by Rose Fox
“If they caught you in the net and brought you here in a bag then they’re certain they have things on you, want to hear more from you but you’re actually finished.”
“Stop, that’s enough!” she said, almost begging, but he continued chatting away.
“What’s more, if they didn’t check you out, they expect you to make calls from here.” She thought that this was what she suspected and suddenly heard him snoring on the bunk. After a quick glance at him she noticed that his eyelids were moving and he was apparently peeping at her. She turned her back to him and heard him ask,
“Did you make contact?”
“No.”
“Why not? Believe a man who has been through everything here.”
“That’s enough. Do me a favor and keep quiet,”
Abigail puffed up her cheeks in exasperation. She got up and began pacing, counting ten paces along the length of the room and she noticed a stud stuck in the gray concrete in the corner where the walls met. It looked like a nail that had been left there after construction and when she tapped it with her finger, she felt the heat emanating from it.
“Tell me about yourself,” he asked and she shrugged.
“Where were you born? Where are your parents? Do you have siblings, or children, perhaps?
“Ali, shut up, for Allah’s sake!” she yelled and he stopped talking.
The key turned in the lock and a man was thrown inside, fell down on the floor and lay there. The moment she glanced at him, she screamed. It was Karim, and she knelt down beside him.
Blood had congealed on his chin and he was wheezing. Saliva mixed with blood bubbled from his lips and a thin rivulet of blood ran out of the corner of his mouth. A short phlegmy cough burst out of him. Abigail rushed to pull him up and supported him in a sitting position.
“Karim,” she said, “It’s me, Naima,” Karim said something and coughed.
She brought her face closer to hear him, but he spoke out loud, too loudly in fact.
“They know everything about us, tell them, because there is no point in denying it as they have proof.”
When he spoke to her, he made incessant signs with his eyes and Abigail followed his signals showing he was hinting at his body.
“Hmmm,” she hummed and moved her fingers over him as if stroking his torso. Her hand touched his damp shirt that was torn and when she felt the device stuck attached to his armpit she understood they had brought him to the room to get her to talk and record what she said.
He coughed, whistled as he sucked in air and wiped away the blood with his stained fist. The fits of coughing and the pink saliva that collected on Karim’s lips were ample evidence of severe damage to his lungs and she listened to his wheezing with concern.
“They will come and take me to the square in about an hour and will transfer me through six doors to the left and outside through the seventh one.” He explained and she understood that he was telling her the way out to freedom.
Abigail faced him and her lips moved, soundlessly,
“What do they know about me?”
Abigail knew that she was not being recorded by the device on Karim’s body now. And since her back was turned to the concrete wall, she was also not being filmed by the hidden camera.
“Absolutely nothing. Only that you’re a tourist guide,” he spelled out soundlessly with his lips and then spoke aloud with a tremor in his voice:
“I didn’t know how to describe our relationship.”
“Why didn’t you tell them that the only relationship between us was that you helped me find a house?” She said and tried to speak clearly. She raised her eyes above Karim and, all at once, realized that their fate was going to be hers too, and that she also had nothing to lose. And since that was the case, she moved closer to the door and waited.
When she heard the key moving in the lock, she clung to the door and as soon as it opened slightly, she kicked her and immediately hit Aisha’s face with her elbow and she fell backward. Abigail stood over her and addressed her in Bedouin Arabic.
“Just a little reward for spitting in my face, not for your pointless blows to my body,” and she saw with satisfaction how Aisha opened her eyes wide in amazement.
She ran across the corridor at once, passed six doors on the left, reached the seventh one, and almost collided with a vehicle that was waiting close to the entrance with its rear door open.
She crouched and ran to some nearby shrubs, then stepped up on the sidewalk. After straightening up, she looked around and tried to recognize the place she had been brought to the previous night when she had been packed in a fish net with Karim and Alice.
Four imposing giant palm trees curved above her and rose into the sky. Their trunks formed the shape of the letter ‘W’. Their appearance was so unusual, that she pulled the phone out of her bra, photographed them and on a whim she sent the picture and called. She spoke quickly as her eyes darted in all directions to keep watch.
“I’m facing these palms. Where am I?”
“How did you get there?!” Michael asked in alarm. “You’re right by the Revolutionary Guards’ prison. Take care.”
“Why?”
“It’s said that the only place people go to from there is the public square.” And then she knew that the ginger-haired man had spoken the truth.
“Oh, Ali the redhead asked to inform Mushari that he did not give him away,” and she asked right after that:
“Where is the Public Square they would have led me to?”
Instead of answering her, he said:
“Is that so? The message will be conveyed.”
There was a short pause, “So Ali was caught?” and Abigail blurted out,
“Yes, they’re taking him the Public Square, right now.”
“Hey, Naima, what are you doing there and how did you meet Ali?”
She hesitated for a moment and then she said:
“They trapped me in a fish net with Karim and Alice. She died and they beat the Ambassador almost to death and they’re going to hang him, too, in the Square.”
“So how… what about you?”
“I escaped.”
She heard a short laugh.
“Thank God. Turn northwards to the palms in the photograph and help will reach you.”
She wanted to ask what kind of help he was referring to, but she didn’t delay and hurried to check out the directions of the place.
Throngs of people streamed forward, many women and children among them, and Abigail wondered to what extent it was entertaining or educational to watch people being hanged by their necks and swinging in the Public Square.
Tall metal poles were pushed forward by cranes and rose up high above her. She presumed that they were meant to serve as gallows, on which the condemned would be hanged.
Suddenly, she looked back. She estimated that the distance from the prison to the Square was only one kilometer and then she turned on her heel. At first she walked, then ran until she returned to the bushes to which she had escaped. She crouched down and peered out from behind the shrubs. The car was still standing at the entrance to the prison but hid what was happening behind it, so she changed her location.
Two people bore a load in their arms and she noticed Ali’s red head. The car was started and Abigail jumped and stood beside it. She opened the door, pulled out the driver and pushed him down and got in his place. She pressed her foot down hard on the accelerator, heard the roar of the engine and raced ahead. The car climbed over the bushes and onto the road, continuing its journey when Abigail had no idea where to drive or where she was.
From all around the swarms of people and whole families continued making their way to the Public Square.
In order not to attract attention, she slowed down and continued driving on the road for almost five minutes and then, drew up and stopped on a side street. She got out, opened the rear door and jumped inside.
Ali, the red-head, looked at her fearfully and shrank back into the corner. Ka
rim lay there with his eyes closed and a small pool of blood had collected near the corner of his mouth. She called out his name and when he didn’t answer, she laid two fingers on his neck and felt that there was no pulse. When she understood that Karim was dead, a cry of pain burst out of her mouth and the whining of the siren close to them seemed to continue her scream. A police car stopped beside them.
“Run, Ali, Run away!” She yelled, jumped out and rolled in the sand under the wheels of the police car that was right near their vehicle. At that moment, two shots were fired.
The policemen didn’t notice her at all but managed to shoot Ali and kill him. Two police officers opened the car door and shouted that the driver had disappeared. Abigail had already crawled away on her hands and knees and stood up in the distance, her heart racing, but she behaved like the others, who were quiet and relaxed. She continued like this until she saw the Public Square ahead of her.
Suddenly there was silence and then the crowds cheered and roared rhythmically, raising their fists in the air at the figures being lifted up on the gallows and swinging from up high.
Nine people hung on the poles of the crane. The last in the row had red hair and ahead of him was the body of Karim. She knew that both of them were dead even before they were strung up, but since the show must go on, they were tied by their necks and hoisted up.
“The plan is what counts,” she laughed and cried.
She continued from here, turning her back on the gallows and tried to ignore the cries of the frenzied crowd and breathe through the pain in her soul.
Only one of the condemned to be hanged got away from the hangmen that day.
Abigail did not know that there were divided opinions with regard to her fate and agreement had not yet been reached. The argument was whether to hang her or let her be executed by a firing squad.
Her escape caused havoc in the military high command and the matter was transferred directly to Emir. He decided that he, personally, would to go after her into the field and destroy her.
She’s a survivor, evasive and, as slippery as an eel,” he said and grimaced as he recalled how she had escaped the death trap of Room 202 in his hostel.
Meanwhile, Abigail walked among the tens of thousands who cheered in the square and raised their clenched fists in rhythm with their cries. She closed her eyes and moved forward, crying and taking leave of the nine people hanging on the gallows behind her.
She wasn’t sure where to go now. Should she go home or continue walking wherever her legs would take her?
She thought how her whole world had been disrupted. Karma, her love, had disappeared or was dead, her two only friends, Karim, and Alice, had died and she had no one else in this part of the world. She considered where and how to carry on from here and contacted Michael and almost screamed when she heard his voice.
“Michael,” she said, not addressing his outburst of relief.
Apparently, the photographs of the public hanging of the agents had been published all over the world, but the names, made known earlier in the morning, had struck the ‘Mossad’ dumb. They learned that the codes had been cracked and a group from the organization had been sentenced to death.
Abigail’s name was listed as one of ten, who were to be hanged and Barak, cried out in anguish.
“Oh, my God, help me. They’re going to hang our Abigail!”
“Hey, calm down,” he heard. “I spoke to her while they were hanging them on the crane.”
Still shocked and red in the face, Barak stared at him, unable even to mouth the questions that arose in his mind.
“Yes, she got away,” Michael said, “That’s what I came to tell you today.”
“Really?! I must speak to her!”
“No, you mustn’t,” San stalled him, “Have you lost your mind? If you call her, there’s a chance she’ll be discovered! They’re looking for her.”
“Are you certain they didn’t catch her after you spoke to her? Tell me, man, talk!” Barak’s face was blood red.
“Listen, she sent me a picture of the ‘W’ palms near the Revolutionary Guards’ prison and asked me for her location.”
“Well, that’s right at the Square where they hanged our people,” Barak said and laughed with joy, then suddenly grew stern.
“And what if she didn’t manage to get further away?” Michael was silent because he didn’t have an answer to that.
All that transpired a half an hour earlier and now, when he heard Abigail on the phone he restrained himself from shouting and just enjoyed answering her:
Listen to me. Just north of there is a natural tunnel in a red rock cliff. The password is – OWL.”
He paused and added,
“And you have no idea how wonderful it is to hear your voice.”
When she reached the site, she squinted to find the entrance that merged with the rocks, and when she detected it, she hooted like an owl and was answered with a similar call. She didn’t know that this was where Karma had played a role in building the explosive wall of a drone, with which they blew up the arsenal of “Shihab-3” missiles.
She remained there for the next two nights. Her body hurt from the blows she had suffered and bruises on her neck changed color. At night, the sights she had seen returned to haunt her and wake her up. In her dreams, she heard ginger-haired Ali screaming and when Aisha appeared to take her to the gallows, she awoke panic-stricken, turned on the lights and was too scared to close her eyes.
In the middle of the second night, she got up and sat on an armchair, stroked her belly that had swelled somewhat and closed her eyes. In the morning of the third day, she began to prepare for the next mission. On that morning, she made the necessary, renew all her backpack, instead of this was taken from her in prison.
Toward midday, she decided it was enough and the time had come to set out on the assignment – to the reactor tucked away deep underground, to Bushehr.
* * *
Heavy Water
It was designed to be a unique operation and tension was high in the Israeli organization in advance of its execution.
The mission was directed at four nuclear sites, spread out over the breadth of the vast country and small units of agents were sent to the reactors in Natanz, Qom, and Arak. Abigail was sent alone to Bushehr. The general consensus in the organization was that she would be more efficient if she worked alone. The nickname of “Lone Wolf” always accompanied her, but Barak was not pleased.
“With all the respect due to the abilities of that ‘Wolf,' I want to share my concerns out loud with you,” he said.
“For example, how will she reach the reactors in Bushehr? It’s naïve to think that she will succeed in covering that enormous territory around them, undetected, not to mention all the walking she will have to do.”
“But that problem would have come up, even if she wasn’t alone. You’re talking about actually approaching the place without being discovered.” San clarified the point.
“In my opinion, she will actually succeed in functioning better because she is alone than she would in a group,” Foxy added.
Michael, who always knew how to calm them down and offer sensible proposals, interrupted now.
“I have an idea,” he offered, “I will try and arrange for our people to be close to her. Salamas, for example, will provide transport. Now, a name comes to mind. Ali Akhbar, who will also be able to guide her and, as always, we will arrange for additional people to hover around in the shadows.”
“Hmmm, fine, that’s good,” Barak said. “Now get on with it, why are you waiting?”
“I will get in touch with both of them, right away, today,” Michael promised.
“Carry on, get going already!” San urged him, “Every minute you spend here, delays the assignment by an hour.”
Michael laughed and continued laughing even after he had closed the door behind him, as he hurried to catch the flight that had been arranged for him and would take off in another two or three hours.
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br /> The evening before setting out on the operation, Abigail opened the bag Karim had given her at the hotel and pulled a metallic paper-like dress out of it. She knew the garment would protect her from radiation. The package also contained two tiny boxes. In one of them, she found earphones and a microphone the size of a pin head that was attached to a folded metal wire, a recent development of the Israeli Military Industries. The second box contained an odorless white cream that she was to smear on exposed skin, like her face and hands. There was also an almost weightless scissor-like instrument, designed to clamp fine metal tubes.
Before getting into bed, she put the protective dress on under her galabiya. It was almost five in the morning when she drank a glass of hot tea, put on her shoes and went on her way.
Abigail knew she would be operating alone and laughed when she recalled Karim telling her what Barak had said about her:
“When no one knows where she is – all systems go on alert.”
This was why she straightened the wire connected to the headset receiver and reported only two words:
“I’m off”
It was bitterly cold outside and her breath steamed out of her mouth. She directed it to her icy nose, to warm it, certain that it was red from the cold.
She thought how welcome something hot to drink would be and looked out for a café, even though she knew it was not customary for a woman to sit among men, especially not on her own.
She reached the main road, walked on the sidewalk and looked for a cab that would take her to the large Urmia Junction, from where, she assumed, it would be easy to reach any place.
All at once, a dark vehicle swerved off the road onto the sidewalk. Abigail heard a thud behind her, screamed and jumped aside. The offending driver got out of the car, bent over and peered at the man lying under his front wheels. Then, he got back in his car and drove away, leaving the wounded man lying on the pavement. Abigail stared at what was happening, and a sudden thought entered her mind that at this very moment she was saved from Attempted assassination.