“ That’s democracy. I’ll keep going even with a one-vote majority. And these ayatollahs,” Rabin jerked his head at the window, “can have their free speech, blowing air like propellers!”
“There’s some validity to their anger. Palestinian terror hasn’t stopped.”
“ It’s a process! What do they want? Miracles? We’re making progress. The PLO renounced violence and recognized Israel. Arafat is governing Gaza and much of the West Bank. And the Palestinian Authority is starting to work. For the first time in Israel’s history, we have a partner for peace.”
“ Like you said at the Nobel Prize ceremony: Enough of blood and tears! Enough! ”
“ That wasn’t the Nobel speech. I said that when we signed the first Oslo agreement at the White House in 1993.”
“ But the blood and tears haven’t stopped.”
“ It’s the price of peace. Do you have an alternative?” Prime Minister Rabin glared at him.
“ Yes. Let the blood and tears come from the veins and eyes of Arabs, not Jews.”
“ Ah, there you go again.” He rolled his eyes. “We can’t kill all of them.”
“ It’s them or us.”
“ It’s hope or despair!” Rabin’s voice rose in anger. “And the agreement I just signed gives Arafat full control of the main West Bank cities-Jericho, Nablus, Hebron, Bethlehem. Let him rule over a million angry Palestinians! Let him deliver clean water, run health clinics, and haul off the trash! Let him fight Hamas!”
“ And if you lose the next elections?” Elie toyed with the cigarette pack. The conversation was going in the direction he had hoped for. “The peace process has damaged your popularity.”
“Leadership is not a popularity contest.” Rabin tilted his head, smiling in a way that was almost shy. “Look, peacemaking is just like conducting a war. There’s a main thrust. And there are pinpoint attacks on secondary targets. Our main thrust is the Oslo Accords, leading to two states living peacefully side-by-side. Our secondary targets are the all-or-nothing opponents on both sides. For Arafat, they are the Right of Return diehards, his PLO dropouts, who call him a traitor for recognizing Israel. For me, they are the right-wing Eretz Israel politicians, who’d rather forgo peace than concede a few biblical tombs in the West Bank.”
“The West Bank is our backbone. Without it, Israel will be eight miles wide.”
“The Palestinians will not have an army. Arafat knows my red lines.”
“Arafat doesn’t have to worry about an electoral defeat.”
“I’ll win the next elections,” Rabin said. “The opposition offers no hope. Israeli voters want more than doomsday prophesies and personal attacks.”
“You’re having me kill Arafat’s opponents. Do you want me to help with yours?”
“Are you offering this help on behalf of the Special Operations Department or just as Elie Weiss?”
“ SOD and I are one and the same. I can do more for you than pollsters and campaign consultants. I know how to deal with Jewish insurgents.” Until 1967, Elie had run a network of informers in ultra-Orthodox yeshivas in order to monitor seditious elements who posed an existential risk to Israel, just as fundamentalist Jewish groups had destroyed Jewish kingdoms in ancient times. But the dramatic victory of the Six Day War, which many viewed as divine intervention, had ended the siege mentality in Israel and diffused the ultra-Orthodox anti-Zionist fever. Subsequently, Elie shifted his base of operations to Europe. “I still have some local assets,” he said.
“ To do what?”
“ The hothead fringe of the settlers’ movement could be used to tarnish Likud. Guilt by association.”
“ That’s your mistake,” Rabin said. “Arik Sharon and Bibi Netanyahu are not hotheads or insurgents. They’re my political opponents. I’ll beat them at the voting booth.”
“ Current opinion surveys predict you’ll lose.”
“ They can’t predict tomorrow’s weather, how can they predict the election results a year from now? A lot can change.”
“ The tide’s against you. A few more terror attacks could cause your coalition partners to quit, topple your government, and force early elections in ninety days.”
“ Then I’ll win on the issues.”
“ Voters might find it difficult to hear your rational arguments against the backdrop of ambulance sirens and wailing mourners. But my strategy would make your right-wing opponents seem even less appealing than you.”
“ I’m a soldier. I fight fair and square.”
“ Fair to whom? If you lose, the Oslo process will lose. And your supporters will lose.”
“ We won’t lose the elections.” Rabin paused, his silence filled by the chanting voices from outside. “I know how to win a battle.”
“ With words? My strategy entails action, not words. Bundle up Bibi and Arik with the radicals, show the public that all those who oppose the peace process are dangerous fanatics.”
“ Shin Bet is handling the fanatics.”
“ Our domestic security agency is not a political outfit. Shin Bet has no understanding of public opinion and shifting ideologies.”
“ They’re doing a good job protecting me.”
“ That’s the point. Their posture is defensive. You need someone with a proactive approach.”
“ Someone like you?”
“ Someone capable of orchestrating bold actions-from local disturbances to spectacular events that will shock public opinion. The goal should be to cause the majority of Israelis to despise all right wingers, detest them, ostracize them.”
“ How?”
“ By branding the whole political right-including Likud-as a violent fringe.”
“ Easier said than done.”
“ I’m working on it already,” Elie said. “Your victory would require a two-stage plan. First my agents are setting up ugly skirmishes that create an association in voters’ minds between the violent, extreme-right fringe and mainstream Likud. Then a dramatic event will totally demonize the whole right-of-center political spectrum.”
“ Sounds too good to be true. What are the risks?”
“ The risk is this: You’ve lost the premiership once, and it took you years to return to office. Do you want to lose it again? You’re too old for a comeback.”
Yitzhak Rabin’s jaw tightened. “What kind of a dramatic event?”
Elie hesitated. He looked around the room.
“ Don’t worry. The Shin Bet sweeps this house for listening devices daily. What you tell me stays here.”
“ I hope so,” Elie said. “Remember what we tried with Prime Minister Eshkol? A credible assassination attempt can prop up even the most pathetic politician.”
“ I’m not Levi Eshkol!” Rabin looked away, as if embarrassed by his outburst.
“ And this isn’t nineteen sixty-seven. I can deliver the elections to you. I already have most of the pieces in place. Give me the green light, and I’ll do the rest.”
“ What’s the plan?”
“ That’s my business. I’ll secure your victory, and you’ll reward me with an appointment.”
“ There we go again.” Rabin chuckled. “You still want to run the Mossad?”
“ A good politician’s supposed to forget his broken promises.”
“ I remember those more than the ones I fulfilled.”
Almost three decades ago, on the eve of the Six Day War, IDF Chief of Staff Yitzhak Rabin had promised to appoint Elie Weiss to run Mossad-if Rabin ever became prime minister. But the appointment never came despite Rabin’s ascendance to the pinnacle of political power in 1974 and again in 1992. During those years, Elie had operated in Europe, where he hunted down elderly Nazis and performed unique tasks for successive prime ministers, who occasionally needed to bypass the Mossad for political, legal, or financial reasons.
Elie’s semi-independent Special Operations Department had its own funding sources, known only to him. And with the political winds shifting against the Oslo peace process, he saw his chance again. It was now or never. “My reward will be an appointment as intelligence czar. I’ll be your point man for Mossad and Shin Bet.”
“ Both of them?”
“ Yes.”
The prime minister removed his glasses and examined Elie, as if questioning his sanity. “You want to run Mossad and Shin Bet?”