The Israeli Prime Minister was taken aback. ‘An amateur did this!’
‘And he typed out that report himself in his own words without help from me. That’s why it’s a mass of corrections. No secretary has seen it and nor has anyone in the Institute. Only the two of us - three now with you, sir.’
Eshkol reread a couple of paragraphs in silence before speaking.
‘An amateur he may be, but he seems to know what he’s talking about when it comes to Mirages.’
‘He’s a former Mirage pilot who served on the Dassault user committee, sir.’
‘Thank you, Emil. I can read. Presumably, he must know who you are if he came to you with this?’
The Israeli politician was intrigued by Emil’s uncharacteristic expression of discomfort.
‘No, sir,’ said Emil at length. ‘That report was written by my son. He doesn’t know what my job is. He gave me that report to pass on to the Institute’s director.’
Eshkol raised his grey eyebrows. ‘Daniel, isn’t it?’
Emil nodded. ‘He was invalided out of the Chel Ha’Avir after crashing his Mirage at the end of the Six Day War. He was working in London for El Al when he suddenly got this idea.’
‘Do you know something, Emil?’ said Eshkol, looking amused. ‘For the first time in your life I do believe you’re at a loss.’
Emil smiled ruefully. ‘Not really, sir. I came to you at this early stage because I believe there are certain advantages in having only three people know about this report. Such a project is going to need your wholehearted backing from the outset to get the support of the navy. We’re going to have to involve them. Stealing three tons of drawings is beyond my resources.’
Eshkol smiled at the understatement. I’ll back it in principle, Emil.’ ‘Meaning I can go ahead with initial planning?’
‘Why not use your son? He seems well qualified for the job and it was his idea.’
‘No, sir. That’s out of the question.’
‘Please yourself, Emil. I’m not going to interfere in the way you run the Institute, but I think you’re making a big mistake. Okay - get started on some initial planning and keep me informed.’
‘There’s something else, Prime Minister. You’re going to have to stall on the supply of those Hunters. If we go ahead, we may not have all the drawings inside six months, but we could be receiving drawings of essential spares to keep the Mirages flying. In three years we could find ourselves having to make the final payments on aircraft we don’t need when we could be spending the money on building aircraft that we do need.’
The Israeli Prime Minister nodded. ‘Luckair are pushing us hard to finalize the contract for the first ten Hunters. What do you suggest?’
‘The contract’s not completed?’
‘It’s due to be signed this week.’
‘Could it be changed to three Hunters?’
‘It could, Emil. The Chel Ha’Avir will probably heave a sigh of relief but I can see Jacob Wyel resigning over it.’
‘A sad loss to the government,’ Emil commented impassively.
Eshkol laughed. ‘And I don’t fancy Luckair will be too pleased either.’
8
JERUSALEM
Lucky flew into rage when he received Jacob’s telex. Robbie piloted him in a twin-engine Cessna direct from Blackbushe to Lod. Nine hours later he was installed in the King David Hotel and ranting at Jacob.
‘Three Hunters! Three! What fucking good is that! You promised me that the contract for the first ten was in the bag! Your own lying words - in the bag!’
Jacob tried to interrupt several times and had to give up. He glanced across at Robbie as if hoping for support but the sullen eyes stared right through him. Robbie was sitting in a chair, arms folded - taking everything in but saying nothing. Lucky was pacing up and down the hotel room, punching his fist into his palm to emphasize his points. His sunken eyes were wild and bloodshot with fury. He was like a caged, maddened wolverine and just as dangerous. The hapless Israeli almost cringed when Lucky stopped pacing and stood over him.
‘You know what three Hunters gives us! Just enough bloody cash flow to service the fucking loan on the airframes! Nothing else. Nothing. I’m going to have to lay off ten - maybe twenty - men and even that mightn’t be enough. So you go back to your sodding Cabinet and tell them that I’ve put everything on the line for them and their lousy country and that they’ve got to change their minds.’ ‘I’ve tried, Lucky—’ Jacob began.
‘Well, go back and try again! And keep trying until you make them see sense! Right now those Hunters are their best chance of keeping some sort of air force together!’
‘I’ll try and fix a meeting with Eshkol for tomorrow.’
‘Why not today?’
‘Because I can’t.’
Lucky calmed down. He sat on the coffee table in front of Jacob and stared at him in contempt. ‘Okay - so what’s going on?’
‘How do you mean?’
‘Who’s the supplier they’ve found?’
‘They haven’t found anyone. From what I’ve heard, this sudden change has come from Eshkol himself.’
‘Okay. So who’s got to him and with what sort of offer?’
Jacob looked despairing. ‘I keep telling you, Lucky - I don’t know!’
‘Jesus Christ! You must know something! Someone’s got to be doing some wheeling and dealing. You don’t order jet fighters from a fucking mail order catalogue!’
‘I’ll make some discreet inquiries.’
Lucky jumped up. ‘I’ll make some discreet inquiries,’ he mimicked savagely. ‘Jesus bloody Christ!’ For an ugly moment it looked as if he was going to smash his fist into Jacob’s face. Instead he resumed his agitated pacing. ‘Okay - so who’s Eshkol’s advisers?’
‘The chiefs of staff. Dayan. Eban. And the other ministers.’
‘Who else?’
Jacob was about to mention Emil Kalen’s name but thought better of it. ‘There’re the heads of the security services - Shin Bet, Mossad.’ Even before the words were out of his mouth, Jacob had a feeling that Emil and the visit of his son could somehow be behind this sudden and embarrassing policy change. It was a stupid notion. Emil had used his cover office simply because he didn’t want Daniel to know who he was. But what had Daniel been typing? Maybe it was something as simple as a letter of resignation from El Al. No - Jane Harel had reported that Daniel had been working on a long document when she had taken coffee into the young man.
Lucky saw Jacob’s hesitation and pounced. ‘You know something!’ he rasped.
‘I keep telling you that I don’t know anything,’ Jacob repeated wearily.
Lucky stepped forward and yanked Jacob to his feet by his expensive lapels so that the two men were face to face. The wild, almost insane look in Lucky’s eyes made Jacob flinch.
‘You find out what’s going on, Jacob. You find out everything and you tell me everything. I know the arms business inside out. If Israel have found themselves another supplier then it won’t be too hard to stop them. By legal methods if necessary - or even illegal methods. I’ve used them before for much less than is at stake now .... Haven’t we, Robbie?’
Robbie grinned. ‘We certainly have, Mr Nathan.’ It was the only contribution to the one-sided conversation that the surly man had made.
‘I don’t want to get involved in anything illegal,’ Jacob protested, trying to rescue his worsted suit from Lucky’s vice-like grip.
Lucky’s response was to pull Jacob even closer. This time he smiled; a thin, dangerous smile that was like a wolfhound baring its teeth at a defenceless prey. ‘Anything illegal, Jacob? That’s great coming from you.’ And then Lucky came close to really losing his temper. ‘I’ll tell you something, you fucking little pansy!’ he screamed. ‘If me and my firm goes down, I take you with me! No more covering up for you! And when it get’s out just how much you’ve been making out of this poxy little country with your holding in Luckair, there’ll be a stink that�
�ll have all your self-righteous maties screaming for your blood - and that’s before I tell them all about your liking for young lads! Now get out! OUT!’
Jacob got out. A woman from an adjoining room stared at him in the corridor. He mumbled something to her and left the hotel a badly shaken man.
9
LONDON
Daniel was sorting out clothes to take to the launderette when there was a rap on the door of his flat. It was Raquel.
‘Hallo, Rac!’
Not being the most demonstrative male in the world, it was left to Raquel to make all the moves. She took both feet off the ground as she clung to him in a long, passionate kiss. Daniel bore her weight - not thinking of the pain in his foot in the stirring excitement of returning her kiss.
‘So how was Paris?’ she asked when they separated.
‘They didn’t need me in Paris after all. Last minute change of plans. I used to live in Paris when I was working at Dassault’s. There’s nothing new there - so I thought I’d take a look round the country. It’s lovely to see you, Rac. I’ve missed you.’
‘Can I make coffee?’
‘Sure.’
That Daniel hadn’t lied about his trip had Raquel smiling with relief. ‘So where did you go?’
‘Central France. Over the Central Massif - through the Burgundy region - Basle.’ He grinned. ‘A typical motorist’s holiday - going everywhere and seeing nothing. I think I really got more of a kick out of the fast motoring on those fabulous roads .... I’ve missed you, Rac.’
‘It’s only been a week.’
‘It seemed like a month.’
Raquel looked at him seriously. ‘I’m going to make an improper suggestion that’ll save you money, Mr Kalen.’
‘I’m always interested in both, Miss Gibbons.’
‘What say I move in here and we split the rent fifty-fifty?’ ‘That’s a very improper suggestion, Miss Gibbons.’
‘Isn’t it just?’
‘Disgraceful. I’ll give you a hand with your things.’
They stared at each other and burst out laughing.
After they had made love that night, Raquel was unable to muster the courage to tell Daniel that she had followed him across Europe. Another time. What she did decide was that she would finish with
McNaill once and for all. Okay - so maybe she liked a spot of excitement - but she had had enough. Offices in London were screaming out for staff. There were hundreds of American girls in the city with work permits. Even if she couldn’t get one, she had the security of a cheque she had received that day from the Anglo- American Historical Fellowship. McNaill had kep his promise but Raquel had no qualms about not working for him any more. He had had his pound of flesh. Nothing was going to come between her and Daniel ever again.
Nothing ....
10
THE MEDITERRANEAN Saturday, 21 October 1967
Brigadier-General Alex Argov stepped on to the bridge of his command, the Eliat, and glanced at the sun hanging above the western horizon. The sabbath would be over in two hours. The air was still and warm. The twirling Decca radar scanners showed that there was no ship or aircraft near the destroyer to pose a threat and yet for Alex Argov and the two hundred and fifty men of his destroyer’s crew, this was going to be a sabbath in which naval history would be made.
Twenty miles to the south, in the harbour of Port Said, an Egyptian David was preparing to destroy the Israeli Goliath.
The ‘David’ was a 120-foot Russian-built OS A Class fast attack craft armed with four Styx surface-to-surface guided missiles. The craft was even smaller than some of the ancient Arab dhows that were moored nearby. All that afternoon, the Egyptian technicians had been sitting in the FAC’s cramped missile control room, plotting the Eliat’s course and speed as the unsuspecting destroyer - the largest warship in the Israeli navy - made her way down the Israeli coast. At 5.15pm the Russian adviser supervising the planning of the attack gave the order to fire 3 and 4. The magnesium igniters imbedded in the solid fuel cores of the two Styx missiles glowed white-hot. A few seconds later the cowls over the two aft launchers were engulfed in smoke and flame as the missiles streaked like meteoroids into the azure sky.
Something caught Brigadier-General Argov’s eye. At first he thought the two balls of fire climbing into the sky were distress rockets. But they were too bright and climbing too fast. Dread and despair closed around his heart like an icy hand. He thumbed the general stations alarm. Gun crews tumbled on to the deck and scrambled to their quick-firing anti-aircraft batteries.
They were too late: the two fireballs arched over at their zenith and struck the Eliat square amidships - their warheads detonating simultaneously as one cataclysmic explosion that tore the destroyer in two. Fifty Israeli sailors died when the Eliat went down a few hours later. It was the first time in history that a warship had been sunk by an out-of-sight enemy using guided weapons. When the
Eliat went down, it took with it the big ship aspirations of the world’s admirals. From now on the future of naval warfare lay with tiny fast attack craft and their deadly surface-to-surface missiles.
11
JERUSALEM
Emil was summoned to the Prime Minister’s office two days after the disaster.
‘Those FACs under construction at Cherbourg are vital to us now,’ said Eshkol. ‘Saturday’s sinking of the Eliat has changed everything. We need them badly and we’re going to put as much pressure as we dare on the builders to speed up deliveries.’
‘I don’t see that this affects me in any way, sir,’ Emil pointed out. Eshkol’s expression hardened. ‘Our ambassador in Paris was summoned to the Elysee yesterday. He was told in no uncertain terms that any retaliatory action by us over the sinking of the Eliat could lead to a total embargo on all arms supplies from France including the boats. We need those boats, Emil. And we’re not going to let threats by the French tie our hands in any way. Just in case de Gaulle does do something stupid, I want you to prepare contingency plans to remove the boats from Cherbourg. By legal means if possible; by illegal means if necessary.’
‘I’ll need the co-operation of the navy, sir.’
‘You shall have it.’ The politician’s face relaxed into a smile. ‘Plan it right, Emil, and if we do have to do anything drastic, it could fit in ' neatly with that idea to steal the Mirage drawings from Switzerland. Have you been working on that?’
‘Only some very preliminary planning, sir.’
‘I’ll leave it to you. My suggestion that you let your son play a part in the operation still stands, of course.’
Emil left the Prime Minister’s office very worried about the way events were going. His mental automatic pilot took charge of the car as he drove to Tel Aviv. He had spent the past few weeks sifting through his top operatives. None of them had the sort of aeronautical engineering experience that Daniel had rightly said was necessary for the success of the operation. That left only Daniel. Supposing he did put Daniel in charge of such an operation? Supposing it went wrong? What would be the effect on Daniel of a long prison sentence in Switzerland? Worse - what would be the effect on Leonora - especially if she ever found out that he was to blame? Emil gave an involuntary shiver. He had no doubt that
Leonora would leave him. Life without her would be unthinkable ... unlivable ....
A car hooting as it overtook shook Emil out of his reverie. He knew that for the first time in his career he was allowing personal considerations to cloud his judgement.
In a way, that was the biggest worry of all.
12
BLACKBUSHE AIRFIELD October 1967
Lucky didn’t think so but Rodney Braden was being as helpful as the terms of reference from his bank permitted.
‘There’s an old saying, Lucky,’ he observed. ‘When you owe your bank manager a thousand pounds - you’re at his mercy. When you owe him a million - he’s at your mercy. We don’t want to see Luckair go under.’
Lucky scowled. ‘For that I’m grateful.’
Braden tapped the cash flow report. ‘These figures are discouraging but not disastrous. The best way to buy time is to accept Hawker’s offer for twenty-five of the Hunter airframes.’
‘That bastard Raphael must’ve told them what I paid for them because their offer is for cost.’
‘It gives you cash by the end of the month, Lucky,’ said Braden in a reasoning tone. ‘If you want to buy time, you have to pay for it. It’s as simple as that.’
‘They want the twenty-five best airframes. That throws my unit cost estimates on rebuilding the rest out of the window.’
‘This about face by the Israelis has thrown everything out of the window,’ Braden pointed out. ‘At least my route gives you a chance to break even. Better that than being broken.’
Lucky controlled his temper. Even his unreasoning mind accepted that Braden was doing his best to salvage something from the mess. ‘So how long does that give me?’
The banker went over his figures. ‘Using the money from the sale of the airframes to pay off forty per cent of the principal on the loan ... and laying off five fitters—’
‘I’ve told you - I’ve never laid off anyone,’ Lucky snarled. Braden saw the determination in Lucky’s eyes and realized that further argument was impossible. He had already done well getting the hot-tempered factory-owner to accept the sale of the airframes. He rechecked his figures. ‘In that case, Lucky - unless the Israelis change their minds back - you’ve bought yourself a year.’
‘A year!’ Lucky spat. One miserable, sodding year in which the future of the company he had worked so hard to build hung in the balance.
‘Give or take a month either way,’ Braden added.
Lucky’s face twisted with hate. ‘Jesus Christ. If I ever find the bastards who’ve stitched me up I’ll give them something that’ll take them a fucking sight longer than a year to get over.’
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