by Rose Fox
“I know that the cab they took traveled westwards, in the direction of Gachin.”
The guard immediately suggested that they look for a doctor in the area the taxi drove to and Mussa said it was unlikely that any doctor would risk treating her without reporting the injury to the authorities.
“You’re right, so let’s look for a physician, who would be prepared to take care of her,” Shitar, the commander of the guard replied. He was the trainer of the dog that followed Abigail in the tunnel. That would be the modus operandi of someone helping our enemies,” the guard stated.
“Do you have any ideas?” Mussa asked and suddenly he hit forehead and cried out:
“What idiots we are, have you forgotten what is located in Gachin?!
The guards stared at him and he answered his own question.
“I have surveilled the clinic of the doctor who lives in that city, several times. Her house is about an hour’s drive away from here, in the valley between the hilltops and not far from the ‘fortress’.
“Fine,” Shitar said, “so we can agree that this is our chance to kill two birds with one stone.”
“No, four.”
“Four?”
“The ‘Nest,' ‘the Fortress’ and a pair of damned, dangerous traitors.”
“Right.” Mussa agreed, “let’s meet in an hour from now to make plans and discuss what happened in the tunnel.”
A half hour later, three men entered the ‘Imam Mosque’ and went to a room assigned to them.
“It’s time we eliminated these two points of opposition, the ‘Nest’ and the ‘Fortress,’” Shitar declared.
“Wait a minute, it’s not that simple,” Mussa warned, “we know that the ‘Fortress’ is an enormous arsenal. An attack like this requires organization and planning that will also include an attack from above.”
“An airstrike?” Pepack inquired. “True, the ‘Fortress’ is a problem because of its structure and a hard fight awaits us. I suggest we bring in significant ground troops for reinforcement.”
“Good idea, and I leave that to you. I will recruit the men and Mahmoud will handle the matter of weapons and the logistics of suitable transportation.”
During the night, the reinforcements were drafted, vehicles and arms were arranged and they split up to attack at both points, coordinating and integrating with the airstrike.
Meanwhile, the three escapees from the ‘Nest’ watched the fire that enveloped and was consuming the building and the trees.
“That’s it, we’ve seen enough. Let’s get away from here and go to the ‘Fortress’”, Robin urged.
A building that looked like an ancient castle stood on a cul de sac. Two circular turrets rose on both its sides and reminded Abigail of the twin minarets beside the blue gate of the “Sheikh Lutf” Mosque, near the Tabriz Bazaar. There were narrow slits in the wall, at unequal distances from one another and Robin knew that behind each small opening like that, sat an armed scout, scanning the surroundings. He dispatched a single beam and in response, two flashes of light returned from the slits. Robin moved forward on this sign, went round the yard of the estate, ensuring that the two of them were following him.
Muna kept a constant distance behind him and signaled Abigail to slow down and leave some space between them. Once inside the yard, she took bigger strides towards a building that looked like a warehouse and was the first structure in a long row of houses.
At this early hour, the sun was not yet hot and the atmosphere was magical and inviting. The scent of blossoms hung in the air and the scene was so pastoral. To their left was an orchard, planted in straight lines and the morning breeze rustled the silvery leaves and cast an aura of calm all around.
Robin turned right, where a chain of hills and rocks gradually became high conifer forested mountains. The ground beneath their feet was cultivated in straight plowed furrows that stretched to the horizon.
A flash of light burst out of one of the structures. It looked like a ray of sunlight bouncing back after hitting a mirror. Robin directed his steps in that direction and in the seconds that followed, he disappeared inside it and the two women entered after him. Abigail’s leg bothered her and she felt the tickling sensation of blood trickling down her calf, but she clenched her jaw and limped determinedly after Dr. Muna. As they were about to enter the building, she glanced round, as was her habit, to check out the yard and see if there was anyone behind them.
The room was shadowed in darkness and by the time her eyes became accustomed to it, Karma was already standing beside her and she stared at him in amazement. She meant to ask him what he was doing there and where he had disappeared to, but the explosion drowned out her words. As of on cue, heavy fire opened, explosions thundered and gunshots rattled around. Karma pushed Abigail down on the floor, leaned over her, pulling an object out of his pocket as he yelled to her:
“Naima, from the window!”
Abigail was stretched out on her back and when he yelled, she dragged herself backward as if she was swimming backstroke. When her head touched the wall, she looked upwards – to the window, and saw eyes staring at her and a barrel of a gun directed at her. However, even before the man managed to aim his rifle at her or get her in his sights, she lifted both her legs and caught his neck in a stranglehold, like a vice. She pulled him forward and screamed in pain. The man was dragged into the room. His head dropped and hit the hard floor and he was dead even before he collapsed on it.
Karma pulled her arm, couldn’t even find the time to express his amazement at her fast response. As they ran, Abigail glanced at the dead man, saw his camouflage uniform and recognized it as that of the Iranian army. She shouted to Karma, trying to be heard over the noise of gunfire.
“Hey, he’s a soldier! What’s going on here, is the Iranian army attacking us?!”
Karma ran to a grove of trees, crouching to dodge the threat of gunfire and disappeared among the branches and shrubs. When a plane was heard overhead, Karma lay down on the ground and signaled to Abigail to do the same just as the air assault on them began.
Gunfire Machine guns, like barking, were heard overhead and hit the trees, sprayed branches and dirt everywhere and created a hellish pandemonium. Gunfire echoed, explosions from the houses joined the bombing from the airstrike and the sky grew so heated that it was difficult to breathe.
Karma, got up, coughed and wiped his tearing eyes. The two made their way forward crouching, realizing that they had been caught in a well–planned military attack. Panting wildly, they stopped under a broad tree and Karma embraced Abigail and whispered in her ear:
“Oh, now I am convinced that Allah loves you, too.”
Abigail stared at his blackened smoke-streaked face in surprise, hearing him whisper in her ear:
“I heard the explosion in the “Nest” and went crazy. I was sure that…oh, it’s incredible how you survived this morning.”
The tree beside them rocked from the blast and she screamed:
“Let’s get away from here,” but his voice got lost in the noise.
It wasn’t the opportune moment to tell her that when he left Dr. Muna’s house today and darkness still reigned, he noticed the vehicles and cars that surrounded the area. Before he fled from there, he saw a group of soldiers entering the house and did not know that the whole area had been closed as a result of the hunt for Abigail. He also could not have known that the execution of the plan to destroy the “Nest” and the “Fortress” was now in full swing.
They ran and darted between the trees. Karma stopped suddenly and hugged Abigail, speaking excitedly into her hair.
“I heard shots and saw fire coming from the doctor’s house and fled, and I didn’t even manage to mourn for you.”
He stared at her, almost weeping,
“I can’t believe that you’re standing here, alive and well.”
Just then, a tremendous explosion was heard and they both rolled down on the ground.
“Wait,” Abigail cried out, “
the doctor and Robin were left in the ‘Fortress,'” and she heard him shout:
“But if we go back to them, we will have no chance of escaping again!”
The thunderous explosion that cut his remarks now actually validated them. An enormous mushroom cloud rose up in the sky and Karma pointed to the black smoke and shouted something about the arsenal that remained there. As he spoke, a huge ball of fire lifted up over the building, followed by a chain of explosions that came in spurts. Karma covered his ears and the back of his neck and Abigail followed his lead but, even so, the sounds of the explosions penetrated her ears. The whistle of the passing bullets was like a melody and Karma said:
“It seems they blew up the last building because that’s where our arsenal was.”
“Arsenal?!”
“Those idiots exploded there together with the whole arsenal we had there.”
“Did you say ‘we had’? Karma, what else don’t I know?”
Afterward, explosions began that reminded her of corn popping before it becomes popcorn and she heard him respond:
“Yes, they were ours.”
Plans
“Listen, San, I am debating whether to intervene or allow nature to take its course,” Barak began and San regarded him with his one eye and kept silent. He knew and understood who he was referring to and he was also grappling with the same issue.
“Please note, she has still not reported back about the purchase of her house in Azerbaijan and the only information we get, comes from her operator,” San added. “We’re also concerned with another matter and I’m referring to her personal relationship with the ‘Noodle,' as the rumors go.”
“Ever since she planted the virus in the tunnel, our Lucy has been trying to disconnect. She even ignores the messages we transmit.”
“Wait, don’t take it personally, she’s not cutting herself off from you or from me. Michael reports she’s having difficulties.”
“What happened?”
“She still hasn’t recovered from her severe injury in the tunnel. Michael reported her last minute escape when the Iranian army destroyed the opposition of the ‘Mojahedin.' Do you remember that story?”
“Yes, I heard about the ‘Nest’ and the ‘Fortress.' What does it have to do with our agent?”
This meeting was taking place in an apartment in South Tel Aviv on Hakishon Street. The two were waiting for three other ‘Mossad’ men they had called in on only two hours’ notice.
San sighed.
“I think we have to direct Michael to get her operating again.”
“But he is the ‘Noodle’s’ operator, not hers.”
“Right, but the man is already familiar with the details, so…”
“That’s just the reason we should enlist another agent, someone, who will be able to separate her from ‘Noodle.'” Barak said.
“Why separate them? Why do you care if they are together? Besides which, I think it is probably too late.” After a second, he added: “The rumors persist that they plan to marry,” and Barak threw him an angry glance.
If San had tried to understand why this irritated Barak so much, it is doubtful whether he would have received a coherent reply. Barak, himself, had not yet recognized the extent to which Abigail now pervaded his thoughts, his soul, and his mind. The last thing he would admit to was that he was head over heels in love with the beautiful agent.
“I know Lucy like I know myself,” Barak raised his voice. “I cannot believe that Lucy knows about his wife and daughters in America, or…” here he paused.
“Or-what”?
“Or, he got divorced during the time he spent with his family.”
“Impossible! How could he divorce his wife? He married her according to Sharia laws.”
“But it’s inconceivable that Lucy would be prepared to play second fiddle. She’s not the type, who would agree to be the second wife of a married man.”
“The fact of the matter is!” San replied and saw Barak’s enraged eyes. He was almost beside himself when he said:
“San, she knows precisely what she’s worth and a woman like her would never agree to be anyone’s second wife!”
“Hey, hello, cool it! I feel as though you’re insulted on her behalf.” He said and lowered his voice to almost a whisper: “Lower your expectations of her.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Take a deep breath, pull yourself together and think again. Who, better than you, knows how important it is to separate emotions and work? He said, and stopped speaking when a knock on the door was heard.
Michael had landed at ‘Ben Gurion’ airport at Lod only that morning and already there, received the call to this meeting. Now, he began grumbling the moment he set eyes on them.
“What happened? What’s so urgent? Don’t you know that haste only helps the devil’s work? Besides which, it is hot today, really fiery hot.”
“Is that so? Tell us about it.”
“How would you know? You both sit here all day in an air-conditioned room with your feet up, enjoying life as you look on with three eyes between the two of you.”
“Then try and raise our morale. What’s on your mind?”
“Effendi Khaidar.”
“Who?”
He’s the ‘Noodle’s’ brother-in-law – Effendi Khaidar.”
“And how is he supposed to improve our mood?”
“He’s the problem. If you get rid of him – you’ll have solved a big problem, and not just a big problem, but an enormous one.”
“What’s the basis for your conclusion?”
“We’ll start at the beginning,” he began and sat down. “Wait, is there nothing here to wet one’s throat? Is this how you welcome guests? My brain is dehydrating.” He announced.
Barak hurried to the kitchen and shouted from there:
“Michael, keep talking, I hear you from here!”
“Good, so listen. He was seen at the ‘Imam’s Mosque’ while Lucy was carrying out her assignment in the tunnel. He was identified at the destruction of the ‘Fortress’ and the ‘Nest’, and I assume that he is preparing a big attack against our agents in Teheran.”
“Then your assumption is incorrect,” San continued, “because had he wanted to attack them, he would have done so ages ago. and with success.”
“Okay, then how do you explain this?” Michael remarked and placed two pages down on the table. One of the pages was crumpled, almost torn, and he called out:
“Tara rum! Here’s the surprise, gentlemen!”
Barak returned with glasses and a jug of water and poured a glass full. He saw how San was trying to straighten out the crumpled page and Michael laughed.
“First of all, Barak, you’re drinking my water and secondly, leave the creased page and look at the other one because it’s the key to the message I deciphered.”
“Hey, how did you get hold of it?” Barak demanded and handed Michael the empty glass.
“You don’t ask questions like that, but if you have asked, then you should know that the idiots used it and after they finished, crumpled it up and threw it on the floor.”
“Is that so?! Let’s see what they wrote.”
San read:
“Finish with the farm, Turban will perform in an illusory ceremony
and place the clock in the Rover.”
“Wait, I love riddles,” Barak declared, “so let’s try and understand something. Since there are no farms in Iran, then possibly is a codeword for something else.”
“Hmmm…let’s leave this ‘farm’ for the moment,’ San muttered, “who wears a turban and what ceremony is he going to perform?”
Barak tapped his fingers on his lips and mumbled:
“Misleading ceremony, misleading ceremony, Rover.”
“I only know about deceptive marriages,” San remarked and immediately announced.
“Gentlemen, our couple is preparing to marry in an ‘illusory marriage’ with the blessing of a clergyman wearing a turban!
Ah, what do you think?”
“What’s a ‘deceptive marriage’?” Michael inquired.
“It’s a bluff marriage. Disposable after use.”
“Dispose of what?”
“The bride, of course,” and Michael’s mouth dropped open in surprise.
“Hey, the bride is Lucy. How do you throw such a bride away? Something doesn’t smell right here.”
“Precisely!” Barak declared: “No, that’s not the solution. Can you believe that anyone can marry a bride like our Naima in a “use and throw away” marriage?”
San continued speaking, ignoring the remarks of the other two.
“If I understand this correctly, then the clergyman will transfer something during his ceremony.”
“I have further proof that supports my analysis,” Michael announced and lay a tiny square on the table.
“Before you try and guess – these are pictures from your Kurd’s traveling camera and I found a surprise there.”
When the gallery of pictures was opened, we found landscape views of forested hills and mountains. In one of them, two bearded Iranians could be seen. San enlarged the photograph and declared:
“They are Mustafa and Rulam. What are they doing among the trees?”
“Remind me. Who are they?”
“They are significant figures in the Revolutionary Guards.”
“Really? So how do you explain their presence in the field?”
“I can’t. People like them don’t do surveillance work.”
“That’s correct. By the way, what was our Kurd up to, there?”
“He was on his way to an assignment and he caught them with his camera, using his remote control.”
“Which assignment?”
Michael sighed.
“Come on, really. Are you asking me? After all, you know, it was the car-swapping assignment,” he said. They stared at him and he explained:
“That gives me food for thought with regard to the ‘Rover’ that appears on our page.”
