A Gentleman's Game

40

Israel-Tel Aviv, 12 Ben-Yehuda Street, 2F 18 September 2310 Local (GMT+3.00) As far as safehouses went, Chace thought they could have done a lot worse, even with the four Mossad heavies keeping them under lock and key.

There was a sliver view of the Mediterranean through one of the apartment windows, lights shining off the water. There was food and beer in the refrigerator, including two steaks. The furniture was used, not terribly comfortable, but entirely serviceable. The bedroom had a queen-size mattress on a companion box spring on the floor and the bed had been made up. There was soap, shampoo, two disposable razors, a tube of shaving cream, and towels in the bathroom. The air conditioner worked, even if the radio and television didn't.

She assumed they were bugged to the gills, certainly audio, probably video, and she guessed that was why those particular appliances wouldn't function. No background noise, nothing to hide a conversation behind.

When they'd been arrested, the policemen hadn't offered any explanation, and neither Wallace nor Chace had offered any resistance. Their arrest hadn't been expected, but it wasn't directly alarming, and when they had been driven to the safehouse rather than to the police station, both had been reassured.

Once inside, two of the heavies handled the physical search, going through their bags, then their clothes. They'd been polite enough about it, careful, and had avoided the extremes in that neither Chace nor Wallace had been asked to undress. The other two had kept watch, and nobody had said anything. Then the four had left, locking them inside, and Chace was certain they were at positions next door and in the hall.

There was nothing to do but wait.

So they cooked the steaks and had them for an early dinner, then went to the bed and lay down side by side. Why squander the time pacing when sleep was available? Wallace didn't touch her, and Chace thought he was trying to be discreet, not wanting to reveal anything more to the watchers than was already known, but after lying like that for most of a minute, she decided what the hell and reached around for Tom's arm, pulled it around her waist. He rolled toward her, slipping his other arm beneath the pillow where she was resting her head, and she could feel his breath on her neck, calm and steady, and it transferred to her, and that was how they slept. • A knock on the bedroom door woke them.

"Come out, please," a man said.

They did, Chace walking stiffly, her knee giving her trouble. She hoped running wouldn't be required anytime soon.

When they emerged, Noah Landau was seated at the small square table by the kitchen, and another man, tall enough to be gangly, hair wiry and unkempt, was plugging in an old coffeepot to percolate. One of them, Landau or the other, had put an ashtray on the table, and two unopened packs of cigarettes, and a plate of dainty cookies, what looked like chocolate chip.

"Please." Landau swept an open hand, indicating the empty seats. "Join us."

"Oh, that's very nice of you," Wallace said.

They took seats, and the man making the coffee turned from his task and gave Chace a looking-over, grinning. Then he looked to Landau, said something in Hebrew, and Landau shook his head, as if the words were expected and not particularly original.

"Rude," Chace said. "Speaking like that when we can't understand."

"You wouldn't like the translation," Landau told her. "He thinks he's in love with you."

"If his coffee's any good, tell him I'll marry him."

The man laughed.

"It's Wallace, isn't it?" Landau asked Tom. "Yes?"

Wallace nodded. "Crete, seven years ago? Or is it eight?"

"Eight and a half, Mr. Wallace." Landau smiled. "I understand you retired."

"Well, I thought a holiday was in order, came to see the Promised Land."

"Hmm, sadly I think that will not be possible."

"Oh?" Wallace looked to Chace. "I told you we should have booked a package, but no, you had to insist on the Rough Guide."

"You like it rough," she said.

"I like snuggling, too."

The other man spoke again, laughed, then began pouring the coffee.

"He's still being rude," Chace said.

"He is very rude," Landau agreed. "Viktor, introduce yourself."

"Viktor Borovsky." The man set one of the cups in front of Chace and gave her an enormously amused smile. "And if you like my coffee, I will go search for a ring for you."

"Needs to be a big one," Chace said. "I'm a size queen."

Borovsky laughed. He joined them at the table, taking one of the cookies and dunking it before eating. Wallace reached for one of the packs of smokes, tore the cellophane free, then knocked two free. He handed one to Chace, took one for himself, and his actions seemed to provide some sort of permission, because by the time Chace had her lighter to her cigarette, Landau and Borovsky were smoking as well.

"Regular kaffeeklatsch, this," Chace said.

"Nothing regular about it," Wallace said.

Landau smiled at them both for a moment, then said to Chace, "You blew it."

"To which 'it' do you refer, Mr. Landau? I've blown so many things in my time."

"El-Sayd."

"Ah."

"Yes."

Wallace shot a quizzical look to Chace. "Muhriz el-Sayd, he means?"

"That's the one."

"You blew it?"

"I was supposed to kill him. He left before I could take the shot. Killed Prince Salih instead."

"You neglected to include that part," Wallace said.

"I've had a lot on my mind."

Borovsky ate another cookie, feeding himself with the same hand that held his cigarette. When he smiled, chocolate was visible on his teeth. "Please, don't mistake Noah's gruffness for disapproval. We're quite happy with the way things turned out."

"So this is about giving me a medal, then?" Chace asked. "That's why you're holding us?"

"Viktor speaks out of turn," Landau said softly. "I neither approve nor disapprove of Salih's death. If he wasn't an enemy of Israel, he certainly supported Israel's enemies. It is relevant to the discussion at hand only because Salih's death impacts your current situation dramatically."

Chace rolled the end of her cigarette along the edge of the ashtray, watching the embers. "Impacts how?"

"Come now, you know the position in which you have been placed as well as I."

"You're not going to hand me to the Saudis," Chace said.

It wasn't a question, but Borovsky took it as such, answering, "Fuck me, no. No, no, never, never in a million years, no."

She looked at him and he smiled broadly, and Chace motioned with her free hand at her own mouth, indicating crumbs. Borovsky swiped at his chin with the back of a hand, unashamed.

Landau said something softly to Borovsky in Hebrew, and Borovsky looked at him, surprised, responding curtly. Landau answered, as quietly as before, but longer this time, and Borovsky listened. Chace watched his smile evaporate, to be replaced with a decided scowl.

To Chace, Landau said, "Our options are as limited as yours."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that the HUM-AA camp in the Wadi-as-Sirhan must go, Miss Chace. Unequivocally, the camp must be neutralized, destroyed. One way or another."

"Then please get on with it," Chace said tartly. "The sooner you take care of it, the sooner I can go home."

"You know our dilemma."

"No, actually, I don't. I'm told that you've been blocked by the Americans, but the Americans have blocked you before and you've gone around them before. A clear and present danger to the State of Israel has always required the same response from your lot-you take care of the problem. Why not this time?"

"This time the Americans are threatening to suspend four billion dollars in aid," Borovsky said. "And since the problem can be solved without direct intervention, our Government is content to allow things to run their course."

"Which brings us back to you," Landau said. "I understand that SIS has listed you as rogue, Miss Chace. Certainly, you suspected that would be the result of your flight from England. Of all the places in the world you could run to, you came here."

"And you were waiting for me at the airport," Chace said. "Which means you knew I was coming. How is that? Crocker tip you?"

Landau shook his head. "So you are here because you want our help, because you feel you must neutralize the camp by yourself or else run for the rest of your life. You are here because your own Government will not aid you, and so you turn to us."

"And you're eager to help," Chace said. "That's why you've held Tom and me here for the last twelve hours?"

"You left the job undone," Landau said.

Chace stared at him, for a moment stunned by his arrogance. "I beg your pardon?"

"El-Sayd is still alive, Miss Chace. Until you fulfill our last agreement, I see no reason to enter into another with you."

"You're fucking joking."

"No, I'm not."

Wallace crushed out his cigarette. "You're seriously saying that we've got to go kill el-Sayd before you'll help us take care of the camp?"

"No," Landau said.

"Thank God."

"Miss Chace will go kill el-Sayd. You will remain here."

Both Wallace and Chace stared at him, and for a moment Chace wondered at the world's insistence on making her its bitch. She shook her head stubbornly, but Wallace spoke first.

"The hell I will. If she's off to Cairo, she'll need support."

"But if you go with her, there's no reason to assume she'll complete the mission. If we hold you here, as our guest, she will be motivated to take care of el-Sayd with the same efficiency she brought to the assassination of Faud."

"You're a staggering bastard," Chace said to Landau after a moment.

"Perhaps, but no more of a bastard than your D-Ops." Landau removed his glasses, checked the lenses for smudging. "Surely you didn't think we'd want nothing in exchange for our help, Miss Chace?"

"Actually, since it's your problem as much as it is ours and the Americans', yes, I sort of did."

Landau replaced his glasses. "That was surprisingly naive of you."

Chace sighed.

"You're telling me," she said. • Landau and Borovsky briefed her in the apartment, with Wallace listening, until just before dawn. Shortly after sunrise, they drove her back to the airport, leaving Wallace behind with two of the brutes to mind him. Her tickets were already arranged, a flight to Athens, and from there to Rome, and then from Rome to Cairo. They gave her five thousand dollars for her expenses and a number to contact when the job was done, to arrange her return trip.

They stayed with her until it was time to board and waited until they saw she was on the plane.

She appreciated the fact that neither Landau nor Borovsky wished her luck.