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are a prince. Think like a prince. People like us are godsends from Allah. With his help and ours, the infidels will suffer the consequences.”

“Prior knowledge, Yassin, prior knowledge.” I refused to get carried away in his religious exuberance. Even though I was born Albanian, to a Muslim family, I’d never had any kind of special interest in God. As a matter of fact, the first time I had sworn to do something in the name of God, was when I’d promised to look after the kid, and He had disappointed me already.

“How are you planning on attacking a satellite when you don’t have the faintest clue how satellites work.”

“But I can obtain a father who is worried about his son, who understands a lot about the subject…” Yassin looked at me for a moment as if I were a child and added arrogantly, “People like me are capable of planning an attack so intricate and so devastating that it will be unstoppable. You can’t even begin to imagine what is going to happen here. I can see that you can’t comprehend the scope of the disaster that is going to occur. You haven’t understood a thing, even though you had a list of all the equipment in your hands. The satellite that I desire is just a small detail in the array of a massive attack. What I am planning is going to be a work of art. It is going to turn the damage to the Twin Towers into something unimportant in the history books. After my attack, the whole landscape of the Middle East is going to change. Islamic leadership is going to change, the amount of world terror is going to change. If I say I want a satellite, who is going to stop me?”

“Who do you want to attack, and where and how. When you say: ‘I want to ruin their satellite…” How do you think it is going to happen? Do you know what a weapon against satellites is? Only a few countries have such an ability…” Suddenly, it sank in. “You are planning on stealing such a weapon, aren’t you?”

“Why steal, when I can buy?”

I didn’t answer him. My thoughts were galloping. I knew the right person in Russia who could sell me such a weapon. The Russians had such a weapon. I was sure of it. I wondered if they would be willing to sell it to me or Yassin without the intervention of the Red Mafia. I thought about the pact I was about to break with the Russians. Should I bring them in as a mediator? Would my reference buy me any credit? It will definitely buy me a few more years to live. I wondered what percentage they would take for themselves.

Yassin laughed mockingly, the way he used to when we were kids. “I am sure you are already calculating how much you are going to make from this deal.” Then he became serious. “There are other ways to hit a satellite. Do you remember the Talk-Talk breach, the British communication company?”

“I read they are still trying to fix the problem.”

“That’s right. The damage didn’t occur because someone sabotaged one of their satellites. It occurred because someone infiltrated their computer system.”

“So, what are you planning? To break into the Israeli satellite’s computer system?”

“Maybe I am planning on stealing their satellite. Or destroying it. Or maybe none of the above.”

I picked up the glass of tea, but my hands were unsteady, and the boiling drink spilled across the table. I jumped up and my chair fell backwards. There was something eerie in Yassin’s quiet answers that made me shake uncontrollably. Yassin’s men, who moments ago had been deep in fanatical prayer, now stood around me, guns drawn. The look on Yassin’s face changed. He looked as if he had suddenly remembered something important. “Omar, I need you to bring me Juliana and the boy.”

“When?” asked the man called Omar.

“Start working on it immediately. They can be here by tomorrow. I want them here, next to me. Soon I will be in the headlines and I will become wanted here, and in England as well. Juliana and the boy are my weak spot. If Allah decides that I should die a martyr’s death, I want my son and my wife with me in heaven. Even though it isn’t very likely -- from here we would most likely make our way to one of the Arab countries waiting to grant us a king’s welcome.” And then he turned to me. “You…” He pointed a finger at me and smiled. “You are very lucky.”

I breathed a sigh of relief and hoped he hadn’t seen it. I wanted to hear him say the words, ‘You are not needed’ or ‘You can carry on living’ or even, ‘Your contribution will be getting me the weapons’.

“Why am I in luck?” I asked. All those sentences or one similar one, would be a sign I would be getting out of here.

“Because you can die a martyr’s death without anyone trying to stop you.”

Guy Niava,

The outskirts of the estate, November 14,

2015, 1:10 p.m.

We are going to leave the room with El Desconocido. You, Laura, keep Zorro alive. Is that clear?”

The air in the room was frozen. I looked around at all those present. They were all staring, as if magnetized, at the barrel of Laura’s gun, which remained pointed at Zorro.

I added in simple Hebrew, “If you kill her, we will all die.” I hoped she understood.

It was a very intense moment. I couldn’t say that it endangered the mission, because the information had already been received by those who were supposed to receive it, but the situation was unstable. If she took the shot, the whole balance of the room would change, and the next shot would be at me.

“Laura, get a hold of yourself! Now!”

She moved the gun away with the same deliberate slowness she had used to point the gun at Zorro.

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