The Pure

silence.
    ‘My plane is leaving in an hour and a half,’ said Avner after a time. ‘I have to go.’
    Uzi didn’t answer.
    ‘Look,’ said Avner, ‘neither of us knew what we were getting ourselves into. So you want my advice? Cut loose. Find the slick I made you, take on a new identity, and fuck off out of the country. Run and keep running, my brother.’
    ‘But . . .’
    ‘If the MOIS are involved, who knows what’s going on behind the scenes? One wrong move and we could both be dead. You’re being played like a two-dollar whore. So just cut loose and run. We’ve done enough.’
    ‘But what about our principles?’ Uzi burst out. ‘We’ve come this far. We’ve got to see it through. If Iran went nuclear, there would finally be a deterrent. Israel and the US would be forced to stop throwing their weight around . . .’
    ‘Keep your voice down.’
    ‘What about Russia? If they didn’t have a nuclear deterrent, fuck knows what would have happened.’
    Avner opened his palms and laid them in parallel on the table. ‘I know this is your pet theory,’ he said in a strained voice, ‘but what we’re dealing with now is reality. Real life. Real fucking life.’
    ‘Look, I believe in my convictions. I stand by my beliefs. I kept quiet for years in the Office, kept my head down, and look where it got me. I’m not going to waver again.’
    ‘But how do you know your precious Doctrine of the Status Quo is right? If you’re wrong, you could be personally responsible for a nuclear war.’
    ‘You didn’t work in Iran like I did. You don’t know the language, the culture. If you did, you would understand that a nuclear Iran is the region’s only hope. For as long as Iran is the underdog, the fighting will never end. Peace can only be made between equals. Everyone knows that.’
    ‘And if you’re wrong? Iran will use their yellowcake to start a nuclear war. Millions will die. And it will be your fault.’
    Uzi took an aggressive swig of his beer as if trying to extinguish something inside him. ‘I’m not responsible for the choices I’m given. I didn’t ask for this; it found me. I have to stand by my beliefs one way or the other – either help Iran go nuclear, or allow their yellowcake to be destroyed. There’s no third option, is there?’
    ‘Just walk away, my brother. Walk away.’
    ‘I can’t walk away from what I know is right. You don’t understand – Mossad and MOIS are just words. Liberty and I might be on different sides, but we share the same vision. We share the same heart. I have more in common with her than with many Israelis. This is the way of the future. The way of peace.’
    Avner sighed deeply and sat back in his chair, collecting his thoughts. Then he pulled himself together, took Uzi’s arm and looked him full in the face. ‘I’ve wanted to say this to you for a long time. Maybe I should’ve said it before. You’ve been a different man since your parents died. I’m no psychologist but I’ve seen the change. This thing with Liberty – she’s managed to get under your skin. The MOIS are clever bastards. They have psychologists working for them, just the same as we do. She’s found your weak point, and she’s got herself in there. That’s your Achilles’ heel, my brother – the death of your parents. You need love more than you know. This Iranian agent has exploited that, and now she’s taken over your thoughts.’ He got to his feet, picked up his briefcase and overcoat. ‘Trust me, you’re not in your right mind. Find the slick. Pick up your new identity. Walk away from Liberty and get the fuck out of the UK, before it’s really too late. Work all this stuff out in your own time. Never mind the future of the fucking world.’
    Uzi felt as if he’d been punched in the stomach. As he watched Avner disappear into the bustle of the airport, a knot of emotion butted up into his throat. He left a ten-pound note on the table, hurried from the café and rushed into the nearest bathroom. Locking the cubicle door behind him, he flung his motorcycle helmet on the floor and slammed the walls with his fists. Then he crouched down, head in hands, moaning. The Kol started babbling in his head, all the usual things, making his ear itch unbearably. He let it wash over him, did not reply. For several minutes he stayed there, waiting for somebody to come; surely somebody had heard the racket, surely the airport police would come and pick him up. But nobody came. He