patted Jack on the back. "You had a good run. For someone without much talent, you did okay on the courts."
Jack winced. "Not much talent? Ouch. That hurt."
"I meant it as a compliment. People were always telling you that you couldn't beat this guy or that one. You never gave up. Often you found a way to win when you should have lost. I admired that."
Jack smiled. Coming from Dov, who rarely gave compliments, the words raised Jack's sagging spirits after the discussion with Moshe. "Fair enough. You redeemed yourself."
"You want to stay in Jerusalem and have dinner with me and Naomi?"
"Thanks, but I have to get back to Tel Aviv.... Just wanted to say hello."
On his way out of the stadium, Jack thought about what Dov had said. When Jack was younger, he often found a way to do things that people told him weren't attainable, whether it was tennis matches or projects for Moshe. Sheer grit and determination were two of Jack's main characteristics. He was afraid he was losing those now. He had gone to Moshe with a proposalârescue Robert McCallisterâand Moshe had turned him down. He had readily acquiesced. Well, that was ridiculous. He would find a way to do it.
He needed someone who had spent time working in Middle Eastern countries and had sources of information in the area. He had to find out where they were holding Robert and what his condition was. After what Moshe had said, Jack couldn't contact anyone working for the Mossad. But that didn't preclude people who were retired from the agency.
He tried to recall the names of Mossad people with whom he had worked or who had recently left the agency. There was Yheuda Neir, but he had left Israel to work in Mexico as a consultant to the government there on antiterrorism measures. Ditto for David Allon in China. Then the name Avi Sassoon popped into his mind.
The Osirak project had been a long time ago, but Jack remembered every detail as if it were yesterday. Avi had been the Mossad point person in Baghdad who was relaying information to Israel from Iraq at the same time Jack was forwarding it from Paris. He had never actually met Avi, but he knew the man had a reputation for courage and for being a bit of a firebrand, which Moshe usually didn't tolerate in career Mossad people. He also knew that Avi had conducted operations in Syria, Iran, and Turkey as well as Iraq. About a year ago, one of the Mossad agents passing through Paris told Jack at dinner that there had been a big brouhaha over a failed operation in Jordan. Avi had taken the blame, and Moshe had sacked him.
Jack retraced his steps to the Mossad headquarters, but not to Moshe's eighth-floor office. This time he slipped down to the basement to the finance department, where Gila, affectionately nicknamed Miss Moneypenny after the character in the James Bond books and films, supervised payroll and expense reimbursement. Jack always called her when there was a delay in the checks he received, which was often, because Gila tried to hang on to money as long as possible.
He knew Gila liked him. That should be enough to get what he needed.
"What do I owe you now?" she said with a twinkle in her eye when he walked into her cluttered office. Papers were piled on the desk, the bookshelves, and even the chairs.
"Actually, you're up-to-date, but Avi Sassoon owes me for a bet we made on a basketball game last year. Since I was in the building today, I figured that I'd collect. I was told he retired."
"You didn't know?"
Jack feigned ignorance. "Know what?"
"About the Aqaba fiasco. It was a mess, and Avi took the fall."
"That's too bad."
She shook her head. "We all liked him. Even though he was a maverick." Loyalty asserted itself for Gila. "Still, the old man had a point. He had to do something to placate the king of Jordan."
"Now I have to locate the deadbeat. You must be sending him pension checks."
She moved over to a computer behind her desk and began punching keys. "He lives on Moshav Avahail." She
Jack winced. "Not much talent? Ouch. That hurt."
"I meant it as a compliment. People were always telling you that you couldn't beat this guy or that one. You never gave up. Often you found a way to win when you should have lost. I admired that."
Jack smiled. Coming from Dov, who rarely gave compliments, the words raised Jack's sagging spirits after the discussion with Moshe. "Fair enough. You redeemed yourself."
"You want to stay in Jerusalem and have dinner with me and Naomi?"
"Thanks, but I have to get back to Tel Aviv.... Just wanted to say hello."
On his way out of the stadium, Jack thought about what Dov had said. When Jack was younger, he often found a way to do things that people told him weren't attainable, whether it was tennis matches or projects for Moshe. Sheer grit and determination were two of Jack's main characteristics. He was afraid he was losing those now. He had gone to Moshe with a proposalârescue Robert McCallisterâand Moshe had turned him down. He had readily acquiesced. Well, that was ridiculous. He would find a way to do it.
He needed someone who had spent time working in Middle Eastern countries and had sources of information in the area. He had to find out where they were holding Robert and what his condition was. After what Moshe had said, Jack couldn't contact anyone working for the Mossad. But that didn't preclude people who were retired from the agency.
He tried to recall the names of Mossad people with whom he had worked or who had recently left the agency. There was Yheuda Neir, but he had left Israel to work in Mexico as a consultant to the government there on antiterrorism measures. Ditto for David Allon in China. Then the name Avi Sassoon popped into his mind.
The Osirak project had been a long time ago, but Jack remembered every detail as if it were yesterday. Avi had been the Mossad point person in Baghdad who was relaying information to Israel from Iraq at the same time Jack was forwarding it from Paris. He had never actually met Avi, but he knew the man had a reputation for courage and for being a bit of a firebrand, which Moshe usually didn't tolerate in career Mossad people. He also knew that Avi had conducted operations in Syria, Iran, and Turkey as well as Iraq. About a year ago, one of the Mossad agents passing through Paris told Jack at dinner that there had been a big brouhaha over a failed operation in Jordan. Avi had taken the blame, and Moshe had sacked him.
Jack retraced his steps to the Mossad headquarters, but not to Moshe's eighth-floor office. This time he slipped down to the basement to the finance department, where Gila, affectionately nicknamed Miss Moneypenny after the character in the James Bond books and films, supervised payroll and expense reimbursement. Jack always called her when there was a delay in the checks he received, which was often, because Gila tried to hang on to money as long as possible.
He knew Gila liked him. That should be enough to get what he needed.
"What do I owe you now?" she said with a twinkle in her eye when he walked into her cluttered office. Papers were piled on the desk, the bookshelves, and even the chairs.
"Actually, you're up-to-date, but Avi Sassoon owes me for a bet we made on a basketball game last year. Since I was in the building today, I figured that I'd collect. I was told he retired."
"You didn't know?"
Jack feigned ignorance. "Know what?"
"About the Aqaba fiasco. It was a mess, and Avi took the fall."
"That's too bad."
She shook her head. "We all liked him. Even though he was a maverick." Loyalty asserted itself for Gila. "Still, the old man had a point. He had to do something to placate the king of Jordan."
"Now I have to locate the deadbeat. You must be sending him pension checks."
She moved over to a computer behind her desk and began punching keys. "He lives on Moshav Avahail." She
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