The palace interior was closed for the day, but the gardens stayed open till dusk. Long promenades bisected rows of perfectly trimmed shrubs and a sea of late-winter flowers. An obelisk decorated the sky. Sculpted fountains gushed foamy water. He soaked in the careful mixture of color or style, allowing the ambience to soothe his raw nerves, as it had once surely done for emperors.
He hoped Alle Becket was doing as he asked. He’d already forwarded all calls from the phone at the estate to Rocha’s cell phone, which he’d commandeered before leaving the car. When Alle called he’d be instantly available. What concerned him now was Brian Jamison’s identity. So he’d made another call and arranged a meeting.
His contact within the Israeli embassy was an undersecretary who’d provided a wealth of valuable information. He was young, ambitious, and greedy. But sitting on the bench at the far end of the garden was a middle-aged woman. Tall, full-figured, with long black hair.
The Israeli ambassador to Austria.
She stood as he approached and said in Hebrew, “I thought it was time we spoke face-to-face.”
He was alarmed and considered leaving.
“Relax, Zachariah. I’m a friend.”
“Enlighten me.” He kept to Hebrew.
She smiled. “Always so careful, aren’t you? So prepared. Except for today.”
They knew each other. Given his status as one of the wealthiest Jews in this part of the world it was understandable he’d be courted.
And this woman had done so.
She’d once been a teacher who joined the diplomatic service, first assigned to Central Asia. She’d taught at the National Defense College and served as the Knesset’s political adviser, which surely brought her in contact with much of Israel’s political elite. She’d been described as tough, blunt to the point of arrogant, and brilliant.
“In what way have I not been careful?” he asked.
“I know what you’re doing. I’ve been watching.”
Now he was concerned.
“Tell me, Zachariah, who do you think will soon emerge as our new prime minister?”
He caught her point. “Your name has never been mentioned.”
She smiled. “Which is the way it should be. A front-runner today is a loser tomorrow.”
He agreed, but remained on high alert.
“What you plan is audacious,” she said. “Ingenious, too. And most of all, it could work. But it’s what comes
“And
“Israel is in need of another Iron Lady.”
He smiled at the reference to Golda Meir, and the term used to describe her strength long before the Brits attached it to Margaret Thatcher. The first and only woman, so far, to be Israel’s prime minister, she was called by many “the best man in government.” Strong-willed, straight talking, her gray-bunned hairdo had lent her another title: grandmother of the Jewish people. He recalled his father and grandfather speaking of her with a deep reverence. She was one of twenty-four signatories on the Israeli declaration of independence in 1948. The next day war broke out and she fought like everyone else. She ordered the hunting down and killing of all the terrorists who massacred Jewish athletes during the 1972 Olympics. And she commanded Israel during the Yom Kippur War, making smart decisions that saved the state.
“Why are you telling me this?”
“As I said, you made a mistake earlier. The man you killed was an American intelligence agent. They’re watching you, too.”
“And why is that?”
She chuckled. “Okay, Zachariah. Be cautious. Watch every word. But know this. We’re here, talking alone. If I were your enemy you could be under arrest. Instead I sent men to clean up your mess. The body you left in that trash receptacle? It’s gone. I don’t like the Americans. I don’t like them in our business. I don’t like having to cater to them.”
Neither did he.
“Jamison was working with some of our people—off the record, unofficially. I have many friends, so I made sure those agents don’t like Americans, either. Check it out. You’ll find Jamison’s body gone and no mention of his death anywhere in the press. The Americans themselves will not learn of it for several weeks. Take that as my show to you of good faith.”
His thoughts were confused, a state he always tried hard to avoid. But he held his ground, kept his mouth shut, and listened.
“I’m returning home soon,” she said. “To stand for election to the Knesset. From there, I will position myself to be prime minister. My support is growing by the day and, hopefully, will surge after you do what you have planned.”
“How do you know what I plan?”
Her eyes narrowed. “Jamison learned quite a bit from Alle Becket. He’s had a full day to interrogate her, as you well know. He reported that information to his superiors
“So you have contacts with the Americans?”
She nodded. “Excellent ones. From what Jamison knew and I suspected, it was easy to piece the rest together. I must confess, I wish I’d thought of it.”
