Maggie ignored him.
And you also know what happened yesterday. An attack on the Israeli Prime Minister. Or what looked like an attack. Israeli security ended up killing some internal critic of the peace process. Could screw the whole thing.
The answers no.
The powers that be have decided that this is too important an opportunity to be lost. They need you to go in there and do your thing. Work your magic. Come on, youve still got it. I could hear that just now. And this is something that really matters. Middle East peace, for Christs sake. How could you pass that up? This is the World Series of peacemaking!
I dont play baseball.
No. OK. He was talking more quietly now and in a different tone. She recognized it for what it was, a change in tactics. What I mean is, youre a mediator. Its your calling. Its what you were born to do. Youre good at it and you love doing it. This is the chance to return to the work you love. At the highest possible level.
She thought of the pictures she had seen on TV that morning, and the feeling she had had, but not admitted, even to herself. Envy. She had envied the men and women sitting at the head of the negotiating table in Jerusalem, the people charged with that weightiest and most thrilling of tasks, brokering peace. She had pictured them the instant she saw the news item. Like fishermen, reeling in a rare and prized specimen, they would be exerting both enormous strength and great gentleness. Pulling with all their might one moment, then backing off, letting out some more line the next. Knowing when the rod could bend, and knowing what would make it break. It was skilled, demanding work. But it was also the most exhilarating activity she had ever known.
Bonham read her face. You must miss it. You wouldnt be human if you didnt. I mean counselling couples is valuable, no question. But the stakes are never as high, are they? Youre never going to feel the thrill you did at Dayton or Geneva. Not here. Are you?
Maggie wanted to shake her head in agreement. This man seemed to know her own mind better than she did. But she resisted, turning her head to stare out of the window.
Not that this is some kind of sport to you, I know that. It never was. Sure, you like the professional challenge. But that came second. To the goal. The pursuit of peace. Youre one of the few people on the planet who knows how much these efforts matter. What can happen if things go wrong. Her mistake.
And few matter more than this one, Maggie. Thousands of Israelis and Palestinians have died in this conflict. Its gone on and on and on. Our whole adult lifetimes. And it will keep going. Youll turn on your TV set in ten years time and therell still be Palestinian kids shelled in playgrounds and Israeli teenagers blown to pieces on buses.
And you think you can stop it?
Me? I cant stop it. I cant stop anything. But you can.
I dont believe that. Not any more.
Come on. You havent changed that much.
Look, I didnt suddenly forget that people are dying there and everywhere else. I know only too well how much death and killing goes on in every fucking corner of this planet. But I happen to have realized there is nothing I can do about it. So its better I stay out of it.
The White House doesnt agree.
Well, the White House can just shove it, cant it?
Bonham sat back, as if assessing his prey. After a pause he said, This is because ofwhat happened, isnt it?
Maggie stared out of the window, willing her eyes to stay dry.
Look, Maggie. We know what went on there. You fouled up very badly. But it was one black mark on an otherwise exceptional record. The White House view is that youve done your penance. And you dont help anyone by staying in exile like this. Youre not saving any lives here. Its time you came back.
Youre saying Im forgiven.
Im saying its time to move on. But, yes, if you like, youre forgiven.
For the first time Maggie met his gaze. But what if I havent forgiven myself?
Ah, thats a different problem, isnt it? Shouldnt be too tricky for you, though. Thats a Catholic specialty, isnt it? Cancelling out the sin through repentance? Redemption and all that? So this is your chance.
Its not as simple as that.
True. Youre not going to bring back the lives that were lost because of what happened. Your mistake. But you can prevent more lives being lost. And thats got to count for something. Hasnt it?
She was about to say that she had once promised Edward that she wouldnt travel again. But she said nothing.
Its your choice, Maggie. If you believe that nothing else matters but your life here, your relationship here-
She knew hed heard the row in the kitchen.
-youll ignore me and send me away from here. But if you miss the work you were born to do, if you care about ending a conflict thats spread so much bitterness around the world, if you want to make things right, youll say yes.
Tell me something, she said after a long pause. Why the house visit? Why all this cloak and dagger bullshit, pretending to be a client?
We tried phoning you, but you didnt return our calls. I didnt think youd let me into the building.
You called?
Weve been leaving messages here since yesterday afternoon. We left a couple early this morning.
But, she stammered. She was sure she had checked, sure that there was nothing on the machine.
Maybe someone deleted the messages before you got to them. She felt the air seep out of her lungs. Edward.
Judd threw an envelope on the table, thick and heavy. Tickets and briefing material. The plane for Tel Aviv leaves this afternoon. The choice is yours, Maggie.
CHAPTER FOUR
J ERUSALEM , S ATURDAY , 11.10 PM
After-dark meetings were part of the tradition of this office. Ben-Gurion had done it in the fifties, debating and deciding till the early hours; Golda, too, always worked late at night, most famously when the Egyptians launched their surprise attack on Yom Kippur in 1973: legend has it the old lady barely slept for days. Somehow this room, with its single high-backed chair, reserved for the Prime Minister, lent itself to such encounters. It was small and intimate, with two couches forming an L-shape on which advisers or aides could sit around and talk for hours. The desk was functional, built for use rather than to impress. Rabin used to sit here alone deep into the night, with his own ink-pen, letters to the parents of soldiers-which, being Israel, meant every mother and father in the land.
Rabin was long gone now, taking the ashtrays that accompanied his chain-smoking habit with him. The current incumbent preferred, when stressed, to nibble on sunflower seeds, a habit which made him the peer of bus drivers and stallholders across the country. He gestured now to the man from Shin Bet, Israelis internal security service, to begin speaking.
Prime Minister, the dead man was Shimon Guttman. We all know who were talking about: the writer and activist, aged seventy-one. The first reports suggesting he was armed have now been discounted. Our investigators found no sign that he carried any weapon. Examination of the body showed he was killed by a bullet to the brain.
The PM grimaced, then cracked one more seed shell between his front teeth.
As you know, he was found clasping a handwritten note, addressed to yourself. Intelligence say it will take some days to piece it together, the words were obscured by the blood-
The Prime Minister waved him quiet. The head of Shin Bet put away the paper he had been consulting. The Deputy Prime Minster stared at his shoes; the Foreign and Defence Ministers stared at the PM, trying to gauge his reaction: none wanted to be the first to speak.
Amir Tal, special adviser to the PM and the youngest man in the room, decided to fill the quiet. Of course, this has immediate political implications. First, we will come under fire-
The Prime Minister raised an eyebrow.
Sorry. We will be criticized for making a bad mistake, killing an innocent man. That kind of flak could come our way anytime. But, second, if we are about to sign a peace deal, this will make things much harder. The right were already boiling; now theyre claiming their first martyr. They insist it is not a coincidence: Guttman was one of our loudest critics. And not just ours. He said the same thing during Oslo and again during Camp David: Anyone who talks peace with the Arabs is a criminal who should be on trial for treason. Arutz Sheva was on the air an hour ago saying So now we know the governments plan; they want to silence dissent with gunfire.
Could they be right? It was the Foreign Minister, addressing Tal, avoiding the bosss eye.
Excuse me?
I dont mean that we deliberately killed him. But that it was not a coincidence. Could it be deliberate in the other direction, the opposite of what Arutz Sheva are saying?
How do you mean?
I mean, was this a set-up? Guttman knew how things worked. You cant just rush towards the Prime Minister, shouting and screaming, and then reach into your jacket. He was a smart guy. Hed have known that.
Are you saying-
Yeah. Im wondering if Guttman wanted to get shot. If he was deliberately luring us in, daring us to kill a famous opponent of the government.
This is crazy.
Is it? This is a guy who his whole life has gone in for the grand spectacular gesture, the great protest. And now, finally, its the big one: were about to make peace with the Arabs, to give away holy Judea and sacred Samaria. To prevent such a calamity, a fanatic like Guttman would have to come up with the biggest possible gesture. One that might actually mobilize the right.
He would sacrifice his own life?
He would. The Prime Minister had uttered his first two words since the meeting began. Until now, he had sat back, listening to the debate. That was his style. First, hear the arguments among the competing members of his court. Then, pepper them with questions. So how should we respond? What are our options? The cabinet had braced itself for just such an interrogation. But instead the Prime Minister had just leaned forward, saying nothing, cracking open yet another salty seed shell. Until those words: He would.
After a long pause, as if completing a thought that had been unspooling in his own head, he added, I know this man. Inside out.