The Marsh Angel by Hagai Dagan (best thriller books to read .TXT) 📕

Well, maybe not you. They look at each other. Around them, the void emits sweet, dark suction sounds. What now? she asks, her conviction momentarily shaken. Maybe we should flee to Tarshish, Tamir suggests.

He awoke, perturbed by his vivid dream. He glanced at his watch. Quarter to six. He sighed, got up, and fixed himself a cup of coffee. It tasted murky. He left his apartment with that taste lingering in his mouth, only to find a city slowly succumbing to the advances of winter. The streets quivered lightly; the bus coughed and wheezed; the whole world receded, wallowing in self-pity. Tamir brooded over his dream, and continued doing so even as he passed through the gate and entered the base, the futuristic, fortified structure, the empty department. He sat at his computer, first looking for communications on the Front’s networks. Nothing. How could that be? Radio silence? Perhaps the whole thing was about long-term plans? He sighed and gazed pensively at the screen.

Moti walked in and updated him that the assessment meeting will take place that afternoon at GHQ. Come prepared. Don’t embarrass me there, he growled.

Tamir prepared as well as he could. Keren told him that Moti will probably do all of the talking, and that he’ll only be there as a prop to nod in agreement at appropriate times. You mainly need to practice your nodding, she added with a smile. Ilay, who had recently come into the office, rebuked her. This is no time for sarcasm, he said, our expertise is required in order to properly assess the situation. It’s a very important matter. Tamir went over the relevant materials again, then printed and sorted them in a neat binder.

The hours passed by. In the afternoon, they drove out to GHQ in Moti’s white Renault army car. During the drive, Moti asked Tamir what his plans for the future were. He replied that he hadn’t thought about it yet. You should start thinking about it, Moti said in response. If you prove yourself in your position, you should seriously consider signing on for additional service and advance within the unit. That’s an odd way to put it, Tamir thought, to advance within the unit. He didn’t respond, and an awkward silence pervaded the car until they finally reached GHQ.

Quite a few people sat gathered in the office of the deputy director of the MID-RD: heads of relevant branches in the Research Department, representatives of the Mossad and Shin-Beit, and representatives of the IAIG and the NID— Israeli Air Intelligence Group and Naval Intelligence Division. They each took their seat around a long elliptical table laden with bowls of fruit and pastries. No one had touched the refreshments yet at that point. Moti sat at the rear of the table and instructed Tamir to sit behind him, in the second row of chairs pressed against the wall. Those seats were filled by a row of young, file-carrying assistants such as him.

The deputy director of the Research Department opened the proceedings. He was a heavy-set colonel with a hooked nose, a steely gaze, thick eyebrows which rendered his expression perennially grouchy, and voice which sounded like it was amplified through a megaphone. Even when he lowered his voice, it still resonated inexplicably loud. He told the attendees that the purpose of the meeting was to assess recent developments in Ahmed Jibril’s Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine – General Command. He clarified that only representatives of intelligence collection and research bodies were invited to take part in the meeting. We don’t need the Operations Directorate at this point, they’d just get in our way, he said, his jab eliciting a few chuckles from the room. Tamir thought he looked slightly disappointed not to get a bigger laugh.

The deputy director brushed aside a plate of fruit placed in front of him and asked the head of the Lebanon Branch of the Research Department to give a brief overview of the organization— its background, its operational capabilities, and its activity over the past few years. The man in question, a balding, dark-skinned man wearing squared silver eyeglass frames, who managed to appear grayish despite his olive-green uniform, produced a decent, though slightly long overview of the Front. His presentation was littered with several vague statements and inaccuracies, Tamir noted to himself, and was very inarticulate, at that. He emphasized that the airborne attack carried out recently in the security strip— using Ultralight gliders, as the wreckage of one of the aircrafts revealed— constituted a marked departure from the standard modus operandi of the organization, which has kept a relatively low profile over the past few years. Activity has picked up in the aftermath of that attack, which could suggest another attack being prepared, signaling a change of direction and a raising of the organization’s operational profile.

The deputy director nodded. Now, let’s hear from representatives of collection units who’ll tell us what they know at this point, he said. 8200, you’re first.

Moti cleared his throat, and opened by describing the e/c relayed to the Syrian intelligence factor in Lebanon. The deputy director asked who exactly the e/c was relayed to. Moti cleared his throat again and replied that that was unclear at the moment. Tamir immediately realized it would have been sensible to pursue the matter further with Department 193 that deals with Syria, but he did not do that. The deputy director turned to the head of the Lebanon Branch and asked which factors were using Zavod boats. The branch-head quickly leafed through his papers and said, feigning an authoritative voice, that there are several factors in Lebanon which could in principal be working with Russian equipment.

That’s all you have to say on the matter? the deputy director wondered.

The branch-head briskly turned around and exchanged a few hushed words with his assistant. Turning back to the table, he said that organizations with close ties to Syria like al-Sa‘iqa and Front/Jibril who also have seaborne units are good potential candidates,