Honor Among Thieves

At the end of the corridor was an elevator. The Major produced a key and turned it in a lock on the wall. The doors of the elevator opened slowly. It struck Scott that the size of the safe must have been determined by the width of the elevator. He doubted if there would be much more than an inch to spare all around once they had succeeded in getting Madame Bertha on board.

The Major pressed a button marked “—6,” which, Scott noted, was as far as they could go. The elevator dropped slowly down. When the doors opened Scott followed Major Saeed into a long corridor. This time he had the feeling that the passageway had been built to survive an earthquake. They came to a halt outside a pair of heavy, reinforced doors, guarded by two soldiers carrying rifles.

Saeed asked a question, and both guards shook their heads. “The Chamber is empty, so we can go straight through,” he explained, then proceeded to unlock the door. Scott followed him into the Council Chamber.

His eyes searched quickly around the room. The first thing he saw on the far wall was another massive portrait of Saddam, this time in a dark double-breasted suit. Then he spotted one of the red alarm buttons next to a light switch that Kratz had warned him about. The Major hurried on through the Chamber, giving the impression of a man who hadn’t the right to be there, while Scott went as slowly as he felt he could get away with. And then he saw it, just for a moment, and his heart sank: the Declaration of Independence was nailed to the wall, a corner torn and some of the signatures looking distinctly blurred.

The Major unlocked the far door and Scott reluctantly followed him into the adjoining corridor. They continued for only a few more paces before coming to a halt in front of a massive recess of inlaid brick that Scott didn’t need to measure to realize had been purpose-built in anticipation of the arrival of the safe.

Scott took some time measuring the space, as he tried to think of how he could get a longer look at the Declaration. After a few minutes, Major Saeed tapped him on the shoulder with his swagger stick and indicated that it was time for them to return to the courtyard. Scott reluctantly followed him back down the short corridor and into the Council Chamber, which the Major scurried through while Scott lingered to measure the doors. He was pleased to discover that they would have to be taken off their hinges. He stood a pace back as if considering the problem. The Major returned and slapped the side of his leg with his swagger stick, muttering something under his breath that Scott suspected wasn’t altogether flattering.

Scott stole a glance to the right, and confirmed his worst fears: even if he were able to exchange the two documents, it would take an even greater genius than Dollar Bill to repair the damage that Saddam had already inflicted.

“Come. Come. We must go,” said the Major.

“And so must these doors,” said Scott, and turning, added, “and those two as well,” pointing to the pair at the other end of the Chamber. But Major Saeed was already striding off down the long corridor towards the open elevator.

Hannah put the phone down and tried to stop herself trembling. They had warned her many times at Herzliyah that however tough you think you are, and however well trained you’ve been, you will still tremble.

She checked her watch. Her lunch break was due in twenty minutes, and although she rarely left the building during the day except on official business, she knew she could no longer sit in that office and just wait for events to happen around her.

The Deputy Foreign Minister had left for the palace at eight that morning, and had told her not to expect him back until five at the earliest. A muscle in her cheek twitched as she began to type out the Minister of Industry’s message.

For fifteen minutes, she sat at her desk and planned how the hour could be best spent. As soon as she was clear in her mind what needed to be done, she picked up her phone and asked a girl on the switchboard to cover her calls during the lunch break.

Hannah put on her glasses, left the room and walked quickly down the corridor, remaining close to the wall with her head bowed, so that those passing didn’t give her a second look.

She took the stairs rather than the elevator, slipped across the hall past reception, through the swing doors and out onto the steps of the Foreign Ministry.

“Saib’s just left the building,” said a voice from the other side of the road into a mobile phone. “She’s going in the direction of Victory Square.”

Hannah continued walking towards the Square. The crowds were so large and noisy that she feared another public hanging must have taken place. When she reached the end of the road and turned the corner, she averted her eyes as she made a path between those who were standing, staring, some even laughing at the spectacle.

“Quite a high-up official,” someone joked. Another more serious voice said that he had heard he was a diplomat recently back from America who had been caught with his fingers in the till. A third, an elderly woman, wept when someone suggested that the other two were the man’s innocent mother and sister.

Once Hannah could see the barrier she slowed her pace. She stopped and stared across the road at the Ba’ath Party headquarters. She was pleased to be hidden in such a large crowd, even if it did occasionally obscure her view.

“She’s facing the Ba’ath Party headquarters. Everyone else is looking in the opposite direction.”

Hannah’s eyes settled on a truck that was surrounded by soldiers, and then she saw the massive safe that was perched on the back of the vehicle and the two young men who were attaching large coils of steel to its base. One was Middle Eastern in appearance, the other vaguely European. And then she saw Kratz—or was it Kratz? Whoever it was disappeared behind the far side of the truck. She waited for the man to reappear. When he did, a few moments later, she was left in no doubt that it was the Mossad leader.

She realized that she could not wait around in such a public place for much longer, and decided to return to her office and consider what needed to be done next. She gave Kratz one last look as a group of cleaners came out of the building, walked across the tarmac and passed by the barrier without any of the soldiers paying them the slightest attention.

“She’s on the move again, but she doesn’t seem to be returning to the Ministry.” The man on the mobile phone listened for a moment and then replied, “I don’t know, but I’ll follow her and report back.”

Hannah began to walk away from Victory Square, just as Major Saeed and Scott emerged from the building into the courtyard.

When Scott stepped back into the courtyard he was pleased to see that Kratz had already got the crane into position to lift

the safe off the truck. Aziz and Cohen were fastening long steel coils around the body of Madame Bertha while the specially constructed trolley, of which Mr. Pedersson was so proud, had been placed on the ground between the front door and the side of the truck.

Scott looked up at the crane, which was taller than the building itself, and back down at the operator, sitting in his wide cab near the base. Once Cohen and Aziz had jumped off the truck Kratz gave the operator the thumbs-up.

Scott pointed at the safe and beckoned to Kratz, who walked over, looking puzzled. He thought the operation was going rather well.

“What’s the problem?” he asked. Scott continued pointing at the safe, and with exaggerated movements indicated how he thought it would have to be moved, while whispering to Kratz: “I’ve seen the Declaration.” He moved to the other side of the safe. Kratz followed, now also pretending to take a close interest in the safe.

“Great news,” said Kratz. “So where is it?”