by Ty Patterson
‘Do they still have high ceilings and fans in their rooms?’ he asked when it returned a location in Berlin. A hotel in the Kreuzberg neighborhood, one that he had stayed at, several times.
‘Huh? That hotel? No, they have central AC.’
Correct. They had fans but revamped last year.
He disconnected the machine and reached out silently for Nachman’s. The operative handed it over and watched him as he copied the hard drive.
‘I am clear?’ he asked when Zeb had finished.
‘Looks like it. I still need to run more checks on all the data, however.’
‘I passed the polygraph, you know. I don’t know why the ramsad suspected me. I wouldn’t do anything like that.’
‘Those tests aren’t impossible to beat for trained operatives. You know that. You don’t like these ongoing negotiations, do you?’
His head jerked up so fast that Zeb thought he heard a click from his bones.
‘You know that?’ his eyes hard, challenging. ‘How?’
‘It is my job to know. Don’t forget, you work in Mossad. We keep tabs on everything.’
‘So what if I don’t like what’s happening? I don’t allow my feelings to interfere with my work,’ Nachman said angrily.
‘I never said it was a problem.’
‘Then why did you say that?’
Zeb had had enough of the kidon. I’m sure he’s a good operative, but he wouldn’t work in my team.
‘You can work it out yourself,’ he said shortly and walked out of the apartment.
‘It means I had moved up the suspect list?’ Nachman called after him.
Zeb didn’t answer.
He rolled his shoulder when he reached the street and found a small garden in between buildings. A bench was unoccupied. He claimed it and smiled absentmindedly when a mother looked in his direction.
He opened his screen and sent Nachman’s data to the twins. He was reasonably sure the kidon wasn’t one of the killers, but the sisters would have final say once they analyzed it.
He clicked on a new message from Beth. The twins had found nothing suspicious on Carmel and Dalia’s data dumps. The two women were clear. Yakov was uninvolved, too. His cellphone history put him out of the country.
Zeb brought up the list of male kidons and was perusing it when another mother settled next to him on the bench. He shut down his screen and headed out, aiming to find another quiet spot or a café.
It was then that he got the call.
* * *
Beit Aghion
* * *
Alice Monash knew she had put a crimp in Zeb’s plans by insisting on his presence, even if part-time.
I feel safer with him, she thought as she entered the cool interior of Prime Minister Cantor’s residence.
Monash knew Israel like the back of her hand. It was as good as her second home. She knew how volatile the Middle East was, and yet the country and Jerusalem felt very safe.
Those killings had made her jumpy, however. If those assassins could find where those negotiators were, they could target anyone else.
She put on her game face when the Israeli leader approached her with a broad smile.
‘Alice,’ he beamed, ‘It is good to have you back.’
The two were good friends and used first names in private. She hugged him and inquired about him as she followed him to his office.
And stopped suddenly when she saw the person awaiting them.
‘President Baruti,’ she breathed. ‘I had no idea you were here.’
‘No one does,’ Cantor said, shutting the door, ‘other than my security detail and a few cabinet ministers.’
‘Is there a problem?’ She shook hands with the Palestinian and settled on a couch.
‘We don’t know,’ Baruti replied. ‘You have briefed her?’ he asked his Israeli counterpart.
‘No.’
‘What’s up?’ Alice Monash looked at both of them, still coming to terms with the Palestinian’s presence. ‘It must be important for such a secretive meeting.’
‘Both our governments are nearing collapse.’
Chapter Thirty-Four
Jerusalem
Three days after Assassinations
Eight days to Announcement
* * *
Cantor’s words sucked the breath out of Alice Monash.
She stared at him and then at Baruti, who nodded. ‘Tell me everything,’ she commanded both men, finally.
‘You know we are a coalition.’
She nodded. Cantor was stating the obvious.
‘The hard-line wing in my party and some of the other parties in government are putting pressure on me.’
‘They want to call off the negotiations?’
‘Yes. It gets worse,’ he said, rubbing his eyes tiredly. ‘They think I am giving in to the Palestinians. There’s talk about a no-confidence motion.’
‘I thought you had bought time with that announcement in ten days.’
‘Eight days, now. That’s what we both thought. But this happened almost overnight.’
The ambassador thought swiftly. If Cantor’s government fell, then any Israeli-Palestine discussions were dead in the water. A new government could well be a hard-line one.
‘And your problem, sir?’ she addressed the Palestinian.
‘It is similar,’ Baruti answered gravely. ‘If anything, my situation is worse. Not many like me in the West Bank or in the Gaza Strip. Politicians think I am soft. The people think I am Prime Minister Cantor’s poodle. The only reason I have survived so long in this post is because there is no credible challenger.’
‘Don’t sell yourself short, sir,’ Alice Monash admonished him. ‘History will know you as the most visionary leader Palestine has ever known.’
‘If I live that long,’ Baruti replied sardonically. ‘Hamas is making noises. They are saying I am a traitor.’
‘How can you be a traitor if you are working for peace?’
‘They say I am not taking a hard line against the Israelis. That we should talk only when Prime Minister Cantor produces those Mossad killers.’
‘We don’t even know if they are Mossad,’ the Israeli exploded.
Alice Monash raised a hand to silence him. ‘Let the president finish.’
‘Masar Abadi called me recently. He threatened me. He said Abdul Masih was gunning for me. Not just me, but he would go after the Israeli negotiators, too.’
‘What can I do?’
‘Give a press conference. Today. Right after this meeting. Tell the world that the United States fully supports our discussions. And that it is behind our governments.’
‘President Morgan has already done that, several times.’
Cantor shook his head. ‘Your being here makes a huge difference. People know you. Your background. Your speech will help me with my coalition. It might help President Baruti.’
‘It will,’ the Palestinian replied. ‘Like the prime minister said, my people too know you. They know you don’t take sides. You are a hard, fair negotiator.’
Alice Monash thought about the request. The president said I should work behind the scenes. This will make me visible. I could be a target for those killers or Masih.
‘I’ll do it,’ she said. ‘Whatever support I can give, I will.’
* * *
‘Change of plans,’ Alice Monash said crisply when he took the call. ‘I am still in the prime minister’s residence. I will be giving a press conference shortly and then going to the hotel, where the negotiators are. Would like it if you were around.’
Zeb looked unseeingly at the street ahead of him.
There goes my plan of checking out more kidon.
‘Press conference?’ he asked automatically. ‘I thought you didn’t want to be in the limelight.’
‘There have been developments on the political front. I’ve got to go. Hope to see you here.’
Zeb quickened his pace. I wanted to interview a few more operatives today. Now
, I don’t know.
He made a swift decision. He looked up the app on his phone. Green dots next to Beth and Meghan’s name. They’re still awake? It was late in the night in New York.
Call me, he messaged the younger sister.
He had walked no more than ten paces when his phone buzzed. An incoming video call.
He accepted it. The twins appeared on screen, Beth in front, Meghan behind her.
They looked at him for a long moment without saying a word.
‘What do you think?’ Meghan asked her sister. ‘Is it an improvement?’
‘He’ll have to try harder. He won’t get any calls for modeling photoshoots. Not looking like that.’ Beth replied, dismissively.
Zeb realized he was still in his Epstein disguise.
‘Why are you still up?’ he asked.
‘Saving the world is a twenty-four-hour job,’ Beth replied solemnly.
Snark. The twins hadn’t invented it, but they sure had perfected it.
‘We don’t have any ongoing missions.’
‘There’s always a bad actor somewhere who needs to be—’
‘We’d been to a bar,’ Meghan said, flicking her sister’s ear to shut her up. ‘Mark and a few friends of his. Us. We just returned.’
Mark was Beth’s boyfriend, an NYPD detective who had followed her to the city when she and Meghan had relocated from Wyoming.
‘What’s up, Zeb? You missing us? Is that why you called?’ Beth smirked, batting her eyes at him.
‘I need your help.’
The sisters fell silent. Beth looked at Meghan, who shrugged.
‘What’s that again?’
‘I need you here.’
Beth inserted her finger in her ear as if to clear it. She shook her head. ‘We can’t hear you. Can you be louder?’
‘I. Need. Your. Help. Can. You. Get. Over. Here?’ Zeb said slowly and clearly.
‘Sis, are we recording this?’ she chortled. ‘This hasn’t happened before, has it? Zeb asking us—’
Meghan punched her lightly on the shoulder to keep her quiet. Worry on her face as she leaned closer to the screen.
‘Did something happen?’ she asked.
‘I have less than eight days to go through all the kidon,’ he growled in frustration. ‘On top of that, I have protection duty as well.’
‘Protecting whom?’
‘Alice Monash.’
‘Our ambassador?’
‘Yeah. In fact, I’m heading to meet her right now.’
‘We’ll leave right away.’
Just like that. As if Jerusalem was a couple of blocks away from their office in New York. This is why they’re so good. Why our team revolves around them.
Zeb felt a surge of pride in the sisters. They had been running a web-design agency when he first met them. He had saved them from a bunch of assassins. Something had changed in them after that incident. They had sold their business and had come to New York. They had badgered Broker and him to let them join the Agency. Zeb had refused, initially. The covert outfit wasn’t a place for civilians. Or so he had thought.
The twins didn’t give up. They persisted until Broker caved in and persuaded Zeb to try them out.
From then to now, they’ve changed a lot. Zeb shook his head unconsciously in admiration.
‘What’s that mean?’ Beth broke in with exasperation. ‘Why’re you shaking your head like that?’
‘Nothing.’ He suddenly remembered. ‘Weren’t you and Mark planning a vacation?’
‘Phooey! That can wait. Meghan’s gone to call the Gulfstream. We’ll be there soon. To save your ass.’ She hung up before he could retort.
He caught a reflection of himself in a store window. He was grinning foolishly. He erased it and hastened toward Beit Aghion.
* * *
Zeb reached the prime minister’s residence just as Alice Monash took questions from journalists. She was on the lawn, behind a podium, Prime Minister Cantor behind her, to the side.
Reporters and TV crews were seated or hanging about. A crowd of people were gathered in the street. Tight security.
He watched from a distance, could hear fragments of her answers.
The United States supports these talks … Historic … Announcement in eight days …
He spotted a suited man in shades. Part of her protection detail. He wasn’t looking at the ambassador. He was checking out the street, passersby, buildings in the distance.
Zeb was reassured. Looks like the suits around her know their job. They aren’t run-of-the-mill heavies.
Prime Minister Cantor made a few concluding remarks and ended the event. It took another half-hour for the lawn and the street to be cleared and yet another half-hour for the ambassador to emerge from the house.
She was surrounded by the three suits, who walked her swiftly to her vehicle.
Zeb approached them. He was fifty yards away when the protection detail reacted.
‘STOP!’ one man commanded, his hand going inside his jacket.
Zeb stopped. Cursed himself inwardly. I should have removed my disguise.
‘It’s me, Zeb Carter,’ he raised his hands. ‘There’s a reason for this,’ he looked down at himself.
The suit’s hand moved deeper inside his jacket. His partners hurried the ambassador into her vehicle. One of them slid inside next to her; the other returned to provide backup.
‘Come closer,’ the first man said, ‘slowly.’
Zeb approached the two men. A small crowd of people was gathering nearby. The police officers outside the prime minister’s residence were breaking away from their discussions and heading toward them.
‘I am in a disguise,’ he told the two men softly. ‘I’ll explain when we are inside the vehicle. Don’t take my name here.’
The first suit jerked his head at the other. That man approached Zeb cautiously, staying out of his partner’s firing line.
He caught hold of Zeb’s mustache and pulled at it hard. It started coming off.
‘It’s him. I recognize him, now.’
‘You’re sure?’ his partner asked.
‘Positive.’
The first suit relaxed. ‘Let’s go. The ambassador’s running late.’
Zeb opened the passenger door at the front and occupied his now-usual seat. He removed the pads from his cheeks. The mustache followed. He swiveled to face Alice Monash, who raised an eyebrow.
‘There’s a reason for that?’
‘Yes, ma’am.’
‘You had us worried for a moment. Bob,’ she pointed at the first suit, who was behind her, ‘was ready to open fire.’
‘I can imagine. Where are you off to now?’
‘To meet the negotiators from both sides.’
The driver gunned his engine and was preparing to drive when Zeb felt it.
The faint ping from his inner radar.
His senses, finely tuned in combat situations all over the world, alerting him.
Someone was watching them.
‘STOP!’ he ordered.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Jerusalem
Three days after Assassinations
Eight days to Announcement
* * *
The driver slammed his brakes.
‘What? What’s up?’
Zeb held his hand up to silence him. He was looking straight ahead, trying to get a hang for his feel.
What he had wasn’t really a radar, of course. It was a survival instinct, one that predators in the jungle had. Battle-hardened operatives, those who spent long spells in hostile territory, had it. A warning that they weren’t alone, were being observed, or were in danger.
‘Carter, we’re running late,’ Bob said impatiently from the rear. ‘Why did you stop us?’
Zeb didn’t reply. He was scanning the area in front of them. A stronger than usual police presence on account of the press conference. Traffic returning to normal. Onlookers dissipating away. No parked vehicles in sight.
&nbs
p; He turned his head slowly. No one could see inside the vehicle, but sometimes sharp movements gave themselves away.
‘Carter!’ Bob repeated.
‘Bob, quiet,’ Alice Monash stopped him, steel in her voice. ‘I trust Zeb. Leave him be. My schedule can afford some delays.’
Zeb ignored all of them. Focused on two vehicles that appeared in their rearview mirror, one behind the other. A Toyota at the front. Its blinker came on as it swung around their Mercedes and sped away. It, too, had dark windows, but he thought he saw two shadows inside.
The second vehicle was empty. He craned his head to look out of the rear window. Everyone copied his move.
‘You saw something? Someone?’ Bob asked, his tone conciliatory.
‘I felt something. Like someone was watching us.’
He met Bob’s eyes and saw something flicker in them. Something like respect.
‘You’ve been in the field long?’
‘Yes … let’s go. I think whoever it was has gone. It could have been a false alarm as well. It happens sometimes, in crowded areas.’
The ambassador’s eyes were curious, but she made no comment.
‘Let’s do this. Let’s do an evasive maneuver, however. Ma’am, where are we heading? Which hotel?’
Alice Monash gave them the name.
I know where it is. Not far from where the attacks happened. Good hotel. Great security.
‘That name doesn’t leave the four of you,’ the diplomat warned. ‘You know the reason.’
They knew.
‘Ma’am, won’t people recognize this vehicle?’ Zeb objected.
‘I am not sure if you noticed, Zeb.’ There was a smile in her voice. ‘It has Israeli plates. It is registered to a local politician who is opposed to the prime minister. We’ll be parking at an adjacent hotel.’
He turned around to look at her, confused.
‘That hotel and our target have a common wall. A while back, a passage was made between the two. Conference rooms in each hotel on the ground floor on either side of that opening. Both rooms are situated at the back. Not much traffic to them. All that is why that hotel was chosen.’
