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

I didn’t ask what you think, I asked what you know, the deputy director reprimanded him.

Tamir leaned in towards Moti and tried to whisper what he knew into his ear. Moti nodded promptly, but his bemused face revealed he didn’t understand what Tamir said. He cleared his throat again.

Yes, 8200, do you have anything to add? the deputy director asked.

The Front’s seaborne unit has Zavod boats, Moti said.

And you know this for certain?

Uh… Yes.

How many exactly?

Uh…

That you don’t know?

We, uh… Moti squirmed. Tamir, he said, you want to maybe…

Tamir raised his head from his binder. We know from the seaborne-unit station’s communications over the past five years that the Front’s seaborne unit is in possession of five Zavod boats and three additional Zodiac boats, he said in a quiet but assertive voice. We haven’t picked up any communications on the subject recently, and in general, there hasn’t been any unusual activity going on in the seaborne unit’s station. We have no concrete information about other organizations in possession of Zavod boats. al-Sa‘iqa have a small seaborne unit, but we don’t know if they possess any Zavod boats. All we know about is their diving training around Tyre, but even that information is several years old. So, it is fully plausible that the Zavod engines were indeed sent to the Front’s seaborn unit, located in Tripoli, but that assumption should be qualified in light of there being no unusual activity in their station recently.

Who is this? the deputy director asked Moti.

This is Tamir Binder, sir. Head of the Jibril unit in the department.

Very nice, the deputy director nodded his head, good answer, Tamir Binder. The picture is a bit clearer now. Tamir bowed his head slightly. He suddenly noticed his heart was pounding through his chest.

Mossad, anything to add? the deputy director turned to the other side of the table.

The Mossad representative, a portly man in a brown plaid shirt whose gray briefcase rested on the table in front of him, mentioned the dispatch from Raspberry. The deputy director asked if they have any insights regarding the dispatch. The representative replied that in regards to the Front, it is most likely to assume that the new friends are rival and/or pro-Syrian Palestinian organizations, like Fatah/Abu Musa.

So, you think this could be an operational collaboration with another Palestinian organization?

It’s an option, the Mossad representative said.

Tamir twisted in discomfort in his seat.

Is something bothering you, Binder? the deputy director boomed at him.

Tamir cleared his throat. I don’t think they would refer to these organizations as new friends. They have collaborated pretty much since their inception. They’re old friends, not new.

Fair enough, said the deputy director. And what about this source, Raspberry? he turned back to the Mossad representative who had slightly shrunk in stature following Tamir’s comment. It’s new, isn’t it? Can you tell us something about its credibility?

Its credibility is relatively high, but since— as you rightly said— it’s a new source, this is not a final evaluation.

NID, do you have anything to contribute? asked the deputy director.

The NID representative outlined some technical details about Zavod engines and their operational capabilities. He said that if the engines in question were indeed the new models, then they would be capable of swiftly and quietly landing on the Israeli shore from a nearby launching point, such as Naqoura.

The deputy director made a note to himself and asked if anyone would like to add something at this point. No one said a thing. Tamir sat anxiously at the edge of his seat. He had already spoken too much. He had upstaged Moti, and it would be foolish of him to speak again. But on the other hand, he still had somethings to say. Finally, he pulled a page out of his binder, flipped it over, a hastily scribbled something on its back. He passed the page to Moti, but the latter struggled to read Tamir illegible handwriting.

Do you have anything to add, Tamir Binder? asked the deputy director, who had caught wind of their interaction.

Tamir looked at him. I may be out of order here…

Speak, speak! the deputy director enjoined him.

It’s true that allies could mean Palestinian organizations close to the Front, he said, but we should keep in mind the dispatch from the Saudi embassy about the increased collaboration between Iran and Palestinian operational factors. In that context, the allies could also be the Iranians.

Yes, I think so too, the deputy director said in a pensive voice. Okay, in summary, what we know at this stage is that some organization, most likely Front/Jibril, is equipping itself with new Zavod engines. This could be part of a long-term process, but there is also the possibility that they are brewing up a hostile terrorist attack for the near future. Such activity could be carried out in collaboration with another body, with an emphasis on Iranian aid, but without disqualifying other possibilities. What we don’t have so far, he continued, is a when and where. As always, he added with a sigh. All we can do for now is issue a general warning. Collection bodies, he spun around in his seat and turned his gaze to the different representatives sat around the table, get me something! I don’t want to learn about this attack from the media. Alright?? Binder, are you listening? Get me something!

On the way back from GHQ, a silence lingered between Tamir and Moti, even more awkward and profound than the silence that had pervaded the car on the way over.

i. Autonomous Sex

The following day, Neta’s vivacious heap of curls moseyed into Tamir’s office. So, how’s the good life? she asked with a smile.

Not too bad, he said, stretching in his chair.

It’s a bit like an accountant’s office here, isn’t it? she said. I prefer Efroni.

What do you know about accountants’ offices?

My dad’s an accountant, she said. And my mom’s an investment banker. So, I’ve seen a few offices in my day…

Do you have anything about the