskov was blackmailing Tousi … photographs of Eliel and Navon.’
They showed me those pictures.
‘Raskov found their identities.’
Knife work. Eliel prefers that weapon. It’s in his file.
‘He went to Tousi, who said he’d keep it to himself. Then he started blackmailing.’
Eliel and Navon left their post at the Galaxy. They rushed to the fifth.
‘This thumb drive was his protection.’
‘Find Carmel,’ he panted.
‘We’ve got to announce—’
‘No! We need eyes-on. They might start killing indiscriminately.’
How did I miss all this?
He stopped thinking. There would be time later to blame himself. He was thirty yards down. Running at full speed. The first pair of guards turned toward him.
He held his credentials up. ‘You saw Eliel and Navon?’
‘Kitchen.’
‘They’re in the kitchen,’ he relayed.
‘Carmel’s here. They’re all coming,’ Meghan panted, as if she was running. ‘Beth’s gone to find Levin.’
He looked back. Meghan running down the hallway, the Israeli behind her.
The ambassador! She’s in the conference room.
Seventy feet out. Another set of guards. Same question. Same reply.
He skidded as he neared the kitchen. A server stepped out, plates balanced in his hands. He flashed a curious glance at Zeb and went to the conference room.
Zeb crashed into the kitchen door. Cook and assistant, heads down, arranging food on more plates. Blender and exhaust fan making conversation impossible.
A server came out of the supply room. Took several porcelain dishes, stacked them neatly on one forearm and headed out.
‘Eliel and Navon?’ Zeb yelled. ‘Have you seen them?’
The server shook his head, his eyes down.
Zeb darted inside the storage room. Racks. Dim light. He moved swiftly down the rows, checking left and right, Glock appearing magically in his hand.
There, at the back. On the floor. What’s that?
He took one look and lunged out of the room.
‘SERVERS!’ he bellowed.