The Council of Ten (8 page)

“He wants to see you immediately,” Moshe told her.

Elliana started up and felt her long, muscular legs go wobbly. In her own mind, she was much too tall for a woman and her steps often appeared gangly, but in much the same way that a large cat’s might.

“Aren’t you coming?” she called to Moshe.

“He wants to see you alone,” he returned, and Elliana tried to pass off the dread in his voice.

She began to climb the rest of the flight. Her auburn hair was probably too long and dangled freely past her shoulders. She was pale and had neglected to don makeup for this recall meeting because she hadn’t seen any point in it. Of course, then she hadn’t known she’d be meeting with Isser himself. Listen to me, she thought, eleven years as a Mossad operative and I still can’t get foolish thoughts of appearance out of my head… .

Elliana reached the second floor and turned right. Isser would be in the second room down. It was the way such things were done. She reached the doorway but didn’t knock. Isser saw her and rose immediately to his feet.

“Ellie …”

She moved tentatively forward, looking at his face for a reaction.

It broke into a smile and he opened his arms. “It’s been much too long,” Isser said and hugged her close.

In fact, it had been over five years now. They had last met shortly after her husband’s funeral when Isser had approved the operation she had worked on off and on ever since and lately all the time.

Isser was a short man, so Elliana virtually absorbed him as they embraced. Unlike Moshe, the older Isser possessed little obvious muscle, but Elliana knew many men had perished from his hand. One did not get to be Mossad chief and remain there without first proving himself in the field.

“You look tired,” Isser said, pulling back.

“It was a long trip.”

“The fatigue I see has little to do with the trip. Come, let’s sit.”

He beckoned to a pair of chairs set against a side wall of the room safely away from the window. Men in Isser’s position learned fast to avoid windows. The room itself was simply furnished. A pair of desks, assorted chairs, two computer terminals presently switched off—just the necessities.

Isser spoke as soon as they were both seated. “You’ve been irregular with filing of reports.”

“It’s been difficult,” Ellie told him. “I’ve been undercover much of the time, watched constantly. Going to a drop point would have proven too dangerous.”

He hesitated. “You know why I called you here, don’t you?”

“I … suspect.”

“I must recall you, Ellie,” he said with regret in his voice. “Your current operation can no longer be sanctioned.”

“But why?”

“Because we have seen no results, no evidence that merits continuation.”

“We had an agreement, Isser.”

“Yes, five years ago I gave you permission to do whatever was necessary to find the murderers of your husband. And now five years of time and wasted expense have yielded nothing.”

“Not five years, Isser. The first four I worked on this only off and on. Just during the past year have I devoted myself fully, and at last I’m getting close. I’m certain of it this time.”

“Ellie—”

“No, wait, just listen. I’ve met with people. There’s finally evidence of stirring. I have a meet set up in Prague that—

“Ellie,” Isser broke in patiently, “you are one of our finest field agents and certainly our most valuable woman. Your exploits are legend at the academy. No one is more respected for outstanding work in the field. We can no longer afford to spare you on such a wild goose chase. You are needed far more elsewhere. Israel’s very existence is at stake. Qaddaffi has lost what little mind he once possessed. The peace process has broken down, leading Jordan and Syria closer together. We need your expertise at work on projects more directly related to state security.”

“Precisely why you should allow me to remain on my present assignment. The Council of Ten poses a greater threat to state security than any of those posed by the crumbling peace process.”

“The Council of Ten,” Isser muttered. “Five years of pursuit and all you have gained is the shadowy title that you started with.”

“More than just a title, also an aim. Global hegemony, Isser. That’s what the Council’s after and they won’t stop until they’ve got it. David must have found out about them. That’s why they killed him.”

Isser’s eyes scolded her. “Time tends to make the memory selective, Ellie. David had just resigned from the cabinet to save face. He was not a man with many friends, within Israel or without. The list of suspects, well …” Isser finished his remarks with a shrug.

“But his papers mention the Council.”

“In a code only you have been able to break.”

“Based on an ancient language from the time of Alexander. The Council was Alexander’s concept, a manifest plan to conquer the world and divide it into ten separate regions, each ruled by a district governor. All together they would determine policy under Alexander as a council of ten.”

Isser shook his head slowly. “Five years of field work and all you can give me is a history lesson.”

Ellie had never felt more helpless. How could she convince Isser that the Council of Ten had been reborn in the modern day, that her husband David had caught on to them and been killed in a fiery plane crash as a result? She had no proof. In truth, years of pursuit had gained only leads that went nowhere and connections that were severed at every turn. David had gotten close to them and had been executed as a result. She believed firmly that the Council had arranged his disgrace in the government as well. Their reach was everywhere.

She had started her pursuit of the Council originally for David, but now she realized that she was doing it mostly for herself. Her marriage to him seven years before was a hectic affair squeezed in between assignments, seen by Ellie as a last chance at a normal life once her days in the field were over. His murder had forced her to face the realities of her chosen profession. There would be no peaceful retirement, and now at thirty-two she was almost certain to remain childless as well. The Council had stolen whatever chance she had at both away from her, and her obsessive quest for them had been as much for distraction as vengeance. The pursuit was simply all she had.

Isser pushed his chair closer to hers. “Listen to me, Ellie. Look at you, you’re beaten and exhausted and what have you gained from it? Nothing.”

“That’s not true!”

“Then report to me your findings now.”

“It’s not that simple. All I have are random occurrences. There’s never any firm proof or connections. But something’s going on.”

“Open to interpretation, of course, and mine seems to be distinctly different from yours in this case.”

“Don’t you see, Isser?” Elliana pleaded. “Everything the Council does is based around total secrecy. It’s the only way they can function. If all the intelligence services in the world fail to pursue them, they can flourish unhindered.”

“Then tell me what you know about the Council. Who are its members?”

“I don’t know.”

“Where are the members from?”

“I don’t know.”

“You are convinced they are after some unholy
end
, so tell me the
means.
”

“That’s the point!” Ellie nearly shouted at him. “They were never in possession of the means until recently, so they couldn’t surface. That’s changed.”

“And now they have this means?”

“The indications are there.”

“Tell me these indications.”

“They’re vague, understated. I’ll know better after Prague in two days.”

Isser hesitated only slightly. “You’re not going.”

“What?”

“We haven’t a safe house anywhere
near
Prague, you know that. I can’t let you go illegal without shelter, backups or no. You’re too valuable.”

“I’ve gone illegal plenty of times without backups
or
shelter!”

“This is different. You’ve been formally recalled for reassignment,” Isser said, his patience gone, his words cold and flat. “Moshe has all the details for you downstairs.”

Elliana stood up angrily and stormed for the door. Suddenly she stopped, shoulders squaring.

“I can’t accept this,” she said, still facing the hallway.

“The choice is no longer yours.”

“They killed David.”

“We don’t know that.”

She turned around. “I’m requesting a leave of absence.”

“Denied.”

“A vacation, then. I’ve got plenty of time coming.”

“All personnel are on Priority Counter-terrorist Alert. All vacations have been suspended.”

Elliana tensed. “That only leaves me one choice.”

Isser stood up and moved toward her. “You’d do this, you’d throw away everything you’ve accomplished, everything you are, just like that?”

Ellie nodded, not sure if she meant to. It was all right, though, because now Isser would understand the gravity of this operation for her. She had proven her commitment to it and he would okay her continuing on with sanction. He had to.

But he didn’t.

“Your resignation will be accepted with grave disappointment,” was all he said, his expression blank. He drew a little closer to her with his arms folded. “You were the best, Ellie, but you’re not anymore. Obsession is the last thing an operative in your position can afford if you are going to survive. Obsession is a weakness and no weaknesses can be tolerated in the field. Death results or, worse, the compromising of others and the nation itself. The threads we hold onto are too thin to take chances. There is no place for personal vendettas once a professional attitude has been sacrificed. There’s too much at stake.”

“There was no new assignment for me, was there?” Ellie said with sudden realization.

“There might have been.”

“A desk job,” Ellie said softly, “eventually a section chief if I’m lucky… .”

Isser held his hands by his hips now. “Still yours if you want. My memory can be quite selective.”

Elliana shook her head. “I belong in the field.”

“Not on your own, Ellie,” Isser told her. “Not without us behind you.”

“I’ve got to do this for David, Isser. You understand that, don’t you?”

The Mossad chief ignored the question. “Once you walk out of here, there’s no coming back. You know that.”

She nodded grimly and started to swing back for the door.

“Ellie …”

“Please, Isser, don’t.”

He spoke as she moved into the hallway, tone wholly professional. “Your last checks will be forwarded to the usual drop.”

She looked at him one last time. “Sealed with a postage stamp, Isser, or a bullet?”

Part Three:
Too-Jay’s

Chapter 7

“YOU’RE CRAZY.”

Drew played Sam Masterson’s initial response over and over again in his mind as Sunday came closer.

“It’s a state of mind that comes over me when I find out my life is in danger. My grandmother helped you and now you’re going to help me. Consider it poetic justice.”

Masterson was heading his Ford back for the Hyatt. “Except she volunteered and I’m not about to.”

“I think you will, Agent Masterson. You see, I had this feeling right from when you picked me up that it was more than just Trelana you were scared of, it was me. I know all about the game you guys played with an old lady. Would make for great press, wouldn’t it? And I’ve got the letter to back up what I say. Agency wouldn’t come out looking too good and you’d come out looking worst of all. That’s how I see it.”

Masterson fought to keep his eyes on the road. Even so, Drew could see his face had flushed first with rage, then frustration, and, finally, hopeless resignation.

“Who the hell do you think you are?”

“Someone who wants to stay alive and who’s willing to do you a favor in the process. Willing and able.”

“Able?”

“I’ll get to that later. It gets a little complicated. I don’t need much. You’ll hardly have to implicate your innocent little self.”

“I can’t do this!”

“You couldn’t have used an old lady to do your dirty work for you either.”

Masterson pulled into a parking lot. “Assuming I go along with this, what would you want?”

“Your inch-thick file on Trelana and a gun, preferably a magnum.”

“You mean you plan to just go up to Trelana and—”

“Let me finish. I assume someone at the DEA is doing what they’re supposed to be doing. You must have virtually a constant tail on Trelana, and since you admitted he’s a community figure, I’ve got to think he spends plenty of time in public. It’s just a question of finding the right time. Chore number two.”

Masterson’s mouth dropped in shock. “You don’t expect me to—”

“I expect you to find me a way to get close to him. I expect you to get me a gun to do the job and I expect you to help get me out afterward. I’ll take care of the rest. And, of course, if you decide to leave me holding the bag, well, there’s always the press.”

“You’re asking too much. Too much!”

“It’s for my grandmother, Agent Masterson, and that makes it not even close to too much. Better head back to the Hyatt now and drop me off. You’ve got plenty of work to do.”

When you came right down to it, Drew figured Mace was to blame for his decision to kill Trelana.

His early sessions in the mercenary camp were marked by mistakes and fears typical of the amateur. He remembered freezing on a catwalk suspended forty feet over the ground while being marked by machine-gun tracer fire. He remembered his first two forays into the jungle on individual wargames maneuvers, comic adventures in which he had “died” first on each occasion.

Mace took him aside after the second.

“You’re thinking too much, son,” the death machine advised. “Thinking about living, dying, and what your goddamn next move is supposed to be. What you gotta do, you gotta learn to hate… .”

Mace had gone on to explain that this hate was for no one individual, but just for the idea of defeat, of failure. Refined, the hate could become a weapon that could help you achieve the impossible, overcome any odds. The hate taught you to accept nothing and stop at nothing. It was the great equalizer.