Moscow Rules

bells. One misstep and you could get her killed.”
     
     
    “So we’ll just have to do it quietly.”
     
     
    “We?”
     
     
    “This isn’t something we can do alone, Ari. We need the assistance of the Americans.”
     
     
    Shamron frowned. As a rule, he didn’t like joint operations and was uncomfortable with Gabriel’s close ties to the CIA. His generation had lived by a simple axiom known as kachol lavan , or “blue and white.” They did things for themselves and did not rely on others to help them with their problems. It was an attitude borne from the experience of the Holocaust, when most of the world had stood by silently while the Jews were fed to the fires. It had bred in men like Shamron a reluctance—indeed, a fear—of operating with others.
     
     
    “I seem to remember a conversation we had a few days ago during which you berated me for interrupting your honeymoon. Now you want to run an open-ended operation against Ivan Kharkov?”
     
     
    “Let’s just say I have a personal stake in the outcome of the case.”
     
     
    Shamron sipped his coffee. “Something tells me your new wife isn’t going to be pleased with you.”
     
     
    “She’s Office. She’ll understand.”
     
     
    “Just don’t let her anywhere near Ivan,” Shamron said. “Ivan likes to break pretty things.”
     

 
    22
     
     
    JERUSALEM
     
     
    Is this some sort of sick fantasy of yours, Gabriel? Watching a stewardess remove her clothing?”
     
     
    "I’ve never really been attracted to girls in uniform. And they’re called flight attendants now, Chiara. A woman in your line of work should know that.”
     
     
    “You could have at least flirted with me a little bit. All men flirt with flight attendants, don’t they?”
     
     
    “I didn’t want to blow your cover. You seemed to be having enough trouble as it was.”
     
     
    “I don’t know how they can wear these uniforms. Help me with my zipper.”
     
     
    “With pleasure.”
     
     
    She turned around and pulled aside her hair. Gabriel lowered the zipper and kissed the nape of her neck.
     
     
    “Your beard tickles.”
     
     
    “I’ll shave.”
     
     
    She turned around and kissed him. “Leave it for now. It makes you look very distinguished.”
     
     
    “I think it makes me look like Abraham.” He sat on the edge of the bed and watched Chiara wriggle out of the dress. “This is certainly better than spending another night in Lubyanka.”
     
     
    “I should hope so.”
     
     
    “You were supposed to be keeping an eye on the Poussin. Please tell me you didn’t leave it unguarded.”
     
     
    “Monsignor Donati took it back to the Vatican.”
     
     
    “I was afraid you were going to say that. How long do I have before he gives it to one of the butchers from the Vatican’s restoration department? ”
     
     
    “The end of September.” She reached behind her back and loosened the clasp on her brassiere. “Is there any food in this house? I’m famished. ”
     
     
    “You didn’t eat anything on the flight?”
     
     
    “We were too busy. How was Gilah’s chicken?”
     
     
    “Delicious.”
     
     
    “It looked a lot better than the food we were serving.”
     
     
    “Is that what you were doing?”
     
     
    “Was I that bad?”
     
     
    “Let’s just say the first-class passengers were less than pleased by the level of service. If that flight had lasted another hour, you would have had an intifada on your hands.”
     
     
    “They didn’t give us adequate training to accomplish our mission. Besides, Jewish girls shouldn’t be flight attendants.”
     
     
    “Israel is the great equalizer, Chiara. It’s good for Jews to be flight attendants and farmers and garbagemen.”
     
     
    “I’ll tell Uzi to keep that in mind the next time he’s handing out field assignments.”
     
     
    She gathered up her clothing. “I need to take a shower. I smell like bad food and other people’s cologne.”
     
     
    “Welcome to the glamorous world of air travel.”
     
     
    She leaned down and kissed him again. “Maybe you should shave after all, Gabriel. I really can’t make love to a man who looks like Abraham.”
     
     
    “He fathered Isaac at a very old age.”
     
     
    “With help from God. I’m afraid you’re on your own tonight.” She touched the bruise on his cheek. “Did they hurt you?”
     
     
    “Not really. We spent most of the night playing gin rummy and swapping stories about the good old days