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

question, perhaps I’ll be able to give you a better answer.

Tamir scribbled something down in his yellow writing block, just to give ‘Ali the impression he’s writing something. What do you mean by ‘direct you more’? he asked.

If you know about someone in one of the units, and you’d like more information about her…

But you just said you don’t know anything, what good will it do if I give you a name?

Maybe the name will jog my memory. A person can forget, you know.

Yes, Tamir concurred, memory and forgetfulness, it’s a complicated thing. It reminds me of an old children’s rhyme in Arabic. For a moment, the image of the Bedouin girl Sa’ira’s soft-singing lips and the quiet abyss of her sister Dallal’s eyes sprung to Tamir mind. He sang, as if absentmindedly, the song he had sung in his head repeatedly following that visit to the village of the Arab al-Ghawarneh:

The hoopoe forgets, the heron takes flight,

The kingfisher submerges, the pelican sleeps tight,

The ibis hides in the thicket, the pigeon sits for all to see.

Only the stint… He repeated, accentuating the words: bas al-Darija…

He paused and gave ‘Ali the Yellow a piercing gaze.

I don’t know anything about her! ‘Ali cried, slurring his speech from all the whiskey he’d drank. She’s one of yours, anyway! Or the Syrians’!

What the hell just happened here? Yaki asked Tamir in Hebrew.

Tamir asked for a break in the side room. The thickset man from 504 remained with ‘Ali, while the other three retired to the adjacent room. Tamir explained that there’s a problem of source confidentiality here.

Source confidentiality my ass! Yaki said.

Give us the general outline without mentioning sources, Doron suggested.

Tamir said a few words about al-Darija. He knew very little, anyway, mainly that she appears to have been part of the task force that carried out the last operation, and that some information was intercepted, suggesting that she’s a spy for our side. I have reason to believe, he added, that ‘Ali knows about this and that he was sent here to find out if it’s true.

Sent? You have reason to believe? Based on what?! Yaki raised his voice.

Tamir couldn’t tell Yaki about the black material. I can’t tell you, he said, but it doesn’t matter, he just confessed to it himself, didn’t you hear?

It’s true, he exposed himself, Doron said.

He’s drunk!

They both looked at Yaki with compassionated eyes. It was clear that he was reluctant to lose a relatively good source. Tamir said ‘Ali’s whole story about the airborne unit and the warehouses in Tripoli seems fabricated. There’s no indication of such a thing in the unit’s sources. Why would they follow up such a success by dismantling the force and retreating north? Doron agreed and said ‘Ali might be saying that to lull them into a false sense of security. It could possibly even indicate exactly the opposite, increased preparations ahead of another operation. Tamir added that his response regarding the seaborne unit seemed off as well, like he was trying to coax out information rather than provide information. Regarding the tanks, Tamir noted ‘Ali’s denial was strange. The Front has a station called Sabra and Shatila Tank Regiment. Their communications clearly indicate that they are in possession of at least four or five old T62 Soviet tanks. Yaki listened to what was being said and his disappointment quickly morphed into rage. I’m going back in there, and I’m going to break every bone in his fucking body, he uttered.

No need to rush, Doron advised.

And all of a sudden, that son of a bitch is interested in Mount Meron, Yaki recalled. He’s always been single-mindedly obsessed with Tel-Aviv and girls. Someone’s telling him to take an interest in Mount Meron. Yaki’s hand was clinched in a foreboding fist.

I would love to have the opportunity to try and get everything I can from him about this Darija, Tamir said.

Okay, Yaki regrouped. I need to get the top brass down here. To think.

Can’t I question him a bit further? Tamir asked.

You just exposed a double agent in your first interrogation, isn’t that enough?

No…

You’re here with your car, right? he asked Doron.

Yes.

Okay, so drive him wherever he needs to go. If we decide on any further investigations, we’ll contact you.

f. Abandoned House

That evening, Tamir received a call from Unit 504 inviting him to another interrogation in two days’ time. The following day, Nissenbaum and the department head called to congratulate him. The department head lavished Tamir with praise, telling him he had heard that he exhibited initiative and creativity. You made the unit and the department as a whole proud, he said. As far as I’m concerned, Nissenbaum’s unit is yours. We’ll issue the order today, and you can be down here in about two weeks’ time to start your training.

Harel came in in the afternoon. No one had updated him, so Tamir brought him briefly up to speed, omitting most of the details. Harel nodded his head, and asked him to go fetch him something utterly unimportant from translation. As he walked away, Tamir saw him pressing the speed-dial button on the amethyst to call Department 195. When he came back, Harel patted him on the back with his sweaty palm and congratulated him half-heartedly, slipping in a little rebuke as well, insisting that Tamir should have updated him beforehand. It’s inappropriate for an intelligence analyst to attend an interrogation without his IAO knowing about it.

Tamir didn’t argue. He said that he was absolutely right, and that it’s unfortunate he won’t have the opportunity to make up for his mistake.

Yes, Harel said in the tone of someone who’s just recalled a pesky matter, I hear you’re leaving soon. Well, I hope you managed to learn something during your time here. I think you’re making a mistake, but best of luck to you. We’ll keep doing our work here. He sounded offended.

Tamir nodded. What else could he have said?

The next day, he drove out to Rosh Pina again. He reflected just how much he