“Landesmann,” said Shamron, clearly enjoying the look of surprise on Gabriel’s face. “He was wondering whether the two of you might meet on neutral territory for a quiet dinner.”

“I’d rather take your place at the interservice operational review. But tell him thanks for the offer.”

“I’m sure he’s going to be disappointed. He says he has a great deal of respect for you. Apparently, Martin’s become quite philosophical about the entire affair.”

“How long before he tries to dissolve our partnership?”

“Actually, his efforts commenced not long after the explosions at the Iranian plants. Martin believes he’s lived up to his end of the deal and would like to be released from any further obligations. What he doesn’t quite understand is that our relationship is just beginning. Eventually, the Iranians will try to rebuild those enrichment plants. And we plan to make sure Martin is there to offer them a helping hand.”

“Will the Iranians trust him?”

“We’ve given them no reason not to. As far as the mullahs are concerned, we tampered with the centrifuges while they were in transit. Which means Martin is going to pay dividends for years, and Uzi will be the primary beneficiary. No matter what happens for the rest of his term, Uzi will go down as one of the greatest directors in Office history. And all because of you.”

Shamron scrutinized Gabriel. “It doesn’t bother you that Uzi is getting all the credit for your work?”

“It wasn’t my work, Ari. It was a team effort. Besides, after everything I’ve done to make Uzi’s life miserable, he deserves to have a little glory thrown his way.”

“The glory is yours, Gabriel. It’s quite possible you’ve derailed the Iranian program for years. And in the process you’ve also managed to restore three remarkable women.”

“Three?”

“Lena, Zoe, and Hendrickje. All in all, not bad for a few months’ work.” Shamron paused, then added, “Which leaves only you.”

Gabriel made no response.

“I suppose this is the part where you tell me you’re going to retire again?” Shamron shook his head slowly. “Maybe for a while. But then another Martin will come along. Or a new terrorist will carry out another massacre of innocents. And you’ll be back on the field of battle.”

“You’re sure about that, Ari?

“Your mother named you Gabriel for a reason. You’re eternal. Just like me.”

Gabriel gazed silently at the purple thrift glowing atop the cliffs in the late-afternoon sun. Shamron seemed to sense that this time it was different. He looked around the terrace of the café and smiled reflectively.

“Do you remember the afternoon we came here a long time ago? It was after Tariq killed our ambassador and his wife in Paris.”

“I remember, Ari.”