THE TEL AVIV CONTRACTOR.
Chapter 1.
If you saw Aaron Bernstein in the street of Dresner Yehi’el you would not extend a second glance, or venture to note anything out of the ordinary. He was diminutive in stature, wiry, a conservative dresser and had the slow unhurried walk of a senior citizen in this northern, sought-after residential suburb of Tel Aviv. He was to all appearances just another comfortably well-off retiree, with his main years behind him.
I should explain that for any potential buyer of property in the area mentioned, that most of them evoke postcode envy. It encompasses anything north of Ben-Gurion Boulevard and west of Ibn Gabirol St, and anything north of "Sha'ul Ha'melech" Boulevard and east of it, including the neighborhoods adjacent the Hayarkon river. It was thus, a settled peaceful location, unlikely to make any headlines in the local evening news.
Aaron had risen early, and as was his routine, walked for half an hour, ostensibly to work up an appetite. That goal having been accomplished, he proceeded to make his favourite meal of the day “Shakshouka,” or eggs poached in a herbed tomato sauce; except that today he decided to spice it up a bit more in memory of tastes he had acquired from his Israeli army days.
The phone rang at his desk by the window.
“Aaron is that you? Long time my friend. You still alive?” The voice was deep, soft and yet conveyed energy. He recognized it immediately.
Aaron looked out the apartment window down onto the quiet street below. Cars were still few, as most had already left, taking their well-heeled inhabitants to work.
“Yes Simon, it has indeed been a long time. I'm fine thanks, retired now. What can I do for you?”
“One more job Aaron. I want you to do just one more, a last hurrah if you like.”
“I told you I’m retired.”
“Retired, expired, what's the difference?” came the response. “It's good money Aaron.”
“I’m already comfortable. Don’t need it anymore. Where is it anyway?”
“Lebanon. Beirut to be precise. In and out. Two to three days max.”
“But why me? Mossad has plenty of operatives.”
“It's political” Simon replied even softer,
Aaron paused. “You mean it's too hot, even for them? Not even semiofficial?”
“Something like that.” The tone was conciliatory in a pendent kind of way. “Will you think about it then? Think it over and I’ll ring you again in a couple of days.”
Aaron put down the phone.
So much for a peaceful retirement he thought. He was well aware that his career had spanned all the main military / intelligence services in Israel. First the IDF back in 1965, then recruited by Shin Bet, and subsequently loaned out to Mossad.
Once considered a commitment to lifelong anonymity and even invisibility in Israeli society, he knew that in today's world a Shabak agent in Shin Bet, (the country's internal intelligence agency), who achieves high rank in the service, especially director status, is considered a candidate for membership in the top brass of the Israeli government and business community. This process had followed a trend started by ex-generals and colonels of the Israel Defense Forces; the trailblazers if you like, including Moshe Dayan, Ariel Sharon, and Yitzhak Rabin.
Career motivated at the top echelons, he understood therefore in this instance the need to utilize a middle man like Simon for any work that could go pear shape, thus distancing themselves from any repercussions.
Mossad was a different set up, where the Metsada entity ran small units of combatants whose external counter terrorism missions included assassinations and sabotage. Within it he was aware, of the “Kidon," a unit which belonged to the Caesarea department, (one of Mossad's eight departments). Aaron knew it for what it was; an elite group of expert assassins.
Hence the puzzle. Shin Bet was too public these days, but why was it that not even the mysterious Mossad was hands off for this job? After all, although not much was known about this mysterious unit, details of which are some of the most closely guarded secrets in the Israeli intelligence community, this unit had been a policy that Israel has used more than any other country in the West since World War II, having carried out at least 2,700 assassination missions.
Perhaps he thought, it was the target location? Mossad had a long record of undercover work in the Lebanon: the sending of letter bombs to PFLP member Bassam Abu Sharif in 1972, the killing of the Palestinian writer and leading PFLP member Ghassan Kanafani by a car bomb in 1972, the car bomb killing of Ali Hassan Salameh, the leader of Black September, in1979 in Beirut. The list went on and on and initially operations were successful.
For Mossad had established a large spy network in the country, recruiting from Druze, Christian, and Sunni Muslim communities, and even officials in the Lebanese government, to spy on Hezbollah and its Iranian Revolutionary Guard advisors. Some had allegedly been active since the 1982 Lebanon War.
But then in 2009, Lebanese Security Services supported by Hezbollah's intelligence units, and working in collaboration with Syria, Iran, and possibly Russia, launched a major crackdown which resulted in the arrests of around 100 alleged spies working for Israel.
Was this perhaps the new safer rationale to sub contract out work to more expendable, yet esoteric personnel?
All he knew now, was that he was being asked once more to walk in that formless immeasurability that he thought he had given up; half weary of a world that was likely more than half-weary of him.