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Authors: John le Carré
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studied Yanuka, the half-grown suckling.
"See his books there in the background?" Lenny asked. "That boy reads like my father."
"You have a fine boy there," Kurtz agreed finally, with his iron-hard smile, as he slowly straightened himself. "A good-looking kid, no question." Picking his grey raincoat from the chair, he selected a sleeve and pulled it tenderly over his arm. "Just be sure you don't marry him to your daughter." Lenny looked even more foolish than before, but Kurtz was quick to console him: "We should be thankful to you, Lenny. And so we are, no question." And as an afterthought: "Keep taking photographs of him, all angles. Don't be shy, Lenny. Film is not so expensive."
Having shaken hands with each man in turn, Kurtz added an old blue beret to his costume and, thus shielded against the bustle of the rush hour, strode vigorously into the street.
It was raining by the time they picked Kurtz up in the van again, and as the three of them drove from one glum spot to another, killing time before Kurtz's plane, the weather seemed to affect all three of them with its sombre mood. Oded was doing the driving, and his bearded young face, by the passing lights, revealed a sullen anger.
"What's he got now?" Kurtz asked, though he must have known the answer.
"His latest is a rich man's BMW," Oded replied. "Power steering, fuel injection, five thousand kilometres on the clock. Cars are his weakness."
"Cars, women, the soft life," the second boy put in from the back. "So what are his strengths, I wonder?"
"Hired again?" Kurtz asked of Oded once more.
"Hired."
"Stay close to that car," Kurtz advised them both. "The moment he hands back his car to the rental company and doesn't take another one, that's the moment we have to know about immediately." They had heard this till they were deaf from it. They had heard it before they ever left Jerusalem. Kurtz repeated it none the less: "Most important is when Yanuka turns his car in."
Suddenly Oded had had enough. Perhaps he was by youth and temperament more prone to stress than his selectors had appreciated. Perhaps, as such a young fellow, he should not have been given a job that needed so much waiting. Pulling up the van at the kerbside, he yanked on the handbrake so hard he all but wrenched it from its socket.
"Why do we let him go through with this?" he demanded. "Why play games with him? What if goes back home and doesn't come out again? Then what?"
"Then we lose him."
"So let's kill him now! Tonight. You give me the order, it's done!"
Kurtz let him rave on.
"We've got the apartment opposite, haven't we? Put a rocket across the road. We've done it before. An RPG-y--Arab kills Arab with a Russian rocket--why not?"
Kurtz still said nothing. Oded might have been storming at a sphinx.
"So why not?" Oded repeated, very loud indeed.
Kurtz did not spare him, but neither did he lose his patience: "Because he doesn't lead anywhere, Oded, that's why. You never heard what Misha Gavron himself used to say perhaps? A phrase I personally still like to echo? That if you want to catch a lion, you first must tether the goat? Whose crazy fighting talk have you been listening to? I ask myself. Are you seriously informing me you want to hit Yanuka, when for ten dollars more you can have the best operator they produced for years?"
"He did Bad Godesberg! He did Vienna, maybe Leyden too! Jews are dying, Marty! Doesn't Jerusalem care about that these days? How many do we let die while we play our games?"
Carefully taking hold of the collar of Oded's wind jacket with his big hands, Kurtz shook him twice, and the second time he did this, Oded's head banged painfully against the window. But Kurtz did not apologise and Oded did not complain.
"They,Oded. Not he: they," said Kurtz, this time with menace."They did Bad Godesberg. They did Leyden. And it's them we intend to take out; not six innocent German householders and one silly little boy."
"It's okay," said Oded blushing. "Leave me
"See his books there in the background?" Lenny asked. "That boy reads like my father."
"You have a fine boy there," Kurtz agreed finally, with his iron-hard smile, as he slowly straightened himself. "A good-looking kid, no question." Picking his grey raincoat from the chair, he selected a sleeve and pulled it tenderly over his arm. "Just be sure you don't marry him to your daughter." Lenny looked even more foolish than before, but Kurtz was quick to console him: "We should be thankful to you, Lenny. And so we are, no question." And as an afterthought: "Keep taking photographs of him, all angles. Don't be shy, Lenny. Film is not so expensive."
Having shaken hands with each man in turn, Kurtz added an old blue beret to his costume and, thus shielded against the bustle of the rush hour, strode vigorously into the street.
It was raining by the time they picked Kurtz up in the van again, and as the three of them drove from one glum spot to another, killing time before Kurtz's plane, the weather seemed to affect all three of them with its sombre mood. Oded was doing the driving, and his bearded young face, by the passing lights, revealed a sullen anger.
"What's he got now?" Kurtz asked, though he must have known the answer.
"His latest is a rich man's BMW," Oded replied. "Power steering, fuel injection, five thousand kilometres on the clock. Cars are his weakness."
"Cars, women, the soft life," the second boy put in from the back. "So what are his strengths, I wonder?"
"Hired again?" Kurtz asked of Oded once more.
"Hired."
"Stay close to that car," Kurtz advised them both. "The moment he hands back his car to the rental company and doesn't take another one, that's the moment we have to know about immediately." They had heard this till they were deaf from it. They had heard it before they ever left Jerusalem. Kurtz repeated it none the less: "Most important is when Yanuka turns his car in."
Suddenly Oded had had enough. Perhaps he was by youth and temperament more prone to stress than his selectors had appreciated. Perhaps, as such a young fellow, he should not have been given a job that needed so much waiting. Pulling up the van at the kerbside, he yanked on the handbrake so hard he all but wrenched it from its socket.
"Why do we let him go through with this?" he demanded. "Why play games with him? What if goes back home and doesn't come out again? Then what?"
"Then we lose him."
"So let's kill him now! Tonight. You give me the order, it's done!"
Kurtz let him rave on.
"We've got the apartment opposite, haven't we? Put a rocket across the road. We've done it before. An RPG-y--Arab kills Arab with a Russian rocket--why not?"
Kurtz still said nothing. Oded might have been storming at a sphinx.
"So why not?" Oded repeated, very loud indeed.
Kurtz did not spare him, but neither did he lose his patience: "Because he doesn't lead anywhere, Oded, that's why. You never heard what Misha Gavron himself used to say perhaps? A phrase I personally still like to echo? That if you want to catch a lion, you first must tether the goat? Whose crazy fighting talk have you been listening to? I ask myself. Are you seriously informing me you want to hit Yanuka, when for ten dollars more you can have the best operator they produced for years?"
"He did Bad Godesberg! He did Vienna, maybe Leyden too! Jews are dying, Marty! Doesn't Jerusalem care about that these days? How many do we let die while we play our games?"
Carefully taking hold of the collar of Oded's wind jacket with his big hands, Kurtz shook him twice, and the second time he did this, Oded's head banged painfully against the window. But Kurtz did not apologise and Oded did not complain.
"They,Oded. Not he: they," said Kurtz, this time with menace."They did Bad Godesberg. They did Leyden. And it's them we intend to take out; not six innocent German householders and one silly little boy."
"It's okay," said Oded blushing. "Leave me
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