16

The morning air was a little bit chilly, but not unbearably so. Still, it required a jacket to knock off the edge. I’d never been to Israel in the winter, and honestly, I was surprised at how cold it was. I guess that made me an ignorant American. I mean, it was the Middle East, wasn’t it? Should be hot. The sad thing is I’d spent a winter or two in Iraq and definitely knew that place got cold.

Watching the people walking on the promenade, you’d have thought it was the Antarctic, with women dressed in full-on parkas complete with fur-lined hoods, and men wearing Michelin Man puffy jackets. They clearly didn’t like the cold weather any more than Jennifer did.

She was curled up tight next to me, snuggling in to get away from the wind. Our surveillance position was a bench situated on a bluff high above the walking/biking promenade that ran adjacent to the Mediterranean, at a spit of green space called Independence Park. The location did make the weather worse, as the breeze was heavier up here than it would be down on the promenade itself, but the position gave us an optimum view of the exits out of the Tel Aviv Marina, and I had to cover all bases with only three surveillance bodies.

Last night we’d kept tabs on our targets—Tyler and Ivan—and all they’d done was have dinner at a sushi restaurant in the lobby of the hotel. That wouldn’t have been much to speak of, except one of the South Africans had joined them. Unfortunately, not the one with the Apple watch. So now we had Tyler himself complicit in whatever the South Africans were doing, which, when I’d reported back to Kurt Hale, was enough to warrant surveillance on the meeting we knew was occurring this morning.

Since I was going to use Brett in the morning, Jennifer and I had left the hotel last night and sauntered the five hundred meters down the promenade to the marina. We’d found the restaurant—a unique place right next to the water, with inside and outside sections, complete with a folk singer—and had ordered dinner. From there, we’d both gone to the “bathroom,” which happened to be located outside the restaurant in the marina proper, which allowed us to identify all the choke points for the next day’s surveillance. Mission complete, we’d had some more vacation time, enjoying the music. Honestly, I wanted to enjoy it, but I was dreading another round of “What are we doing with our lives?” Luckily, Jennifer could smell my angst and settled for the extra downtime. We’d gone to bed without any drama.

We’d gotten up bright and early and had been in position for an hour, with the wind chill starting to bite. I pulled out a set of small binoculars and scanned the entrance to the marina while Jennifer cowered under my arm looking for some warmth, like a cat seeking to escape the snow. She said, “This is bullshit. You should have told me to pack a coat.”

I said, “It’s the Middle East. With global warming, I thought it would be a hundred degrees.”

She punched me and said, “Liar.”

I said, “Got an Orthodox Jew entering, but he’s not our guy.”

She perked up. I relayed to Brett, and he said, “Still no sign of our targets.”

Five seconds later, he said, “He’s inside, looking around. I think he’s the contact.”

We waited a bit, and I saw two other men walk down the small access to the marina. One of them was Apple Watch. I called, “Two targets inbound, neither from our primary deck. It’s the guys from Jaffa, but Apple Watch is in the mix. Get ready to record.”

“I’m set. Pwnie phone is ready to go. Creed is online.”

“Roger all.”

From there, I was helpless to affect anything, just sitting in the cold waiting on some report. It was the worst part about surveillance. We sat in the wind for another twenty minutes, and then I saw the Orthodox Jew leave. I waited on the readout of the meeting from Creed, but nothing came. One minute went by, then two. The Jew was sauntering slowly down the promenade, about to be lost from sight, and I still had no report. I called Creed and said, “Get me something. I don’t need it clean. I need it now.”

Creed said, “Pike, we have to eliminate audio errors. The wind is huge, they were outside, and a lot is lost in that. We need to work it to get you the transcript.”

I snarled, “He’s walking away. Get me what you have right fucking now. I need to know if I should focus on him.”

I heard nothing, then, “The only thing I can break out right now is a hotel in Haifa. The Dan Carmel. I have no idea why that was mentioned. Most of the conversation is lost in the wind noise. If you’d give me some time, I can figure it out.”

The Dan Carmel? That’s where Shoshana is.

I hung up the phone and slapped it onto my thigh, my mind racing. The action caused Jennifer to jolt upright. She said, “What?”

“I don’t know. I think they’re after Shoshana.”

“What?”

I stood up, calling Brett, “Blood, Blood, I’m taking that Jew down. Be prepared for backup.”

He said, “Come again? I’m with the targets right now. They’re having breakfast. I’m still recording.”

Shit.

“Okay, okay, you stay on them. We’re going hunting.”

“Pike, we don’t have Omega authority. You can’t kill or capture here.”

I stood up, my eyes on the Orthodox Jew, saying, “I can’t take him with me, but I can certainly take him down.”

He said, “Why? What’s going on?”

“I don’t know, but I think I do.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“Gotta go. I need to use my phone. Remain in place. Get what you can. We’ll see you back in the room.”

I clicked off, and Jennifer said, “What’s gotten into you?”

I dialed up Shoshana yet again and got voice mail, yet again. I cursed and started jogging down the path to the promenade, Jennifer right behind me. She said, “What are we doing?”

I said, “They mentioned they were hunting a person who might have worked for the Mossad, and one of them said it was a ‘she.’ They had the address, but the target wasn’t there. They had to locate the target, and it’s at the same hotel that Shoshana is in.”

I saw our target and slowed to a walk, saying, “I think they’re hunting her.”