by Merle Nygate
‘Reputation,’ Deanna had said on the drive to Bath, her brown spotted hand clinging to Petra’s forearm. ‘I know this was supposed to be your half-day off but it would have been absolutely impossible to do this without you. One upset parent, one article in the local paper, Petra, that’s all it would take to ruin our reputation and the business could close down. We’re entirely at the mercy of these students’ hormones and high spirits.’
That afternoon Petra was supposed to have met Rafi but because of Deanna’s insistence that she go on the excursion, she had to cancel. There was also the unspoken quid pro quo of Petra’s afternoon off to go to the dentist two days before; Deanna was making a point. Petra hoped Rafi got the text message but it couldn’t be helped, not if Petra was supposed to be keeping her job at the school as Benny had insisted.
It was too bad that she couldn’t meet Rafi to talk things through because ever since the last meeting Petra had ruminated about the operation and her sense that something wasn’t right. She’d lain awake at night analysing all the information she had and remembering what Alon used to say: ‘We are paid to make assumptions.’
She pictured Alon sitting at Abu Hassan’s in Jaffa at the end of one of her debrief trips to Israel. They’d sit outside under the sunshade blocking out the blue sky. Alon used the fork to gesticulate more than he used it to eat. He talked about HUMINT versus SIGINT claiming that no amount of surveillance and analysis would ever replace working with agents. Though dead, he was so clear to her she could almost hear his tobacco-coated voice, ‘When you’re working with people, you make assumptions based on fragments of information that even you may not be aware of but which you call a feeling or intuition or a hunch. Don’t ignore it, Petra.’
And now in Bath, Petra scanned the group and couldn’t ignore a sense of unease. Sahar stood at the edge, a little to one side. The girl was studying her phone, presumably to confirm that she did have Petra’s number. Or was there something else?
‘Any questions?’ Petra said watching Sahar. Yes, there was something different about her today. Maybe it was the way she was standing, maybe it was the careful way she had arranged her hijab over her shoulders. What might Petra assume about her? It was a guess not grounded in any fact but there was a distinct sense of anticipation about the girl.
Her first thought was to call Rafi and leave a message for him to call her; in the meantime she would have to handle it herself.
Petra straightened up and waved the map in the air. ‘Has everyone got the map I gave out?’
Aneeta and Sergei were exchanging glances. Chances are they would try to separate themselves from the others so that they could pursue their romance; that would make it easier for Sahar to do whatever it was that was energising her.
‘In that case, we will see you back here two hours from now at 2.30.’
The group dispersed and Petra turned to Deanna and Rod, ‘Would you mind very much if I have a quick walk round Bath before I come back here to wait for the group? I need to buy a couple of things.’
‘Of course,’ Deanna said. ‘How inconsiderate of me. We’re just going to take Freddie for a stroll around Sydney Gardens and we’ll be back here. Take your time.’
Petra was already striding off. Minutes later she was walking down St Christopher’s, dodging tourists and the clusters of people perched on chairs outside the pastry shop.
Ahead Petra could see Sahar. She was walking with purpose, her slight figure demure in a long sleeved white shirt and ankle-length skirt. At the top of Northumberland Place Sahar paused. Petra ducked behind a display of summer scarves and peered over the rack to watch; Sahar reached into her rucksack; Sahar pulled out some paper; Sahar looked at her map. Then she walked under the arch and disappeared.
Fuck.
Petra broke into a jog aware that this was a textbook surveillance error; if Sahar turned back then the girl would know she was being tailed. Procedure be damned. Now sprinting Petra reached the end of Northumberland Place. There Petra looked right, then left, raking the crowds, trying to grab a glimpse of Sahar but the girl was gone.
Which way to go? Right or left?
Decision made, Petra’s pace was steady, certain; she checked herself, glimpsed her reflection in shop windows, saw long legs, long stride and long jacket. She glanced into the open doors of shops as she passed.
Nothing. Keep moving.
And then Petra got lucky. Or accurate. Visually, she divided the space ahead of her into quadrants and scanned. Three-quarters of the way along the arcade she saw Sahar. Captured in a shaft of light from the glass roof, her beige hijab glinted gold. And more, there was a man by her side who seemed to be hurrying Sahar along. Maybe it was Sahar’s brother and he wasn’t as safe as Rafi had presumed. Or worse, some other contact they knew nothing about.
Two hundred metres away: Sahar and the man. The man carried a sports bag. Below average height, one metre sixty-eight, bald, stocky. They walked fast.
He looked like someone she knew. The man with Sahar looked like someone Petra knew. Someone familiar. Something about the way his free hand, the one that wasn’t carrying the sports bag, touched the top of his shaved head.
Yes, of course, the man with Sahar looked just like Benny.
34
Abingdon, Oxfordshire – The Next Day
‘What happened then?’ Rafi said.
They were sitting in the car park at Wickes looking like any other couple who might be debating the relative merits of installing an induction hob over a gas range. A family in the next car were loading up a Ford Galaxy with flat-packs. Nearby, strapped into a pram, a toddler was yowling.
‘Let’s go somewhere quieter.’ Rafi pressed the ignition on the car and started to nose it out of the car park.
‘Rafi, it was Benny. I’m sure of it – ’
‘Just give me the facts,’ Rafi interrupted, frowning as he pushed into the traffic going towards the city centre.
‘As soon as I caught up with them, I was careful, I kept my distance and it wasn’t difficult because although he was hurrying her, he had a bag in one hand – heavy, looked like a sports bag.’
‘Describe it.’
‘Black, rectangle, I wasn’t close enough to see any branding, I don’t think there was any.’
‘Okay,’ Rafi tapped the steering wheel. ‘Did he hold it with the left hand or the right?’
Petra pulled up the image in her mind. She wanted to be sure. ‘Left,’ she said. ‘Definitely left.’
‘What happened next?’
‘They turned into a side street and I saw them go into a flat above a shop. He had a key. Here, here’s the address.’ She shoved a piece of paper into his hand that was resting on the steering wheel.
Petra went on, ‘I took up a position, six doors down on the opposite side of the road. It wasn’t easy, the café was jam-packed and I couldn’t get a table near the door and I wasn’t going to sit outside in case they saw me.’
‘Good call, Petra,’ he said.
The car was picking up speed on the outskirts of Oxford and they were cruising past the Holiday Inn on the Abingdon road. At the roundabout Rafi did a full circle and then drove into the hotel car park.
‘Where are we going?’
‘I think we deserve a drink.’
‘That’s not like you,’ Petra said.
The lobby of the hotel was bursting with mid-level management in corporate wear; they all seemed to be either trying to check in or check out. It was hard to tell in the maelstrom. Near the front desk a sign welcomed the Sagential Insurance Sales Conference and the Harthand Health Analytics Away Day.
On the fringes of the two groups, overburdened hotel staff with fixed smiles, pushed trolleys, carried bags, and tried to avoid eye contact. It took a few moments for Rafi and Petra to find the lounge and even longer to find two seats together.
‘Rafi, we’re never going to get served and I need to get back to the school,’ Petra said glancing around at the two waiters who were labou
ring with trays held high as they tried to service the thirsty crowd.
‘Leave it to me.’ Rafi stood up. Petra watched him approach a waiter from the side and then block his path. From her position on a low sofa, she saw Rafi’s smile, some words exchanged and a red note slipped into the waiter’s hand. Rafi returned to Petra satisfied.
‘Five minutes,’ he said.
And within five minutes the harassed waiter returned. Rafi slipped him another note and received something in exchange. Then Rafi nodded to Petra who got up and followed him.
‘Where are we going?’ Petra said as they left the hubbub of the bar.
‘I asked him to find a meeting room where we could have a drink and a conversation for an hour without people treading on us. It’s a conference, they’re used to it.’
‘So you said you were in insurance?’
‘Sure. You think he cares?’
Petra followed Rafi to the lift. On the second floor of the hotel they trod down a carpeted corridor and then Rafi stopped outside a door. Before Petra could comment, he produced a door key, slipped it into the slot and pushed the door open.
‘It was the best he could do,’ Rafi said. ‘There were no meeting rooms available.’
Petra followed Rafi into the standard upmarket hotel bedroom; neutral carpet, oversize headboard, and a flat screen TV. Everything was standard – except for the bottle of champagne in the silver bucket.
Petra stopped in the middle of the room. ‘What? What the fuck is this, Rafi?’
‘I thought it would be nice –’
‘What would be nice? I’ve got to get back to school before Deanna looks for me.’
‘Understood. Forgive me. I just couldn’t think of any other way of getting a room here or any other drink than champagne. That’s the only wine I know. We don’t even have to drink it – although it is open.’
‘This is serious. I saw Benny,’ Petra said.
Rafi settled himself down on the single armchair by the small table. The only place left for Petra to sit was the bed – she sat down.
‘Very well,’ he said. ‘Let’s stick to business. Start from the beginning. Everything, from the moment you left the school in the bus, arriving at Bath, the trip round the Roman Baths and so on. I want to know everything you saw and everything you heard.’
She narrowed her eyes as she tried to peer closer into her memory, to see what Sahar was doing at any particular moment. Every so often Rafi would ask a question; where was someone standing, did they use left or right hand? He took out a map of Bath and she showed him her route, the precise point where she lost Sahar, found her and then saw the man who looked like Benny.
‘And he massaged his scalp,’ Petra said. ‘He does it in meetings.’
‘And the bag he was carrying, did he hold it in the left hand or right? This is important.’
Petra narrowed her eyes. ‘Left, definitely left.’
‘You’re sure. Absolutely sure?’
She nodded, ‘You asked me in the car – why is it important?’
‘Because the man you saw can’t possibly have been Benny. Much as I would like to be able to say otherwise.’
‘What?’
‘Benny is a complete asshole, believe me, but besides anything else, he has a hand injury. It happened on an operation; his hand got stuck in a car door, broke all the bones and he can’t use the hand for weight. So unless that bag was completely empty, Benny wouldn’t be able to lift it.’
‘Really?’
‘Petra, how close were you?’
‘Maybe one hundred and fifty feet.’
‘I figure Benny looks like any short, bald guy at that distance.’
‘What about the head stroking?’
Rafi shook his head. ‘Coincidence. And you’re hyper-alert. We have to look over our shoulders, all the time. That’s what we do. Okay?’
‘Okay,’ she said.
Petra was aware that Rafi’s eyes were scanning her face. She kept her face relaxed and studied him as he stood up and poured out some champagne.
‘We might as well,’ he said. Turning back to her he held a glass towards her. Now intrigued, Petra accepted the flute and waited for Rafi’s pitch.
‘You read me like a book,’ he said. ‘And like it or not... there’s something between us.’
‘Sure, there is,’ Petra said smoothly. ‘The operation, sex, and some history. What of it?’
‘The history – it’s important. I trust you. And you trust me. It’s important in our work that we trust each other and I want to keep it that way. This is a very complicated operation, much more than you realise. As I told you, there’s a lot of politics going on and Benny really doesn’t like me. But I can tell you one thing – one thing for sure, the guy you saw wasn’t Benny.’
’So, who was it, then? Sahar’s brother? Some other guy?’
‘I don’t know. That’s what we’ve got to find out,’ Rafi said.
Petra sipped her champagne and smiled, ‘Of course, you’re right. You can rely on me.’
It was obvious that Rafi was trying to convince her that the guy she’d seen wasn’t Benny.
What Petra didn’t know was why.
Part 3 – THE DELUDED
A delusion is something that people believe in despite a total lack of evidence.
Richard Dawkins
A nation is a society united by a delusion about its ancestry and by common hatred of its neighbours.
William Ralph Inge
35
The Israeli Embassy, Palace Gardens, London – The Next Day
‘What do you want me to say?’
‘Thank you, Rafi, for covering my ass. Thank you, Rafi, for saving the operation. Thank you, Rafi, for making me look a better intelligence officer than I am. How about that – just for starters?’
‘You are an arrogant shit,’ Eli said.
‘Name calling isn’t going to change the facts.’
‘Which are that if you would have had better contact procedures with Trainer then she wouldn’t have been tailing me around Bath while I was carrying a suicide belt in a sports bag. For God’s sake, Rafi, once you got the text from Trainer saying that she was going to be in Bath, how hard would it have been to get a message to me?’
‘By the time I found out that school woman was making Trainer go to Bath you were already there – and I phoned.’
‘Too late,’ Eli said.
They were sitting in the safe room at the embassy waiting for Yuval to arrive. Rafi was leaning against the wall while Eli tapped away at a laptop. There might have been more restraint between the two men if Yuval had been there but he was in the signals room battling to get a second surveillance team shipped in yesterday. Even though the pound was low, the Office was whining about budgets and the cost of accommodation in London.
Rafi’s failure to warn him that Trainer was in Bath had been compounded by Eli’s decision to put the surveillance team on to Red Cap for 24 hours; to see if there was anything in the agent’s fears that he was being followed. They’d found nothing. As a result there’d been no one on the ground who might have warned Eli that he was being followed by Trainer. And, if it hadn’t been for Rafi... if it hadn’t been for Rafi...
Eli couldn’t process the thought. The notion of having to be grateful to Rafi for his effective handling of a difficult situation was like swallowing shards of glass. Even worse, the incident had fuelled Yuval’s skewed belief that the two intelligence officers made a good team. As for Eli’s prospects of becoming the next station manager – Eli couldn’t bear to even think about his hit wicket.
With effort Eli relaxed his face before he spoke, ‘Besides making sure that when I see Trainer I never use my left arm, is there anything else I need to know?’
‘No – it would be too obvious for you to bring up the accident you’re supposed to have had.’
‘It would be so much easier if we could take her out of the operation,’ Eli said.
‘I’m in full agree
ment,’ Rafi said. ‘Except for the school. After the operation she’ll certainly be questioned by the police if not MI5 counter-terrorism and if she’s already disappeared from the school it will look bad. We’re stuck with her.’
‘Some operations are just one problem after another; feels like they’re cursed,’ Eli said.
‘That sounds like some crap you inherited from your grandparents. Speaking of family how’s Sweetbait’s brother.’
‘Still whining about seeing her but his arm’s healing up nicely.’
The hydraulic lock hissed open and Yuval stalked into the room. He threw his jacket on a chair and sat down on the seat next to it.
‘Sometimes it’s hard to believe we’re on the same side. Anyway, I’ve got them; I’ve got the second team. I had to make all sorts of promises but we’ll have a second team for two weeks by which time this will all be over. Where are we? Eli, summarise.’
‘Rafi has advised me that he convinced Trainer that she didn’t spot me – for which I am grateful.’ That hurt but Eli said it. He went on, ‘It shouldn’t have happened with or without a team of watchers, I should have checked myself.’ That hurt even more. ‘In my defence, I had a limited amount of time with Sweetbait to show her the belt and fit her – ’
Yuval interrupted, ‘Rafi, how sure are you that Trainer is convinced?’
‘As sure as I can be.’
‘Biddiook,’ Yuval waved his hand in dismissal. ‘Very well, let’s move on. The situation is that Eli has now had two meetings with Sweetbait. Do you think she’s ready for the operation?’
‘No. I need at least one more, two would be better.’
‘You get one,’ Yuval said. ‘Next, we deal with Wasim. We have no choice; we’ve got to get him out of the UK before the operation. If this goes wrong the repercussions will be extensive to say the least; never mind our relationship with the UK/USA, we have more back-door talks going on with Saudi as we speak and an embarrassing disaster would scupper them, never mind what it would do to our personal career prospects. One boy cannot be allowed to jeopardise this operation.’