around the beltway would be cutting down another forest of trees to produce a flurry of ‘impact statements’ on how the elections might affect US interests. If Tom Schweiker was right about Kaufmann and Sartawi knowing each other well, and they were already drafting a peace plan, Washington would be reduced to observing the process from the sidelines. Probably not a bad thing, he thought as he opened the next report from Echelon.
In the time he’d been in Tel-Aviv Mike McKinnon had made a little progress, particularly with the phone intercepts. ‘Cave One’ was almost certainly at Qumran and Tom had been more than happy to fill him in on Lonergan who, he had noted, was now overseas and headed for Florence, but ‘Free-standing Chubb circa 1950’ had him intrigued. Was it possible that there was something in a safe in the quiet surrounds of a biochemistry laboratory in the Hebrew University, something so sensitive that someone was going to extraordinary lengths to remove it? Safecracking and lock picking were just two of McKinnon’s many talents. The boys in the basements at Langley were among the best in the business and Mike had taken the trouble to hone his skills. He had also spent many hours on the indoor range before he had satisfied himself that he was back up to scratch with his weapon of choice. Rather than the. 22 that most agents used, Mike preferred a Heckler-Koch Mark 23. 45 ACP calibre with a silencer and a laser aimer that had been developed for US Special Forces. He had a feeling he would need it.
Venezia
‘Giovanni here.’
‘The Prime Minister of Israel, Eminence,’ Vittorio announced.
‘Thank you.’
The line crackled and the distinctive voice of Yossi Kaufmann could be heard.
‘ Buongiorno Giovanni, it’s Yossi.’
‘Yossi. Congratulations! How is it going? I’ve been praying for you.’
‘Thank you, Giovanni! It’s almost going too well. I’m meeting with Ahmed in a week’s time and our draft on the peace agreement is pretty well agreed, at least by us, although I don’t want to get ahead of ourselves,’ Yossi said. ‘There is still furious opposition from some of the settlers on our side, even though the compensation package is very generous. Where we can, we will let them stay and compensate the Palestinians with Israeli land, and I think they’re coming around.’
‘What about the fundamentalists?’ Giovanni asked.
‘The key to getting Hamas, Islamic Jihad and the Al-Aqsa Martyrs Brigade on our side is the promise of a Palestinian State, Giovanni. Some of their members will never renounce terrorism, but if we can get the bulk of them on board, including the leadership, the fanatics can be marginalised. Ahmed and I are both confident we can pull this off and we’re going to strike while the mainstream enthusiasm is there. When we have a date, what would your reaction be to taking a small part in a peace ceremony? We don’t plan to mix religion with State here, so it would be a personal rather than an official invitation. When we’ve ironed out the details, the signing will take place underneath the Damascus Gate between a Jew and a Muslim. It seems to me that Abraham would not object if we got the support of Christianity as well?’
Giovanni laughed as he thought back to their fishing trip.
‘I’d be delighted,’ he said.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Jerusalem
Y usef Sartawi opened the door of the safe house at the sound of the pre-arranged knock. Despite the mission that was being planned, Wasfiheh Khatib looked calm and untroubled, almost peaceful. Just nineteen, the striking young woman was studying sociology at the Palestinian Al-Quds University in Ramallah. To make ends meet she drove an ambulance on weekends and it was this that had pushed her to a state of utter despair. When her ambulance had been shot at by Israeli soldiers she had put it down to a mistake, but in the past few months it had happened repeatedly and she had been wounded twice. The Red Crescent uniform made no difference to the Israeli soldiers. Too many times Wasfiheh had cradled a dying child in her arms, and too many times she had tried to stem the lifeblood of many others who had lost a leg or an arm at the hands of the Israelis.
Yusef checked beyond the doorway and ushered Wasfiheh inside.
‘The restaurant is Numero Venti,’ he said, pointing to King George V Street and Ha Histradrut in a street directory. ‘It’s an upmarket restaurant and the targets often dine there. You have a booking to eat there next week,’ Yusef said, handing Wasfiheh an envelope. ‘Familiarise yourself with the layout and wear something stylish but nondescript. Once we are happy that you know the target and you are thoroughly familiar with wearing the explosives we will put you on standby. You will have to be able to respond quickly as we sometimes only get one or two hours’ notice of a booking.’
Wasfiheh nodded calmly.
Yusef pulled two photographs out of a folder. They were the standard Hebrew University mug shots that were taken of all lecturers and staff.
‘Memorise the faces of the infidels so that when the attack is finalised you can get as close to their table as possible before you detonate the belt.’
‘Mine will be the last face they will see.’ At last Wasfiheh felt empowered and the lives of the innocent would be avenged.
Tel-Aviv
Mike McKinnon waited for the encryptions to boot up on his computer and for the latest report from Echelon to appear on his screen. Two days before he’d had a breakthrough. An Echelon report had provided a printout on a mobile that had been tracked by satellite to a laneway off Yehuda ha-Yamit, not far from Tel-Aviv’s port of Old Yafo. Armed with the necessary diplomatic clearances for any roadblocks, Mike had found the laneway and an old garage under an ancient stone building, but his reconnaissance had yielded nothing more. Now, as the most recent intercept appeared, it looked as if he’d hit paydirt. Operation Omega. Echelon Intercept Tel-Aviv. 261200Z hours. ‘Repair of safe approved and clearances in place. Proceed 1500 tomorrow.’
Mike checked the date/time group and then the number of the mobile. It matched the ‘Yes, I am in position – they are at the entrance to Cave One’ intercept. It seemed that whatever was in the safe was associated with the surveillance on Dr David Kaufmann and Dr Allegra Bassetti. Might that mean, he wondered, that the pair had found something quite significant, significant enough for Hamas to dispatch someone to retrieve it?
The next day, just after 2.30 p.m. Mike parked his beige Renault Clio sedan where he could see down the laneway and waited. He was on his own, acutely aware that he was making decisions that the Director of the CIA would rightfully deny. Worse still, with the intercepts posing more questions than they answered, there were gaping holes in the intelligence. Mossad would not take too kindly to any attempt to steal a scroll and without their help Mike had been forced to put together a plan that was based on instinct – follow the Hamas operative and wait for an opportunity.
A little further along the road Giorgio Felici put down his binoculars and wondered why the CIA would have an interest in a Dead Sea Scroll. Hamas might need a little help, he mused, absentmindedly feeling for his Beretta Cougar hidden under his Armani jacket.
At 1500 hours, a swarthy-faced Arab emerged from a side gate. The garage doors underneath the old stone house were not the usual tilta-door or roller variety. They were big, heavy wooden doors that opened like a concertina and Mike watched as the stocky Arab began, with some difficulty, to force them apart. Shortly afterwards the Arab drove out in a dark green van, its sides painted with gold lettering: Leibzoll Safes and Security, 84 Ben Yehuda Street, Tel-Aviv.
The lane was quite a distance from Ben Yehuda Street and Mike McKinnon concluded that although Leibzoll Safes and Security were probably a legitimate company, this van was one they didn’t know they owned.
The van driver didn’t seem in any hurry as they negotiated the traffic in Tel-Aviv but once they got onto Route 1 and the freeway to Jerusalem the van sped up with Mike following at a distance. Three roadblocks, which the van took far more time to get through than he did, and an hour later, the ‘safe man’ reached the Mount Scopus campus of the Hebrew University. After a brief discussion where the guard on the entrance appeared to be giving directions, the Arab was waved through. Sometimes the Israelis could be very cooperative Mike thought grimly, wondering whether he should follow the van onto the campus. That, he thought, would only attract attention and he settled
