The English Girl: A Novel

and drag the country into a needless conflict. You’ll learn that once you settle into my chair.”
    When Gabriel offered no reply, Navot drank some of the water, deliberately, as though it were the last on earth. He was right about one thing; he had been a good chief. Unfortunately, the successes that had occurred under his watch had all been Gabriel’s.
    “There’s something else you’ll learn quickly,” Navot resumed. “It’s very difficult to run an intelligence service with a man like Shamron looking over your shoulder.”
    “It’s his service. He built it from the ground up and turned it into what it is today.”
    “The old man is just that—an old man. The world has changed in the century since Shamron was chief.”
    “You don’t really mean that, Uzi.”
    “Forgive me, Gabriel, but I’m not feeling terribly charitable toward Shamron at the moment. Or you, for that matter.”
    Navot lapsed into a sulky silence. Natan, the station chief, peered through the soundproof glass walls, saw two men glaring at one another over a table, and returned to his bunker.
    “How long do I have?” Navot asked.
    “Uzi . . .”
    “Am I going to be allowed to finish my term?”
    “Of course.”
    “Don’t say it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, Gabriel. Because from where I sit, nothing seems terribly obvious at the moment.”
    “You’ve been a fine chief, Uzi. The best since Shamron.”
    “And what is my reward? I’ll be put out to pasture before my time. Because heaven knows we can’t have a chief and a former chief inside King Saul Boulevard at the same time.”
    “Why not?”
    “Because there’s no precedent for it.”
    “There’s no precedent for any of this.”
    “Sorry, Gabriel, but I’d rather not end my career as a sympathy case.”
    “Don’t cut off your nose to spite your face, Uzi.”
    “You sound like my mother.”
    “How is she?”
    “Good days and bad.”
    “Anything I can do?”
    “Go see her the next time you’re in town. She always loved you, Gabriel. Everyone loves you.”
    Navot treated himself to another butter cookie. Then another.
    “By my calculation,” he said, brushing the crumbs from his thick fingers, “I have fourteen months remaining in my term, which means I’m the one who gets to decide whether to send several of our best people to the most dangerous city in the world.”
    “You gave me the authority to run the operation.”
    “I had a gun to my head at the time.”
    “It’s still there.”
    “I realize that, which is why I would never dream of pulling the plug on your little gambit. Instead, I’m going to ask you to take a deep breath and come to your senses.”
    Greeted by silence, Navot leaned forward across the table and stared directly into Gabriel’s eyes. Absent from his face was any trace of anger.
    “Do you remember what it was like the last time we went to Moscow, Gabriel, or have you managed to repress it?”
    “I remember it all, Uzi.”
    “So do I,” Navot replied distantly. “It was the worst day of my life.”
    “Mine, too.”
    Navot narrowed his eyes, as if truly perplexed. “So why in God’s name do you want to go back there?”
    When Gabriel offered no answer, Navot removed his spectacles thoughtfully and massaged the spot on the bridge of his nose where the pads carved into his skin. The eyeglasses, like everything else he was wearing, had been chosen by his demanding wife, Bella. She had worked for the Office briefly as an analyst on the Syria desk and loved the status that came with being the wife of the chief. Gabriel had always suspected her influence extended far beyond her husband’s wardrobe.
    “It’s over,” Navot said finally. “You beat him. You won.”
    “Beat who?”
    “Ivan,” replied Navot.
    “This has nothing to do with Ivan.”
    “Of course it does. And if you can’t see that, maybe you’re not fit to run this operation after all.”
    “So pull my charter.”
    “I’d love to. But if I do, it will start a war I can’t possibly win.” Navot slipped on his glasses and smiled briefly. “That’s the other thing you’ll have to learn when you become chief, Gabriel. You have to choose your battles carefully.”
    “I already have.”
    “Since I’m still the chief for fourteen more months, why don’t you do me the courtesy of giving me the broad strokes of your plan.”
    “I’m going to pull Pavel Zhirov aside for a chat. He’s going to tell me why he kidnapped and