Black Mountain

FOURTEEN

The boat glided in towards the beach and the fisherman leaped out to walk the bow up onto the sand. Adira and Alex picked up their small bags and jumped out, then Alex turned to help pull the boat clear of the water. It was quiet save for the tiny waves shushing onto the fine grains of sand. Adira watched as Alex lifted his chin and inhaled the scents of the ocean, before scanning the dark shoreline.

The little open boat had brought them from Eilat, the southernmost town in Israel, to Taba at the start of the Gulf of Aqaba in Egypt. It had taken only twenty minutes to cross the six miles of glass-like ocean, but the trip had cost 1000 US dollars — and there would be much more expense to come. They needed international travel documents, credit cards and new identities. Adira had a contact in Egypt who was one of the best in the Middle East. He, like the fisherman, was part of the large black-market network that operated under the noses of the Israeli and Egyptian authorities. Terrorists used them to get into Israel… and now she was using them to get out.

She turned to the waiting fisherman. ‘Shukran,’ she said, and held out the wad of American notes.

His weathered hand reached for it, but she held on tight, causing the old man to frown and look up into her eyes.

He grunted. ‘The car will come. It is my cousin, Bennu, I trust him. As arranged, he will take you as far as Sharm el-Sheikh at the Red Sea, and then…’ He shrugged and tugged again on the notes.

Adira still held fast, examining his eyes for any deception. She spoke in a low, even tone. ‘If he does not come, then the next time you see me, it will not only be the money I take from you.’

She let go, and the old man nodded, but Adira could see the hint of a smirk on his face.

Alex helped push the boat off the sand for its return trip. They both saw the small illumination across the dark water as the old man flipped open a mobile phone and started to talk. Adira’s stomach knotted — she couldn’t believe the risks she was taking. She always thought any plan through from both a strategic and tactical perspective — it was one of the reasons she had stayed alive so long in Mossad’s elite Metsada unit. But her decision to help Alex leave Israel had been made in a state of panic. She knew that in doing so, she was betraying her country, her uncle and everything she’d believed in her entire life. The truth was, the woman beneath the lethal exterior wanted a life with Alex Hunter, no matter how remote a fantasy that seemed. At the same time, she was continuing to betray him and his fragmented memory. He already knew she’d lied to him. What would happen if she were proved a liar again? What of her fantasy about a future together then?

It was impossible to know how this crazy plan would turn out. She had to believe that what she was doing was right. She could justify her actions to her country, to her uncle — after all, if she got the answers they wanted about the Arcadian project, then all would be forgiven. In her world, the end always justified the means. Today’s unorthodox actions were tomorrow’s textbook lessons… as long as they worked.

She reached out and gripped Alex’s upper arm and squeezed. ‘Come,’ she said. She was smart, she would work things out.

Alex smiled and put his hand on her shoulder and she felt its warmth on her skin. What I’m doing is right, she thought. Sometimes logic doesn’t matter.

General Meir Shavit watched the surveillance film of his niece and Alex Hunter buying tickets for the domestic flight from Tel Aviv to Eilat. They’d paid cash, and the available CCTV footage had lost them the moment they left the airport. Shavit knew that given Adira’s abilities, it was sheer luck that they had managed to catch her on film at all.

Sheer luck, or a deliberate tactic? He tapped his chin with a cigarette lighter. Could she have doubled back into the airport and taken another domestic flight? Or were she and Hunter on an international flight to somewhere else in the Middle East, or even beyond? Or maybe they had sailed across into Egypt or Saudi Arabia? Too many options, he thought.

He rubbed a hand over his face and looked at the image of his niece. What are you up to, Addy? You think you are in love? You think that because one young man shakes you up, everything you have stood for is now worth nothing? Prove me wrong, Addy, before the walls close in, he thought.

He shook his head and watched the film loop over again. He stopped it and focused in on the young man with her, then gave a long, morose sigh. ‘Addy, if you were with anyone else, I might turn a blind eye and let you run…’

There was a soft knock on the door. The general’s assistant opened it, allowing a tall, dark-haired man to enter. The man saluted and stood at attention.

‘At ease, Salamon,’ Shavit said. He waved the man to a pair of heavy leather chairs, and retrieved a folder from his desk before taking the chair opposite Salamon’s. ‘You are well?’ he asked, smiling.

Salamon’s back was straight and he sat uncomfortably in the general’s presence. ‘Yes, sir.’

Shavit nodded and continued to smile. ‘Your Kidon team is available?’

Salamon shifted slightly, the bulge of muscles playing beneath his suit. ‘All finished up from previous assignments and ready for duty, sir.’

‘Good, good.’ Shavit lit a cigarette, sucked in a deep lungful of smoke and blew the plume towards the ceiling. His eyes returned to Salamon. ‘I have a small problem. Maybe only a personal one, but it needs urgent, incisive… and delicate action.’

Shavit handed across the folder and watched as the other man skimmed its contents, quickly and professionally. His hands, although large and with heavily callused knuckles, were nimble.

‘Captain Senesh might be having a breakdown,’ Shavit added softly. ‘I need you to retrieve her.’

Salamon’s head jerked up from the file. ‘Adira Senesh?’

‘Yes, your colleague in Metsada.’ Shavit motioned at a photograph of Alex Hunter in the file. ‘This man may have corrupted her. Bring her back.’

Salamon’s eyes narrowed as he examined the man in the photograph. ‘It will not be easy. If she does not want to come with us, she will fight.’

Shavit blew more smoke into the air. ‘Bring her back alive, Salamon.’

Salamon nodded and put the picture back into the file. ‘What of him… if he tries to interfere?’

Shavit looked at the young man sitting in front of him. Salamon Eitan, head of the Kidon squad, was his secret weapon; his unit the more brutal side of the secretive Mossad machine. ‘Bring him back… intact. Alive if possible, but his life is of secondary importance. Read the file in detail, Salamon; it will not be an easy mission. Take your squad, because he may also resist, and he will be a problem.’

‘Not for me,’ Salamon said, and bent his head to continue reading.