so well-connected with the Interior Ministry and the police? No; they wanted him to escape, to run. But where? And why?
Again and again Greenberg came to the same incomprehensible and nonsensical conclusion. They want to follow me – but at a distance. It was not the fact he was free that bothered them, but his sudden disappearance. Now, after he had left the country under his own name, was there someone on the plane whose job it was to follow him? Did they think they could observe his actions? The very idea made him tense his muscles.
Once again he pictured the file he had found in the desk in the whitewashed room. There were so many details in it; nevertheless, so many basic details were missing … Greenberg did not believe that was the complete file. It was reasonable to assume that whoever had taken so much trouble had all the information. Whoever wanted him so desperately to escape apparently knew exactly how to motivate him, and probably also how to get him to pick the right objective. That’s it! He had to stop and go over it all over again, from the beginning.
The interview with the recruiter, for example. Suddenly he realized that it was not because of the “special characteristics and abilities” the man had spoken about that the organization had chosen him; he almost smiled when he remembered how the man had detailed the natural sense of superiority and self-importance every personal had, to one extent or another. How naïve he had been! Now that he thought of it, he could have instantly given the names of at least five acquaintances who were much more talented and suitable than he. He laughed. The man with the short hair, who had seemed so laconic and heavy-handed, was now suddenly revealed to Greenberg as a master, a superlative actor in full command of his profession.
No! That also had not been his personal motivation, so to speak, following his family tragedy years before. Dozens of years of living in the shadow of terrorism had caused enough personal tragedies in Israel to supply lots of fierce motivation for revenge.
If so – then why the hell pick him? Superficially there was no logical reason; unless they knew of something… He was afraid to go on thinking about it. The very idea gave him a feeling of dread.
The pilot’s announcement of the final approach provided a welcome, if temporary, relief from his troubling thoughts.
Chapter 7
Even before the engine had finished releasing the accumulated air pressure of its brake tanks with a long, pressurized Shhhhh, Greenberg was already standing on the platform of the train station, breathing in the smells of the city. There was something of the unknown in the early morning air of a strange city; like the activation for the first time of a gigantic machine, which begins to move but whose nature is unknown. It was sort of a new beginning; one which bore the expectation of things to come.
Holding the handle of his bag with one hand, he tried with the other to turn up the collar of his coat in a vain attempt to cover his ears. The air was cold and misty, still bearing the morning dew. Only a few people got off at the Basel station at that hour, a quarter to five; within seconds they had disappeared in all directions. Greenberg walked over to the station restaurant, which was open 24 hours a day, his footsteps on the frozen asphalt echoing in the stillness.
A thin, pale looking waiter, wearing a gigantic black bow tie, unsuccessfully hid a yawn behind the back of his hand and welcomed Greenberg, seating him at a table. He ordered a large size Café Longo and adjusted his chair so he had an unobstructed view of his surroundings. Through the half-pane glass partition separating the restaurant from the station waiting room he scanned the deserted platforms and empty telephone booths. Within just a few days, suspiciousness had become a dominant attribute of his character.
Some three hours later, five empty coffee cups and four day-old local papers –
Again and again Greenberg came to the same incomprehensible and nonsensical conclusion. They want to follow me – but at a distance. It was not the fact he was free that bothered them, but his sudden disappearance. Now, after he had left the country under his own name, was there someone on the plane whose job it was to follow him? Did they think they could observe his actions? The very idea made him tense his muscles.
Once again he pictured the file he had found in the desk in the whitewashed room. There were so many details in it; nevertheless, so many basic details were missing … Greenberg did not believe that was the complete file. It was reasonable to assume that whoever had taken so much trouble had all the information. Whoever wanted him so desperately to escape apparently knew exactly how to motivate him, and probably also how to get him to pick the right objective. That’s it! He had to stop and go over it all over again, from the beginning.
The interview with the recruiter, for example. Suddenly he realized that it was not because of the “special characteristics and abilities” the man had spoken about that the organization had chosen him; he almost smiled when he remembered how the man had detailed the natural sense of superiority and self-importance every personal had, to one extent or another. How naïve he had been! Now that he thought of it, he could have instantly given the names of at least five acquaintances who were much more talented and suitable than he. He laughed. The man with the short hair, who had seemed so laconic and heavy-handed, was now suddenly revealed to Greenberg as a master, a superlative actor in full command of his profession.
No! That also had not been his personal motivation, so to speak, following his family tragedy years before. Dozens of years of living in the shadow of terrorism had caused enough personal tragedies in Israel to supply lots of fierce motivation for revenge.
If so – then why the hell pick him? Superficially there was no logical reason; unless they knew of something… He was afraid to go on thinking about it. The very idea gave him a feeling of dread.
The pilot’s announcement of the final approach provided a welcome, if temporary, relief from his troubling thoughts.
Chapter 7
Even before the engine had finished releasing the accumulated air pressure of its brake tanks with a long, pressurized Shhhhh, Greenberg was already standing on the platform of the train station, breathing in the smells of the city. There was something of the unknown in the early morning air of a strange city; like the activation for the first time of a gigantic machine, which begins to move but whose nature is unknown. It was sort of a new beginning; one which bore the expectation of things to come.
Holding the handle of his bag with one hand, he tried with the other to turn up the collar of his coat in a vain attempt to cover his ears. The air was cold and misty, still bearing the morning dew. Only a few people got off at the Basel station at that hour, a quarter to five; within seconds they had disappeared in all directions. Greenberg walked over to the station restaurant, which was open 24 hours a day, his footsteps on the frozen asphalt echoing in the stillness.
A thin, pale looking waiter, wearing a gigantic black bow tie, unsuccessfully hid a yawn behind the back of his hand and welcomed Greenberg, seating him at a table. He ordered a large size Café Longo and adjusted his chair so he had an unobstructed view of his surroundings. Through the half-pane glass partition separating the restaurant from the station waiting room he scanned the deserted platforms and empty telephone booths. Within just a few days, suspiciousness had become a dominant attribute of his character.
Some three hours later, five empty coffee cups and four day-old local papers –
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