by Nathan Ronen
This book is dedicated to my sister Naomi Sharon, may she rest in peace, whom I miss dearly, and who passed away in 2008 from leukemia when she was only fifty-seven.
The plot of this book, its characters and their names are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance between the plot of the book and actual events or persons is entirely coincidental.
Much research has gone into this book. If you come across an error or typo, please send us your comment and we will amend the matter in the next edition: [email protected]
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When Shadows Collide
Nathan Ronen
Copyright © 2020 Nathan Ronen
All rights reserved; No parts of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any information retrieval system, without the permission, in writing, of the author.
Translation from the Hebrew by Yael Schonfeld Abel
Contact: [email protected]
Contents
A personal note
Acknowledgements
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Epilogue
Message from the Author
“Espionage is the world’s second oldest profession, and just as honorable as the first.”
— Michael J. Barrett, CIA Assistant General Counsel, February 1984
A personal note
This is the third volume in the series depicting the exploits of Mossad agent Arik Bar-Nathan. It was preceded by To Kill a Shadow (2014) and Where Shadows Meet (2017). The English versions of these books became Amazon bestsellers and can be purchased on Amazon and at other online stores.
This trilogy tells the story of the shadow people: special people who dedicate their lives to the public good and, therefore, pay a high personal price. They don’t do so merely out of ideology, a sense of duty, or altruism. They are addicted to adrenaline, to control, to action, and to the fact that they do extraordinary things legally and with authority.
The Israeli intelligence community is an integral part of Israeli society, with its ills and advantages. It has good intentions that lead to bad deeds; exalted values alongside misguided, criminal or dangerous delusions; love, hate, and envy; sacrifice and abuse. An impossible mix of truth and lies, discretion and excess, confusion and dissembling, comes together to form a tangled knot that is difficult to unravel.
Intelligence communities throughout the world like to portray themselves as a brotherhood of camaraderie and purity. But like the most austere monasteries, they reveal evidence of hatred, internal rivalries, envy, jealousy, and all other human weaknesses.
This espionage drama is not just another action thriller. It was important to me to write a dramatic plot telling the tales of the protagonist, the people surrounding him at home and at work, the complex relationship between them, and the metamorphosis the hero undergoes as a result of such pressures.
This story is not faithful to actual chronological events that took place or to technologies that were possible in the years 2008–2012. I make free use of all these in order to relay the vivid plot I’ve weaved from autobiographical elements, a mix of both actual and fictional historical events, solely in order to enhance the drama. I’ve peppered the plot with the various types of people I’ve encountered in the course of my life, entwining all of them within an imaginary saga that does not exist merely in the single plane of the plot of an action thriller, but also in the depths of the hero’s mental grappling with the twists and turns of his life.
This is a fictional creation shaped solely by creative considerations. Therefore, the contents of the novel and/or its characters should not be attributed with documentary or historical significance. There is no direct overall relationship between the novel’s characters and reality, and anyone who imposes such a relationship does so at their own peril.
Plenty of research has gone into this book; I hope I’ve been accurate. I have made a significant effort to verify the information with professionals in various fields who volunteered to help me, and I hope I have made no mistakes. If you uncover any inaccuracies, proofreading or phrasing errors, please write to me, and I will amend them in the next edition.
If you’ve enjoyed the book or have any constructive criticism, I’ll be happy to hear from you. Please write to me.
Humbly,
Nathan Ronen
Yavne, Israel, 2020
Acknowledgements
A loving thank-you to my wife Denise Ronen, who has always been there for me: enabling, supporting and encouraging. I apologize for sometimes disappearing on her when the characters were calling me to sit down and write their stories.
I’m grateful to my close friends who willingly took part and contributed to the book, each in his or her own area of expertise, whether in suggesting plot twists, professional knowledge in the intelligence or operational fields, insights regarding the characters’ traits or psychological profile, or grammatical and phrasing corrections: Gideon Perry, Shlomo Zimmer, Lina Sharon, Micky (Masha) Kramer, Tani Geva, Etty Levkovich, Arie Zahar, Eli Wasserman, Dr. Arye Yagoda, Shuki Ben-Ami, Yoni Rittner, Brigadier General (Reserve) Shalom Harari, the late Raya Soudry, Raffi Korabelnik, Prof. Yuval Noah Harari, Momi Castiel, Haya Calmy, Ruhama Saltzman and Eyal Tomer.
A special thank-you to my dear children for their support: Ariel, Nathalie, Yuval, Galit and Michal, their partners and our twelve beloved grandchildren.
I want to thank the “shadow people” in the Israeli intelligence apparatus who could not or did not want to reveal themselves. I cherish and a
ppreciate your contribution to this book.
My special appreciation goes to the “silent people” of the Israeli Navy’s submarine fleet for their clandestine work.
Chapter 1
Élysée Palace, Official Residence of the President of France
The ceremony for the recipients of the French Republic’s Legion of Honor medal was scheduled for eleven a.m. at the Élysée Palace. The Legion of Honor decoration was considered to be France’s highest badge of honor. It was given annually to recipients who might be either French citizens or foreigners, to thank them for their military service or to honor an extraordinary contribution made by a civilian to the French Republic. The public ceremony was held in a lavish event hall and was generally broadcast live from the Élysée Palace on all major media outlets.
This time, for security reasons and due to the nature of the event, Arik Bar-Nathan, representative of the Israeli Mossad, was receiving the decoration half an hour before the official ceremony. The special ceremony had been scheduled for ten thirty a.m. It was a private event held in the Salon Doré, or Golden Room, serving as the French president’s bureau. The ceremony was conducted by the honorable President of the Republic René Georges Giscard himself. Also present were Israeli Ambassador Hezi Gilead; head of the Mossad’s Paris bureau, Haya Calmy; and the director of DGSE,1 France’s intelligence agency, Admiral Bernard August Lacoste. The handsome admiral, who stood out in his uniform, was standing beside the president of the republic, who was wearing a white suit with gold buttons and a wide-brimmed white hat.
The award recipient’s partner, Prof. Eva von Kesselring, looked radiant and proud. Her blue dress, barely concealing a protruding pregnant belly, displayed the Dutch Queen’s Medal of Honor, granted to her for the contribution her research had made to the appreciation of Jewish Dutch philosopher Baruch Spinoza, called “the philosophers’ philosopher.”
French President René Georges Giscard approached the emotional Arik Bar-Nathan and pinned the Legion of Honor medal, a small red emblem with a white circle at its center, to the left lapel of his black suit.
The head of the president’s bureau officiously read the award certificate listing the reasons for bestowing the decoration and the accompanying medal, honoring the Israeli Mossad Institute for Intelligence and Special Operations’ contribution to French security. He made mention of Arik Bar-Nathan’s specific contribution, as commander of the Israeli Mossad’s joint operation with the DGSE in North Africa, which had enhanced global security in the battle against terrorist activity, without disclosing any additional details.
Admiral Lacoste handed the president the large box containing the official medal accompanying the decoration. It hung at the center of a velvet ribbon. Its design resembled a five-pointed star, coated with white enamel and circled by a wreath of green leaves.
The president smiled at Arik in embarrassment. Bar-Nathan bowed his head in order to allow the short-statured president to hang the medal around his neck. The president shook Arik’s hand firmly, and then stepped aside to kiss the excited Eva on both cheeks, in accordance with the French custom. An uncontrollable tear rolled down Arik’s cheek and he blushed, flustered, secretly hoping that no one had noticed. He stole a quick glance at Eva, who stood by his side, all smiles. She immediately perceived his glistening eyes and understood the precise reason for the thrill he was experiencing. She clung to him, entwining her fingers with his, knowing how much Arik wished his parents could have attended the event. She realized how much he would have loved to show his Holocaust-survivor parents that he had made their dream come true for them, achieving success for their sake.
Arik recalled a Jewish proverb from the Babylonian Talmud: “Take care with regard to the sons of paupers, as it is from them that the Torah will issue forth,” and smiled to himself in satisfaction. At that moment, he missed his parents, who had passed away, more than ever.
“You’re coming to the official lunch at Maxim’s, of course, right?” the French president reminded them with a rhetorical question. Eva bestowed her charming smile upon him. The French president, known to be a flirt and a lover of beautiful women, glanced at her swollen belly.
“I see that soon, you’ll be receiving more good wishes of mazal tov,” he said, taking care to pronounce the Jewish blessing in Hebrew.
Arik wrapped his arm around Eva’s waist, his eyes bright, saying proudly, “We’re expecting a daughter this time.”
“I’m sure she’ll be at least as beautiful as her mother,” the president said, offering an elegant compliment as he hurried to make his way with his entourage to the lavish Vestibule d’Honneur, or Hall of Honor. The ministers of the French government, the other recipients of the Legion of Honor and their families, and of course, the media, were already waiting for them. The official, much-publicized ceremony had just begun. The small Israeli contingency left the palace through a side door.
Eva looked at Arik proudly. Her eyes shone in a blue-gray hue, like the waves of the Baltic Sea on a typical foggy German day. Her smile conveyed an interesting mix of practical toughness and emotional fragility.
“How are you feeling?” Arik asked in concern.
“You don’t have to keep asking me how I’m feeling. I’m not sick. I’m just pregnant,” she replied defiantly, a mischievous, amused spark flashing in her eyes, expressing her deep love for him.
“You’re right,” Arik nodded, embarrassed. He needed to be reminded anew every time that despite her fragile appearance, his wife was made of materials as strong as steel and titanium. Neither of them had any idea how close they were to the moment when those sturdy materials would be put to the test.
* * *
1The General Directorate for External Security is France’s external intelligence agency, nicknamed Pyramid, and is the French equivalent to the American CIA.
Chapter 2
Hôtel de Crillon, Place de la Concorde
The Renault Safrane official state limousine drove Arik and Eva back from Élysée Palace to their hotel in Place de la Concorde. During the short drive, they sat in the back, arm in arm, silent and happy.
The hotel, formerly a palace belonging to a duke from the House of Bourbon, was truly lavish. During the renovations carried out in the twentieth century, new wings and a modern elevator had been added. The hotel’s most impressive feature was its enormous entrance lobby. It was a kind of inner courtyard sporting a broad marble staircase leading to the first floor. The staircase split in two on the first floor, supported by massive Corinthian marble columns. An ancient crystal chandelier, illuminating the enormous lobby softly with modern LED lightbulbs, dangled from the original ceiling, decorated with seventeenth-century frescoes.
The limo stopped at the entrance to the hotel. The hotel doorman, clad in an elegant uniform, rushed to open the car door for the couple. Arik exited first, helping Eva out. They took the elevator to the first floor, where the stylish suite placed at their disposal by the French government was located. Eva was in a hurry. The baby was pressing down on her bladder.
“I have to pee,” she whispered to him quietly and disappeared deep inside the suite.
Arik watched her walk away. The light-footed, athletic gazelle’s stride that usually characterized her had disappeared, replaced by a duck’s waddle due to the large belly of her ninth month of pregnancy, which was clearly an effort to deal with.
Arik walked into the suite’s foyer to see their small son, Leo, and Frau Kesselring, Eva’s mother, who was watching over the little rascal. They had a brief window of less than two hours before all the award recipients, both French and foreign, would be meeting again for a formal lunch in the presence of the French president and his government. The meal was scheduled to take place at Maxim’s, an elegant restaurant on Rue Royale, a short walk away from their hotel.
Two-year-old Leo ran to him, laughing and yelling “Papi” in German. Arik picked him up
and tossed him in the air. Leo let out a squeal of laughter mingled with fear when Arik caught him. He did it again and again until he felt himself grow tired despite the boy’s appeals for “one more time!”
An envelope from the hotel’s management lay on their bed. Arik hurried to open it and extracted a note, which he waved at Eva as she emerged from the bathroom. “Meine liebe, my love, we have to check out of the room by four p.m.”
“Don’t worry, everything’s fine. We’ve been all packed since this morning,” Eva said. “Go down to the reception desk and get us checked out, and I’ll call a bellboy who’ll take our luggage down to the storage room. I’m not changing for lunch. I’ll just put on walking shoes. These fancy shoes are killing me. How about you? Are you changing?”
Arik shook his head.
“I’ll leave us a duffle bag with light traveling clothes for the train. We have reserved seats, right?” Eva asked. “And by the way, when does our train for Heidelberg leave?”
“We’ve got plenty of time,” Arik said. “It’s eleven-ten now. The train only leaves Gare du Nord Station at five-fifteen in the evening.”
“If I’m already going down to see the concierge, do you want to take a taxi to the restaurant?” he added.
“No, not at all!” Eva replied. “We’re finally having beautiful weather, and Maxim’s is less than a ten-minute walk away.”
Eva bent down with effort and kissed little Leo’s head. She thanked her mother for babysitting her grandchild.
“I’m tired. I’m off to take a nap,” she sighed as she rose. “Meine liebe, please wake me up at one thirty?”
“I’m popping over to the embassy,” Arik said. “I still have a few loose ends to tie up with Haya’le, head of our Paris bureau. I’ll come back in time to wake you up.”
Their suite on the first floor provided a view of the Place de la Concorde and Tuileries Garden. Arik walked along the banister, which allowed him to peek into the main foyer from above, and then took the massive stairs down to the lobby.