Moscow Rules

execution. Then Gabriel noticed his suitcase lying in a puddle of mud, next to the ziplock bag containing his possessions. The interrogator nudged the bag toward Gabriel with the toe of his shoe and pointed toward a smudge of yellow light on the horizon.
     
     
    “The Ukrainian border. They’re expecting you.”
     
     
    “Where’s Olga?”
     
     
    “I suggest you get moving before we change our minds, Mr. Allon . And don’t come back to Russia again. If you do, we will kill you. And we won’t rely on a pair of Chechen idiots to do the job for us.”
     
     
    Gabriel collected his belongings and started toward the border. He waited for the crack of a pistol and the bullet in his spine, but he heard nothing but the sound of the cars turning around and starting back to Moscow. With their headlights gone, the heavy darkness swallowed him. He kept his eyes focused on the yellow light and walked on. And, for a moment, Olga was walking beside him. Her life is now in your hands , she reminded him. Ivan kills anyone who gets in his way. And if he ever finds out his own wife was my source, he won’t hesitate to kill her, too.
     

 
    PART TWO
     
     
    THE RECRUITMENT
     

 
    20
     
     
    BEN-GURION AIRPORT, ISRAEL
     
     
    Wake up, Mr. Golani. You’re almost home.”
     
     
    Gabriel opened his eyes slowly and gazed out the window of the first-class cabin. The lights of the Coastal Plain lay in a glittering arc along the edge of the Mediterranean, like a strand of jewels painted by the hand of Van Dyck.
     
     
    He turned his head a few degrees and looked at the man who had awakened him. He was twenty years younger than Gabriel, with eyes the color of granite and a fine-boned, bloodless face. The diplomatic passport in his blazer pocket identified him as Baruch Goldstein of the Israeli Ministry of Foreign Affairs. His real name was Mikhail Abramov. Bodyguard jobs were not exactly Mikhail’s specialty. A former member of the Sayeret Metkal special forces, he had joined the Office after assassinating the top terrorist masterminds of Hamas and Islamic Jihad. He had one other attribute that had made him the perfect candidate to escort Gabriel out of Eastern Europe and back to Israel. Mikhail had been born in Moscow to a pair of dissident scientists and spoke fluent Russian.
     
     
    They had been traveling together for the better part of a day. After crossing the border, Gabriel had surrendered himself to a waiting team of Ukrainian SBU officers. The SBU men had taken him to Kiev and handed him over to Mikhail and two other Office security men. From Kiev, they had driven to Warsaw and boarded the El Al flight. Even on the plane, Shamron had taken no chances with Gabriel’s safety. Half of the first-class cabin crew were Office agents, and, before takeoff, the entire aircraft had been carefully searched for radioactive material and other toxins. Gabriel’s food and drink had been kept in a separate sealed container. The meal had been prepared by Shamron’s wife, Gilah. “It’s the Office version of glatt kosher,” Mikhail had said. “Sanctified under Jewish law and guaranteed to be free of Russian poison.”
     
     
    Gabriel tried to sit up, but his kidney began to throb again. He closed his eyes and waited for the pain to subside. Mikhail, a nervous flier by nature, was now drumming on his tray table with his fingertip.
     
     
    “You’re giving me a headache, Mikhail.”
     
     
    Mikhail’s finger went still. “Did you manage to get any rest?”
     
     
    “Not much.”
     
     
    “You should have watched your step on those KGB stairs.”
     
     
    “It’s called the FSB now, Mikhail. Haven’t you read the papers lately? The KGB doesn’t exist anymore.”
     
     
    “Where did you ever get that idea? They were KGB when I was growing up in Moscow and they’re KGB now.” He glanced at his watch. “We’ll be on the ground in a few minutes. A reception team will be waiting for you on the tarmac. After you finish delivering your report, you can sleep for a month.”
     
     
    “Unless my report makes that impossible.”
     
     
    “Bad?”
     
     
    “Something tells me you’ll know soon enough, Mikhail.”
     
     
    An electronic ping sounded over the cabin’s audio system. Mikhail looked up at the flashing SEAT BELT sign and tapped Gabriel on the forearm.“You’d better buckle up. You wouldn’t want the flight attendant to get angry with you.”
     
     
    Gabriel followed Mikhail’s gaze and saw