Angels Don't Die

by Petrek, Soren

  Madeleine easily located the address. Like most of the surrounding buildings, it was fairly new, having been built in the recent past. It was a blocky six story structure with a gated courtyard and mundane architecture. The single sign advertised that it was a financial firm. Nothing distinguished it as anything other than what it seemed to be.

  They must be trying to hide in plain sight, Madeleine thought to herself. I wonder what the 'official' Mossad headquarters looks like, she mused. Probably looks like a fortress.

  Madeleine watched the front of the building, briefly noting that a light was still on in several of the offices, giving the impression of diligent investment advisors at work. I wonder if he's in one of those, she thought, but I'll never be able to see anything from this vantage point. Madeleine crossed the street to a row of buildings of similar design. She wanted to get to the top of one. She looked for a way to get to the top of the roof from the outside.

  She walked down an alley and worked her way along the side of one of the buildings. It was almost directly opposite of Mossad HQ. Unfortunately, it didn’t have a fire escape or exterior stairs. She searched for a way up. Madeleine moved farther back down the alley and saw what she was looking for, a drainpipe that flowed down from the roof. Madeleine moved toward the pipe and inspected it for strength. It wouldn't do to fall, and injure or kill myself, she thought smiling. It was made of black coated iron and seemed firmly attached to the building.

  Without hesitation she began to climb the six stories to the top. She moved with precision and ease, glad that she had kept up her regimen of calisthenics. She moved like a lithe spider as she climbed unnoticed, hidden by the dark of night.

  Once she reached the top, Madeleine hesitated and watched the roof for several long moments before she slid over the small wall that surrounded the roof top. It was just that, a stark flat expanse of tar embedded with gravel. At one end there were a couple of air-conditioning units, speckled with bird droppings, like the rest of the roof. She looked around for the telltale light of an armed security system, but with no practical way up from below, she assumed their security was internal and no night watchman would bother her.

  Madeleine moved in a crouch, never running but moving quickly as she approached the end of the roof facing the Mossad's clandestine location. They might have cameras trained on this roof top as a point of potential attack. I had better stay hidden; she thought and made her way over to an air-conditioning unit, one that was large enough to easily hide behind. She removed a pair of binoculars that she had gotten from John. They were small and compact for field observations and had an illuminating effect. They were called 'night binoculars', and were in use by the US military in Vietnam. Madeleine trained the binoculars on each window in turn. It was amazing the degree to which the new binoculars helped her to see. It wasn't like looking during daylight, but the effect was amazing. God, I wish I'd have had a pair of these in the war, she thought.

  Most of the windows had their shades drawn and Madeleine couldn’t detect any movement within. One of the windows near the top was larger than the others. As she watched, she could see shadows moving around behind the closed shade. It looked like 5 or 6 people were moving around. They’re not having a board meeting at two a.m., she thought to herself, something important must be going on in that room.

  As she had so many times in the past, Madeline could sense that hers weren't the only eyes watching the building. She looked behind her to see if someone was searching for her. Madeleine looked across the street at the roof of the Mossad building. To her trained eye she could see several things that distinguished that roof top from the others. First, there was a helipad that could easily be explained given that the investment firm needed to fly in important clients from time to time. But it was the way there were several reinforced positions on the wall surrounding the roof that told Madeleine that there were gun turrets there. When she looked more closely, she saw the glow of a cigarette. At least one sentry was on duty. But it wasn’t the sentry that Madeleine could feel watching the Mossad building, somebody else was.

  Lowering her body to the floor of the roof, Madeleine moved from one location to the next searching the adjacent rooftops. Within a short time, she found what she was looking for. Two men were watching the Mossad building from a diagonal vantage point two buildings to the right of her location. They were dressed as she for night work. One of the men was using binoculars, while the other lay prone behind a scoped sniper rifle, trained on the window that she had been watching. They have to know those are bullet proof windows, she thought, but maybe not. The men seemed only to be interested in the window they were watching. They were not aware of their surroundings. They had no idea that she could see them. If they had been cautious, they would have been checking the adjacent rooftops, like she did, hoping to avoid being seen.

  Madeleine stayed and watched the men for more than two hours. They seemed restless and were not able to remain still, one even moved back from their position to urinate behind some rooftop structure. She remained motionless, positioning herself to avoid the strain on her arms that holding the binoculars demanded. She only moved her eyes to check the luminous dial of her watch. Sunrise came early in this part of the world and she would need to get off the roof soon.

  Madeleine watched as the sniper folded down the tripod stabilizers of his rifle and the two men moved off the roof. She breathed a silent sigh of relief. The men had been simply observing and practicing for a subsequent mission or perhaps to determine whether such an attack was feasible. They would be back and so would she.

  Once she was sure the men were gone, Madeleine scanned each adjacent building for movement before moving herself. She lay flat on the roof and checked that her equipment was properly secured for the climb down. She reached her hand to the small of her back and felt the hard metal of the semi-automatic pistol she carried. Tonight was for watching and not killing, but one never knew.

  As she climbed slowly down the drainpipe, she thought about what she’d seen. Those men were certainly agents of an enemy, but their lack of discipline told her that they were not professionals, which pointed to the PLO. The PLO had not reached that status. Those men were members of the group that held her godson. I’m sure to meet them again, she told herself silently in her mind.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Madeleine was sitting at the kitchen table when the others woke up. She was dressed in her tourist clothing and a fine breakfast of coffee, rolls and a colorful platter of fruit sat in the center of the table.

  “I didn't hear you come in,” John said sitting down pouring two cups of coffee. He took one back to Karen who was still recovering from jet lag but was starting to stir.

  “I didn't even feel you getting back into bed. How did it go?” Jack said.

  “I saw plenty,” Madeleine said. “But let's wait for John and Karen before I tell the rest.”

  “The coffee's good,” Jack said teasingly. He loved to give Madeleine little jibes now and then about her cooking. She came from a long line of restaurateurs and was a fine cook. But he still found it amusing to watch her roll her eyes when he did it.

  John and Karen came into the room and sat at the empty seats around the table.

  “Did you find what you were looking for?” John said, reaching for a roll.

  “I was on the roof of the building directly across from the Mossad operations center. They are heavily fortified, so Jack's information is correct. I can see little chance of making my way inside undetected given our short time frame. I must make contact with Hartmann.”

  “Hartmann? The man who trained you?” John said.

  “Yes. It’s possible that he’s the leader of the Mossad, and not the man the public believes is in charge. That’s not out of the ordinary, other governments do the same thing for security reasons,” Madeleine said.

  “But you have no confirmation that he is at this point?” John continued.

  “Not yet. But it makes sense to me. I know he ca
me to Israel immediately after the war, but that's the last I've heard of him. People like us don't write letters or call to say hello,” Madeleine said.

  “I guess not,” Karen agreed, biting into a fig.

  “You said there was more,” Jack said.

  “I watched two men, not professionals, but not untrained, watch the same window I was watching, one with binoculars, and the other with a sniper rifle.”

  “Did it seem like they were going to carry out their mission,” John asked, moving his body towards Madeleine, as the topic of action had been breached.

  “No, they were watching and probably training for an opportunity. It could have been the Syrians, it could have been the Egyptians, but I don't think so,” Madeleine said.

  “Why?” Karen asked. “Aren't those the two countries most likely to attack Israel?”

  “Those countries would have sent their best. No, I believe those men were PLO. They are fanatical, but draw from the ranks of the common man in the guise of patriotism. Clearly they must have some training but not of the caliber one would expect of an assassination attempt on a high ranking Mossad leader.”

  “So, we've seen the enemy,” John said flatly.

  “Yes, John, we have,” Madeleine said.

  “What do we do next, Madeleine,” John continued.

  “I have to get inside of one of the PLO control centers and try to learn where they're holding Tracy.”

  “MI6 gave us the location of one, but we'll need a little more information before we can figure out how to get you inside,” Jack said.

  “Well, Karen, you told me you wanted to help. Today you become a spy. We'll go back to the market and get a good look at the comings and goings around the PLO control center,” Madeleine said.

  “A little more tourist sight-seeing,” Karen said brightening to the idea.

  “Yes, and bring your camera,” Madeleine said.

  “I'll get a dark room set up in the bedroom,” Jack said.

  “What do you want me to do?” John said.

  “Find us two vehicles capable of travel over rough terrain, something with a lighter engine. I'm more worried about distance than speed. Plus, the heavier ones may have more power, but are harder to get unstuck,” Madeleine answered.

  “I'll get right on it. I'll use cash and buy used ones. I've spent plenty of time around motor pools. I'll make sure they're dependable.”

  “Get several jerry cans for extra fuel and water,” Madeleine said.

  “I've got c-rations for five for a month as well,” John said.

  “Get two extra cans for me as well,” Madeleine said.

  “What do you need them for?” John asked.

  “Call it an insurance policy. Out in the desert, you can’t have enough water.”

  “Do you think we’ll find ourselves out in the desert?” John said.

  “I hope not,” Madeleine answered.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Dressed once again in their tourist attire, Madeleine and Karen wandered around the neighborhood suspected of harboring the PLO center. They had a specific address, but no guarantee that the occupants hadn’t moved on to another location.

  The street was alive with activity. It wasn’t an affluent area, but bustled with commerce. The buildings were older, but well maintained. There was little in the way of construction to indicate there would be any major changes to the character of the area in the near future. The neighborhood was content with what it was, a marriage of businesses and homes. Many of the older buildings were made of thick walls of white, irregular Jerusalem stone, giving them a strong, timeless appearance. People sat outside chatting over cups of coffee while children played in the dusty yards. The residences were decorated with flowers and plants that thrived in the heat and sunshine, and were watered by the people who took pride in their home’s appearance. The houses and businesses were located close to one another, with many of the business owners living in apartments over their shops. The street was clean and worn down by many generations of feet and vehicles. There were people bustling about carrying out their various tasks or shopping, stopping to speak to friends or to haggle with a shopkeeper who’d got their attention. The residents took little interest in foreigners, unless they were tourists willing to part with their money. Karen and Madeleine took photos of each other standing near the address Madeleine had been given.

  When they’d taken a couple of rolls of film, Madeleine and Karen selected a small café a discrete distance from the home they were watching. They sat under a brightly colored awning advertising a regional beer and waited for the waiter to arrive.

  “What may I get you to drink?” A dark young man dressed in a traditional white waiter’s jacket asked.

  “What's good?” Karen said playing her part well.

  “I recommend one of our splendid Israeli wines,” the waiter said with a smile.

  Madeleine gently bit her tongue, as she thought, local wine? She tolerated the new wines from California, and could drink Barolo from Italy and a Spanish La Rioja, but the French made wine.

  “White would be fine,” Madeleine said. “And may we have a plate of olives to start?”

  “But of course, Madame,” the waiter said noting Madeleine's accent.

  “Karen, we'll be a while at this, so we'll take our time. I want to see who goes in and out of that house.”

  “Should I take pictures?” Karen asked.

  “No, we have what we need. Now we have to watch how their daily routine is carried out.”

  Over the next few hours in the shade of an awning Madeleine and Karen watched young men come and go, deliveries were made and a few women arrived and then left after a few hours. Towards the afternoon, a woman dressed in a head scarf and caftan carried a basket laden with market goods into the home.

  “She's there to prepare the evening meal,” Madeleine said lowering her voice.

  “How do you plan to get in?” Karen said leaning forward and whispering under the guise of reaching for a piece of fruit.

  “It may have to be a more frontal approach. I'm not sure yet. But we should get back and check in.” They settled their tab and walked back out from under the awning into the piercing heat of the midafternoon.

  “Wow, talk about sun,” Karen said.

  “I'm a bit more accustomed to it than you Karen, but I feel it too. My mother is from Algeria originally. I spent many vacations with my Teta and Seedo. Grandparents have the luxury of choosing a pet name and those were theirs. My grandparents had a modest home on the sea in Tidgit. The sun was much like it is here. I learned to speak Arabic as a child, my mother insisted on it and my father loved her, so he just smiled and tried to pick up a few words as well.”

  “It feels like it must always be summer here,” Karen said pulling on her sunglasses and adjusting her hat.

  “America is my home now, but this reminds me of my childhood in many ways. Were it not for the political tension here, it would seem a magical place.

  “So is the surface of the sun,” Karen said, making them both laugh.

  Later that evening Madeleine gave the group an update.

  “I've been watching Mossad headquarters for two nights now,” Madeleine said as they sat in the living room under the large rotating fan.

  “I can see you're getting anxious, Madeleine,” Jack said.

  “Madeleine, Karen and I trust you completely, but we're starting to get worried that time is running out for Tracy,” John said.

  “I've got nothing to add from MI6 in London,” Jack informed them.

  “I agree, I need to make a move. I know what I know and that will have to do for now. I need to make contact with Hartmann. I think if I go to the Mossad headquarters during the day, I can figure out how to get word to him. I have to see him in person. I can’t just ask a security guard to pass him a note. I’m sure all their phones are monitored and the mail screened. I'll give it one more day, and then I have to go to the PLO house and ask a few questions,” Madeleine sai
d.

  There was silence at the implication of what Madeleine said, as they looked at each other with solemn expressions. Jack and John understood war and the need for information and how it was sometimes extracted. If there was information to be found there, Madeline would get it.

  The following day, dressed in a black scarf and kaftan, Madeleine slowly walked past the Mossad building. Her intention was to determine if she could blend in with the locals and watch for signs of Hartmann.

  A short time after her arrival, Madeleine saw three black Mercedes pull into the compound’s parking area tucked behind a gate in the courtyard. The cars slowed and then proceeded into an underground parking garage through a door adjacent to the glass doors of the lobby. Madeleine scanned the vicinity looking to see if there were any other people watching the vehicles.

  As she walked by the Mossad building for the second time, Madeleine saw at least six men that were loitering on the street. They did little to disguise the fact that they were watching the motorcade drive into the building grounds. Had one or two of them taken interest in the vehicles, she would have dismissed their interest, but all of them watched as if they were examining a target. A trained agent would never be so obvious, she thought to herself. They are going to attempt an assault, and soon, but not today. There didn’t seem to be enough men or weapons to successfully mount any kind of attack. They must have seen how the cars rode low to the ground, advertising the fact that they were armored. Anyone with a little training could see that.