Page 18 of End of Days

She sagged back in her seat and said, “No, I don’t. It’s strange, but it fits with what we were told to find. Something else is going on here. Whoever it is wants Keta’ib Hezbollah to get blamed, but they didn’t have the chance to blame them.”

“But the guy who killed theRamsadwasKeta’ib Hezbollah, right? That’s why we’re in the air to Switzerland.”

“Yes. Yes and no.”

“What’s that mean?”

“I don’t know. That’s why we’re flying to Switzerland. But you still shouldn’t have told the United States government that we’ve given you the ability to help us by using Israeli passports.”

“I didn’t tell the government. I told George Wolffe. We’re good. Look, if I hadn’t disclosed what was going on, we’d be flying in coach on a commercial flight. Now we’re riding in style on the Rock Star bird to a small airport an hour and a half away from Zurich. You’d rather be crammed next to a toilet on a commercial flight?”

The aircraft we were flying was a Gulfstream 650, something that rock stars take when traveling on a tour. In Nickelback’s version, it was a “big black jet with a bedroom in it, gonna join the mile high club at 37,000 feet.”

I still hadn’t done that, but mainly because our aircraft was a little bit different. Paid through about a hundred different cutouts and shell companies, it was ostensibly leased to Grolier Recovery Services, but I still had to get George Wolffe’s permission to use it. Instead of a bedroom, it had a complete arsenal built into the frame in hidden compartments, everything from surveillance systems to weapons. Something we might need soon, no matter what Shoshana thought of the mission.

I waited, and she finally said, “Okay, this is a good thing, but you still shouldn’t have done it. You promised.”

I knew at that point the argument was over and she was going to let it go, although she had no idea how hard it had been to get this ball moving. After breakfast, I’d had Jennifer take Aaron and Shoshana on a touristy Charleston carriage ride and had pulled aside George, Brett, and Knuckles.

During the night, the death of the ambassador had made the news, which gave me some leverage. I’d explained everything to Wolffe, saying I wanted to take Knuckles and Brett with me to explore it because there was a threat working—and it was going to be against American as well as Israeli interests. He’d asked if it was Iran, and if so, why hadn’t Israel said anything to the U.S. intelligence community, especially since there had been no reporting on a Keta’ib Hezbollah connection to any of the deaths.

At that point, I was treading on dangerous ground with Shoshana’s information. Because they weren’t sure of the provenance of the Keta’ib Hezbollah linkages, a select few power brokers in the Mossad wanted to keep the linkages secret until they were sure—which I could tell was grating on Wolffe’s good nature.

“How am I hearing about this at a wedding rehearsal from a subordinate team leader? They actually gave you a cover without even asking about the help with the Taskforce? What the hell happened to coordination between the intelligence agencies?”

Wolffe was an old-school paramilitary officer from the CIA who had done more clandestine operations than Hollywood could ever produce. And he didn’t like being the last to know. He especially didn’t like the subterfuge the Israeli team had used.

I held up my hands and said, “That coordination is coming, I’m sure. You saw the ‘diplomat’ killed in a mugging in Paris?”

“Yeah. What about it?”

“He was Shin Bet, and Keta’ib Hezbollah claimed credit for it, but Israel has kept that under wraps. From what Aaron and Shoshana have told me, the Knesset is split right now, but the forces for attacking Iran are growing. Trust me, they’ll come to the U.S. for help soon. You’ll be hearing all about it. Right now, they’re trying to figure out what to do.”

“So why you? Why areyougoing with Aaron and Shoshana?”

“There are some power brokers in the Mossad that think this is a false flag. That someone else is driving the killings and they aren’t Keta’ib Hezbollah. They think someone wants a war and has somehow co-opted that militia for the killings. That’s why Aaron and Shoshana were chosen. Off the books, away from Mossad headquarters. They don’t have to report to any politicians. They want us to see what we can find before this leaks, which it eventually will. Once it blows up in the news, the war drums will start beating.”

“That ‘off the books’ thing works both ways. They’ll cut you free in a heartbeat. You get found out, and you’re now not an American spy, but an Israeli one—while being disavowed by both states.”

“Well, Lord knows I’ve been in the ‘if you get caught, you’re on your own’ territory before. That’s not an issue. It’s just Alpha. We’re only going to do surveillance work, and I think it’s worth exploring.”

“It sounds like an Israeli problem.”

“Until it becomes an American one. They continue killing diplomats with an Iranian fingerprint and it will become overwhelming for both of us. I’m talking biblical times overwhelming. If Israel goes to war with Iran, Iran will launch whatever they have to protect their regime—especially if Tehran had nothing to do with it—and Israel will retaliate.”

Left unsaid was that Israel had a nuclear arsenal.

I could see him thinking about it, and drove home the last bit I had. “The note said that the Great Satan would also reap the whirlwind, and now we’ve lost the American ambassador to the Holy See.”

“He died in a car crash.”

“Did he? I mean, did he crash all by himself?”

“Nobody’s claimed credit for killing him.”

“Maybe because he wasn’t supposed to go over a cliff. Maybe he was supposed to be killed on the road and his hit got screwed up.”

“They’d still claim credit.”

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