“Got it.” Nir resisted the urge to say Root. If anyone happened to break through their encrypted communication, this operation could not have the stamp of Israel on it anywhere. Not only could discovery cause an international incident, but he could potentially lose his job. He hadn’t even told Avigdor Neeman, instead deceiving him by saying the guys were bedding down early in preparation for Operation Bezalel tomorrow night.

“Any sign of the suits around there?” he asked.

A new voice came on. “I’m going for more of the T-shirt, blazer combination, so I know you must not be asking about me.”

Efraim Cohen. Nir’s heart sank.

“So, Lead, may I ask what in the name of Theodor Herzl’s ghost are you doing there?”

“You’re twenty years too old for T-shirt, blazer. And you know exactly what I’m doing here and why, because apparently I have an analyst team filled with big mouths.”

“Sorry,” Liora whispered.

Nir glanced at Yaron in the driver’s seat. The op just shook his head.

“Listen, it has to be done. You know that,” Nir said.

“What I know is that you are about to carry out an unsanctioned operation on foreign soil. That’s an issue, and if you’re discovered, it can become an international incident.” Nir could hear frustration in his voice—but also resignation.

“Come on. I’m a walking, breathing international incident. That’s why you love me.”

“This isn’t funny, Lead.”

Yaron sure thinks it’s funny, he thought but didn’t say as he watched his driver laugh.

“Okay, officially I am telling you not to do this.”

“And unofficially…”

Efraim paused. “She’s seventeen, achi. Just don’t get caught. And don’t kill anybody.”

“And that’s why I love you too. Lead is rolling.”

Nir nodded to Yaron, who pulled the Suburban back onto Palmetto Street from the factory parking lot where they’d been waiting. “Gear up,” he said to the rest of the Kidon team in the back seats.

Because they all flew in commercially, they didn’t have their usual gear. But a local Mossad asset had given them access to her small arsenal. Each man was carrying a Glock 22 handgun with a suppressor, which carried 15 .40-caliber rounds in the mag. Every man also had a KA-BAR Straight Edge with a 7-inch fixed blade and a can of pepper spray. Dima alone carried a nickel-plated Remington 870 12-gauge shotgun. All were dressed in black, and each pulled their balaclavas over their faces.

“Next left onto Cleveland Street, then two blocks up on the left,” Liora told them.

Yaron turned the SUV, and they rolled up the semi-residential street. Nir had emphasized they were there only to scare Arturo—Banger. No one should get hurt apart from a few necessary bumps and bruises.