“I can’t tell you that yet” Potok threw up his hands in disgust. “You are treading on exceedingly dangerous grounds with us. In Israel we shoot spies”
“We might have to start shooting yours then as well” McGarvey retorted.
It had been Israel’s big embarrassment that their operation to steal U.S. cruise missile plans had been discovered by the FBI. It had been called a “maverick” operation by Jerusalem, a statement that no one believed, but that everyone could live with. Potok was getting worked up again.
“Everybody out of the room” he ordered. The others looked up at him in surprise. “We can’t do that, Lev” one of them said. “That’s a direct order, Abraham; you know what’s at stake here. Out. All of you”
The man started to say something in Hebrew, but Potok cut him off. “Now”
he shouted. “All right” the man said, and he got up and left the room with the other three without a backward glance. When the door closed Potok managed a tight little smile. He reached over and shut off the tape recorder. “Now it is just you and I. McGarvey did not want to hurt the man who was only doing his job the best he knew how. His back was against the wall. Twice in barely a week Israel’s most important secret had been compromised. First by the Russians and now by the CIA. But McGarvey wasn’t going to simply sit back and take whatever the Mossad wanted to do to him. He tensed. “Tell me about your relationship with Dr. Abbott, are you fucking her” Potok asked, the question completely unexpected. “What are you talking about? “She was under surveillance.
When you and she pulled your little trick so that you could break out, she was arrested. Right now her main concern seems to be your well-being”
McGarvey was careful to show no reaction. Had she had the time to call the general? If not, it would be up to Trotter to realize that something had gone wrong and to blow the whistle. But that could take time. “She has nothing to do with this” he said. “Ah, your concern is equally touching. But the fact of the matter is that she does have something very much to do with this. Enough for our charge of espionage against her to stick in court. But I asked you a question. Are you fucking her”
“Up your ass”
Potok snatched up a pistol from the table and pointed it directly at McGarvey’s head. “One question. Yes or no”
“You will have a hard time justifying my death, Major Potok” McGarvey said, revealing for the first time that he knew who and what Potok was.
“You were shot trying to escape”
“No” McGarvey said. He folded his hands on his lap and crossed his legs. Potok cocked the pistol’s hammer, his aim never wavering. “How does it feel to have the tables reversed, assassin? No one will mourn your passing, I think” The door opened. Potok’s gaze shifted beyond McGarvey. Liebowitz said something in Hebrew, his tone definitely urgent. Potok seemed to waver. Liebowitz said something else. Slowly Potok’s gun hand came down. He uncocked the pistol, looked bleakly at McGarvey for several long seconds, and then left the room.
Potok sat in stunned-silence across the desk from Isser Shamir. What he had just been told confirmed their worst fears and suspicions. The Russians definitely knew about En Gedi and they were going to destroy the place at all costs. June thirtieth was the date.
“As I said before, Israel is in a delicate position” Shamir continued.
“We cannot bring diplomatic pressures to bear without admitting the truth”
“All the work … all the years, the security” Shamir shook his leonine head, his eyes sad. “Haven’t you learned by now that trying to hold a secret is more difficult than trying to hold water in your hands?
Ultimately impossible”
“Then the weapons must be moved”
“I agree. But this will take time, which you and Mr. McGarvey will provide for us” Potok sat forward. “What”
“The Russians apparently have a source within the Pentagon, someone the CIA has code-named Feliks. You and Mr. McGarvey are going to return to Washington to find this leak and plug it” Potok was shaking his head in disbelief. “I don’t understand “The information that the Russians needed to reprogram the Pershing missile to strike En Gedi came from this Pentagon source”
“Surely they won’t try to steal another missile” Potok argued. “Every American installation in the world will be watching for just such an attempt”
“Perhaps you are right, Lev, perhaps not. The real issue, now ever, is somewhat more complicated. Valentin Baranov has planned this strike.
Your Mr. McGarvey stopped him two years ago. Once he learns that Mcgarvey is again trying to interfere with one of his operations, the Russians will almost certainly go after him. “He will be a marked man”
“Yes, but a man not to be underestimated. Once the Russians are drawn out, it will be up to the two of you to stop them. “I’m to work with him, then”
“For him” Shamir corrected. “It is a strange world, isn’t it”
Kurshin could hardly believe his ears.
He was seated in the embassy’s basement communications room where he had come to find out about the American bitch, Lorraine Abbott, and now he was being told that she and McGarvey had left Israel. “You are sure” he asked. Yes, Comrade” Piotrovsky said. “I watched them board the flight for Paris” Why?
Kurshin asked himself. First McGarvey had disappeared. Then the woman had been arrested, and now the two of them were on their way to Paris.
It made no sense. “Can you get aboard that flight”
“No”
“Then we will have lost them” Kurshin screamed. “Pardon me, Comrade, but we do have resources in Paris. It should be a simple matter to trail them from there” The bastard was correct, of course. But Kurshin still could not get rid of the vision of McGarvey pulling the Pershing’s plugs, just as he might have unplugged a night light.
They were not going to Paris, though. It was just a way point for them.
Kurshin was almost one hundred percent convinced they were returning to Washington. “Make certain they do not go into Paris. They’ll probably be switching planes. For Washington. Do you understand”
“Yes, Comrade. “Once they have left French soil your job will be done”
Kurshin slammed down the telephone. Within twenty-four hours, forty-eight at the most, they would be dead. Both of them. He would see to it himself.
They’d switched planes at Paris’s Orly airport and as on the first leg of the trip, Lorraine Abbott maintained an uneasy silence.
They traveled first class, and crossing the Atlantic she managed to get a few hours’ sleep or at least pretended to. She was angry that she had been pulled into this situation against her will, and now it would probably mean that her career would be sidetracked. The moment they got home, she’d told him even before they’d left the ground at Lod, she would go directly up to the NPT Inspection Service’s office at the UN in New York, make her report, and then try her best to forget the ugly incident had ever occurred. The pilot switched on the 747’s No Smoking and Fasten Seatbelt signs, and McGarvey gently nudged her. Her eyes came open immediately, and she glared at him. “We’re coming in. Put on your seatbelt” McGarvey said. She glanced out the window before she did as he told her. He studied the back of her head for that moment. She had a right to be angry, he thought. He had placed her life, and certainly her career, in jeopardy. Even though she was an NPT field inspector whose job it was to find out such things, her knowledge of what was really happening at En Gedi placed her in danger. He was going to have to ask Trotter to have the Agency do something for her. At least until this business was taken care of. At least she had called the general before her arrest. It’s what had started the wheels in motion. Potok had not returned, but an hour after he had left, McGarvey’s personal belongings had been returned to him, and he had been driven directly to the VIP lounge at the airport. They’d picked up his bag from his hotel. About his gun no one would comment. Lorraine had shown up a couple of minutes later, just as surprised to see him as he had been to see her. “Are you all right” he had asked when they were alone for just a second or two.