A Spy in Exile

by Jonathan de Shalit

  “Yes,” she said. “We have an excellent team. They need to get a little more polished and then we can add a second batch of cadets. Apart from that, we also need to set up a technology team. We need special equipment and means, specifically suited to our tasks. We can’t keep using only the kind of things you can find on a shelf, or get from Goran and his people. I’ve been thinking about bringing in two young guys I know, two engineers. She’s a mechanical engineer and he’s an electronics engineer. I want us to try to recruit them when we’re in Israel. He works in hi-tech these days, I think she works for Rafael, the defense technology firm. We need to find a way to convince them that we can offer them something more interesting.”

  “I can see we won’t be getting much rest in Israel. And I’m assuming you remember that I’m going away for a month in April?”

  “Of course I remember. I just can’t recall which mountain you’ll be climbing this time.”

  “Kilimanjaro.”

  “Do you know the song, the French one?” Ya’ara started humming the tune of Pascal Danel’s “Les Neiges du Kilimandjaro.”

  “You couldn’t hold a tune to save your life,” he said to her affectionately.

  “That’s true,” she replied, “but I love that song. I think I was born thirty years too late.”

  “You were born right on time.”

  “Right on time or not, we need to hold some kind of a ceremony, don’t we? And find a name for our unit. We can’t go on like this without a name.”

  “Any ideas?”

  “I don’t know. The name Sirocco keeps playing in my head. Does it sound like a suitable name for a unit of covert fighters? It reminds me of intense heat, the desert, an easterly wind, a storm from the east, something that scorches everything in its path, that kind of thing.”

  “A little bit of heat in this freezing cold Europe wouldn’t hurt at all,” Aslan said. “Sirocco is good. It could also be an acronym, perhaps. For example, S—service, security, stealth.”

  “Savagery.”

  “I—intelligence, initiative, innovation.”

  “Impunity.”

  “Come on now, Ya’ara. Lucky we don’t have psychologists in the unit. They’d have ruled you out a long time ago.”

  “Lucky indeed. R—revenge, retribution, risky.”

  “We don’t have to decide now, right?”

  “Okay, I get it. We’ll keep thinking. It’s only for them, so they can feel they’re a part of something bigger. We’ll start tomorrow with the debriefings regarding the operations in Brussels and London. We’ll put everything on the table and discuss it all. The tactical disadvantage with which I carried out the mission in Brussels, the death of the young girl in London, the risky association with the arms suppliers, the selection of targets.”

  “And you think our cadets are ready for such openness?”

  “I don’t know of any other way. It’s the only way to learn, to get better. If it’s tough for them, they need to deal with it. They aren’t children.”

  Aslan thought of the long way the cadets had come in such a short time.

  “I suggest we conduct the debriefings here, in Berlin,” he said, “but that we conclude the course in Israel. Perhaps where we all met up for the first time. In the Galilee. Being abroad is a little like being in a movie. But ultimately we need to go back to having both feet on the ground. Our ground.”

  Ya’ara nodded with a sense of relief. Aslan had found the exact right words, the thing she was missing. He reached over the armrests of the chairs, found Ya’ara’s hand, and gave it a small squeeze of affection. She responded with a smile, strands of light hair hiding her eyes. She brushed her hair back, sat up straight, and said: “Let’s get out of here and go to some fancy bar with women wrapped in fur coats and men in evening suits. We’ll drink a toast to the end of the course and the fact that we’re here. Alive and well with plans to live full lives and more.”

  “We deserve it, that’s for sure. I’m with you, let’s go.”

  73

  BERLIN, MARCH 2015

  After two and a half hours of debriefing, everyone took a break. The cadets milled around the coffee machine, and Helena motioned to Ya’ara that she’d like to speak to her.

  “So let’s talk,” Ya’ara said to her.

  “No,” Helena responded. “Not here. Let’s talk in your office, if possible.”

  Ya’ara, out of habit, settled into the chair behind her desk, but Helena remained on her feet. She was standing there wonderfully upright, and something about her posture reminded Ya’ara of a Roman soldier. And there was something else there, something she couldn’t quite put into words for herself. She invited her to take a seat, but Helena said she’d rather stand. They both looked at Ya’ara’s bare desk, which was completely devoid of any picture, any item of a personal nature. Ya’ara folded her arms in front of her, and Helena thought for a moment that they, too, appeared to be props, just like the desk. In some way, it made things easier. Helena shared Ya’ara’s penchant for privacy.

  “I don’t think I can continue,” Helena said.

  “Has something happened?”

  “It’s something to do with me.”

  “Is it because of what happened with the girl in London?”

  “You brushed over it very quickly during the debriefing, didn’t you?” Helena asked, lifting her chin a little. Here we go, the debriefing isn’t over just yet, Ya’ara thought to herself. She calmly repeated what she had said to the cadets just an hour earlier. “You know as well as I do that it was an accident,” she said. “And accidents happen.”

  A tense silence fell over the room. Helena was the first to break it. “In any event,” she said, “I’ve already told you. It’s something personal, unrelated to the course.”

  “You know,” Ya’ara responded, “I have to admit I’m disappointed. I expected more of you. I saw more in you. To tell you the truth, I saw myself in you at your age.” Only after voicing the words did Ya’ara realize that she wasn’t trying to be manipulative, she was speaking the truth. Helena reminded her of herself; they shared that same sense of detachment from the crowd.

  Helena replied quickly. “I don’t think we’re alike,” she said.

  Ya’ara ignored her last statement. She stood up from her chair and approached her cadet. “I need you to know that you’re truly excellent,” she said. “You’ll be a great combatant. But only if you want it. No one’s going to force you to do anything you don’t want to do. And no one can. And if you need help with anything, tell me. I suggest we take a look at what’s bothering you. And then we’ll see if there’s something we can do about it. We’ll break down this whole thing, whatever it may be, into small pieces, and we’ll see how we can deal with them one by one.”

  “It’s nice of you to say we’ll see, we’ll break down, and we’ll understand. But I’m not so sure that it’s a matter for the two of us. It’s first and foremost my issue. Something I need to figure out. I may be able to share it with you. But first I need to understand what I’m feeling.”

  Ya’ara realized that the conversation was over. Strange, she thought, that at the end of it all, Helena had remained a sealed box, whereas she, Ya’ara, who had faced far more complex situations than a talk to clear the air with a closed and stubborn cadet, had found herself at a disadvantage. Yes, she could have made her continue, but didn’t want to do it like that; that wasn’t the way to go about it. It’s a job you’re married to, that you breathe, that you go to sleep and wake with. If Helena wasn’t the person she thought she was, there was no point in trying to persuade her. And if she was that person, she needed to come back of her own accord.

    • • •

  The first day of debriefings came to an end only when evening fell. Everyone felt spent. The intensity of the discussions drained them of energy. With hindsight they knew how they could have planned better, operated safer, caused less collateral damage, an ugly word for killing an innocent young girl. But one ne
ver has the benefit of hindsight when things are happening so fast, sometimes at the speed of a bullet. They would do better next time. They had done quite well this time. They were tired but content.

  Ann approached Helena, who was lingering at the door. “Should we go get something to eat?” she asked, her hand touching Helena’s for a moment. “Feel like it?”

  “More than anything else,” Helena said, her tone more serious than Ann’s. “And besides, I don’t know when we’ll have another opportunity.” They walked side by side down the wide steps of the old, elegant building, which was built at the beginning of the twentieth century and somehow had survived the war. “It hurts me to say good-bye to you like this,” Helena said simply.

  “Maybe we don’t have to say good-bye.”

  “You’re more naïve than I thought,” Helena said with a pained smile. She didn’t say a word about Daniel, Ann’s husband. There was no need to. They had already guessed each other’s thoughts, and Helena knew that her feelings didn’t match those of Ann. She felt that for the first time in her life she was exactly where she was meant to be, with the woman she needed to be with. But for that same reason, in fact, she had to leave and walk away.

  The cold mercilessly penetrated their open coats, and they both quickly tightened the scarves around their necks.

  “This is fun,” Ann said simply. “I’m happy when I’m with you.” She linked arms with Helena.

  Helena tried to tone down her feelings. She also wanted to say she was having fun and felt good. She tried a different approach. “You know,” she said, “perhaps we’re taking advantage of the fact that we’ve disappeared from our real world, and in the bubble in which we’ve been living for the past few months we’ve allowed ourselves to experiment . . .”

  “Is that what you think?” Ann asked, her beautiful eyes wide-open and gazing at Helena, who whispered to herself to be brave. She couldn’t expose her true feelings to her. She knew she’d panic, she’d recoil. For Ann, this was all a game, nothing more. And very soon, each of them would return to their real lives. It’s better to walk away than to have someone walk away from you, she thought, reiterating what her mother had told her again and again. And that’s exactly what she intended to do.

  “Of course it’s experimenting, sweetheart,” Helena said to Ann in a calm tone. “You’re the most exciting thing that’s ever happened to me. And it could never have happened in any other way in my life. It’s not the kind of thing that happens in the mapped-out life of a Russian girl destined for greatness. It could only have happened here. And here it will remain, too.”

  They made their way along the Ku’damm, the main street of the western part of Berlin, up close to each other, indifferent to the hordes of people pacing briskly all around them.

  “The most exciting thing that’s happened to you is this course, not me,” Ann responded. “I don’t even want to think about what would happen if you were forced to choose between this work and me.” She smiled weakly at Helena. And Helena didn’t tell her that she had already made her choice, that she had chosen her, the lovely and enchanting Ann, and that’s exactly why she was leaving her.

  When they were sitting together at the small restaurant, too, allowing themselves to hold hands, Helena continued to try to maintain her relaxed façade, but a voice in her head kept telling her softly to remember every detail because this was the last time they’d be sitting together like this, the last time she would be seeing Ann just inches away from her, breathing her in. And maybe it was the last time, too, that she’d be a part of the team, under the command of Ya’ara, who had both angered and amazed her, a part of the calling that had fulfilled her wildest and most daring dreams. The pain of parting burned inside her, but she smiled at Ann and turned her attention to the smell of flowers that hung in the restaurant air. At that exact moment, they both thought of springtime.

    • • •

  Ya’ara turned out the lights in the production office and locked the door behind her. Helena and Ann were long gone, but Ya’ara could still sense the electrical pulses that lingered in the narrow space that had separated them. She was concerned. She felt as if she had allowed Helena to slip through her fingers, but she didn’t know how to stop her or whether to do so at all. She didn’t have answers regarding her. She wanted to be with Aslan, but he had disappeared on her and she didn’t call him. It wouldn’t be good for him to think she needed him. She was alone, and she’d be wise to get used to it. She walked down the wide stairs and vanished into the darkness.

  74

  BERLIN, MARCH 2015

  Nufar and Assaf went out walking by the river again. The Spree this time, in the heart of Berlin. They felt drained after the long day of debriefing.

  “You know something,” Assaf said, appearing to edge closer to her with every step, “today was the first time I understood the extent of the risks involved in the plan we adopted for the Brussels operation. Like walking on a razor’s edge.”

  Nufar looked at Assaf with an amused smile, and he felt obliged to defend his choice of words. “Yes, it was a wild gamble,” he added. “And though it succeeded, it could also have failed.”

  “You’re wrong,” Nufar responded. “Ya’ara took advantage of the element of surprise, the ability to terrify and intimidate, to the very fullest. She wore a gas mask not only to protect herself from the tear gas, it was psychological warfare, too. And she must have looked like an alien monster to them at the time. And she managed to clearly point out to the Belgian prison guards the balance of forces between them. She was there to kill, but Hamdan only. They mostly just wanted to go home. She planned a brilliant operation, and created a situation in which she had an excellent chance of coming out on top. Nothing less. A little like David and Goliath.”

  “So who’s who in this story?”

  “Ya’ara is David, and the Belgian prison guards are Goliath. But in my opinion, Goliath didn’t stand a chance. When David went out to fight him, his victory was guaranteed, and not only because Goliath underestimated his strength. David was quick and light on his feet, he was out of Goliath’s range, he used a weapon that made Goliath’s armor and shield ineffectual. You see, it really was a battle between enemies of unequal strength. But the stronger of the two, in fact, was David. That’s clear. It’s clear to me. He’s the future. Goliath went to battle guaranteed to lose.”

  Nufar stopped talking and started to laugh.

  “What, what’s up?”

  “Look at us,” she said, “walking along the river on a freezing cold night in Berlin, big stars shining in the sky, and we’re conducting a biblical discussion. A bit of a strange situation, is it not?”

  “I’ve been in stranger,” Assaf responded with a smile, and Nufar tensed.

  Assaf continued. “I suggest we do what men and women who like each other do,” he said. “As long as we’re here, we’re neighbors. So your room or mine?”

  Nufar gave him a stern look, mixed with affection. “It’s time I told you something in that regard, Assaf, but not out here in this cold.”

  “You’re scaring me a little,” he replied, smiling, trying to test how serious she was.

  “I really want you to hear me out.”

    • • •

  They sat down together in a neighborhood bar with a large fire ablaze in the fireplace at the far end of the room. Nufar was pleased that Assaf couldn’t disappear on her into the grim darkness that characterized several of the bars in which they had spent long hours during their two weeks together in Cologne.

  “If I wanted to fuck you,” Nufar said to him, “I would have done so a long time ago.”

  Assaf recoiled. He didn’t like the blunt language, the expression on Nufar’s face, but he listened.

  She looked at him intently. “You’re a sweet guy,” she said, “and good-looking, too, I’ll admit that, and I’ve felt over the past few months that I’d like to be with someone, someone I can have fun with, without things getting too compli
cated. And if I’d made the first move, you’d have rushed into things without thinking twice.”

  Assaf wanted to protest but knew she was right. If she had just hinted at the possibility, he would have followed her without a moment’s hesitation.

  “I held back not because I wasn’t attracted to you. On the contrary. But I stopped myself because I know you love your wife and that you miss her and your children. You told me about her yourself, and you showed me pictures of all of you and the drawing they sent you. You’re alone now, and far from home, and you think there won’t be any consequences for what we do, but that’s not true. And if you’re incapable now of acting responsibly, I’ll do so for you. Because I know you, and I like you. And I don’t want to do it to Tali either, I don’t want to wrong her, too, because you don’t do things like that. I, at least, don’t do things like that, or more accurately, I try very hard not to ruin the lives of other people.”

  She took a sip of her whiskey sour and continued. “We’re supposed to continue doing what we’re doing for the coming years. This kind of work is demanding and requires focus and perseverance. I want us both to succeed. To be focused. To do nothing stupid that we’re going to regret. To be able to work together and rely on one another without complicating everything in an impossible way. And if you’re wondering, I hope to find someone who really loves me, not who wants to be with me because it’s easy. And you have something you’ve already built and that is precious to you. That you need to safeguard. So don’t ruin it. And let’s not ruin what we have. I need you in this unit with me without complications and without any riots.”

  Assaf hesitated for a while before responding. “I think I understand,” he said. “I didn’t mean to offend you in any way. I would never hurt you. You know that’s not what I wanted.”

  Nufar nodded in confirmation and Assaf leaned toward her, brushed her hair aside, and kissed her lightly on her right temple. “You’re amazing, Nufar,” he said. “I’m glad you’re my friend.”