Married to the Mossad

by Hessel, Shalva

  Diana smiled. “Wonderful. We’ll have adventures, like in Beersheba.”

  Sally didn’t share her excitement. “I really hope not. The Swiss police don’t get adventures.”

  29.

  Sally loved returning home from trips and seeing her family again, and the familiar environment of her home. Even the huge pile of laundry Roy brought home from the army, scattered on the floor next to the technician trying in vain to fix the washing machine, didn’t dampen the joy of being home. “What happened to the machine?” she asked.

  The technician blurted an answer filled with technical language, and Jerry continued. “It’s been like this for three days. They can’t fix it.”

  “And where’s Roy?”

  “He left his clothes and went back to the army. They canceled his vacation. Something operational.”

  Sally felt sadness mixed with pent up anger at the army, at Roy for not letting her know, and at the washing machine. Her thoughts wandered to the day they bought it, shortly after returning from their last mission in the US. Roy, whose khaki uniforms now filled the laundry room, was a twelve-year-old boy at the time, and Michael was eight. When she first activated the machine, the children rejoiced as they watched their clothes spin around behind the Perspex door.

  “Madame,” the technician said, interrupting her daydream, “you’ll have to buy a new machine. The control is gone and is not worth fixing.”

  “All right,” said Sally. “How much do we owe you for the visit?”

  “Why is it all right?” asked Jerry, who didn’t like to replace appliances unless they were completely destroyed. “What is this control? Maybe it can be fixed after all.”

  The technician shook his head. “It’s a printed circuit board. They don’t fix those.”

  Jerry paid him with a sour face and demanded a receipt. After he left, Sally hugged him and asked, “Why are you angry? The machine is old and needs to be replaced. There are more annoying things, like that I never got to see Roy.”

  “Do you want to hear something really annoying?” His face was stern. “Someone called to say you had left the plane and were on your way here, and that if I didn’t guard you he would burn you in your car next time you leave the house. He also knew what school Michael goes to and where Roy serves.”

  “Don’t worry, it’s just talk. They did the same to Darmond, who really freaked out. You’re stronger than that.”

  “I don’t care about Darmond. I do care about my children, and they’re in danger. I ask, or rather, I demand that you stop working with Marin.”

  “You know I love our children no less than you, but I won’t be intimidated. There is a creator for this world, and when a person does the right thing, God protects him.”

  “There you go again with your nonsense!” Jerry said dismissively. “The creator didn’t protect many people who did good, or save them from disaster. Your argument makes no sense.”

  “It’s not a matter of making sense, but of faith.” She took his hand. “I believe that me, you, and the children are being guarded. So far, things only attest to that. Think of the way we began our lives in England, of how we got married despite everything, surviving all the trials and tribulations of our missions abroad. If nothing happened to us in Pakistan, why fear a toy criminal impersonating a rabbi?”

  “Because rabbis, both real and fake, have followers, some of whom are criminals.”

  Sally cut him short with a kiss. “Enough, I’m dead tired. First class or no first class, you know I can’t sleep on planes.”

  30.

  After Shabbat, the laundry already lay clean and folded in the closed, a new washing machine placed in the bathroom. The menacing phone calls ceased and life returned to normal, with phone updates arriving twice a day from Gstaad. Diana reported on developments, or more accurately, reported that there was nothing to report. Her surveillance logs showed that Muriel never left the house, while the children traveled to their father on Friday afternoon as agreed, returning to their mother on Saturday night. The nanny would go home during that time, deliverymen brought shopping and laundry, and the postman arrived every day.

  “Are you sure he’s a postman?”

  “He looks like one, at least. The investigators observing the house also confirmed it.”

  Who uses postal services so often to receive mail every day? wondered Sally. She almost had Diana order the postman to be tailed, but decided not to on second thought, knowing that the Swiss investigators she’d hired weren’t as experienced as Jacob’s. Observing a house from a distance was relatively simple, but tailing a person required special skill. Followers must change every street, must keep their distance from the subject without losing him, and must blend into the surroundings without raising suspicion. She wondered whether this was important enough to involve Jacob and use more of the funds she had rescued from Ben David, which were beginning to dwindle. Thoughts raced through her mind, and when the phone rang, she answered nervously. “Hello?”

  “Sally, it’s Gila—”

  On another day, Sally would have been happy to hear the voice of her high school friend who now lived two streets away. “Yes, Gila?” she said, feigning niceness.

  “What is this ‘yes, Gila’? I’m no longer Gilush to you, and you’re not happy to hear from me?”

  “I just—I just have so much work to do.”

  “In that case, you need a break. Lunch tomorrow?”

  “Actually, yes. That’s a good idea. At Elisa’s?”

  “At Elisa’s,” Gila repeated.

  All evening, and the following day, Sally was bothered by the daily visits of the postman at the house in Gstaad. On her way to the restaurant she reached a decision. She stopped at a kiosk and called Jacob from the pay phone there. “Can you send one of your investigators to Gstaad?”

  “I can send an investigator anywhere. It’s only a matter of money. I have someone who’s just finishing an investigation in Paris. He can be there within a few hours. By the way, I thought you hired local investigators.”

  “I need a gentle surveillance.” She gave him the details and returned to her car. A few minutes later she was parked next to the restaurant.

  Elisa’s was located on the northern beach of Tel Aviv and served as a meeting place for journalists, models, businesspeople, and senior army and police officers. That wasn’t why Sally liked the place, but rather its beachfront location. Sitting there, she could imagine herself at one of those open restaurants she liked in Cannes or Monaco, the sea breeze blowing in her hair.

  Immediately upon entering, she recognized Aaron, who was Jerry’s handler during the distant London days. She didn’t know if he still worked for the Mossad, and remembered the orders she was given in the past: Never reveal you’ve identified an agent in case he’s there undercover. She crossed the balcony and sat across from Gila, enjoying the pleasant sun. Gila ordered seafood and Sally—as was her habit in non-kosher restaurants—a salad. “So, what’s new with you?” asked Gila. “You disappear, return, and then disappear again. Everything is so mysterious.”

  “No mystery, just assignments that require plenty of travel.”

  “What kind of work is this?” Gila insisted.

  “You know, computer business. Sometimes I get sent abroad for consulting.”

  A shadow appeared on the table. Sally leaned backward, allowing the waiter to place the plates on their table. But instead of dishes, a muscular hand landed on it, along with a familiar voice. “I beg your pardon.”

  Sally and Gila looked up. Aaron’s face was as expressive as Sally remembered it, with just the slight addition of some gray in his sideburns. “Can I speak to you for a moment?” he asked, gesturing at the side of the balcony.

  Sally exchanged embarrassed looks with her friend.

  “It’s important,” Aaron added, granting his most charming smile to Gila.
“Just a moment or two.”

  Sally stood up and followed him. He leaned on the banister facing the sea. “Sally, are you getting a divorce?” he fired at her.

  “What?” she responded in astonishment. “Why? What makes you think—”

  “Shh…speak quietly. There are at least two people here following you.”

  Sally looked cautiously around. No one seemed interested in her, and everyone was busy with their food. “Second table on the right,” Aaron said quietly. “Next to the Tuborg ad. They stare at you every minute, and earlier were wandering around your car.” He pointed at the white BMW that glistened in the sun, its scratches and punctured tires all repaired.

  “How do you know that’s my car?”

  “I noticed you as soon as you entered the parking lot. Do you have a lover? Have you fought with Jerry? You don’t have to tell me your secrets, but for heaven’s sake, be careful.”

  Sally looked again at the two men. One was drinking coffee while the other was busy with his mobile phone.

  “They’re not especially professional.” Aaron laughed. “They examined your car as though they were thinking of buying it, then entered and ordered coffee, paying the waitress as soon as she delivered it.”

  That was the ultimate proof of surveillance. Paying in advance allowed the follower to leave the location immediately, if the subject decided to leave. Sally felt embarrassed. During her work with the Mossad, she was followed more than once, acquiring essential precautionary measures. This time, due to her call with Jacob, she hadn’t come early to check out the place. Maybe Jerry was right, she thought, maybe dangers are lurking all around me and I’m too complacent, endangering my family and myself.

  “Sally, you haven’t answered me. What’s going on with you?”

  “Jerry didn’t send them and we’re not getting divorced. I’m involved in a project that causes me to step on some people’s toes.”

  “Are you in danger?”

  “I don’t know,” said Sally candidly. “Up until now I thought I wasn’t. I believed I was in control. But things are starting to heat up. These people probably have more audacity than I thought.”

  “And they also have money,” Aaron added. “Take a look at the edge of the parking lot. A young man is leaning on a motorcycle. He hasn’t moved for a while. This is a professional surveillance of two men, a car, and a motorcycle, by the book. One hour of this costs a fortune. Someone really wants to know what you’re doing.”

  “Yeah,” Sally whispered thoughtfully. “It looks like it.”

  “I can’t leave you like this,” Aaron said with concern. “I have a few friends here. We’ll escort you home.”

  Sally laughed. “And what will happen at home?”

  “There Jerry will take care of it.”

  “This has nothing to do with Jerry and I ask you not to tell him a thing. This is my business.”

  “All right Sally,” Aaron shrugged. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

  “I know very well.” Sally stood tall. “And thanks for warning me.”

  He took her hand and looked at her softly. “If you need anything, you know how to find me.”

  “Of course,” Sally said and returned to the table. Fear made her stomach turn. She decided to pick Michael up from school and send Roy a text message. As soon as she sat down, she pulled her phone out and typed “Is everything OK? I miss you. Mommy.”

  No answer arrived. Even though she knew that as an officer in an elite unit, Roy sometimes disconnected from his mobile phone for days, she grew fearful.

  “Did something happen?” Gila asked.

  Michael! A thought crossed Sally’s mind. The man who spoke to Jerry on the phone said he knew where Michael went to school. According to her calculation, he was supposed to return home just then. “I have to speak to Michael,” she explained as she tapped his number into her phone. “He felt ill this morning.”

  Michael answered immediately.

  “I want to come by and take you home,” Sally said.

  “What are you talking about? I’m already on the bus,” he said, as teenagers shouted in the background.

  “Is everything all right?”

  “Yes, why wouldn’t it be?”

  “What are those screams?”

  “My friends, you know, they’re acting crazy. What happened? Why did you call all of the sudden?”

  “As I said, I thought of picking you up on the way home,” she said, and hung up.

  “Will you please explain to me what’s going on here?” Gila asked. “First a stunning man comes to the table and drags you off to a secret conversation. Then, when you return, you hysterically text Roy and call Michael. Let’s start by asking who that hunk is and is he available?”

  “He’s not available and is very married,” Sally replied, annoyed. She was angry at herself for acquiescing to Ovadia’s miserable behavior, and wondered why Ben David agreed to her conditions, including the financial sanction. She used to think that Ben David wouldn’t act before arriving in Gstaad to prepare Joel for his bar mitzvah, and would only try to convince Muriel to return to Israel with him. Now she knew he was much more determined and audacious. She recalled the cameras in Marin’s guesthouse and now believed they were installed at Ben David’s initiative. For the first time, she considered the possibility that similar cameras were installed in her home in Tel Aviv. She remembered the laundry machine technician. What were the chances that Jerry was right? That the machine wasn’t really broken, and actually the technician came to install cameras and microphones all over their home?

  “Sally, what are you daydreaming about?”

  Sally awoke. “Here, I’m with you,” she answered, and for the next half hour she chatted away with Gila as her mind sifted through facts and contrasted different times and places in an attempt to decipher what was happening around her. Right after saying goodbye to Gila, she sent a text message to Diana in Switzerland. “Is everything all right?”

  “Of course,” came the answer immediately. “Nothing has changed since we spoke this morning.”

  She left the restaurant and approached her car, looking to both sides. The two men vanished from the balcony. The motorcycle man stayed standing at the edge of the lot, making sure not to look at her. Sally entered her car and started it. When she looked through the rearview mirror to back up, the motorcycle man was gone.

  Sally drove home slowly. She had no way of knowing whether she was being tailed, but it wasn’t important. Her address was public, and she always drove home on the same route. A loud toot from a truck interrupted her thoughts. Sally was startled and slowed down. The truck rammed into the rear of her car, launching her forward. Instinctively, she turned the steering wheel and drove onto the traffic island without hitting the car in front of her. The truck continued driving, ripping off a piece of the back bumper that landed on the road.

  Sally gripped the steering wheel and breathed deeply to relax. The back side of her car protruded onto the road, and the cars slowed down to pass her. From nowhere a policeman emerged to stop traffic and allow Sally to merge back into it.

  When she returned home she parked her car in the garage, where its disability set it apart from her neighbors’ polished vehicles. Her heart was pounding when she exited the elevator, to find her apartment door open. She pushed it in with anxiety and took one step inside, lifting an umbrella from the rack. “Michael?” she asked.

  No answer was heard.

  “Michael?” Her voice was now anxious. “Michael?”

  A sound of running water came from the bathroom. She knocked on the door. “Michael?”

  Again silence, just the sound of running water in the shower. Sally spread her fingers and banged on the door twice. The flow of water ceased. “Who is it?” Michael shouted.

  “Mommy. Is everything OK?”

  A mo
ment later, which seemed like an eternity to Sally, the door opened, and Michael stood there wrapped in a towel. “What’s wrong with you today, Mom? You call me on the bus and now disturb me in the shower, and—” He broke out laughing. “What’s that ridiculous umbrella for?”

  “You left the front door open and I thought someone broke in.”

  “I didn’t leave the door open. I never leave it open. I’m no child, you know, I’m at least as responsible as Roy—”

  “I didn’t say you weren’t responsible.” She breathed in to calm herself. “Never mind. Finish your shower.”

  She shut the bathroom door, and without letting go of the umbrella toured all the rooms of the apartment. Finally, she returned to the kitchen, picked up her mobile phone, and texted Jacob. “Are you in the country?”

  “Yes,” he answered.

  “Tomorrow, ten o’clock, at the regular place.”

  “All right,” he confirmed.

  31.

  Sally could recognize the looming confrontation on Jerry’s face. This time, his tight lips and slanted eyebrows foretold a real fight. “Aaron spoke to me,” he said even before putting down his briefcase and removing his jacket. “He promised you not to tell me, but he’s worried, and as a good friend he had to tell me. I justify his decision—”

  “All right, someone’s following me. So what?”

  Jerry sat down on one of the living room couches and leaned forward, distraught and angry. “Three followers—two by car and one by motorcycle. That, in addition to all the threatening telephone calls against our children and us, and maybe other things you never told me. What happened to your car, for example?”