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Kaze Café18 on Sheinkin Street. His phone rang. He picked it up.

Your friends are causing a stir.

Jonny?

How’re things in the outside world? Jonny chuckled.

You get used to it, Tamir said.

Yeah, you’re a real hapless son of a bitch, aren’t you? Anyway, listen, the Syrianists picked up on something. The Syrian IAO just showed it to me, and I wanted to consult you before we send it out.

I’m all ears.

It’s an e/c back from decipherment. It was sent by a factor from Border Patrol stationed by the border, on the Beirut-Damascus road, to a Syrian intelligence factor in Lebanon situated in Beirut. Here’s what is says:

In accordance with your instructions, we have allowed passage for three Zavod speedboat engines. The engines are of the advanced type agreed upon, in coordination with navy headquarters. The engines are intended for the allies up there.

That’s it, Jonny said. What do you make of it?

It could be the Front’s seaborne unit, if the vessels in question are very small, Tamir pondered aloud, because that’s pretty much all they’ve got.

Are their vessels Zavod?

I need to double-check, but I’m fairly certain that it’s something like five Zavod boats and three Zodiac boats they managed to get their hands on. But our information is dated. That unit hasn’t been active in years.

Maybe it’s the Lebanese army? Jonny suggested.

Do they have a navy commando unit?

Something insubstantial, mainly for show. But I checked with the Syrian IAO. Zavod also make larger attack vessels.

Does the Lebanese army have any?

No, actually. They mainly have coast-guard vessels.

By Zavod?

No, French.

So it’s not them.

Probably not, Jonny said.

Well, listen, make a note in your annotation about the Front’s seaborne unit, but mention that other organizations also have seaborne units, like Sa‘iqa, for example. You know what, could it be Sa‘iqa…? But they haven’t had any unusual activity in the seaborne unit station. Anyway, don’t commit to anything. Just write an informative annotation.

You mean a cover-my-own- ass annotation.

Yes.

Yes, sir.

C’mon…

Okay, okay, I’m just messing with you. Have a ball. And see if nothing’s going on in the seaborne unit, after all. Maybe it slipped under our noses.

Yeah, okay. Even if it is the seaborne unit, maybe they simply have a problem with their engines and need spare equipment?

Three engines at once?

Yeah, you’re right.

He said goodbye to Jonny and stared at the phone a bit after hanging up. He picked up a pile of summaries he had already gone over. He sat it back down. Maybe it would be better to issue a notice of priority for intelligence concerned with the seaborne unit’s activity. The seaborne unit… What’s going on here? He was expecting to hear about the airborne unit, not the seaborne unit.

The door opened. A meticulously kempt second lieutenant stood at the entrance. I’m looking for Sergeant Tamir Binder, he said in a formal voice.

Present, Tamir said with a slight wry smile.

The second lieutenant did not smile. I’m the deputy security officer here. He walked into the room and placed a printed document on Tamir’s desk. You are summoned to appear before F.S.D.2 tomorrow at zero nine-hundred hours.

F.S.D.2… Where is that? Tamir asked, and immediately thought to himself that that’s not the most pressing question at hand.

In GHQ. Come in full uniform with your military identification. And bring the summons with you.

And… What is this about?

I don’t know, and I wouldn’t have told you if I did. They’ll explain everything tomorrow. Keep in mind, it could take a while. Is your department head here?

No.

He’ll be updated. That’s all. Don’t be late. He paused to give to Tamir a harsh measured look, before leaving the room and closing the door behind him.

Very dramatic, said Ilay, the Fatah unit head who Tamir shared the office with. But don’t worry, these guys usually bark but don’t bite. They’re here mainly to get in the way of our work. They don’t know the first thing about intelligence. So, what did you do?

I haven’t the faintest.

Do you know what F.S.D.2 is?

Yeah, field-security department, right?

Supposedly. But that’s actually the Shin-Beit’s representative in the army. Supposedly, it’s reserve soldier serving there— but it’s really Shin-Beit agents.

How do you know?

Common knowledge. Besides, they summoned me once.

For what?

That’s the thing, they don’t tell you at first. They ask you about your political opinions, and stuff. Try to make a good impression. Mainstream, and slightly to the right. That’s what they like to hear. Don’t forget, they serve the authorities.

So, you don’t know what you were summoned for?

I figured it out in the end. Before the army, I published a couple of poems in a journal, and still occasionally received mail from the journal during my service.

What’s the problem with that?

It was a journal associated with the Israeli Communist Party. They saw I was on their mailing list. They weren’t pleased to have someone in such a sensitive position associated with communists. I promised them I was only receiving the occasional letter, that I’m not a member of the communist party and that I don’t support their stances. They told me they’ll settle for that for now, but that they’ll keep tabs on me for a while. It’s hard to say whether that was an idle threat, or whether they actually meant it. Anyway, that was nearly a year ago, and I haven’t heard from them since.

f. Blackening Matter

That night, Tamir barely got any sleep. He took the bus out to GHQ in the morning, presented his identification card at the gate, and was directed to a shack in a remote part of the camp. He arrived early, so he sat outside waiting on a wooden bench in the middle of a patch of dry grass. Ten minutes later, a man dressed in civilian clothes emerged from the shack.

Are you Tamir?

Yes.

Nice to meet you, I’m Gabi. Please, come in.

Tamir followed the man into a small room with no windows, other than one small slit in the farmost wall which he couldn’t see through. Gabi asked him if he’d like a coffee, and Tamir nodded hesitantly. Gabi

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