glare of two standing lamps. Gabriel could only imagine how the heat blooms must have appeared to the Predator drones overhead. He felt as though he were sitting in the jihadi version of a television studio, with Rashid playing the role of confrontational host. Malik, master of terror, was pacing slowly behind the cameras. That was the nature of their relationship, thought Gabriel. Rashid was the on-camera talent. Malik was the dogged producer who saw to the messy details. Rashid inspired. Malik maimed and murdered, all in the name of Allah.
When Rashid finally concluded his opening monologue, he turned to the main portion of this morning’s program: the interview. He began by asking Gabriel to state his name and place of residence. When Gabriel answered, “Roland Devereaux, Quebec City, Canada,” Rashid showed a flash of anger. There was a petulance to it that Gabriel might have found amusing if he were not surrounded by men with curved
“Your
“You know my real name.”
“Why won’t you say it now?” asked Rashid. “Are you ashamed of it?”
“No,” said Gabriel, “I just don’t use it often.”
“Say it now.”
Gabriel did.
“Where were you born?”
“In the Valley of Jezreel, in the State of Israel.”
“And where were your parents born?”
“Germany.”
Rashid clearly saw this as proof of a great historical crime. “Your parents were survivors of the so-called Holocaust?” he asked.
“No, they were survivors of the
“Are you employed by the intelligence service of the State of Israel?”
“Sometimes.”
“Are you an assassin?”
“I have killed in the line of duty.”
“You consider yourself a soldier?”
“Yes.”
“You have killed many Palestinians?”
“Yes, many.”
“Are you proud of your work?”
“No,” Gabriel said.
“Then why do you do it?”
“Because of people like you.”
“Our cause is just.”
“Your cause is grotesque.”
Rashid seemed suddenly rattled. His exclusive was not going as planned. He guided it back onto firmer ground.
“Where were you on the evening of August 24, 2006?”
“I was in Cannes,” Gabriel said without hesitation.
“In France?”
“Yes, in France.”
“And what were you doing there?”
“I was supervising an operation.”
“What was the nature of this operation?”
“It was a targeted killing.”
“And who was the target?”
“Abdul Aziz al-Bakari.”
“Who ordered his assassination?”
“I don’t know.”
Rashid clearly did not believe him but appeared unwilling to waste valuable airtime on ancient history. “Did you take part in his actual killing?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Did you see Nadia al-Bakari that night?”
“Yes, I did.”
“When did you see her next?”
“In December.”
“Where?”
“At a château north of Paris.”
“What transpired next?”
What transpired, said Gabriel, was an elaborate operation to blackmail one of the richest women in the world into doing the bidding of Israeli and American intelligence. Through an informant, the CIA had learned that Rashid’s nascent network was desperately in need of financial assistance. The Agency wanted to provide the money to the network and then track it as it moved through the various cells and business fronts. There was only one problem. The money had to come from someone the terrorists trusted. The CIA asked Israeli intelligence whether it had any ideas. Israeli intelligence did. Her name was Nadia al-Bakari. An emissary of Israeli intelligence visited Miss al-Bakari in Paris under false pretenses and made it clear that AAB Holdings would be destroyed if she didn’t agree to cooperate.
“How was the company to be harmed?” asked Rashid.
“Through a campaign of well-orchestrated leaks to our friends in the media.”
“Jewish friends, of course.”
“Yes, of course.”
“What would have been the nature of these leaks?”
“That AAB Holdings was a jihadist enterprise, the way it had been under her father.”
“Go on.”
Gabriel complied. For the camera, he adopted an expression of reticence. It was a lie, like the other lies that flowed from his swollen lips. He spun them slowly and in great detail. Rashid appeared to hang on every word.
“Your account is interesting,” Rashid said, “but I’m afraid it contradicts what we’ve already been told by Miss al-Bakari. She says she willingly helped you.”
“She was instructed to say that.”
“You threatened her?”
“Constantly.”
“Where did the money come from for the operation?”
“It was Nadia’s.”
“You forced her to use her own money?”
“That’s correct.”
“Why didn’t you use government money?”
“Budgets are tight.”
“You couldn’t find a wealthy Jewish donor to fund the project?”
“It was too sensitive.”
Rashid looked contemptuously at the camera, then at Gabriel. “Miss al-Bakari visited Dubai yesterday,” he said after a moment. “What was the purpose of the visit?”
“I believe she was there to conclude a major land and development deal.”
“The real purpose, Allon.”
“We sent her there to identify a senior operative in your network.”
