The Kill Artist

the sickening rush of adrenaline all over again. For a moment he considered rushing forward and pulling her out. He forced himself to calm down and think clearly. She was just getting on an airplane. She would be safe while they were in the air, and Shamron would have a team waiting at the other end. Tariq had won the first round, but Gabriel decided to let the game continue.
    The girl led Jacqueline into a glass-enclosed gate area. Gabriel watched as they passed through a final security check and handed over their tickets to a gate attendant. Then they headed into the Jetway and were gone. Gabriel glanced up at the monitor one last time to make certain he had seen it right: Air France flight 382, destination Montreal.
    A few moments after takeoff Shamron hung up the secure telephone in the office of Benjamin Stone's private jet and joined Gabriel in the luxuriously appointed salon. "I just notified Ottawa station."
    "Who's in Ottawa these days?"
    "Your old friend Zvi Yadin. He's on his way to Montreal now with a small team. They'll meet the plane and put Jacqueline and her new friend under watch."
    "Why Montreal?"
    "Haven't you read the papers?"
    "I'm sorry, Ari, but I've been a bit busy."
    On the table next to Shamron's chair was a stack of newspapers, neatly arranged so the mastheads were visible. He snatched the top paper and flipped it into Gabriel's lap. "There's going to be a signing ceremony at the UN in three days. Everyone's going to be there. The American president, the prime minister, Arafat and all his deputies. It looks as though Tariq's going to try to spoil the party."
    Gabriel glanced at the newspaper and tossed it back onto the table.
    "Montreal is a natural staging point for a man like Tariq. He speaks fluent French and has the capability to secure false passports. He flies to Montreal as a Frenchman and enters Quebec without a visa. Once he's in Canada he's almost home. There are tens of thousands of Arabs living in Montreal. He'll have plenty of places to hide. Security along the U.S.-Canadian border is lax or nonexistent. On some roads there are no border posts at all. In Montreal he can switch passports-American or Canadian-and simply drive into the States. Or, if he's feeling adventurous, he can walk across the border."
    "Tariq never struck me as an outdoorsman."
    "He'll do whatever is necessary to get his target. And if that means walking ten miles through the snow, he'll walk through the snow."
    "I don't like the fact that they changed the rules in Paris," Gabriel said. "I don't like the fact that Yusef lied to Jacqueline about how this was going to work."
    "All it means is that for reasons of security Tariq finds it necessary to deceive his own people. That's standard procedure for a man like him. Arafat did it for years. That's the reason he's alive today. His enemies within the Palestinian movement couldn't get to him."
    "And neither could you."
    "Point well taken."
    The door connecting the salon to the office opened, and Stone entered the room.
    Shamron said, "There's a stateroom in the back of the plane. Go get some sleep. You look terrible."
    Gabriel stood up without a word and left the salon. Stone lowered his mammoth body into a chair and scooped up a handful of Brazil nuts. "He has passion," he said, popping a pair of nuts into his mouth. "An assassin with a conscience. I like that. The rest of the world is going to like him even better."
    "Benjamin, what on earth are you talking about?"
    "He's the meal ticket. Don't you understand, Ari? He's the way you repay your debts to me. All of them, wiped out in a single neat payment."
    "I didn't realize you were keeping a ledger. I thought you helped us because you believed in us. I thought you helped us because you wanted to help protect the State."
    "Let me finish, Ari. Hear me out. I don't want your money. I want him. I want you to let me tell his story. I'll assign it to my best reporter. Let me publish the story of the Israeli who restores old master paintings by day and kills Palestinian terrorists by night."
    "Are you out of your mind?"
    "On the contrary, Ari. I'm quite serious. I'll serialize it. I'll sell the film rights to Hollywood. Give me an exclusive on this manhunt. The view from the inside. It will send a message to my troops that we still have what it takes to shake up Fleet Street. And-this is the best part, Ari-and it will send a strong signal to my backers in the City that I'm still a force to be reckoned with."
    Shamron