The Pure

Shiraz,’ said the woman he would learn to call Leila, ‘in a small community of Persian Jews. We’re protected by the constitution, you know; we have synagogues, kosher food, Jewish hospitals. As you know, Iran is not as it is often portrayed in the West.’
    Uzi nodded, smoked, said nothing.
    ‘My father was a war hero,’ she continued, ‘a colonel in the army, one of the founders of the Quds Force, the highest-ranking Jew in the Iranian military. He had no sons – only me. All his hopes and ambitions rested on my shoulders, from when I was a little girl. I went to university in Tehran to study political science, and that made him proud. But what he really wanted was for me to stand up for my country.’
    ‘What was the name of your first tutor at University?’ Uzi interjected.
    ‘Doctor Amir Arshan,’ she replied smoothly. ‘You can verify that yourself. See, I’m telling the truth, Uzi. No more, no less.’
    He nodded and gestured for her to continue.
    ‘After university, my father arranged an interview for me with the intelligence services.’
    ‘The MOIS?’
    ‘Yes, but it’s not what you think.’
    ‘So you’re MOIS,’ said Uzi, a note of finality in his voice. He walked to the window and peered through the curtains, as if merely uttering the word would bring danger. Portman Square was all but deserted. He passed his hand over his face, sat down. It all began to slot together in his mind. ‘Played by the MOIS,’ he said. ‘I can’t believe I didn’t see this coming. Played by the fucking MOIS. I’m a dead man.’
    ‘No,’ said Leila, ‘you weren’t played. And you didn’t see it coming because you’re a good man. We share our principles, so what else matters? MOIS, Mossad – they’re just names. We are the same, you and I. We have the same heart.’
    Uzi sighed. ‘So your father arranged everything for you. And you accepted.’
    Leila sipped her drink and continued. ‘Sure I accepted. Of course I did. I’ve always been my father’s daughter. Look, I’m not a blind patriot. I object to the President’s rhetoric as much as you. I’m no supporter of the religious fanatics threatening to choke our country. My father and I were no supporters of the Shah, but we stand for old Persia, the proud civilisation that still exists beneath the layer of madness, the posturing, the sabre-rattling. That’s all bullshit. Iran is bigger than that. I wanted to make a difference. For the sake of my father.’
    ‘Israel didn’t worry you?’
    ‘Israel worries everybody.’
    Uzi laughed bitterly. ‘Where did you serve?’
    ‘My first tour was deep cover in America.’
    ‘Straight to deep cover? You must have been good.’
    ‘It was my father,’ she said, without any hesitation. ‘Anyway, I got top marks all the way. I loved the work. I was a sleeper in the States for ten years – until Eve Klugman was assassinated. That was when I found that my time had come.’
    ‘She was killed by you, I assume. Your organisation.’
    ‘She deserved to die, Uzi.’
    ‘You killed her?’
    ‘Not personally.’
    ‘Plausible deniability – that’s the CIA term, isn’t it? Not that you would know.’
    ‘It wasn’t me who killed her.’
    ‘You assassinated her family, too. Her children.’
    ‘That wasn’t my decision. The MOIS is much bigger than just me. But you have to understand: Klugman was cruel, Uzi. Some of the things she did . . .’
    ‘Let’s leave the dead in their graves. To cut a long story short, you took her place.’
    ‘I did. We shared many of the same physical characteristics. I learned how to dress like her, speak like her, act like her. I broke with all her old contacts and set myself up in a new place, using her identity. It was risky, but it worked.’
    ‘So what I’m hearing,’ said Uzi, ‘is that I’ve been groomed. You’re nothing but a honey-pot.’
    ‘Come on,’ Leila replied, ‘we both know it’s not as simple as that. I’m in love with you. That was never a pretence before, and it isn’t a pretence now.’ For an instant she looked like she might come over, embrace him, kiss him, as if the last few minutes hadn’t happened. He could almost smell her hair, feel her lips, the softness of her skin. But neither of them moved.
    ‘The MOIS have had you under close surveillance since you first arrived in England,’ she said. ‘Twenty-four-hour surveillance. Our people within the Mossad – yes, there are a few – have been following your career for