Honor Among Thieves Read online

  When the man reached the front of the building, the bodyguards led him towards the third limousine in a line of six. In moments he had been whisked away, the sound of sirens fading into the distance.

  “That two-minute exercise cost us one hundred thousand dollars,” said Tony as they made their way back towards the entrance. As he pushed through the revolving door a little boy rushed past him shouting at the top of his voice, “I’ve just seen the President. I’ve just seen the President!”

  “Worth every penny,” said Tony’s father. “Now all we need to know is whether Dollar Bill also lives up to his reputation.”

  Hannah received an urgent call asking her to attend a meeting at the embassy when there was still another four months of her course to complete. She assumed the worst.

  In the exams which were conducted every other Friday, Hannah had consistently scored higher marks than the other five trainee agents who were still in London. She was damned if she was going to be told at this late stage that she wasn’t up to it.

  The unscheduled appointment with the Councillor for Cultural Affairs, a euphemistic title for Colonel Kratz, Mossad’s top man in London, was for six that evening.

  At her morning tutorial, Hannah failed to concentrate on the works of the Prophet Mohammed, and during the afternoon she had an even tougher time with the British occupation and mandate in Iraq, 1917–32. She was glad to escape at five o’clock without being assigned any extra work.

  The Israeli Embassy had, for the past two months, been forbidden territory for all the trainee agents unless specifically invited. If you were summoned you knew it was simply to collect your return ticket home: “We no longer have any use for you. Goodbye,” and, if you were lucky, “Thank you.” Two of the trainees had already taken that route during the past month.

  Hannah had only seen the embassy once, when she was driven quickly past it on her first day back in the capital. She wasn’t even sure of its exact location. After consulting an A-Z map of London, she discovered it was in Palace Green, Kensington, slightly back from the road.

  Hannah stepped out of the South Kensington underground station a few minutes before six. She strolled up the wide sidewalk into Palace Green and on as far as the Philippine Embassy before turning back to reach the Israeli Mission just before the appointed hour. She smiled at the policeman as she climbed the steps up to the front door.

  Hannah announced her name to the receptionist, and explained she had an appointment with the Councillor for Cultural Affairs. “Second floor. Once you reach the top of the stairs, it’s the green door straight in front of you.”

  Hannah climbed the wide staircase slowly, trying to gather her thoughts. She felt a rush of apprehension as she knocked on the door. It was immediately opened with a flourish.

  “A pleasure to meet you, Hannah,” said a young man she had never seen before. “My name is Kratz. Sorry to call you in at such short notice, but we have a problem. Please take a seat,” he added, pointing to a comfortable chair on the other side of a large desk. Not a man given to small talk, was Hannah’s first conclusion.

  Hannah sat bolt upright in the chair and stared at the man opposite her, who looked far too young to be the Councillor for Cultural Affairs. But then she recalled the real reason for the Colonel’s posting to London. Kratz had a warm, open face, and if he hadn’t been going prematurely bald at the front, he might even have been described as handsome.

  His massive hands rested on the desk in front of him as he looked across at Hannah. His eyes never left her and she began to feel unnerved by such concentration.

  Hannah clenched her fist. If she was to be sent home, she would at least state her case, which she had already prepared and rehearsed.

  The Councillor hesitated as if he were deciding how to express what needed to be said. Hannah wished he would get on with it. It was worse than waiting for the result of an exam you knew you had failed.

  “How are you settling in with the Rubins?” Kratz inquired.

  “Very well, thank you,” said Hannah, without offering any details. She was determined not to hold him up from the real purpose of their meeting.

  “And how’s the course working out?”

  Hannah nodded and shrugged her shoulders.

  “And are you looking forward to going back to Israel?” asked Kratz.

  “Only if I’ve got a worthwhile job to go back to,” Hannah replied, annoyed that she had lowered her guard. She wished Kratz would look away for just a moment.

  “Well, it’s possible you may not be going back to Israel,” said Kratz.

  Hannah shifted her position in the chair.

  “At least not immediately,” added Kratz. “Perhaps I ought to explain. Although you have four more months of your course to complete”—he opened a file that lay on the desk in front of him—” your tutor has informed us that you are likely to perform better in the final exams than any of the other five remaining agents, as I’m sure you know.”

  It was the first time she had ever been described as an agent.

  “We have already decided you’ll be part of the final team,” Kratz said, as if anticipating her question. “But, as so often happens in our business, an opportunity has arisen which we feel you are the best-qualified person to exploit at short notice.”

  Hannah leaned forward in her chair. “But I thought I was being trained to go to Baghdad.”

  “You are, and in good time you will go to Baghdad, but right now we want to drop you into a different enemy territory. No better way of finding out how you’ll handle yourself under pressure.”

  “Where do you have in mind?” asked Hannah, unable to disguise her delight.

  “Paris.”

  “Paris?” repeated Hannah in disbelief.

  “Yes. We have picked up information that the head of the Iraqi Interest Section has asked his government to supply him with a second secretary. The girl has been selected and will leave Baghdad for Paris in ten days’ time. If you are willing to take her place, she will never reach Charles de Gaulle Airport.”

  “But they’d know I was the wrong person within minutes.”

  “Unlikely,” said Kratz, taking out a thicker file from a drawer of his desk and turning a few pages. “The girl in question was educated at Putney High School and then went on to Durham University to study English, both on Iraqi government grants. She wanted to remain in England but was forced to return to Baghdad when student visas were rescinded just over two years ago.”

  “But her family…”

  “Father was killed in the war with Iran and the mother has gone to live with her sister, just outside Karbala.”

  “Brothers and sisters?”

  “A brother in the Republican Guard, no sisters. It’s all in the file. You’ll be given a few days to study the background before you have to make up your mind. Tel Aviv is convinced we’ve a good chance of dropping you in her place. Your detailed knowledge of Paris is an obvious bonus. We would only leave you there for three to six months at the most.”

  “And then?”

  “Back to Israel in final preparation for Baghdad. By the way, if you decide to take on this assignment, our primary purpose is not to use you as a spy. We already have several agents in Paris. We simply want you to assimilate everything around you and get used to living with Arabs and thinking like them. You must not keep any records, or even make notes. Commit everything to memory. You will be debriefed when we take you out. Never forget that your final assignment is far more important to the state of Israel than this could ever be.” He smiled for the first time. “Perhaps you’d like a few days to think it over.”

  “No, thank you,” said Hannah. This time it was Kratz who looked anxious. “I’m happy to take on the job, but I have a problem.”

  “What’s that?” asked Kratz.

  “I can’t type, and certainly not in Arabic.”

  The young man laughed. “Then we’ll have to lay on a crash course for you. You’d better leave the Rubins’