The Pure

explosives. They were planning to carry out simultaneous suicide attacks in Jerusalem. The Shabak had a stinker – an informant – in Hamas, and he alerted them.’
    Liberty was looking around as if she wasn’t listening; Uzi could tell she was.
    ‘The problem was, the stinker was high-level Hamas, and he was the only person on the West Bank who knew about these attacks. If the Shabak were to arrest the terrorists, the identity of the stinker would have been obvious. Yet at the same time, they couldn’t let the attacks go ahead.’
    ‘So what did they do?’
    ‘Easy. They arrested the three bombers, locked up two and sent the third home with a thousand dollars. Everyone assumed he was the stinker. He was lynched.’
    ‘You Israelis,’ said Liberty, shaking her head, ‘you fucking Israelis.’
    ‘You could do something similar,’ said Uzi, his breath forming clouds of condensation in the blackness. ‘You bring in your six suspects. Then you release one with a big bonus. A car perhaps – I know you like cars. Then you place him under surveillance. As soon as he is threatened, or beaten up, you hunt down his attackers. Then you have your network.’
    Liberty smiled. ‘I like the way you think,’ she said. ‘You’re one clever bastard.’
    The metal door scraped open. They turned to watch the two Russians carrying Abelev’s body to the BMW saloon. A funeral cortege.
    ‘What took those guys so long?’ said Uzi.
    ‘They were cleaning up.’
    ‘You have them well trained.’
    ‘Of course.’
    Uzi turned, but Liberty pulled him back.
    ‘Look,’ she said, suddenly earnest, ‘do you know what it means to be a woman in this game? A woman at the top? It means you have to be strong. Stronger than any man, more ruthless. As soon as you show any weakness, you’re done for. It’s all about the signals you send. It’s not just your business that depends on it, it’s your life.’
    Uzi curled his lip and turned away. This time she didn’t pull him back. He headed to his car and unlocked it; Liberty walked over to her Maybach. ‘Let’s have a drink,’ she called as she climbed in. ‘Decompress. Back at Home House.’
    ‘Is that an order?’ he asked.
    ‘It’s a request.’
    He slid into his Porsche, slammed the door and drove out on to the street. The engine hummed as if it had never been asleep, ebbing and flowing with the pulse of the city.

 
25
    ‘You know we’re doing the right thing, don’t you?’ said Avner, his words slurred. ‘I mean, you know we’re on the side of the righteous.’ He looked at his watch, struggling to read it. The bar was dark, the music battling with his words. ‘Now, right now. There’s been a delay with the transfer of funds, but it’s got to be only a matter of days until we get our money and all hell breaks loose in the Holy Land. It might even happen tomorrow.’ He laughed, drained his glass, smacked his lips.
    Uzi sat brooding. Fragmented – he felt fragmented. Since he had taken up with Liberty, his life had become nocturnal. He would get up in the early evening and go to bed at dawn. His plan had worked like a dream; Liberty had uprooted a network of twelve men now, and that seemed to be the last of them. Now she was giving him only the occasional job, saving him for ‘something big’. In the meantime he was doing nothing but smoking, watching television and going for aimless drives in his car – he knew the Porsche was a magnet for attention, but he couldn’t stop himself. The voice in his head was becoming bolder, appearing when he least expected it, criticising his relationship with Liberty as if it were jealous. He was constantly on edge. Public places had taken on a sinister nature. Who knew where his enemies may be lurking? Who knew who might see him, by chance, and report him? And who knew how careful Liberty was in protecting her sources? At any moment, he knew, the shadows could become flesh and he would be done for. The CIA must have bought the information from Liberty by now. It was only a matter of time before the leak was traced to him. The strain was beginning to have an effect; the cushioning effect of his recklessness was starting to wear thin.
    ‘What?’ he said. Avner had been saying something.
    ‘The Avenue of the Righteous. You know, at the Holocaust Centre, Yad Vashem. It’ll be like that. You’ll be a true hero. Like, like Yitzhak Rabin. Enough of blood and tears. You know? You’ll have prevented a war with Iran. You