The Pure

Doctrine of the Status Quo. Perhaps unconsciously I knew I was being bugged, I don’t know. Perhaps I wanted them to know what I really thought.’
    There was a silence. Liberty waved for the waiters and they glided in with cheese and a bottle of port. They disappeared again. Neither Uzi nor Liberty moved.
    ‘Like I said, I’m a free thinker,’ said Uzi suddenly. ‘I don’t take anything as a given. I look at things that nobody questions and work them through for myself.’
    ‘So Avner didn’t report you?’
    ‘No, he didn’t. He’s a bastard, but he’s only interested in making life better for himself, not making life worse for anyone else.’
    ‘Do you believe in your Doctrine of the Status Quo now?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘The way you were talking, it sounded like you did.’
    ‘I always talk like that.’
    ‘Not in my experience.’
    ‘You don’t have much experience.’
    ‘OK, then. So why don’t you believe it now?’
    ‘It’s too much of a risk. Deep down I’m certain that a nuclear deterrent in the Arab Middle East would be a good thing. But on paper, it’s just too risky.’
    ‘So you believe it with your heart, but not your head.’
    ‘You could say that.’
    Liberty shook her head and finished her port. ‘So the Mossad didn’t kick you out right away when they heard that drunken speech of yours? I’d have expected them to get rid of you immediately. Or worse.’
    ‘No. I was lucky enough to have horses in the right place at the right time.’
    ‘Horses?’
    ‘It’s a word we use. Powerful allies. Everyone in the Office has at least two: one to look out for your general interests, and the other to get you out of the shit in an emergency.’
    ‘So this was an emergency.’
    ‘Too right. I called in a few favours. My horses gave me a hard time, but they contained the damage and I kept my job.’
    ‘Your horses are still looking after you now?’
    ‘To some extent,’ Uzi said. ‘When I decided to leave, my horses persuaded the decision makers that I wasn’t a threat. They said I’d gone off the rails – suffering from combat stress but still loyal. So the Office let me run. They stamp me down occasionally and think that’s enough of a deterrent. Anyway, they know they can always pick me up whenever they like.’ He gestured wearily to his bruised face.
    ‘Let’s step out on to the balcony,’ said Liberty, picking up her drink and handbag. ‘Get some fresh air.’
    He followed her out into the night. Side-by-side, they looked over the city. The flame heaters blasted into the vast, empty sky above them. She doesn’t know about Operation Regime Change, or even Operation Cinnamon, thought Uzi. I know in my gut that she doesn’t.
    ‘What I don’t understand,’ said Liberty, ‘is that if you’re so upset to have left them, why did you join up in the first place?’
    Uzi sighed into the blackness. ‘Being Jewish and being Israeli are two different things. Diaspora Jews might talk about Israel a lot, but they can’t understand what it means to live there. In Israel, there’s nowhere to go. If you drive far enough in one direction, you’ll reach a border and be turned back. In another direction you’ll be shot, or stabbed, or lynched. You can’t disappear. You can’t hide. If there was a war and the enemy pushed several miles into Israel, we would be fighting on our doorsteps with our kitchen knives. In Israel everything must be defended, and you know that right down to your core. You have no choice but to fight to protect your mother, your father, your brothers and sisters, your house, your school, your neighbours. I came to hate the Office, but I could never abandon my people.’ He paused to collect his thoughts before continuing. ‘Every man in Israel would have traded places with me when I was a Katsa. I was part of a legend. However flawed the Office is, without it the country would be finished. Do you know how many Katsas are operational worldwide at any one time? A hundred and fifty. A hundred and fifty people strike terror into the hearts of every regime in the world. That’s what I was part of, and even today I’m still proud.’
    ‘It doesn’t make sense,’ said Liberty. ‘You’re being inconsistent.’
    ‘I never said it made sense,’ Uzi replied. ‘I never claimed to be consistent.’ In the distance, the blinking lights of a plane moved in a slow arc above London. Uzi had talked more in the past hour than he had ever intended. It was a wholly