The Pure

the bed and crossed to the window. Outside there was the silhouette of the bodyguard, who now had an AK-47 slung over his shoulder. Silently Uzi opened the shutters, allowing the moonlight to fall into the room. Then, in the half-light, he made his way to the wardrobe and put his jacket on. He slipped his hand into the inside pocket, gripped the butt of his M9.
    From the bed, Leila moaned and propped herself up on her elbows, rubbing her eyes.
    ‘My love,’ she said sleepily, ‘come back to bed.’
    He had to think fast. ‘Not now,’ he said. ‘I can’t sleep. The air strikes are coming soon. I need to be out on the beach, under the stars. Anyway, I need a cigarette. I don’t want to smoke here while you’re sleeping. And it’s a beautiful night. Look.’
    Smoothing her hair, Leila got to her feet and crossed to the window, opening the shutters wide. ‘You’re right, it is beautiful. Just look at that moon. You would never get a moon that size in the West.’ She took him by the hand and drew him to her.
    ‘Uzi,’ said the Kol quietly in his ear. ‘Fifty-eight minutes.’
    He rested his hands on Leila’s hips and traced a line of kisses down her neck. ‘Come on, then. Let’s see if we can persuade that bodyguard to let us go for a stroll in private.’
    Leila took a shawl from her luggage and draped it around her shoulders, then wrapped her headscarf loosely over her hair. They put on their shoes and went out, holding hands.
    ‘Good evening,’ said the bodyguard politely, turning towards them and tightening his hold on his gun. ‘Is there something I can do for you?’
    ‘We want to go for a walk on the beach,’ said Leila. ‘Would that be possible? We have just got engaged.’
    The bodyguard thought for a moment. ‘Wait here,’ he said. He walked a few paces away, not taking his eyes off them, and spoke softly into a two-way radio. Then he came back. ‘It would be possible,’ he said, ‘but I would need to accompany you.’
    ‘Why?’
    ‘Those are my orders. Please forgive me, but you and the Zionist need to be under constant guard.’ He glanced sidelong at Uzi. ‘And Ghasem said he might need to speak to you at short notice.’
    ‘Look,’ said Leila, standing a little closer to him. ‘I am an operative, you see? A MOIS operative.’ She took her ID card from her bag and showed it to him. ‘Why don’t you just give me the rifle and I’ll guard this Zionist.’
    ‘Not Zionist,’ added Uzi in perfect Farsi, ‘Israeli.’
    The guard dismissed them both with a wave of his hand. ‘It’s my job to look after you,’ he said, and smiled. His gaze was firm and opaque. Once again, Uzi felt his blood run cold.
    ‘But I am a MOIS operative.’
    ‘I’m sorry, sister. Orders are orders.’ This time his face remained stony.
    ‘No problem,’ said Leila, smiling charmingly to disguise her annoyance. Then she and Uzi walked down the path hand-in-hand, briskly, with the bodyguard several paces behind. Uzi could hear him slipping a magazine quietly into his gun. He didn’t turn around.
    They crossed the courtyard again – the moonlight bathed everything in a ghostly light – and skirted the main villa. All the lights were on inside, and from time to time they encountered armed men on patrol. Leila flashed her ID card again and again, and the bodyguard nodded to his comrades. Through a window Uzi saw a room full of men wearing headsets, typing. And then they were at the front entrance, weaving their way through several rows of cars, heading in the direction of the perimeter fence.
    ‘It’s a breathtaking night,’ said Leila, looking up at the stars. ‘Just breathtaking.’
    ‘It’s a historic night,’ Uzi replied softly. ‘Let’s get down to the beach to appreciate it.’
    ‘Uzi,’ said the Kol. ‘Forty-seven minutes.’
    The moon sat low and yellow above them as they approached the fence. Two different guards were on duty this time; when they saw the bodyguard, they waved them through. Leila was beguiling in the moonlight, and dignified despite the bodyguard.
    ‘Sorry about our gun-toting babysitter,’ she whispered. ‘Tehran is bound to be jumpy until it’s all over. But once the Israelis have made their move, and the yellowcake is safe, people will relax. We’ll be free to do as we please.’
    They made their way down the winding, tree-lined driveway and out on to the road on the spine of the ridge. Night sounds were all around them: nocturnal birds, animals in