The workings of Israel’s top arms merchant did not escape Mossad. Certain branches of the Israeli government—Shin Bet and Aman among them—had logged substantial files on the opaque dealings of Benjamin Grossman, indeed enough to shut him down had they been of that mind. But Mossad’s director at the time, Anton Bloch, was always one to put opportunity above justice. He reasoned that a recognized and well-financed arms dealer, already in cahoots with a dexterous Swiss banker, could prove invaluable for Israel as a sayan, a Hebrew word that translated roughly to “helper.” Across the world, these were Mossad’s enablers, men and women who offered money, influence, and expertise to advance the Israeli cause. In the case of Grossman, all Mossad needed was a trusted agent to make their delicate connection, and they found him—or created him actually—in the persona of Natan Mendelsohn. Krueger Asset Management had found its second client, alias David Slaton.

Il Dolce was as pretentious a restaurant as resided on Bahnhofstrasse, superb food and vintage wine at ruinous prices. More directly, it was a place where business was done. Slaton watched the restaurant from across the street, a bookstore with a good view of the entrance, and saw Krueger arrive, punctually and alone, and disappear inside. He kept watching for five minutes, then walked up the street for a secondary inspection. He saw nothing out of place.

Slaton had scouted the area earlier, and spent ten minutes inside the restaurant, ostensibly to make a reservation. The place was exactly as he remembered. He had met Krueger here on four previous occasions, two of these with the arms dealer Grossman also in attendance. Over Il Dolce’s exquisite beef and fowl, the three had coordinated funding and arms shipments for a series of Mossad initiatives, the details always later knotted in the privacy of Krueger’s office. In time, the operation with Grossman had gone dormant, Anton Bloch sensing too much risk. It was a loose end Slaton had never had the chance to clean up, and one that he now hoped Mossad had forgotten about.

He found Krueger at the reserved table, a quiet corner near a fire exit. The banker had a menu in hand, but spotted Slaton straightaway.

Krueger rose and extended his hand. “Monsieur Mendelsohn, how good to see you. It has been a long time. You look well.” He kept to the English they’d always preferred.

Slaton shook his hand. “It’s good to see you, Walter.”