“Well, it’s possible you may not be going back to Israel,” said Kratz.
Hannah shifted her position in the chair.
“At least not immediately,” added Kratz. “Perhaps I ought to explain. Although you have four more months of your course to complete”—he opened a file that lay on the desk in front of him—” your tutor has informed us that you are likely to perform better in the final exams than any of the other five remaining agents, as I’m sure you know.”
It was the first time she had ever been described as an agent.
“We have already decided you’ll be part of the final team,” Kratz said, as if anticipating her question. “But, as so often happens in our business, an opportunity has arisen which we feel you are the best-qualified person to exploit at short notice.”
Hannah leaned forward in her chair. “But I thought I was being trained to go to Baghdad.”
“You are, and in good time you will go to Baghdad, but right now we want to drop you into a different enemy territory. No better way of finding out how you’ll handle yourself under pressure.”
“Where do you have in mind?” asked Hannah, unable to disguise her delight.
“Paris.”
“Paris?” repeated Hannah in disbelief.
“Yes. We have picked up information that the head of the Iraqi Interest Section has asked his government to supply him with a second secretary. The girl has been selected and will leave Baghdad for Paris in ten days’ time. If you are willing to take her place, she will never reach Charles de Gaulle Airport.”
“But they’d know I was the wrong person within minutes.”
“Unlikely,” said Kratz, taking out a thicker file from a drawer of his desk and turning a few pages. “The girl in question was educated at Putney High School and then went on to Durham University to study English, both on Iraqi government grants. She wanted to remain in England but was forced to return to Baghdad when student visas were rescinded just over two years ago.”
“But her family…”
“Father was killed in the war with Iran and the mother has gone to live with her sister, just outside Karbala.”
“Brothers and sisters?”
“A brother in the Republican Guard, no sisters. It’s all in the file. You’ll be given a few days to study the background before you have to make up your mind. Tel Aviv is convinced we’ve a good chance of dropping you in her place. Your detailed knowledge of Paris is an obvious bonus. We would only leave you there for three to six months at the most.”
“And then?”
“Back to Israel in final preparation for Baghdad. By the way, if you decide to take on this assignment, our primary purpose is not to use you as a spy. We already have several agents in Paris. We simply want you to assimilate everything around you and get used to living with Arabs and thinking like them. You must not keep any records, or even make notes. Commit everything to memory. You will be debriefed when we take you out. Never forget that your final assignment is far more important to the state of Israel than this could ever be.” He smiled for the first time. “Perhaps you’d like a few days to think it over.”
“No, thank you,” said Hannah. This time it was Kratz who looked anxious. “I’m happy to take on the job, but I have a problem.”
“What’s that?” asked Kratz.
“I can’t type, and certainly not in Arabic.”
The young man laughed. “Then we’ll have to lay on a crash course for you. You’d better leave the Rubins’
immediately and get yourself moved into the embassy by tomorrow night. They won’t ask you for an explanation, and don’t offer any. Meanwhile, study this.” He passed over a manila folder with the name “Karima Saib” written across the top in bold letters. “Within ten days you must know its contents by heart. The knowledge you retain may keep you alive.”
Kratz rose from his side of the desk and walked around to accompany Hannah to the door. “Just one more thing,” he said as he opened the door for her. “I believe this is yours.”
The Councillor for Cultural Affairs handed Hannah a small, battered suitcase.
In a car on the way to Georgetown, Cavalli explained to his father that within a hundred yards of the gallery the sirens would have been turned off and the limousines would peel away one after another as they reached the next six intersections, losing themselves in the normal morning traffic.
“And the actor?”
“With his wig removed and wearing dark glasses, no one would give Lloyd Adams a second look. He’ll be taking the Metroliner back to New York this afternoon.”
“Clever.”