by Merle Nygate
‘You’re welcome, ma’am,’ she heard the American twang in his accent.
Now close to Wasim, close enough to see his nascent beard, Petra reached into her pocket and slipped the note towards the boy. She dropped her dizzy passenger in distress voice. ‘Men’s room is on the first floor. Read this in private, okay? I’ll be in the car park, second floor, bay 22. I’ll wait here; you can trust me, Wasim Nadir.’
She’d looked into his eyes and gave him a long steady gaze. He was hers; of course he followed her to the car park and the safety of Bob’s flat.
Sipping her champagne Petra smiled at Rafi and Benny.
‘Like I said, the boy’s safe and I’m listening.’
Rafi said, ‘Benny, do you want to explain our side of the story?’
‘Not particularly, but since we have no choice, I will. Sahar may think she’s going to be a martyr to her cause and make a difference but she’s completely wrong. Before there’s the slightest chance of this happening, she will be stopped and a grateful British government will reward us with a specific piece of intelligence that they are withholding. It’s as simple as that; that’s what this entire operation is about. And for what it’s worth, Petra, I am appalled that you would think for one single moment that we, Mossad, Israel, Jews, would actually let this happen. Truly. Life is sacred to us. All life. Why do you think we take soldiers up to Masada when they pass out of the army? You know what happened there – the biggest mass suicide in the Bible based on historical fact. We go there to remember that this must never, ever happen again. Because suicide is an aberration, an obscenity, it’s a sickness, a terrible, terrible sickness. And to use suicide for political gain is perverse.’
There was silence at the table and Petra had the sense that Benny was talking about something else. Or somebody else. For that moment, he wasn’t with them. Then he seemed to become aware and reacquainted with the conversation.
He smiled weakly, ‘You see, Wasim isn’t going to lose his precious big sister, everything is going to be just fine.’
Petra said nothing as she tried to absorb what Benny had just said; even though it was an astonishing idea for an operation, what Benny said had the ring of truth.
He said, ‘I presume you didn’t tell him we were involved.’
‘You presume correct. It would have only terrified him and he’s scared enough as it is.’
‘Where is he?’ Rafi said.
‘I told you, he’s safe. And now I want to know more. How does this all work?’
‘I can’t give you all the details, I’m not going to,’ Benny said. ‘Not without someone else signing off on this; there’s too much at stake and I simply don’t have that authority. What I will say is that when the girl’s arrested you’ll be interviewed by MI5 which is the other reason we wanted you at the school under your real name; a fake story wouldn’t have stood up for ten minutes. And also, to be fair on us, that’s why we kept you in the dark – we were trying to protect you.’
‘Thanks a lot. What about her? Trial? Prison?’
‘Don’t get sentimental about her,’ Rafi said. ‘She’s a tool; she may not know her part in all this but she was ready to kill innocent people. Don’t forget that.’
Benny broke in, ‘And if she knew you were a Jew all her hate education would kick in. She gets out of this okay. This is the UK. There will be no trial and no conviction. We will request her extradition on the grounds that we need to source her contacts and then will be in a position to secure her future, a much better future than she could ever have hoped for if she hadn’t been unwittingly involved in this operation.’
Petra folded her arms and studied him, he seemed genuine; yes, she was pretty sure that he was genuine. For want of a better word, he had that smell; that special, impossible to define smell that he believed what he was saying.
‘I really need to think about this,’ Petra said. ‘And you need to get authorisation to give me the rest of the details about location and timing that will prove to me that you aren’t lying. Can you do that by tomorrow?’
‘No, I need a couple of days to get this signed off at quite a high level,’ Benny said.
Petra thought about the week ahead, ‘I’ve got to take the students on a cultural excursion on Friday, so let’s meet Sunday or Monday.’
‘Okay.’
‘Where’s the boy?’ Rafi said.
‘Safe. I told you, how many times do you want me to repeat what I said? And understand this, I told him I would bring his sister to him safely and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.’
Eli and Rafi dropped off Petra at the bottom of the school’s drive and watched her walk through the security gates into the grounds of the school. Before she disappeared, Eli watched her in his wing mirror. She was talking to the security man at the gate, exchanging some pleasantry and the man was laughing.
‘Given the circumstances, that went okay,’ Rafi said.
‘You think so?’ Eli flicked on the ignition and moved away from the parking spot. ‘I think this whole thing is falling down around our ears.’
‘Well, by Sunday it will all be over,’ Rafi said. ‘Problem solved.’
‘I hope you’re right,’ Eli drove in silence for a while. ‘It’s too bad you didn’t stay over. Take Trainer out for dinner or something, find out what she really thinks, what she’s going to do. Find out where the boy is.’
‘I thought she made that pretty clear,’ Rafi said. ‘Don’t worry, Eli, it will all be fine, I’m certain of it. This time next week we’ll be back home; the heroes of the hour.’
Eli didn’t respond. He drove into a petrol station and up to a vacant pump. Once outside he started to fill the car. A dribble of petrol went down the side; it glistened in the evening light, it smelt sharp to his nostrils, reminded him of petrol fires on the West Bank and kids throwing home-made Molotov bombs. It was all so incendiary, and filling the car with fuel made him think about throwing petrol on the flames of his paranoia. Even though Rafi was saying that everything would be fine, Eli wasn’t convinced. It wasn’t that he was superstitious but sometimes operations were dogged with bad luck. Or maybe he was simply losing his confidence and Rafi was right; everything would sort itself out and he would emerge from the operation as the man most likely to take over London station.
54
The Israeli Embassy, Palace Gardens, London – The Next Day
For the final preparations of Sweetbait the safe room at the embassy was busy. Yuval led the briefings, witnessed by the government minister and the deputy ambassador who were also in the room as they would be in the front line of the media. Mia, the government minister, was a former regional director of the organisation; she’d left to go into politics and retained a fondness for the old team. Yossi, the deputy ambassador, was a different matter; the ferret-faced suit was the ambassador’s hatchet man. Formerly known as Joe Rappaport, he was a British businessman who had made aliyah, some said, for the tax benefits. Two seats down from Eli, he looked upon the proceedings with apparent disdain. Or maybe he simply didn’t understand the Byzantine workings of the operation. Whatever his problem was, he looked like he’d rather be somewhere else. Anywhere else.
Rafi and Eli sat either side of Yuval at the top of the table. In front of them was a spread of coffee, water, sandwiches and fruit to fuel the meeting. It hadn’t been Yuval’s choice but it was in deference to the bigwigs who were used to kinder care on the diplomatic circuit than Yuval’s tent in the desert approach.
On one side of the room the screens showed a series of images: Sweetbait herself, the diagram of the operation location and the order of events including fall-back plans. Contact details had been circulated and by noon everybody knew what they needed to know.
‘This is all very well,’ Yossi sighed as if in pain, ‘but the ambassador needs an assurance that there will be no more episodes such as the incident in the visa section.’
‘That was something entirely different,’ Eli said. ‘Regrettable, but
an isolated incident.’
‘The ambassador does not want to have to face media pressure because of any more regrettable incidents. The affair of the passports left in the phone box is still very fresh in the public’s consciousness and handicaps our diplomatic initiatives. Yet another regrettable incident would be supremely embarrassing for the ambassador.’
‘Yossi, we are not here to mull over the past; this is a pre-op briefing,’ Yuval said. ‘We can discuss this later. The purpose of the briefing is to make sure that everyone knows what to do and when to do it thus minimising the possibility of error.’
Yossi looked as if a lemon had been shoved down his throat but at least he shut up.
‘Thank you, Yuval,’ Mia filled the gap; she smoothed down her skirt before she stood up. ‘This all seems clear. I’ll report back to the prime minister that we are in safe hands and that while, as I know, outcomes are sometimes subject to change, we have all signed off on the operation.’
She came around the table and held out her hand to Yuval, ‘On behalf of the prime minister’s office, good luck and God go with you.’
The room slowly emptied leaving Eli alone with Rafi and Yuval.
‘Besides Yossi’s flounce, that went okay,’ Rafi said. ‘It’s great having Mia in our camp.’
‘She’s a politician,’ Yuval said. ‘Always has been, very good at backing the winning team and better at not being around when the shit flies. So be warned, she’ll only be in our camp as long as it suits her.’
He got up from the table and helped himself to one of the sandwiches that were by now curling at the edges. He took a mouthful and continued talking.
‘We’ve still got a couple of loose threads. Where are we with Trainer?’
‘I spoke to her this morning and arranged to meet on Sunday when it’s all over,’ Rafi said. ‘It will be a simple matter of diverting her at the operation location. She’ll tell us where the brother is when she realises it’s too late. She’s not stupid; she knows she’s going to have MI5 on her arse so her only hope of helping the brother is to stay away from him. She’ll have to trust us.’
‘Are you sure about that?’ Yuval said.
‘I can be very persuasive,’ Rafi said.
‘I suppose that’s as good as it could be,’ Yuval brushed his fringe away from his forehead. ‘So that just leaves Sweetbait. Do you need to see her again, Eli? Ask her why she gave her brother a tracking device and while you’re at it, you can ask why she drew a copy of the fucking map for Trainer to find.’
Eli put down his water bottle and did up the cap. ‘Yuval, I know why she made the map. She’s a worrier; she didn’t want to make mistakes. Of course, I told Sweetbait to memorise the location and not write it down but she’s anxious; that’s part of her personality.’
Yuval leaned back in his chair and used both hands to brush his hair off his forehead. ‘Okay, here’s what we’re going to do over the next twenty-four hours. I am going to make nice with Mia, take her out for dinner, probably with that miserable Yossi; make sure that we are in good odour with the prime minister’s office. Rafi is going to have a meeting with our friends at MI6; he needs to tell Milne that we have a location so he can pass on the information to MI5. We want to make sure that all the wheels are oiled for tomorrow, and that they have people in place to arrest Sweetbait.’
Eli said, ‘I thought I was talking to Milne.’
‘You’ll see him afterwards; after the girl’s arrested. Rafi is quite capable of passing on the details. What I want you to do, Eli, is to go to Oxford and try to see Sweetbait again. Just to make sure everything is okay and she doesn’t run off with Trainer. Okay? Take the surveillance teams, stay over in the area tonight and meet at the operational location. Consider it checking our equipment before the op.’
‘Speaking of equipment, what about the belt?’ Rafi said. ‘Eli can’t keep it overnight in some hotel near the oploc.’
‘Lama lo?’ Eli said. ‘Why not? I’ll have the surveillance team with me. They can sit up all night and look at it.’
Rafi stood up, stretched across the table and poured some hot water on to his green tea bag. ‘It’s not secure. That’s why. Let’s leave as little to chance as possible. I can check it out of the armoury at dawn and drive up.’
‘Okay,’ Yuval said. ‘I’ll make sure that you have access. I want all equipment – human or otherwise – checked and rechecked and rechecked. We leave as little to chance as possible.’
Yuval stood up and shrugged himself into his crushed linen jacket. He felt in the patch pockets and jiggled some change.
‘Next time I see you both it will all be over. Be lucky and be safe.’
55
Watlingford Public School, Oxfordshire – The Next Day
Dearest brother, dearest Wasim, I’m ready. I prayed through the night, watched night turn to dawn and this morning I’ll fast. I’m at peace and in a state of grace. Any regrets are now gone, like chaff before the wind. I promise you, there’s no sorrow. I feel only joy because I know that when the time comes, I’ll be comforted in the arms of Allah. And later, all the people that I love, all the people I’ll miss will be among the seventy chosen ones who will join me in the afterlife.
I’ve been racking my brains trying to work out how to give you this notebook because I can’t tell Abu Marwan that I’ve been keeping a diary. I’m going to give it to Petra to give to you. I really trust her. She’s the teacher who drove me to London when we met; she gave me the commemoration coin that I gave you. I know you’ll like her.
I’ve got one small regret, brother. Something I can admit to you. I really wish that I could include two non-believers among the seventy: Aneeta and Petra. When I see the angel I’ll ask to put them on the list in the hope that at some point they will be guided towards Allah and we can all be together again.
I’m sitting at my desk in this room, my last home on my last morning, writing in my notebook to you. Quite soon I’ll go down to the study block where I’ll join my fellow students for the last lesson before we go on the cultural excursion. That’s where I’ll meet Abu Marwan, my commander. This is where he’ll give me the belt, I’ll say the Shahada. Then I’ll be ready. I’ll detonate the belt and my soul will be carried aloft by the sacred birds.
I’m scared, Wasim. I’m scared of the pain before the end, but I’m not going to think of that.
Yesterday evening I was blessed with a wonderful surprise. I was not expecting to see Abu Marwan; that’s what he said the last time I saw him. But then I got a text from him to say that he was waiting for me in the kitchen garden and I had five precious minutes with him. During that time he blessed me and he gave me some beautiful amber prayer beads; he told me what I must do; he repeated the instructions – as if he needed to. I’ve rehearsed them over and over again. Recited them like the Fatihah, five times a day. I’ve studied the map of the location, learned where every single building is, until I can draw it with my left hand.
Abu Marwan told me something else; he warned me. He said that if anyone approaches me and tells me not to go ahead, even if it’s someone that I know and trust, it would be a representative of the devil. He said that sometimes Shaytan tempts martyrs in their last moments. He said that Shaytan might appear in many forms to stop me from my mission. ‘Be warned,’ Abu Marwan said, ‘be alert.’ The devil likes to play on the shaheeda’s fears during the last hours but only by ignoring the devil will I achieve martyrdom. Only by spurning fear will I make a difference. Only by shunning doubt will I strike a blow against the Zionist monkeys and in some small way help the fight forward.
Dearest brother, I am truly happy. I am blessed. Allah Akbar.
56
Watlingford Public School, Oxfordshire – The Same Day
With Wasim safe in Bob’s empty flat, there was nothing for Petra to do until Sunday. Then she’d meet Rafi and Benny and find out about the operational location so she could negotiate safe passage for Sahar out of this situation, whether the girl lik
ed it or not. Wasim was the key and Petra was certain that the threat of full disclosure to the British authorities would secure a neat solution to the problem. But it was a threat she would only carry out as a very last resort because for sure, MI6 would be as self-serving as any other intelligence service; that’s just the way it was.
Today Mick’s minibus was picking the group up at 12pm to take them to the Air Tattoo at RAF Fairborough. It wasn’t a cultural event; there was no English language, literature or historical aspect to it; however, it fitted the brief because they’d received free tickets – Deanna’s husband Rod had done some PR for one of the aviation companies.
‘Rod has to meet with the clients,’ Deanna said. ‘So we won’t be travelling with you and the students on the minibus.’
‘That’s fine,’ Petra said.
‘Let me know if there are any problems, but we go every year and the students seem to absolutely love it.’
By 11.50, Petra was in the café rounding up the kids who were still lingering.
‘Come on,’ Petra said. ‘Don’t you want to go and see the Red Arrows? It’s very exciting. And we’re not going to wait.’
The students gathered up their bags and headed for the door but at one table for two there was no movement. Both Aneeta and Sergei had long faces; it looked as if they’d had a row.
Lingering by their table, Petra affected a breezy manner, ‘If you two don’t want to go...’
In answer Aneeta stood up and stalked past Petra to the door. ‘I go. I care not if he goes.’
Sergei flushed, got slowly to his feet and lumbered after her out of the café.
The last person in the café was Sahar who had been sitting alone sipping a plastic cup of water. She was fingering some amber beads. As Petra approached she packed them away. Neatly. With gentle fingers. Sahar placed the beads in a green velvet bag, zipped it up and tucked it in her rucksack. Petra went towards the girl, ‘Ready?’