The Pure (3 page)

‘Thirty pounds for an eighth.’

‘Bullshit.’ Avner dug with a long-handled spoon into the bottom of the glass and slipped some froth between his lips. ‘You wouldn’t ask me for money, brother.’

Uzi shrugged.

‘No wonder you’ve still got the jacket weights,’ said Avner, dismissively. ‘I’m being serious. Come and work for me.’

‘I already have a day job,’ said Uzi.

‘As what?’

‘Protection operative.’

‘Security guard?’

‘Protection operative.’

‘What’s behind the front?’ said Avner suspiciously.

‘I told you, it’s a day job. Just a day job.’

‘Bullshit. Who do you guard?’

‘Schools, synagogues,’ said Uzi wearily. ‘You know the sort of thing.’

‘Like I said, security guard.’

‘Like I said, protection operative.’

‘Life in the fast lane.’ Avner snorted, finished his coffee, and sat back. ‘I don’t like to see you in a mess, Adam.’

‘I don’t like to see you at all,’ said Uzi, eating a sugar cube.

‘You’re like a horse,’ said Avner, ‘the way you eat sugar. It’s like a horse.’

They fell silent. Uzi picked up his coffee cup, saw that it was empty, put it down again. He was still feeling jumpy, he needed a cigarette. Come on, Avner, he thought, enough with the small talk. But Avner wasn’t ready. Not yet.

‘How’s that girl?’ said Uzi for something to say.

‘She does the job,’ Avner replied. ‘What about you? Getting much action?’

‘Not really,’ said Uzi.

‘I should set you up. I know lots of girls.’

‘Matchmaker, matchmaker.’

‘That waitress, for example. Don’t tell me you didn’t notice her,’ said Avner. ‘She’s got a reputation. She’ll suck your cock. All you’ve got to do is walk up to her and put it in her mouth.’

‘Fuck you, Avner,’ said Uzi, ‘you just want me to get it bitten off. I’m going outside for a smoke. Stay here if you want.’

He got up from his chair and left the café, ignoring Avner’s remarks. Once in the street he felt a desperate anger arise from nowhere. Whatever Avner was going to say, why didn’t he just come out and say it? All this beating about the bush. Uzi fumbled with his cigarettes. He was enraged, he needed to let fly. What a load of shit. It was always the same with Avner. He had known that meeting him would be a mistake. But in a perverse way, he thirsted for the anger, the resentments, the hatred. They reminded him of home.

He smoked the cigarette as his temper smouldered. His ear began to itch again, and he passed his hand over his face in frustration.

‘Uzi.’

‘What do you want? You said you would leave me alone today,’ he mumbled, trying not to look as if he was talking to himself.

‘I think we should discuss Avner Golan.’ It was the older voice this time. He hadn’t heard the Kol sounding so old in a while.

‘Look, I can handle this myself, OK? I’m not a baby. I don’t need you.’

‘I’m your friend, Uzi.’

‘I don’t need you. Not today.’

The voice paused, thinking. ‘OK,’ it said at last.

‘Too fucking right.’

‘Believe in yourself.’

‘Yeah, whatever.’

Uzi shook his head as if to rid it of all remnants of the Kol. Through the window of the café, Avner could be seen chatting to the waitress, making movements with his hands as if he was describing a watermelon. A group of teenagers walked past, looking ridiculous in impossibly tight jeans, asymmetric haircuts, Ray-Bans. They were children. Everyone in England was a child. Nobody knew what real life was about. He finished his cigarette and, fortified, went back into the café. Avner dismissed the waitress charmingly and turned back to him.

‘Better?’ said Avner.

Uzi shrugged. ‘No worse.’

‘I haven’t ordered you another espresso.’

‘I didn’t expect you to.’

This time, Uzi let the silence hang.

‘Right,’ said Avner at last, ‘let’s get down to some
tachless
.’

The Hebrew word clashed with the French and Uzi glanced around the café.

‘Relax,’ said Avner in Hebrew, ‘just take it easy. That’s no normal waitress. We’re safe here. If anyone followed you here, they’re not listening to what we’re saying now.’

‘You’re trying to fuck with my head.’

‘Here’s the deal,’ said Avner, dismissing Uzi’s anxiety with a sweeping motion of his hands. ‘The way I see it, we’re in the same boat.’

‘Really? How do you figure that?’

‘You’ve always been a head-in-the-clouds bastard, the only idealist I’ve ever met in the Office. Me, I’m like everyone else, just in it for the money. That’s why we always worked together so well. But right now, we’ve both been screwed by the powers that be. That’s all that matters.’

Uzi scowled. ‘I quit because of the corruption. You were demoted because you crossed the wrong guy. That doesn’t put us in the same boat.’

‘Details, details,’ said Avner cheerfully. ‘The point is, you and I can make money together. And at the same time, do some good.’

‘Do some good?’

‘I have a proposal for you.’

Uzi found himself already needing another cigarette. Avner picked up the signs; he waved the waitress over and ordered Uzi another espresso. They were silent until the coffee arrived. Then, as Uzi sipped, Avner spoke again. ‘Fact is, they fucked me. They demoted me to Bodel – a courier, for fuck’s sake – the sort of job that goes to someone fresh out of the army. Me, a Katsa, with all my experience. I’m a laughing stock. It’s humiliating.’

‘You can’t complain,’ said Uzi. ‘Using the Office’s surveillance equipment to blackmail the Johns on the Tel Baruch beach? You played the fucking fool.’

‘How was I to know the guy was a Shabak officer?’

‘That’s not the point.’

‘No, my brother,
that’s
not the point. You want to know the point? This is the point. I’m going to cut loose from the Office, but I’ve got a chance to make some big money first. Forty million dollars, my brother. Forty million. And I want you in on it. Sixty-forty.’

‘I’m listening.’

‘There’s an election coming up in the homeland.’

‘Yeah.’

‘I have friends in the opposition party. They want me to help . . . facilitate their victory.’

‘You have friends on the political left?’

‘Left-wing, right-wing, it’s all the same to me. Corrupt bastards, to a man. It’s a travesty, the state of our country. I just network, you know? I network.’ Avner smiled.

Uzi raised his eyebrows. ‘Go on.’

‘Like I said, they’re offering us forty million dollars. We split it sixty-forty. My job will be to set everything up. I’ll do all the work. All you have to do is talk to WikiLeaks.’

‘About what?’

‘Operation Cinnamon.’

‘No way.’

‘Hear me out. If Operation Cinnamon hit the news, the prime minister would be impeached quicker than Richard Nixon. The right-wingers get voted out, the left-wingers get voted in. We get our forty million dollars. Game over.’

Uzi shook his head. ‘You actually thought I would agree to this? You fucking idiot, Avner. Do I look suicidal to you?’

Avner laid a hand on his arm. ‘Listen to me. The PM used the Office – used you – for his own ends. I know you’re burning up about it, and with good reason. Now is the time to redress the balance. You want to change the course of history? You want to stand up for peace? You want to get stinking fucking rich? Then this is how.’

‘Stand up for peace?’ said Uzi. ‘Leaking top secret information is standing up for peace?’

‘Getting rid of this government is standing up for peace. It would be to you, anyway. Helping the peaceniks. Isn’t that what you want these days? With your left-wing principles?’

‘I’m not about politics. I’m no left-winger. I’m just a soldier who knows that when the PM uses the secret services to kill his opponents, it’s time to get the hell out. I’m not a fucking crusader or anything. I don’t give a shit about the government.’

Avner winced. ‘You need to look at the bigger picture,’ he said. ‘Do you want the government to bomb Iran?’

‘What do you think? Of course I don’t want them to bomb Iran.’

‘Well, then. The attack plans are already drawn up, my brother.’

‘What?’

‘I’m telling you. Operation Desert Rain. A daredevil air strike to destroy Iran’s supposed nuclear materials – pinpoint and covert, not enough to spark a war. Or so the PM hopes. The voters will love it. A trumped-up target, a nighttime bombing raid, and there you have it: an election winner for our friends in the government.’

‘But there is no credible Iranian threat.’

‘We both know it. The Iranian nuclear programme is nothing but a paper tiger. The Americans fucked it with that cyber attack last winter – it’ll be years before Iran even thinks about turning their uranium into yellowcake. But that doesn’t matter to our beloved government, especially when an election is approaching.’

‘Fuck. You’re sure of your source?’

‘Cast iron. This is big time, my brother. The dogs of war are barking.’

‘You sound like you care, Avner.’

‘Like I said, I’m in it for the money. But you care, my brother. I know you do.’

‘So?’

‘So if you leak Operation Cinnamon, the world will learn about this little scheme too. There will be a scandal. Operation Desert Rain will be aborted. Those GBU-28s will stay sitting in the warehouse for a few more years, rather than being dropped on Iran this year. And it will all be down to you. Plus, you’ll be a rich man. Did I mention that?’

Uzi passed a hand across his face and drained his coffee. ‘The Office would kill me.’

‘They wouldn’t.’

‘Why not?’

‘You’ll do what I’m going to do. You’ll take the fucking money and run.’

‘They’ll find me.’

‘They won’t. I’ll fix it so they won’t. I still have access to the Office mainframe, don’t forget. I still have horses in the system. You have horses too, come to that.’

‘My horses are all burned. Or turned. They had to disown me to keep their careers.’

‘Rubbish. Rothem is still working for you. And Moskovitz.’

‘Don’t give me that.’

‘Come on, my brother. You’re still alive, free, in England. You think that happened by magic? You think the Office has gone soft? No, that’s because of your horses.’

‘Maybe,’ said Uzi. ‘But if I spoke to WikiLeaks I’d be screwed, horses or no horses. The Office would go crazy. They’d find me, and that’d be it. Game over. Vanunu would be nothing compared to me.’

‘My horses are strong, Adam. They would protect us both.’

‘Who have you got?’

‘Never mind who I’ve got.’

‘You’re not going to ask me to trust you, surely.’

‘Come on. We’ve got enough field experience. We know what we’re doing. We could just disappear. Start again. That’s what you want to do anyway, right? You’re only forty, you’re a young man. Your whole life is ahead of you.’

Uzi blew out his cheeks. ‘Even if you had ROM himself as a horse, I’d be fucked. The PM would fuck me personally.’

Avner leaned closer. ‘You’re no stranger to risk,’ he said. ‘You’re not someone who is afraid to stand up for what he knows is right. You have the power to change the course of history. How can you possibly refuse?’

There was a pause.

‘You’ve got it all worked out, haven’t you?’ said Uzi.

‘Of course,’ grinned Avner. ‘Ever the professional. It’s all set up with WikiLeaks. As soon as you’re ready, I’ll schedule the meeting. When it’s all in the can and ready to go, we sign the letter and take the first flight out. By the time the story breaks, we’ll be drinking fine wine in Paris. With completely new identities.’

‘Paris?’

‘Or wherever you like. If you prefer, we can go our separate ways, no questions asked.’

‘Passports?’

‘I’ve taken care of it. Canadian.’

‘Top passports?’

‘Of course.’

‘When do we get paid?’

‘As soon as you speak to WikiLeaks.’

‘Cash?’

‘Deposits into bank accounts in Liechtenstein. We watch the money go in. Then we give WikiLeaks the go-ahead to break the story.’

‘I wouldn’t want to go to Paris. I’d just lie low in London. Carry on with business.’

‘Suit yourself. Your funeral.’

‘And if I’m out?’

Avner pushed his empty coffee glass aside and placed his palms in parallel on the table. ‘Look, Adam. This is what I’m trying to tell you. We’re in the same boat. You got fucked after Operation Cinnamon, and I got fucked trying to make some extra money. You’re sitting outside synagogues with a finger up your arse during the day, and selling cannabis to lowlifes by night. I was an A-grade Katsa and now I’m living like a ghost. What have either of us got to lose? We have the power to bring the whole rotten house down. You can be a real fucking hero – you can clean up Israeli politics. Me? Well, I can get rich.’

‘Strange sort of hero, in exile the rest of my life. Looking over my shoulder the rest of my life.’

‘Let’s give this a name. We’re professionals, after all. Operation Regime Change. You like that? I think it has a nice, ironic ring.’

‘Operation Regime Change,’ Uzi repeated doubtfully.

‘Think about it. Let me know if you’re in.’

Abruptly, as if late for an appointment, Avner got to his feet, put a hand on Uzi’s shoulder, and left the café. Uzi sat there for some minutes, feeling black with rage. He hated Avner, the Office, everything. He left the café and stalked off down the street.

The weather was impossibly humid and a horrid lethargy lay upon everything. His temper smouldering, Uzi made his way towards Camden, keen to put as much distance as possible between himself and Avner. He could feel a coldness shining from his eyes. Whoever caught his gaze looked away, and that was a good thing. He planted his feet one after the other on to the steaming pavement, like a robot, like a monster, and it felt as if he wasn’t moving at all. The streets were quiet and stiflingly hot, the temperature was boiling his blood. He’d had enough of feeling expendable, like a pawn, an attack dog, it was making him feel sick. For years he had been steeped in darkness, in a world of shadows where anything was allowed, where the only morality to be answered to was the security of Israel, and the humiliation of her foes. Where the only thing that mattered was that there was always a battle to be fought. He had given the Office everything – his body, his mind, his friends, his marriage even – only to find out that what they wanted from him, what they really wanted from him, was his soul. And now that he had fled, he was left wondering if they hadn’t already taken that too.