The Pure

to say? Think of a cover story and stick to it.’
    ‘I’ll be arrested.’
    ‘Stick to your cover story. You have seven minutes.’
    Adam drained his coffee, crumpled the paper cup and dropped it in the bin. Then he walked as casually as possible across the baking tarmac. The police officer was leaning on his squad car, surveying the street.
    He was an imposing figure, almost a full head taller than Adam. For some reason he reminded him of the legendary Golem, the statue that was brought to life by a mystic seventeenth-century Rabbi and oath-bound to protect the Jews. His hand was resting on the butt of his handgun as if he were ready to use it; his sunglasses reflected his badge, his squad car, the street. A rookie, Adam thought. Only a rookie caresses his weapon like that. As he approached, the officer watched him, sensing that he wanted to talk. The man seemed nervy, probably just out of the army. This was not an easy assignment.
    ‘Officer, hello,’ said Adam in his best American drawl. ‘Do you speak English?’
    ‘A little,’ stumbled the officer in a heavy accent, taken off-guard.
    ‘I wanted to ask you a question,’ said Adam. ‘Can I ask you a question?’
    The policeman nodded stiffly.
    ‘I’m a film-maker,’ Adam said. ‘From America. You know? I make films.’
    The officer looked confused. ‘Film?’
    ‘Yes, you know. Movies. Terminator ? Die Hard ? Batman ?’
    ‘OK,’ said the officer, without breaking a smile. ‘So?’
    ‘I’m making a film set in Tel Aviv, and I need a police officer to act in it.’
    ‘Police?’
    ‘Yes, like you. Turn to the side?’
    The officer hesitated then offered his profile. And that was when Adam knew he had him.
    ‘Yes, you’d be perfect,’ he said. ‘What’s your name?’
    ‘My name?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Yaakov Riff.’
    ‘From where?’
    ‘Me?’
    ‘Yes, where are you from?’
    ‘Giv’atayim.’
    ‘Do you have a number where I can contact your superior officers to ask their permission, Riff?’
    This level of English was beyond the officer, and it took some time for him to understand. The minutes were slipping away, but Adam couldn’t take any chances; one wrong move could ruin everything. At length, the officer took out a piece of paper and wrote a number down, leaning on his squad car. Adam decided to go in for the kill.
    ‘We pay one thousand dollars a day,’ he said. ‘I know it’s not much, but we’re talking about a small part. How does that sound?’
    When, through repetition and gesticulation, the officer understood what Adam was saying, he nodded like a schoolboy. His hand, for the first time, left his sidearm. It was now or never.
    ‘This car,’ said Adam, ‘you can drive it fast?’
    The officer nodded.
    ‘You are good at driving fast?’
    Another nod. A small smile now. Adam walked around the car, looking at it from different angles through fingers squared to mimic a camera.
    ‘You want I should get in?’ asked the officer. Adam’s heart took a leap. He shrugged nonchalantly.
    From then on, it was easy. The officer posed. Adam asked to see the perspective from the front seat of the car; the officer welcomed him in. The vehicle smelled so strongly of Magic Tree that Adam’s subsequent coughing fit was only partially faked. Either way, it wasn’t long before the officer offered him some water. Adam glanced surreptitiously at his watch. Seven minutes exactly. He asked the officer to turn to the side again so he could see his profile against the light. He caught eyes with Yigal across the street, and raised his cup in salute.
    People are there to be used, Adam realised. You don’t need a gun to make them do what you want. Find the right opening – money, sex, revenge, vanity – and they’re yours. No question about it. This was superhuman. All in the name of freedom, democracy, his people. This was special.

 
12
    ‘I can’t wait to fuck the Office,’ said Avner, ‘those bastards.’
    They were sitting in the van, parked in the shadows under a broken streetlight in a Tesco car park.
    ‘Sure, sure, they’re all sons of whores,’ said Uzi, scratching his fingers, ‘but is it really worth it?’
    ‘Worth what?’
    ‘Going into hiding. Spending the rest of our lives on the run.’
    ‘Getting nervous?’
    ‘Who said anything about nervous?’
    ‘Look, Uzi, you’ve agreed already. If you’re going to let me down, just tell me. I can bail out of this operation now.’
    ‘Don’t go mad, Avner. Of