The Pure

by Simons, Jake Wallis

  ‘It would need to be somewhere obscure,’ said Uzi. ‘How about somewhere in Latin America? Do you speak Spanish?’

  ‘No,’ said Leila, ‘do you?’

  ‘No,’ said Uzi. Leila burst out laughing. ‘What?’ Uzi protested. ‘We can learn.’

  ‘I was thinking more of Jakarta, Bali, somewhere like that,’ said Leila. ‘It’s remote enough, and beautiful enough, for our purposes. And there are elements there loyal to Iran.’

  ‘I like that,’ said Uzi. ‘We could have a wooden villa on the ocean with hammocks. And a maid to make us Nasi Campur.’

  ‘Nasi Campur?’

  ‘An Indonesian national dish – rice with peanuts, vegetables, meat, eggs and shrimp flakes.’

  ‘How do you know that?’

  ‘I just know.’

  They weaved their way through the narrow streets approaching the seafront. Leila was pressing close to him, he could feel the weight of her against his arm, could smell the scent of her perfume on the night breeze, and an intense wave of love broke through him. And with it, an intense wave of uncertainty.

  ‘Uzi,’ said the Kol. ‘Forty minutes.’

  Finally they broke free of the houses, hurried across the road and stepped on to the soft sand. The beach was deserted. Far off, lights twinkled. Leila paused to remove her shoes, and Uzi went on ahead; she ran to catch him up and swung into his arms. Uzi took her hand and led her down to the sea. Now that there was nowhere for them to run, and nowhere for them to hide, the bodyguard hung back a little, his AK-47 cradled loosely in his arms.

  ‘Hurry,’ said the Kol suddenly. ‘There is a cove about a hundred metres down, over that outcrop of rock. Hurry.’

  ‘Why don’t we head for that cove?’ said Uzi. ‘There might be more privacy there.’

  ‘I can’t see a cove.’

  ‘Just down there. Look.’

  ‘There’s no privacy anyway,’ said Leila, ‘not with our friend here. Let’s just sit down here and watch the waves.’

  ‘No, come on.’

  ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘Nothing. Trust me.’

  Leading her by the hand, Uzi strode through the sand towards the cove. The bodyguard called out but Uzi didn’t stop. He heard the man cursing, scrambling after them, his weapon scraping against the rocks. The moon was clear and vivid, and the world was enchanted with shadow. The ocean could be heard breaking on the shore, each wave releasing secrets that had been locked up in the depths for centuries. Leila fell silent.

  Before long, they scrambled down into the cove. Here the sand was softer than before, the waves were less energetic, and tiny shells were scattered in their thousands. A crab scuttled across their path, taking refuge in a crack in the rock; a starfish lay pulsating in the darkness by the edge of the water. The bodyguard, seeing that they had come to a halt, swore loudly and took up a position in the rocks. Uzi made a calming gesture to him and looked out to sea, catching his breath. He was sweating. Leila stood beside him, holding his hand, but not pressing against him any more. A streak of lunar light lay across the waves in front of them. On the horizon, tiny ships passed.

  Uzi’s ear itched. ‘Now is the time,’ urged the Kol gently. ‘Be subtle.’

  Uzi turned to Leila and drew her to him.

  ‘I need to talk to you,’ he said. ‘There are things I need to say.’

  ‘Let’s talk later,’ said Leila, gesturing subtly towards the bodyguard who was sitting just out of earshot, watching them closely. ‘You’ve been through a lot. This operation must have taken its toll. But it’s almost over now.’

  Uzi drew breath sharply. Then, gently, he pulled away from Leila and looked into her eyes. ‘Fate is strange,’ he said. ‘A strange thing. Like an ocean. You can be carried along in the waves for years, but then suddenly you need to swim against the current. Or die.’

  ‘What are you saying?’ said Leila uncertainly.

  ‘I’m saying,’ Uzi gathered his strength, ‘I’m saying that sometimes you need to decide your own fate. Like the tree of life – sometimes you must choose to follow a different branch. And now that time has come.’ He flicked his eyes, almost imperceptibly, in the direction of the bodyguard. ‘Can you feel the danger?’ he said.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Are you wondering why he’s watching us so closely?’

  ‘He’s only there as a precaution . . .’

  ‘Come on, Leila,’ said Uzi, lowering his voice to an urgent whisper. ‘What does your intuition tell you? Did you see the look in Ghasem’s eyes? Do you really think the MOIS will allow us to live happily ever after?’ A cloud passed across Leila’s face, and Uzi knew that something inside her was responding to his words. ‘Listen to your instinct,’ he continued. ‘They don’t trust us. They’re keeping us alive until the Israelis have made their move, then they’ll kill us both. And can you blame them? I’m a Katsa – there is nobody on the face of the earth that they hate more. And you’re in love with me. They’ll never let us live. They only let us come down to the beach so we don’t suspect anything.’

  She opened her mouth to deny it, but at first no sound came out. ‘You’re being too cynical,’ she said at last, her voice suddenly weak. ‘I’m their top operative. And you’ve helped them avoid . . .’

  ‘Don’t. There’s no time,’ said Uzi. ‘Don’t kid yourself. You know what I’m saying is true. We’re expendable to the MOIS. They have no reason to keep us alive. Once this is over, they’ll torture us to death. Now is the time to make our move. We’re only going to get one opportunity to be free.’

  ‘What could we possibly do?’ she said. ‘We’re surrounded on all sides. This place is swarming with MOIS. We can’t just swim across the Mediterranean. If we tried to escape, we’d be dead for certain.’

  ‘No,’ said Uzi with an intensity that made her draw breath, ‘we wouldn’t. I have a plan.’ He pulled away from her and took a cigarette from his pocket. Then he patted down his pockets and waved to the bodyguard.

  ‘A light. Do you have a light?’ he called. He could feel Leila’s body going tense. She began to say something, then fell silent.

  For a long moment, the bodyguard didn’t move. Then, reluctantly, he walked towards them rummaging in his pocket. As soon as he was within range Uzi seized the barrel of his gun and struck him a vicious blow to the throat. The man made a gurgling, wheezing noise and staggered. Uzi tried to pull the gun from his grasp but the man was strong and well trained; he twisted around, dropped to his knees and swung the barrel in an arc towards Uzi. Leila screamed and moved in to help, but then there was the sound of a gunshot – not loud – half the volume of a regular shot. The bodyguard lay dead in the sand.

  ‘You have a weapon?’ said Leila in disbelief. Uzi lowered his plastic M9, watching the bodyguard for any sign of movement. There was none. There were no longer three living people in the cove. Swing draw.

  ‘What have you done?’ said Leila. ‘What have you done?’ She began to pace back and forth in the moonlight, clasping her hands to her head. ‘You’ve signed death warrants for us both. They’ll come for us wherever we are. We won’t survive the night.’ He could see her visibly calming herself, drawing on her training.

  ‘They were going to kill us anyway,’ said Uzi. ‘You know it’s true.’ He went over to the bodyguard. The life had left him. His skin was white in the moonlight; a perfectly round, perfectly black hole was above his right eyebrow. It looked like a fly, as if you could brush it away with your hand. A dark halo was spreading into the sand beneath his head. Uzi picked up the AK-47. Had he been a split second slower, this would have been the weapon that killed him.

  ‘Nobody has ever escaped from Little Tehran,’ said Leila, her voice more controlled now. ‘I know what the security here is like.’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ said Uzi. ‘Listen to me. I’m just like you. You joined the MOIS because of your father. I joined the Mossad because of my family, the way I was raised. But we are our own people, Leila. We can
go somewhere together. We can be free.’

  Leila’s eyes flicked from his face to the ocean and back again. ‘I don’t know what you’re trying to tell me,’ she said. ‘You’re making no sense.’

  ‘Leila, Leila. I have to tell you something. I need to come clean . . .’

  Suddenly the woman’s expression changed. Her eye had caught a disturbance on the face of the water, far out in the strip of moonlight. ‘What’s that? I saw something. Seventy-five metres out.’

  Uzi took her arms and held her firm. ‘Look at me,’ he said. ‘I’m saying – god, I’m saying I want to be with you. I’m saying . . . I’m saying this has all been a mission for the Mossad.’

  A pause.

  ‘The Mossad?’

  ‘Yes. I’m still a Mossad operative. I’m just under cover. Deep cover.’ The secret was out. Time seemed to stand still. For the first time, Uzi saw Leila at a loss. Her mouth worked, but no words came; it was as if he had just shown her a conjuring trick. ‘There’s no time to explain,’ he said, his voice hoarse. ‘I’ve sworn that this is my last operation. I want to escape, to be with you. We can leave all this behind.’

  The Kol’s voice appeared softly in his ear. ‘Be subtle. We want her alive for interrogation.’

  ‘I – I don’t understand,’ said Leila. ‘You fucked the Mossad. You gave me all that intel. You helped us avoid an air strike. You’ve saved our nuclear weapons programme. It doesn’t make sense.’

  ‘Look, there’s no time to explain,’ Uzi repeated. ‘Anyway, it doesn’t matter any more. None of it matters. It doesn’t matter whether Iran wins this battle, or Israel wins – the war will be endless. The Mossad has been exploiting me, and the MOIS has been exploiting you. We’re both pawns, don’t you see? They both use operatives until they’re killed, then recruit more to fill their shoes. They don’t see us as human beings. They’re using us, just like they used that young boy to kill Ram Shalev. We need to get out of the whole game. Both of us.’

  He glanced over his shoulder. Two dark objects had broken the surface of the ocean thirty metres from the shore, a pair of black round domes bobbing side by side, trailing wisps of surf behind them. For a moment they disappeared as a wave swelled in front, then they reappeared again. Now more could be seen: the heads of two frogmen, their masks reflecting silver in the moonlight, their regulators like jewels in their mouths.

  ‘Gently,’ said the Kol. ‘Gently.’

  ‘I love you,’ said Uzi desperately. ‘I’d give up everything for you. I love you more than my country. Remember? Think – you said the same to me. I know you understand me, I know it. You’ve been made into a weapon in an endless war. We both have. Now the Mossad is coming to take me to safety. Come with me.’

  Suddenly Leila broke from his grasp and tried to run back towards the rocks. Uzi chased her, grabbed her in a bear hug. ‘If you go back to the MOIS, they’ll kill you. They’ll kill us both. Come with me. Come with me, and I’ll protect you.’

  ‘Then I will be a martyr for my country!’ said Leila. ‘My life is a price worth paying for a nuclear Iran!’

  ‘You don’t think that. I refuse to believe you think that.’

  ‘I’d rather be killed by MOIS than the Mossad,’ she replied. ‘Let my own people kill me, if that’s what I deserve.’

  ‘No – you deserve life! I told you, I have a plan. We’ll use the Mossad to get out of here. Then we’ll escape, I promise.’

  ‘You promise?’ she laughed bitterly. ‘I’m supposed to believe you because you promise?’

  She spun round and, in a seamless movement, tripped Uzi into the sand. He rolled onto his side and saw that in a flash she had grabbed the AK-47. ‘Leila,’ he said, ‘think. Who cares whether we escape from the MOIS or the Israelis? The important thing is that we stay alive. We can make a life together. We can go where no one will find us, and live a normal life.’ She didn’t respond. Slowly she raised the barrel until it pointed directly at his heart.

  There was a long pause. The sea whispered harshly into the silence. Out of the corner of his eye, Uzi saw the frogmen’s heads breaking the water. They weren’t far off now. He took his M9 carefully from his pocket and tossed it down in the sand.

  ‘Look,’ he said, ‘I’m at your mercy. This is your moment to decide. Kill me and kill yourself. Or take the chance of life – and trust me.’

  ‘I won’t allow the Mossad to interrogate me.’

  ‘Trust me.’

  ‘I can’t betray my country. I can’t betray my father.’ The barrel of the gun was perfectly steady.

  ‘Trust me, Leila. Together, we can do anything. Your country is using you, just as my country has been using me. We’ll piggyback out of here with the Mossad, then escape and disappear. We’ll start a new life. A normal life. To go back to the MOIS will mean certain death. Come with me, and there will at least be a chance.’

  Leila lowered the gun, first by an inch, then two; then it dropped to the sand.

  ‘Well done,’ said the Kol quietly.

  The frogmen arrived. Like mythological creatures, they rose to a standing position, removed their fins and jogged into the cove, the sand clogging on their feet. Each was armed with an APS Special Underwater Assault Rifle, and their suits were studded with equipment.

  ‘We can do this,’ whispered Uzi. ‘I promise.’ He raised a hand; the frogmen raised theirs in return, and jogged over to him. They lowered their masks, revealing quick, intense eyes. Their wetsuits glistened like dolphin skin. When they caught sight of Leila, they lifted their weapons and eyed her suspiciously.

  Uzi joined the frogmen, who were starting to unpack equipment: wetsuits, masks, BCDs, weighted belts, air cylinders. He passed a set to Leila, and began to put one on himself. She hesitated, picked up the wetsuit, put it down again. Then she turned and took a few steps back towards the rocks, the eyes of Uzi and the two frogmen following her. Her body language revealed great distress. One hand was on her forehead, the other wrapped around her stomach; she was shaking her head and shifting her feet in the sand. This was a woman being torn, in body, mind and spirit, between two different worlds.

  She turned back to face them, and for the first time Uzi saw her face purely, without the layers of different masks that normally concealed it. She took one step closer, then another; then she stooped towards the AK-47 that was lying on the sand. Instantly the frogmen raised their weapons. Her hand hovered in the air above the gun. Then she straightened up, and Uzi could see that her eyes were moist with tears.

  ‘Come on,’ he said softly. ‘I’m with you. I’m offering you a life. Come on.’

  She took a deep breath, filling her lungs as if for the last time with the fragrant air of Syria. Then she came over to join them, picked up the wetsuit, and, without looking at any of them, began to take off her clothes.

  ‘We should disable her,’ mumbled one of the frogmen in Hebrew. ‘Bring her in unconscious.’

  ‘What,’ said Uzi, ‘and have her drown on the way?’

  ‘We’ll hold her regulator in her mouth. She’s too dangerous. We can’t take any chances.’ The frogman opened a pouch on his belt and Uzi saw the head of a syringe glinting in the moonlight. He stepped in front of the frogman, screening it from Leila.

  ‘It’s too risky to transport a high-value prisoner unconscious under water,’ he hissed. ‘The regulator might slip out of her mouth. Her tongue might block it. She could choke. Look, I’ve persuaded her to come of her own accord. Leave her be. I’ll take full responsibility.’

  ‘I’m not going to compromise our mission,’ said the frogman, stepping forward.

  ‘This woman is a senior MOIS operative,’ Uzi replied. ‘Interrogating her could save many lives. Jewish lives. I’m not going to risk bringing her in dead.’ The man hesitated. ‘I’m not asking for your opinion,’ said Uzi. ‘The prisoner is not going under water unconscious. I’m the senior officer here, and that’s an order.’

  Reluctantly the frogman conceded. Uzi, seeing that Leila
had put on her full equipment, beckoned her over. Then, with her permission, he handcuffed her to his wrist. The hatred between her and the frogmen was palpable, and Uzi tried to stop her glancing at them. For what seemed like eternity, he looked into her eyes. The whole universe was reflected in those two silent globes; the ancient struggle of humanity against itself. Uzi and Leila did not kiss. They pulled their masks over their eyes.

  When the four of them reached the waterline, they put on their fins, placed their regulators in their mouths and slipped into the water like turtles. Uzi began to swim out after the frogmen, pulling Leila after him. Just before he went under, he looked at her. She was floating on the surface, bobbing gently; water was lapping at her face. What could be seen of her skin was marble in the moonlight, and the mask was reflecting the stars. Behind her, on the beach, he could just make out the dead bodyguard, the AK-47, and two crumpled piles of clothes. The time had come. He dived, pulling Leila behind him into the depths, without even the slightest splash.

  43

  The four divers clung to the wet sub, tunnelling like an eel through the black depths of the Syrian Mediterranean. In this watery alter ego of the world, the conflicts between men and countries seemed irrelevant. From time to time Uzi looked at Leila, but he couldn’t see her eyes behind her mask, in the murky water, in the darkness. They rode the wet sub for what seemed like hours. Then, several miles off the coast, they cut the engine and guided the machine towards the surface. From beneath the shimmering face of the water they could see the hull of a large yacht, silhouetted against the moonlit sky. The wet sub gradually rose through the water until it was directly below the vessel. They activated its electromagnets and, with a dull clang, the sub adhered to the hull; they finned around the side of the boat before silently breaking the surface.

  The ship towered above them into the star-speckled sky. Its engine was idling quietly and all the curtains were drawn across the windows; here and there some dim light could be seen spilling through the cracks. This was more than just a ship. Uzi recognised it at once. This was the Minerva, a 377-foot vision of luxury, a billionaire’s plaything, with a helipad, a luxury spa, a swimming pool and a miniature escape-submarine. To the casual observer, it would seem as if a powerful oligarch was taking a discreet pleasure cruise in the warm waters between Cyprus and Syria. To the coastguard, this was the sort of ship that should be left well alone. But to Uzi it meant something else. It meant he was free, and that sent a frisson of emotion through him like a sudden storm. One of the frogmen made a radio transmission and within seconds a rope ladder was flung over the side and landed with a splash in the water. It was impossible for Uzi and Leila to climb the ladder while still cuffed together; Uzi opened the handcuffs and went ahead, while the frogmen kept a close eye on Leila. At the top, friendly hands helped him over the railing and into the yacht itself. Then they hauled the prisoner up and into the vessel.