“ And this isn’t nineteen sixty-seven. I can deliver the elections to you. I already have most of the pieces in place. Give me the green light, and I’ll do the rest.”
“ What’s the plan?”
“ That’s my business. I’ll secure your victory, and you’ll reward me with an appointment.”
“ There we go again.” Rabin chuckled. “You still want to run the Mossad?”
“ A good politician’s supposed to forget his broken promises.”
“ I remember those more than the ones I fulfilled.”
Almost three decades ago, on the eve of the Six Day War, IDF Chief of Staff Yitzhak Rabin had promised to appoint Elie Weiss to run Mossad-if Rabin ever became prime minister. But the appointment never came despite Rabin’s ascendance to the pinnacle of political power in 1974 and again in 1992. During those years, Elie had operated in Europe, where he hunted down elderly Nazis and performed unique tasks for successive prime ministers, who occasionally needed to bypass the Mossad for political, legal, or financial reasons.
Elie’s semi-independent Special Operations Department had its own funding sources, known only to him. And with the political winds shifting against the Oslo peace process, he saw his chance again. It was now or never. “My reward will be an appointment as intelligence czar. I’ll be your point man for Mossad and Shin Bet.”
“ Both of them?”
“ Yes.”
The prime minister removed his glasses and examined Elie, as if questioning his sanity. “You want to run Mossad and Shin Bet?”
This was a crucial moment. Should Rabin take the bait, Elie would control the most powerful spy apparatus in the world.
“ They’ll have their own respective chiefs,” Elie said calmly. “They’ll continue to report to you-through me. As part of your Prime Minister Office, I will coordinate all clandestine activities, including intelligence gathering and covert operations-domestic and overseas.”
“ I’m an elected leader, you’re not. I can’t vest so much power in one person. We’re a democracy. There’s a reason Shin Bet may only operate within our borders and Mossad only overseas.”
Elie gestured in dismissal. “It’s a meaningless distinction. An imitation of the American FBI and CIA. We’re a small country under siege, facing chronic existential risks. For Israel the line between domestic and overseas security is irrelevant.”
The demonstrators outside broke into a new chant: “ In blood, and fire, Rabin will expire! ”
The prime minister tilted his head at the window. “Bizarre, isn’t it? One day I’m signing a peace agreement in Washington to the tune of worldwide cheers, and the next day I’m sitting in my Jerusalem home and hear my countrymen call for my death.”
The chant grew louder. “ In blood, and fire, Rabin will expire! ”
*
In Paris, Gideon was soaping himself under a warm shower when he heard the bathroom door open. “Bathsheba?”
“Who else?” She dropped the toilet seat. “What are you using? It smells great!”
He made sure the curtain was closed. “Can I have some privacy?”
“Almost done.”
A moment later he heard her flush, which sent the water temperature spiking in the shower. “Ouch!” He stepped out of the stream. “Do you mind?”
“Sorry.” She laughed behind the curtain. “Need help scrubbing your back?”
“Don’t-”
Bathsheba stepped into the shower. She was naked but for her peace-sign necklace. “Worry not. I’m here for hygienic purposes only.” She snatched the sponge from his hand, made him turn around, and started scrubbing his back.
Gideon lifted his leg to step out of the shower. “This is totally unprofessional!”
“ We’re not professionals.” She blocked his way. “We’re rogue gunmen for an old butcher who suffers from a Holocaust complex.”
“ You underestimate Elie.”
“ And you underestimate me.” She used round motions, pressing the sponge to his skin at just the right force, leaving a fire that was a notch below actual pain, but high enough to make him groan. He leaned with both hands against the tiled wall, surrendering to her capable hands. She worked on his shoulders, treating his muscles to a soapy massage, scrubbed his neck up to his hairline, then traveled down his spine. “Nice ass,” she said.
“ Hey!”
“ Relax,” Bathsheba’s breath tickled his nape. “You’re in good hands.”
“ I’m not interested.”
“ We’ll see.” The sponge dropped by his foot. Her hand descended through the crease between his buttocks, pushed forward between his thighs, and collected his erection in a tight grip. “At least someone here is telling the truth.” She nibbled his arm while her other hand reached around his hip. “Let’s finish cleaning you up.”
*
Prime Minister Rabin shifted on the sofa as if he couldn’t find a comfortable position. “Look, Weiss, it’s not a bad idea to have someone in my office coordinate all Israeli intelligence operations. It’s practical. But you’re too old for such responsibility.”
“I’m a year younger than you and have fifty years of experience in clandestine activities.” Elie knew the prime minister couldn’t refuse a deal that guaranteed he would stay in power. This was mere posturing. “Any other issues?”
“ You’re not a team player.”
“ You mean, I won’t convene committees to ponder every operation long enough to make it obsolete?”
Rabin laughed. “That’s how the government works.”
“ Would you trust a committee to devise a secret plan to ensure your political survival?” Elie used the word survival to drive home the point. “And when you lose, what’s the future of your peace agenda under a Netanyahu government?”
“Oh, please.” Rabin shook his head. “There will never be a Netanyahu government. He barely made it to major in the army. The voters won’t put him in power.”
“The polls tell a different story.”
“ I don’t believe trickery would sway the voters. And I don’t fight dirty.”
“ My plan is fail-safe. And there’s no prize for an honest loser.”
“ Are you calling me a loser?” Rabin’s smile was lopsided, more hurtful than humored. “Tell me about the Paris situation.”
Elie swallowed his disappointment and responded in a measured tone. “With Al-Mazir out of the way, we’ll soon move on Abu Yusef and his Saudi sponsor.”
“Arafat will be delighted.” Rabin looked at Elie for a moment, as if contemplating whether to say something. “Tanya Galinski was here the other day.”
“ Ah.” Elie was immediately concerned. “We go a long way back.”
“ So I’ve heard. She’s doing an excellent job running Mossad’s Europe desk.”
“ Is she?” He wondered whether Rabin mentioned Tanya as a possible opponent to his appointment as intelligence czar.
“She was concerned,” Rabin said. “The spectacle of crashing cars and flying bullets so close to Paris seemed excessive. She said you’re better with a blade.”
“ The Munich Olympics massacre was also a spectacle. Al-Mazir’s death required equivalence.”
“ Tanya is upset with me.” The prime minister smirked, as if this was a personal tiff. “She gave me a little lecture about how only Mossad may operate abroad.”
“ Fine with me.”
“ Technically, that’s the law.”
“Do you want Mossad to take over the Abu Yusef situation?”
Rabin sighed. “Mossad has more lawyers than agents these days. I’ll be waiting for analysts to investigate, bureaucrats to exchange memos, accountants to authorize budgets, lawyers to issue caveats about the Geneva
