expected.”
“That’s good to hear.”
“She still lives in our old house in Tel Baruch, not far from you. You should call her, she always liked you.”
“Ah, no. Not going there,” Amit replied to his friend’s suggestion. “What’s the story tonight?”
“Tonight will be legendary my friend. Wait until you see my girlfriend.” Dov made a face as if he were going to whistle, but no sound came out, only a long exhale. “She’s a smokin’ coosit. A fucking twenty-five year old sex machine.”
Amit laughed. “You are totally out of control.”
“She is bringing this one girlfriend of hers, Enya. Oh, man, you are a lucky son-of-a-bitch tonight.” He slapped his friend on the back. “The body on this woman is just mind numbing. I can’t sit here and think about it or I will have to go jackoff.”
“Oh, boy,” Amit said with a laugh, shaking his head from side to side. “You definitely make be forget about work.”
“Hey, buddy, that’s what it’s all about.” Dov turned and headed back into the living room. “I have the last couple Real Madrid games on DVR. Let’s watch some football. The girls won’t be here for a couple of hours.” Hirsch stopped as he was passing through the open sliding door and turned. “In case you were wondering, I spoke to Dori Goldman yesterday. Enya is officially cleared. Oh yeah!” Dov pumped his fist in the air and went inside.
Margolis turned back to look over the city. Night was fully encompassing the skyline and artificial lights now danced through the arteries of Tel Aviv to the accompaniment of the occasiona l car horn and ambulance siren.
Mossad maintained a policy of reporting sexual liaisons, both on duty and off, to internal security. The intelligence agency was extremely paranoid about its agents falling victim to “honey traps” – the seduction of government employees and other useful targets by enemy agents. Dori Goldman was a senior internal security officer of Mossad and had only one job. His sole responsibility was to discretely check the names and background of sexual partners. For a single heterosexual man like Margolis, this was no problem, but the policy applied to everyone, including married employees having an affair or a one night stand or employees who attended a gay bar on a weekend night. The deal was simple: Dori Goldman’s files were never opened other than by him unless espionage was suspected. No employee of Mossad had ever been black-mailed as a result of reporting the names of their sexual contacts, including the time when a young agent bedded the wife of the prime minister. But the Mossad employee who was caught having sex with anyone who had not been reported to Goldman within 48 hours of the act was assumed to have compromised Mossad and would be fired or worse. Dov Hirsch had cleared the way for his good friend – both personally and professionally.
6 – A New Year
With an hour to go until midnight, Amit Margolis was already feeling the effects of too much alcohol and not enough food. The girls were responsible for the latter but had yet to show up. Amit found his way to the bathroom. He stood over the toilet, voiding the byproduct of three beers. All he could think about at that moment was that he would turn thirty-five in 2010. He was about to start the downhill slide to forty. And forty was no longer young. He was single and committed to a career that offered no prospect of changing his marital status.
It wasn’t supposed to be this way , he thought. He remembered his college girlfriend and his plans to marry and start a family. He would be a successful business executive and she a beautiful courtroom attorney, defending the wrongly accused. All she had to do was wait for him for two years while he attended the Fuqua School of Business at Duke University. It would pass so quickly, they told themselves. Their phone calls and emails were frantic and passionate at first, the ebbing not even noticed by Margolis
“That’s good to hear.”
“She still lives in our old house in Tel Baruch, not far from you. You should call her, she always liked you.”
“Ah, no. Not going there,” Amit replied to his friend’s suggestion. “What’s the story tonight?”
“Tonight will be legendary my friend. Wait until you see my girlfriend.” Dov made a face as if he were going to whistle, but no sound came out, only a long exhale. “She’s a smokin’ coosit. A fucking twenty-five year old sex machine.”
Amit laughed. “You are totally out of control.”
“She is bringing this one girlfriend of hers, Enya. Oh, man, you are a lucky son-of-a-bitch tonight.” He slapped his friend on the back. “The body on this woman is just mind numbing. I can’t sit here and think about it or I will have to go jackoff.”
“Oh, boy,” Amit said with a laugh, shaking his head from side to side. “You definitely make be forget about work.”
“Hey, buddy, that’s what it’s all about.” Dov turned and headed back into the living room. “I have the last couple Real Madrid games on DVR. Let’s watch some football. The girls won’t be here for a couple of hours.” Hirsch stopped as he was passing through the open sliding door and turned. “In case you were wondering, I spoke to Dori Goldman yesterday. Enya is officially cleared. Oh yeah!” Dov pumped his fist in the air and went inside.
Margolis turned back to look over the city. Night was fully encompassing the skyline and artificial lights now danced through the arteries of Tel Aviv to the accompaniment of the occasiona l car horn and ambulance siren.
Mossad maintained a policy of reporting sexual liaisons, both on duty and off, to internal security. The intelligence agency was extremely paranoid about its agents falling victim to “honey traps” – the seduction of government employees and other useful targets by enemy agents. Dori Goldman was a senior internal security officer of Mossad and had only one job. His sole responsibility was to discretely check the names and background of sexual partners. For a single heterosexual man like Margolis, this was no problem, but the policy applied to everyone, including married employees having an affair or a one night stand or employees who attended a gay bar on a weekend night. The deal was simple: Dori Goldman’s files were never opened other than by him unless espionage was suspected. No employee of Mossad had ever been black-mailed as a result of reporting the names of their sexual contacts, including the time when a young agent bedded the wife of the prime minister. But the Mossad employee who was caught having sex with anyone who had not been reported to Goldman within 48 hours of the act was assumed to have compromised Mossad and would be fired or worse. Dov Hirsch had cleared the way for his good friend – both personally and professionally.
6 – A New Year
With an hour to go until midnight, Amit Margolis was already feeling the effects of too much alcohol and not enough food. The girls were responsible for the latter but had yet to show up. Amit found his way to the bathroom. He stood over the toilet, voiding the byproduct of three beers. All he could think about at that moment was that he would turn thirty-five in 2010. He was about to start the downhill slide to forty. And forty was no longer young. He was single and committed to a career that offered no prospect of changing his marital status.
It wasn’t supposed to be this way , he thought. He remembered his college girlfriend and his plans to marry and start a family. He would be a successful business executive and she a beautiful courtroom attorney, defending the wrongly accused. All she had to do was wait for him for two years while he attended the Fuqua School of Business at Duke University. It would pass so quickly, they told themselves. Their phone calls and emails were frantic and passionate at first, the ebbing not even noticed by Margolis
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