Slaton was confident the man would be unarmed. Varkal had never been a field agent. He was a politician, a bureaucrat who had worked his way up. But having seen him in action, Slaton knew to be careful. What ever the man lacked in tactical experience and polish was more than compensated for by a shrewd nature and an outstanding intellect. Varkal had excelled in a cutthroat organization, and he was near the pinnacle — he headed up Mossad’s London station, a vital post that wasn’t handed out lightly. Slaton would have to work hard to keep the man off balance.
“What do you want?” Varkal asked.
“I want to submit my resignation.”
“What?”
“I quit. I resign my position, effective immediately.”
Varkal’s eyes narrowed. “Your position? I don’t even know what your position is. You don’t work for me.”
“Not really, I guess. But you could pass it on for me. I’m sure you know the right people.”
Varkal frowned.
“I also need to find out a few things. I thought you might be able to help.”
“Such as?”
“Such as who killed Yosy Meier.”
Varkal’s face wrinkled in confusion. “What do you mean? Yosy killed? It was an accident.”
“Said who? The London police?”
“Yes. And we did a quiet investigation ourselves. Accidents do happen, David, even to Mossad officers. Particularly here in England. Until the Brits learn to drive on the right side of the road like the rest of the world, there’ll be no end to mowing down the tourists—”
“Don’t give me that!” Slaton spat. “You knew Yosy. If there was an investigation, it didn’t go very deep.”
“All right,” Varkal admitted, “I thought it was strange. But there really wasn’t any evidence of foul play. We pressed hard on a couple of informants, but none of the Arab groups here seemed to be involved.”
Varkal was recovering. Slaton caught him glancing to the entrance. He was wondering where his security was. The chief of an important Mossad station didn’t wander around town without someone to look after him. It was time to tighten the screws.
“They’re gone.”
“Who?”
“The guy standing out front. Rosenthal, I think is his name. And some new thug in a car across the street. You know, this is a very good restaurant, but you shouldn’t be so predictable. Same time, same day every week. It makes for bad security.”
“What did you do to them?” Varkal asked guardedly.
Slaton had already decided not to overplay the answer to that question. He pulled a small radio out of his pocket and shoved it across the table. It was the size of a cigarette pack, with an earpiece and microphone, the standard issue for Mossad security work. Slaton had retrieved it from his apartment, but he wouldn’t need it again. “Somebody reported a gun in the ambassador’s wing. Your boys ran off to help. The place ought to be locked down tight by now, but it’ll take fifteen minutes to figure out there’s no intruder.”
Varkal nodded. A thin sheen of perspiration had begun to mat the strands of hair on his scalp. It was decision time for Slaton. His instincts told him to go with Plan A.
“All right, listen,” he said. “I think there’s a group within the Mossad that’s making trouble, and I have a feeling you’re not part of it.”
“What do you mean making trouble?”
“Killing Yosy, for starters. Sending a ship and fifteen crewmen to the bottom of the ocean. There’s a lot happening, but I haven’t got it all figured out yet. I only know that it comes from inside our organization. Deep inside.”
“What? You’re saying our enemies have infiltrated the service?”
“I don’t know. If that were the case, I’d expect it to be one or two people. And they’d just stay quiet, get as high as they could within the organization to pass information. From what I’ve seen there’s a lot going on, a lot of people involved.”
“Like who?”
Slaton made a quick scan of the restaurant. “Why did Itzaak Simon and his buddy go out to Penzance?”
“We got a message from Tel Aviv. It instructed us to keep an eye out for anything that had to do with a ship named Polaris Venture. We found out from a source in Scotland Yard that a woman had sailed into Penzance in a boat that was beat to hell. Said she had picked up a man in the middle of the ocean, who then turned around and commandeered her boat. Supposedly he was a survivor from a ship that had sunk, and the name she gave was Polaris Venture. We sent that much back to Tel Aviv and they replied right away, told us to monitor the situation closely.”
“How?” Slaton said impatiently.
“What do you mean how?”
“Were you supposed to contact her? Question her?”
“No, the order was very specific. Just watch from a distance. No contact.”
“All right. I’m sure you’ve talked to Itzaak by now. How did he describe what happened in Penzance?”
Slaton saw suspicion in Varkal’s face. The uncertainty and fear were wearing off.
“He said that he and his partner, Freidlund, had set up surveillance. They spotted some guy trying to get into this woman’s room and decided to approach him. Itzaak recognized you and asked what was going on. That’s when you went off and attacked the two of them. They weren’t ready for it and you got the better of them.”
“Simple enough. Now let me give you my version.” Slaton allotted one minute to explain what had happened. It wouldn’t be long before security at the embassy figured out his ruse. When he finished, Varkal was skeptical.
“You’re telling me Itzaak and his partner were going to bury this woman? Why would they do that?”
“I don’t know exactly, but I’ve got a feeling it has to do with Polaris Venture. That ship had a very unusual cargo, the kind of stuff people get killed over. Tell me, how did Itzaak’s team get assigned this specific detail? Did you send them out?”
Varkal looked skyward, as if rewinding his mental gears. “When I got the message, I went straight to the duty swine. He told me Itzaak and Freidlund were already on the way.”
“Isn’t that kind of strange?”
“At the time I didn’t like it, but I wasn’t worried. It was Priority Two. When I got to my desk that morning, it had been there for at least an hour. Somebody saw the message and acted on it.”
“Or maybe Itzaak and his buddy knew it was coming.”
Slaton watched it sink in, then saw something else register.
“Itzaak …” Varkal said thoughtfully.
“What about him?”
“I told you we looked into Yosy’s accident. Well, Itzaak was in charge of the investigation.”
“Who gave him that job?”
“He volunteered for it. Said he was a friend of Yosy’s and wanted to do it for personal reasons. I didn’t see anything wrong with that — figured he’d be motivated to do a good, thorough job.”
Slaton watched Varkal closely and could see the facts sinking in. The man was no longer concerned about his immediate, personal well-being. Slaton had been able to plant the seeds of a more insidious, familiar danger, and the station chief was reacting predictably. If it was all true, if there really was a threat from within, then there was also a golden opportunity. Varkal would want to break it open in such a way as to reflect maximum credit upon himself.
“You see the pattern. And the more you look, the more you’ll find.”
“That’s what you want from me? You want me to investigate this?”
“I want you to pass what I’ve told you on to Anton Bloch. Tell him that’s why I’m running around England killing his people. Tell him I haven’t turned against Mossad. It’s turned on itself.”
“But if what you’re saying is true, how can you know who to trust?”