They went to the foyer.
“Father,” Lemmy said, his voice choking, “please meet my wife, Paula.”
The hand that shook hers was large yet soft.
“ Welcome to our home,” Paula said. “It’s a wonderful surprise.”
“And this is Klaus Junior,” Lemmy said.
“Hi.” The boy looked up at the clean-shaven face, the gray hair, and the large blue eyes that smiled down at him. He beckoned. “Want to see my room?”
*
“ Calm down,” Gideon said, holding his mother, “I’m here, okay?” But she clung to him silently, not letting go. He led her to the kitchen, sat her down, and made tea for both of them.
The apartment smelled the same-fried chicken schnitzel and detergent-the smells of his childhood. She had aged since he last saw her, almost a year ago, and her hands shook as she held the saucer and sipped tea. Seeing her like this made him realize how much pain his career had caused her.
“ I’m staying home,” he said.
“Until when?” She put down the saucer.
The correct answer would be: Until the investigation is over. But he couldn’t say that. “My department is going through some changes. I’ll hear in the next few days.”
“ Changes? Because of the tragedy?”
“ Not directly. My boss is very sick.” The Ma’ariv newspaper was on the table. Most of the first page was dedicated to the assassination, the responses from world leaders, and the accusations against the Likud and other right-wing parties for creating a murderous environment. Gideon turned to the second page and saw the headline: Itah Orr, veteran TV reporter, dead in car accident.
“It’s the end of the Zionist dream.” His mother sighed. “A Jew killing the prime minister? It’s a nightmare! All the right-wing leaders should go to jail, every last one of them!”
“ It’s more complicated than that.” Gideon took off his shoes.
“ What happened to your boss?”
“ He’s in a coma. I just visited him.”
“ I’m sorry to hear that. At least he’s not lying alone in a foreign country like your father, his memory be blessed. A man should be surrounded by his family.”
“ He doesn’t have a family. The Nazis killed them. He dedicated his life to preventing another Holocaust.”
“ Oh.” She shook her head. “How sad.”
Gideon knew what she was thinking. “Don’t worry. I plan to have a family one day.”
“ Of course you will. When I’m too old to enjoy it.”
He laughed. “I’ll give you grandchildren. It’s a promise, okay?”
“ I should live long enough to see them.” His mother went to the fridge. “I’ll fry some chicken for you. Do you want potato latkes with it or blintzes?”
*
Tanya watched them enter her hospital room, three solemn men in ill-fitting suits. The oldest one she had known for decades. He was her direct commander, the chief of the mighty Mossad. He was a lifelong agent who had risen through the ranks, surviving countless clandestine operations in a morbid process of elimination that left him alone at the top.
He hugged Bira. “Sorry, kid. We screwed up, letting your mom get hurt like this.”
“Is this a get-well visit,” Tanya asked, “or an execution?”
“ A little of both.” He smiled and pulled a chair while his two companions left the room with Bira. “How are you feeling?”
“Physically or mentally?”
“Mentally, we’re all sick. The worst day in Israel’s history.” He sighed. “A watershed event. A breaking point. We’ll never be the same.”
“What really happened? How could it happen?”
He rubbed his tired eyes. “The witch hunt has started. Finger pointing. Heads rolling. The works.”
“Then why are you here?” Tanya felt sudden anger. “You should be in Jerusalem running the investigation.”
“ I’m a Rabin man. And today there’s a new king in Jerusalem.”
“ Shimon Peres is smart enough to know that no one but you has the credibility, the experience, the tools to investigate this as deep as it gets-”
“ Shin Bet will investigate itself.”
“ That’s ridiculous!” Tanya explored his poker face. “Are you teasing me?”
He shook his head.
“ But they’ve gone rogue! There must be an external investigation!”
“Not going to happen. Peres wants this whole affair wrapped up quickly. We must concentrate on healing the nation, and so on.” The chief of Mossad patted the cast on her arm. “We have enough external enemies, don’t we?”
“No! I won’t go along with this!”
“ Don’t make it personal.”
“ But they’re criminals!”
“Misguided men, even incompetent, but with good intentions.” The chief pulled out a piece of paper. “Last night, shortly after chairing his first cabinet meeting, the interim prime minister signed this order. I flew here especially to deliver it to you.”
“What is it?” She reached across her broken body with the left hand, the IV lines swaying with it. “An order to shut up and play dead?”
“Something like that.”
Tanya looked at the sheet of paper. It bore the menorah emblem at the top and the letterhead: State of Israel – Office of the Prime Minister
Above a scribbled signature, the page carried a single sentence: By authority granted to me under a unanimous resolution of the Government of Israel, I hereby appoint Tanya Galinski as Chief of Mossad, effective immediately.