Before the day was out the surviving members of the team would be back in Israel, trying to work out what went so wrong. In the coming days there would be reports to write, bodies to recover, funerals to attend, a nose to reconstruct. For the time being, they were no threat to him, but Victor knew the danger hadn’t passed. After tonight, more than ever before, Mossad would want his blood. They could get in line.

The reflection in the glass stared back at Victor. The eyes were unblinking black orbs set in a face without expression, distorted by raindrops. A translucent spectre hovering over the world beyond.

The bus headed out of the city. To where, he didn’t know. He didn’t much care. Victor closed his eyes, and let sleep take him.

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