On the analyst side of the table sat Dafna Ronen and Liora to Lahav’s left and Yossi Hirschfield to his right. Dafna and Liora were on their feet threatening to use their extensive computer skills to do something very nasty to the title of Yaron’s home if he touched Lahav. Yossi had his feet up on the table with a laptop perched on his long legs. White earbuds had been inserted in his ears.

Nir was at the head of the table, and Efraim Cohen, the assistant deputy director of Caesarea and Nir’s good friend, sat to his right. Although Efraim had gone a little soft in the midsection, prior to reaching his fortieth birthday this year, the man had been part of several dozen risky missions and was likely the best shot in the room.

“I like your hands-off leadership style,” he said to Nir, nodding toward the mayhem taking place around the table. “Do you usually step in before or after bloodshed?”

Nir glared at him, then yelled, “Okay, knock it off!”

Everyone ignored him.

Efraim took on a professorial air and said, “You know, I once heard a man say that in every leader there’s—”

Nir grabbed a large bowl of pistachios Liora had provided for the meeting and hurled it across the room. It pinged off the head of the life-sized Chewbacca mannequin that stood next to Lahav’s desk and today wore a hat stenciled with the words Furry World Tel Aviv 2020. The metal bowl clattered to the floor followed by what sounded like a very brief yet very intense hailstorm.

All heads turned toward Nir except for Yossi’s. His eyes never left whatever he was watching on his computer as he said, “I’m not cleaning that up.”

Nir paused for a moment, hoping the silence would lower the emotion in the room.

“Listen, I didn’t invite Assistant Deputy Director Cohen here—”

“Isn’t that Assistant to the Deputy Director?” asked Yossi.

Snickers rippled throughout the room.

“Yeah, what’s with the sudden use of titles?” Doron asked in a transparent attempt to bait the room into a meaningless discussion in order to lower the temperature of the discourse.

“I’ll tell you what,” Dafna said, pointing at Yaron. “I’ve got a title for that guy.”

Unfortunately, she proceeded to announce the title, and the whole table erupted again.

“You’re a regular Dale Carnegie,” Efraim said as he put his arm around Nir’s shoulders. “Never seen so much influencing of people.”

“You’re not helping.”

Gradually, Nir gained control of the mob and said, “Listen, Yaron, normally I agree with you. The operative’s place is in the field, the analyst’s place is back at headquarters. But this is different.”

“Why? What makes this different? Just because it’s artificial intelligence? Ooh, suddenly it’s too fancy for us mouth-breathers to handle?”