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

to gain momentum, my feet plodded through the mud.

There was always mud.

I was always sunk.

And still I ran, scraping my body on tamarisk branches.

Scared birds flew the thicket. How I wanted

to fly as they did. But even my kite

butterfly, made of paper

perforated. Our declaration of independence. Declaration of destitution.

So I passed my days in the stagnant water, my hand clutching a ragged

kite, gazing up at the sky, at the distant sun. How

I yearned for burning.

One day, I knew, I’d fly to it, far off into the distance,

riding a kite

aflame.

l. Where Were You?

You look a little pale, Keren observed worriedly. Her wheat-colored braids were wrapped around her head in a manner that reminded Tamir of period films, of courtly women and sixteenth-century maidens, of intrigue and betrayal in immaculate English.

I-I’m fine. I just read a poem.

A poem?! Come on, I’ll fix you a cup of tea. Do you get enough sleep? You need to be strong to protect the homeland! Here, I’ll even sacrifice some of my Assam blend, so don’t say I don’t love you. From the foothills of the Himalaya, straight to your cup. How ‘bout that, huh? Milk?

Yes, please.

She carefully poured milk into his cup. He took a sip of the tea, and a feeling of serenity pervaded his body.

By the look on your face, I see you know your tea. How’s my intelligence work?

I come from a kibbutz of Hungarians and English people.

Ah, that explains it. I’m from a settlement of Belarussians, where everyone drinks strong black tea and eats spoonfuls of cherry marmalade. Goes great with the tea.

Like in War and Peace, he mumbled.

Never read it. I’m waiting for the movie adaptation.

Cherry marmalade in silver utensils, Tamir recalled, Natacha’s rolling laughter, the unbridled joy, as if the war were far away, like it was nothing but an improbable dream, a bedtime fairytale, nothing more. Because who could even believe such a thing, anyway? He took the cup of supremely-brewed pungent tea back to his desk and turned on his computer. He started with the regular round of dispatches from the bases. A short conversation conducted on the Front’s network, intercepted at Kidonit, immediately caught his attention:

a. A/U, BB

b. S/U, Tr.

a. Where were you this whole time?

b. The device was broken. We just got a new one today.

a. Are all the details with the new friends done on your end?

b. Yes, almost. And yours?

a. Shouldn’t be any problem. They promised us that the distance [missing]. Let’s hope for clouds.

b. You talk too much over the radio. If you have anything important to say, use e/c.

a. Okay. Salutations.

Tamir sipped his tea and looked at the conversation almost in awe. He saw that it was intercepted the day before, at noontime. Why didn’t anyone contact him? He called Kidonit. Harel picked up the phone. Tamir asked his former IAO why no one had reported the conversation to him. Harel said that to the best of his knowledge, they had called but couldn’t reach him. They asked that the matter be brought to Moti’s attention. What else would you have us do, he asked in indignation.

No, that’s fine, Tamir muttered.

Looks like something really is going down, Harel said.

Yeah, this conversation is incredible. What’s the missing part?

They couldn’t make it out.

Not even the transcriber?

No.

Who was it?

Adika.

Where’s Sasson?

At home.

Tamir hesitated for a minute. Call him in, he said.

Are you serious?

Yes, it could be that important.

Listen here, Binder, are you trying to teach me how to do my job?

No, but there’s a terrorist attack unfolding before our eyes, we need to know what they’re saying there.

Adika said there’s no way to make it out.

Harel— get Sasson, he said in the most authoritative voice he could muster. He knew that at Kidonit, they don’t like to call in veteran transcribers on leave, and he knew that Harel was a bit scared of Sasson. He also knew that at that moment, Harel hated his guts. Technically, Tamir did not have the authority to issue orders to Harel. That was Moti’s job. Harel remained silent. Listen, Harel, Tamir said, I really don’t want to go to Moti with this thing…

Alright, fine, Harel agreed begrudgingly. I’ll call him in. But it better be worth it, for your sake. He hung up the phone.

Tamir went to see Moti in his office, but he wasn’t there. He went back to his own office and called the office of the deputy director of the MID-RD. He was told by his secretary that the deputy director was in a meeting. The secretary asked who she was speaking with.

Just make sure he sees the conversation intercepted from Sironit.

From where?

The Sironit network. It’s at Kidonit.

What?! she asked, perplexed.

He’ll know.

She hung up. Okay, what now? Tamir jotted down an evaluation and issued an internal notice of priority for intelligence regarding a collaboration between the Front’s airborne and seaborne units, most likely in conjunction to some extent with the Iranians, with an emphasis on logistical support. He didn’t have a clue what that logistical support could be. The tone of the conversation didn’t add up, either: logistical support isn’t something that requires details to be done. They wouldn’t phrase it like that. He added a couple of lines about a low probability of operational collaboration of an unknown nature with the Iranians, and stressed the need to establish the timetable, operational framework, and participatory factors. He sent the notice of priority for intelligence to the bases, feeling slightly foolish for stating the obvious. Still, he forwarded a copy to the office of the deputy director of the MID-RD.

An hour later, an urgent notice of priority for intelligence was issued from the office of the director of the Military Intelligence Directorate, repeating Tamir’s notice almost verbatim. A few sentences which must have been deemed too academic were rephrased into labored and cumbersome military speech. Why do they think that’s in any way clearer? he wondered. His phrasings were much more succinct and incisive.

Nissenbaum walked in.

Nissenbaum! Tamir called in surprise, with something approximating genuine happiness.

I’m doing