TEN DAYS LATER
MOSSAD HEADQUARTERS, TEL AVIV, ISRAEL—JANUARY 13, 2020—08:30 / 8:30 A.M. IST
Nir closed the door to the ramsad’s office and walked through the reception area. For being the hub of the most well-respected intelligence service in the world, Mossad’s headquarters décor was surprisingly utilitarian. No flash, nothing ornate. Instead, everything had its purpose and its place. This was true even of the director’s office. Only a few pictures hanging, a bookshelf crammed with books, binders, ring-bound packets, and a wall of file cabinets. The latter had been a surprise. Did anybody still use file cabinets in this digital age? He supposed there would be some extra-sensitive information one would not want to risk to the prying of skilled hackers, but wouldn’t that kind of information be kept in a safe rather than in a bunch of 1960s-era tan metal cabinets?
The meeting with the ramsad, Ira Katz, had been brief and for the most part uninformative. Yet it was probably necessary. Katz had told Nir he had all the resources he needed, and that he and the country were counting on him. All the rah-rah, go get ’em stuff that usually accompanies the start of an operation. But one interesting bit of information had come out of their time. As Efraim had, the ramsad emphasized the possibility of a peace initiative spearheaded by the son-in-law of the U.S. president. He’d stressed that it was because of this peace initiative and the groundwork between Israel and some of the Islamic states that Nir and his team were even involved in this operation. He’d also made it clear that if this attack wasn’t stopped, years of geopolitical courtship could be flushed down the drain.
No pressure there, Nir thought as he strode through the halls. He checked his watch and realized he was 20 minutes late for meeting his new Caesarea team. He’d come to headquarters immediately upon his arrival in Tel Aviv yesterday afternoon. After being shown to a temporary office that would be his for the day while his team’s workroom was completed, he read through the files of the men and women who’d been assigned to him. Three of the Kidon operatives had served with him on previous operations, but he didn’t know any of the logistics squad. Then there was the final member of the team—Nicole.
As he skimmed through her file, he was surprised to see how many operations she’d been part of. Because her skills were with computers, she could work from anywhere she was able to set up a secure connection. That’s what had allowed her modeling career to soar to such great heights even while she became the go-to hacker for a growing number of Mossad operations.
They’d spent so much time together—and for almost a decade. Nir hadn’t been above seeing other women who interested him, and he assumed Nicole had seen other men. But she’d been the first and only woman who had ever made him consider combining the words exclusive and relationship. Until their disagreement, he thought she might feel the same way.
Now he was about to see her face-to-face after months of angry radio silence. If it didn’t go well, he would consider sending her back to Paris and letting her work remotely. He didn’t need a cancer in the squad, and bitterness was a disease that could eat its way through a team’s cohesion.
Rounding a corner, he saw the open door to the workroom. Laughter was coming from inside, which was a good sign. He walked in, and the space immediately fell silent. He stared at the team, and they stared at him. On one side of a long table sat his four Kidon operators, and on the other sat the two men and two women of his logistics team. Nicole sat by herself on the far side. Her face gave nothing away. There was neither joy nor anger at seeing him. Her expression was in runway model neutral.
“Sorry I’m late, everyone. Got hung up in the ramsad’s office.” He walked to the head of the table.
Nobody said a word.
“I hate making people wait, but when the ramsad wants to talk, you sit there and listen.”
Then he laughed.
No response. They all just impassively watched him as he sat down.
Well, this is awkward. Has Nicole been telling stories about me? Do I already have to dig myself out of a hole with this team?
“Okay, so I’d like us to introduce ourselves, then we can get to work. Who wants to start?” He knew who they all were; he’d seen their photos in their files. He just wanted to make sure they all knew each other.
They said absolutely nothing. This time, however, he did see a little glint in the eyes of Yaron, an old-school Kidon operative with whom he’d worked several times before. That’s when he remembered one other fact he’d gleaned from his time in the files of these men and women. While each of them was among the best at what they did, they’d all been written up at least once for insubordination or inappropriate behavior.
Efraim, you knew me too well when you put this motley crew together.
“Okay, then, I’ll start. Hi, I’m Nir Tavor, and I’m an alcoholic.”
“Hi, Nir,” the team responded, and then they all burst out laughing. Nir was relieved to see that Nicole was laughing with the rest.
“When the ramsad wants to talk, you sit there and listen.” Avi was another Kidon member and friend, mocking him with a very poor, self-important Nir impersonation.
“I’m sensing that you have a problem with taking personal responsibility for your actions,” one of the two logistics women put in. Her name was Liora.
“I’ll vouch for that,” Nicole said, and they all oohed and laughed.
“Okay, okay, I can see how this is going to be.” He attempted to calm them. They had work to do. “Now, Efraim Cohen gave me you bunch of misfits for a reason. You think differently. You’re not bound by tradition. You’re innovators. That’s what I want. That’s what will allow us to find an unknown enemy and stop their unknown attack. I don’t care what you look like—well, except for maybe you over there with the man-bun.” He rolled his eyes and pointed to one of the logistics guys. “I don’t care how you dress. All I ask is that you do your job to the best of your abilities and that you aren’t a jerk while you do it. For the next days or weeks, we’re a family. Who’s your daddy? You’re looking at him.”
“Nothing creepy about that,” Nicole mumbled just loud enough for everyone to hear.
“If you’re Dad, then who’s Mom?” This from the logistics guy with the man-bun—Yossi.
“I’ll be Mom,” the second logistics woman said, “but I’m not cooking for you. And don’t get any other funny ideas.” This was Dafna.
“There is no mom,” Nir said. “It’s an analogy.”
“No mom?” Yossi shook his head. “That’s kind of sad. Everyone should have a mother.”
“Everyone does have a mother,” Yaron said. “Otherwise, we wouldn’t be here.”
Nir had to gain some control. “Stop! I’m Daddy, there is no mommy, and you’re all about to get time-out if you don’t focus.”
“Dad’s kinda grumpy,” Nicole said to Yossi in a loud whisper. “Must have been a tough day at the office.”
Nir couldn’t help but laugh with the rest. As irritating as the banter was while he was trying to lead the team, it also meant they were bonding. This kind of obnoxious talk-around would pay dividends during the high-pressure times when this odd-ball, individualistic group would have to function as one unit.
“Okay, I still want introductions. We’ll go around the table. Give us your name, your specialty, and one reason you’ve been written up.”
Words of appreciation sounded around the table as all eyes went to Yaron, a short, stocky man in his late forties.
“Yaron Eisenbach. Explosives and general mayhem. I was sent to put a bomb under a Hamas leader’s car. I recognized the car of his superior, so I put the bomb under it instead. He came out, and that was the end of him.”
“What about the guy you were sent to kill?” Nir asked.
“Oh, I shot him in the head when he came out to see what had happened.”
“Fair enough.” Heads around the table nodded in appreciation.
“I’m Avi Carmeli.” This Kidon man was in his mid-twenties with black hair and the well-toned body of a triathlete. “I am general mayhem, no specialty. I once skinny-dipped in the ramsad’s pool.”
“Tell them the rest,” Yaron said.
“With the ramsad’s daughter.”
The table erupted with laughter.
“Surprised you’re still with us,” Nir said.
The next man was also in his twenties. His head was shaved, and he had a bushy, full beard. “I’m Doron Mizrahi. I’m good with locks and coms. I had a little bit too much to drink one night and didn’t want to drive home, so I came to the office, broke in, and fell asleep on Assistant Deputy Director Friedman’s couch.”
“Can’t blame you,” Dafna said. “She has a very comfortable couch.” Liora enthusiastically nodded her agreement.
The last Kidon man was enormous. A Russian Jewish immigrant, he looked very much like 1980s Dolph Lundgren. In fact, his nickname around the campus was Drago.
“My name is Dima Aronov,” he said with a heavy Russian accent. “I like to break things. I was written up for punching my supervisor.”
“Nice,” Nir said. “And just why did you feel the need to punch your supervisor?”
With a lowered voice, Dima said with a sneer, “He wanted me to call him Daddy.” Laughter and applause broke out around the table as Dima punched his hand.
“Well played.” Nir already loved his team. Turning toward Nicole, he said, “Next.”
“I’m Nicole le Roux. I have a knack for finding my way into other people’s computer files. I’ve been written up several times for doing unauthorized research on the agency’s computer system.”
“In other words, you hacked into Mossad’s databank,” Doron said.
“Hacked is such an ugly word. Like you, I just picked the digital locks until I found what I was looking for.”
Liora leaned forward. “Okay, now this is going to sound weird, but didn’t I see you in Marie Claire?”
Nicole blushed. “You probably did. That’s my other job. It’s what pays the bills and allows me access into places I normally couldn’t go.”
“I have to say, I don’t totally get it.” Doron’s tone held a challenge.
“Don’t get what?”
Nir could see Nicole’s embarrassment shifting toward anger.
Avi jumped in. “We don’t get why you’re here, why you’re doing this. You’re already this international supermodel making tons of money. But even more than that, you’re not even…”
Nir was tempted to defend Nicole, but he thought better of it. This was a battle she needed to fight and win.
Nicole’s eyes flared. “Not even what? Not even Jewish? That may be true, but don’t ever question my loyalty. I’ve proven myself more times now than I can count. I’m here because I love this country. And I’m on this team because I’m ridiculously good at what I do. Which, by the way, is how I know you left out one tiny detail in your story. You had your little sans swimsuit pool party the night before the ramsad’s daughter’s wedding.”
“Drop the mic!” Yossi said, and everyone laughed and cheered. Even Avi smiled and gave Nicole a slow clap.
“Listen, team,” Nir said. “I’ve worked with Nicole before, and her work stands on its own. She doesn’t need my endorsement. But she is the best at what she does. She belongs on this team, just like the rest of you. In fact, we need her on this team. We’re clear on this?”
“Yes, sir,” sounded around the table. Except for Dima, who said, “Da, Papa.”
“Also, I want all of our communication to continue to be in English. Last I knew, Nicole’s Hebrew was improving, but all of you grew up learning English, correct? I mean, except you, Dima. But your English skills are strong, are they not?”
“Me Drago. Me love break things,” Dima said. When Nir didn’t respond, he added, “Yeah, boss, sababa.”
“I’m Liora Regev.” On the shorter side with shoulder-length brown hair and in her mid-twenties, Liora was the textbook definition of cute. “I’m visual surveillance and analysis. I was written up for calling my supervisor a not-nice name.”
“You got written up for that?” Nir was sure there had to be more to the story.
“Well, that was after I kneed him in a not-nice place.”
“I knew that guy.” Dafna was another twenty-something. Her hair was dyed bright red, and her ears and nose held enough jewelry to stock her own mall kiosk. “He had it coming. I’m Dafna Ronen. I also do visual surveillance and analysis. I’m kinda the yang to Liora’s yin. I was written up for making the video footage of Liora’s little incident disappear. And”—she turned to Nicole—“sister, if any of these meatheads hassles you about being on this team, let me know. We’ll make sure they know the score.”
Nicole smiled her appreciation.
Man-Bun was next. Yossi was tall and thin and had a long, well-trimmed and oiled beard. “I’m Yossi Hirschfeld. I’m research. I can find a needle in any digital haystack. It totally wasn’t my fault for getting into trouble. They stationed me up in Nahariyya to watch the border. And what’s in Nahariyya? Anyone? Sokolov Beach, of course. Gnarliest waves in Israel. I didn’t stand a chance. They should have known better.”
“You surf Sokolov?” the last man asked with genuine admiration. Lahav was in his late twenties and looked every bit the computer nerd from his thick black plastic-framed glasses to his white button-down shirt. Lifting his hand, he forced Yossi into an awkward fist bump, complete with explosion. “Achla, I used to boogie board down at Ha’Maravi Beach. Maybe you can teach me to surf someday.”
Then a thought seemed to suddenly strike him. He turned to Nicole, looking both embarrassed and ashamed. “I’m sorry, Nicole. Achla means ‘amazing’ or ‘super great.’ When Dima said sababa earlier, he was saying he was cool with the boss’s suggestion. These are both common slang words. You’ll find a lot of slang terms and idioms in the Hebrew language. If you ever have trouble understanding one of these phrases, please don’t hesitate to ask. I’ve been in situations where I feel like I’m the outsider, and it’s never fun. I don’t want you to feel like that. So just know that I’m there for you rain or shine. You can just call out my name, and I’ll be there. That’s just like that old James Taylor song. James Taylor is an American singer my mom really liked when I was growing up. She’d say his voice was so smooth, like butter. I don’t know if I’d personally say smooth. But it’s still really good. Really cool. But not sababa cool like Dima said. This is, like, cool kind of cool.”
He finished with a big smile on his face, and everyone stared at him open mouthed, Nir included.
Efraim, what have you done to me?
Finally, Nicole said, “Uh, thanks.”
Nir thought about this guy’s file. He was the biggest wildcard among a team full of wildcards. “Lahav, thank you for your kind words to Nicole, and I’ll let you and Yossi work out the logistics of your surf lessons later. For now, how about you let the rest of the team know who you are.”
“Okay…sababa,” he said, emphasizing the Hebrew word and giving Nicole a wink. “My name is Lahav Tabib. I’m an IT guy, and I build things. Anything you need put together, let me know. I’ll make it happen. Computer systems, coms systems, portable command centers, satellite link-ups, drone surveillance—”
“Great, Lahav,” Nir said. “We get the point. Tell us why you were written up.”
“I shut down the power grid in Eilat.”
“That was you?” Yaron’s eyes widened.
“It was only for a minute. They acted like it was such a big deal. I told them it was vulnerable, and they didn’t believe me. I proved them wrong.”
Doron shook his head with a laugh. “Achi, I thought you were in prison.”
“Well, I’m not.” Lahav held out his arms, looking at where he was sitting in the chair. “At least not at this present moment.”
Nir stepped in again. “Lahav is technically a resident of Maasiyahu Prison, but we’ve been granted the pleasure of his company for the foreseeable future. If he behaves and leaves the nation’s power grid alone, he may not need to go back to his home away from home.”
“Freedom!” Yossi called out in a Braveheart riff.
“That leaves you,” Avi said. “What horrible thing have you done?”
“My name is Nir Tavor. I have for some reason been chosen the leader of this operation. Unlike you sketchy characters, I am a good boy. I have never been written up. That’s because when I break the rules, I do so with a purpose. I’m a firm believer that when it comes to intelligence work, the ends quite often justify the means. So we may get rough sometimes and we may play dirty, but we will stop whatever the bad guys are planning.”
“Do we have any idea who or what we’re looking for?” Liora asked.
“Absolutely none. We’re working on getting more information from our inside source, but so far there’s nothing. So I want you to cull through all your HUMINT, SIGINT, and IMINT to see what’s been missed. That’s human intelligence, signals intelligence, and image intelligence in case any of you problem children ditched that day during training. Again, the reason you’re here on this team is because you see things differently. If something is blatant or out in the open, the rest of them will find it. I want you to discover what they don’t have the creativity to find. Got it?”
Affirmations sounded all around.
“Okay, they have this workroom all set up for us. But anything you need—any information, any piece of equipment, any permissions—you just ask me, and I’ll make sure you get it. Let’s find these people, and let’s drop a missile on their heads.”