The Marsh Angel by Hagai Dagan (ebooks online reader .TXT) 📗

neck out on the line. Do you have any idea what would happen to me if I’m exposed? First, their butchers would have their way with me, and then they’d pass whatever’s left of me to the Syrians. What do you think, that I can hear everything? If you want me to hear about the airborne unit’s activities you need to get me promoted first… A little bit of cash in the right hands wouldn’t hurt. If I were to take part in the core leadership’s meetings in al-Mazra‘a I’d be much wiser. But now that you mention it… I spoke with Abu Maher last week. He coordinates the organization’s quartermaster requests vis-à-vis the Syrians. He goes to all the bases, checks what equipment is needed and files former requests. Long story short, he complained that the Syrians have been denying his requests recently. Maybe they have financial problems. It’s high politics that neither he nor I know anything about. He even said that things have become so bad that there’s talk of turning to Iran through Hezbollah.

Doron quickly jotted down ‘Ali’s words in his notepad. He seemed to be very interested in this information.

Anyway, ‘Ali continued, I asked Abu Maher what kind of requests have been denied, and he said there were warehouses for small aircrafts that needed fixing around Tripoli.

Warehouses for small aircrafts? Is that what he said? Doron asked. In those words exactly?

Yes, I think so, ‘Ali replied. Something like that. If you’re so interested, you need someone inside the airborne unit. It wouldn’t be a bad idea, would it? Or do you already have someone like that? He looked around the room and cast his eyes on Tamir in particular, for some reason.

What’s the deal, ‘Ali, are you providing us with intelligence consultation services now? Yaki said. Why don’t you stick to answering our questions.

Okay, I was just trying to help. We’re on the same side, aren’t we? ‘Ali asked and sipped his whiskey.

Doron said that he had no further questions at this point. Yaki nodded to Tamir.

Tamir peeked at his yellow writing block and put it aside. He looked at ‘Ali. He knew he wasn’t supposed to disclose the sources of his information or the extent of the knowledge behind his questions. He had to be particularly careful not to divulge the existence of the black material that reached him. On the other hand, that is what stood at the heart of this whole exercise. But regardless, something didn’t sit right with him. The more ‘Ali answered Doron’s questions, the more Tamir felt a certain dissonance in the back of his mind. The expression ‘small aircrafts’ seems very general, he said, looking at ‘Ali. Did he specify which aircraft?

No, ‘Ali replied, I don’t recall anything like that.

Strange, Tamir said. This man, Abu Maher, deals in equipment and quartermaster stores. He’s not a political operative. I would image he’d be more specific.

He might have said gliders, ‘Ali said.

He might have? Yaki asked. Did he, or didn’t he?

Yes, he said, I think so, ‘Ali said.

Tamir decided to take a risk. In their last operation, they made it near the border, he said. These are not long-range aircrafts. One can assume that they took off from around the valley. Why would they want to move north to Tripoli and be further away from the border?

I don’t know. I told you already, they don’t include me in these kinds of discussions. Maybe they decided to shelve those kinds of operations for now? Maybe they want to narrow the organization’s operational profile?

Did you hear anything about that?

There was some talk.

By who?

Someone named Hassan Hamud came back from a meeting with Talal Naji. Talal is a political operative, but he knows things. He sits with the boss all the time. Hassan Hamud wasn’t sure, but he thinks that’s what he understood from Talal. You have to understand, these people tend to speak in hints rather than say anything outright.

Yes, I know that very well, Tamir thought to himself. They speak that way over the radio, too. He peeked in his writing block and asked two or three questions about the organization’s collaboration with Hezbollah in the south, just to divert the discussion a bit, and also because Nissenbaum requested that he ask about it. ‘Ali seemed pleased with these questions. On his end, Tamir made ‘Ali believe he was very pleased with his answers. Wage your war with trickery, his father once told him when he asked how he managed to survive a whole year in a concentration camp with hard labor and no food. Wage your war with trickery, he said and did not elaborate. Tamir looked at ‘Ali the Yellow’s pudgy face, which seemed as conceited as it was flushed from the whiskey he kept consuming. Not very wise of him, Tamir mused.

What’s the organization’s recruitment policy? Tamir asked to the surprise of everyone present. Who do you recruit? Who do you target? That’s not military information.

‘Ali’s answer touched on a few things, such as appeals to youths in refugee camps and the propaganda wars against the PLO and other organizations, such as the Democratic Front.

What about girls?

Girls?

Girls, females. Do you target them as well?

Yeah, sure. We’re a secular organization. We don’t believe a woman’s place is at home. Women should contribute to the Palestinian resistance.

Where do you send them? What kind of roles do female recruits perform?

Mainly working in the camps, working with youths, publicity, logistics, if necessary…

What about operational roles? Are there any female combatants?

Not that I know of. It’s dangerous and too difficult.

No one?

No, no one. You know… There can always be exceptions, unusual cases…

Like Leila Khaled.

Yes, for example. But she wasn’t with us. With us… At the moment, I don’t… he started at Tamir with a befogged gaze. It was clear he was trying to be cautious and calculated in his response, but his pupils were clouded in the golden mist of Scotch whiskey. I’m not sure I… If you direct me more with your