Ken Follett: Triple (1991)

He grabbed Rostov's shoulder and spun him around. Rostov saw his face. "You!" Dickstein hit him in the stomach first, a pile-driving blow that buckled him at the waist and made him gasp for air. As his head came down Dickstein brought a knee up fast and hard, snapping Rostov's chin up and breaking his jaw; then, continuing the motion, he put all his strength.behind a kick into the throat that smashed Rostov's neck and drove him backward into the bulkhead. Before Rostov had completed his fall Dickstein turned quickly around, went down on one knee to bring his machine gun off his shoulder, and with Suza behind him and to one side opened fire on three hands who appeared in the gangway. He turned again, picking Suza up in a fireman's lift, trying not to touch her charred flesh. He had a moment to think, now. Clearly the fire was in the stern, the direction in which all the men had been running. If he went forward now he was less likely to be seen. He ran the length of the gangway, then carried her up the ladder. He could tell by the feel of her body on his shoulder -that she was still conscious. He came off the top of the ladder to the main deck level, found a door and stepped out. There was some confusion out on deck. A man ran past him, heading for the stem; another ran off in the opposite direction. Somebody was in the prow. Down in the stem a man lay on the deck with two others bending over him; presumably he had been injured in the fire. Dickstein ran forward to the ladder that he had used to board. He eased. his gtm on to his shoulder, shifted Suza a little on the other shoulder, and stepped over the rail. Looking about the deck as he started to go down, he knew that they had seen him. It was one thing tp see a strange face on board ship, wonder who he was, and delay asking questions until later because there was a fire alarm: but it was quite another to see someone leaving the ship with a body over his shoulder. He was not quite halfway down the ladder when they began to shoot at him. A bullet pinged off the hull beside his head. He looked Up to see three men leaning over the rail, two of them with pistols. Holding on to the ladder with his left hand, he put his right hand to his gun, pointed up and fired. His aim was hopeless but the men pulled back. And he lost his balance. As the prow of the ship pitched up, he swayed to the left, dropped his gun into the sea and grabbed hold of the ladder with his right hand. His right foot slipped off the rung-and then, to his horror, Suza began to slip from his left shoulder. "Hold on to me," he yelled at her no longer sure whether she was conscious or not. He felt her hands clutch at his sweater, but she continued to slip away, and now her unbalanced weight was pulling him even more to the left. "Not" he yelled. She slipped off his shoulder and went plunging into the sea. I)ickstein turned, saw the launch, and jumped, landing with a jarning shock in the well of the boat He called her name into, the black sea all around him, swinging from one side of the boat.to the other, his desperation increasing with every second she failed to surface. And then he heard, over the noise of the wind, a scream. Turning toward the sound he saw her head just above the surface, between the side of the boat and the bull of the Karla. She was out of his reach. She screamed again. The launch was tied to the Karla by the rope, most of which was piled on the deck of the boat. Dickstein cut the rope with his knife, letting go of the end that was tied to the Karta's ladder and taowing the other end toward Suza. As she reached for the rope the sea rose again and engulfed her. Up on the deck of the Karla they started shooting over the rail again. He ignored the gunfire. Dickstein's eyes swept the sea. With the ship and the boat pitching and rolling in different directions the chances of a hit were relatively slim. After a few seconds that seemed hours, Suza surfaced again. Dickstein threw her the rope. This time she was able to grab it. Swiftly he pulled it, bringing her closer and closer until he was able to lean over the. gunwale of the launch perilously and take hold of her wrists. He had her now, and he would never let her go. He pulled her into the well of the launch. Up above a machine gun opened fire. Dickstein threw the launch Into gear then fell on top of Suza, covering her body with his own. The launch moved away from the Karla, undirected, riding the waves like a lost surfboard. The shooting stopped. Dickstein looked back. The Karla was out of sight. Gently he turned Suza over, fearing for her life. Her eyes were closed. He took the wheel of the launch, looked at the compass, and set an approximate course. He turned on the boalVs radio and called the Coparelli. Waiting for them to come in, he lifted Suza toward him and cradled her in his arms. A muffled thud came across the water like a distant explosion: the magnetic mine. Ile Coparelli replied. Dickstein said, "The Karla is on fire. Turn back and pick me up. Have the sick bay ready for the girl--shes badly burned." He waited for their acknowledgment, then switched off and stared at Suza!s expressionless face. "Don!t die," he said. "Please don!t die." She opened her eyes and looked up at him. She opened her mouth, struggling to speak. He bent his head to her. She said, "Is it really you?" "It's me," he said. The comers of her mouth lifted in a faint smile.

There was the sound of a tremendous explosion. The fire had reached the fuel tanks of the Karla. The sky was lit up for several moments by a sheet of flame, the air was filled with a roaring noise, and the rain stopped. The noise and the light died, and so did the Karla. "Shes gone down," Dickstein said to Suza. He looked at her. Her eyes were closed, she was unconscious again, but she was still smiling.

*

Epilogue

Nathaniel Dickstein resigned from the Mossad, and his name passed into legend. He married Suza and took her back to the kibbutz, where they tended grapes by day and made love half the night. In his spare time he organized a political campaign to have the laws changed so that his children could be classified Jewish; or, better still, to abolish classification. They did not have children for a while. 'Mey were prepared to wait: Suza was young, and he was in no hurry. Her bums never healed completely. Sometimes, in bed, she would say, "My legs are horrible," and he would kiss her knees and tell her, "neyre beautiful, they saved my life." When the opening of the Yom Kippur War took the Israeli armed forces by surprise, Pierre Borg was blamed for the lack of advance intelligence, and he resigned. The truth was more complicated. Ile fault lay with a Russian intelligence officer called David Rostov-an elderly-looking man who had to wear a neck brace every moment of his life. He had gone to Cairo and, beginning with the interrogation and death of an Israeli agent called Towfik early in 1968, he had investigated all the events of that year and concluded that Kawash was a double agent. Instead of having Kawash tried and hanged for espionage, Rostov had told the Egyptians how to feed him misinformation, which Kawash, in all innocence, duty passed on to Pierre Borg. Ile result was that Nat Dickstein came out of retirement to take over Pierre Borg's job for the duration of the war. On Monday, October 8, 1973, he attended a crisis meeting of the Cabinet. After three days of war the Israelis were in deep trouble, The Egyptians bad crossed the Suez Canal and pushed the Israelis back into Sinai with heavy casualties. On the other front, the Golan Heights, the Syrians were pushing forward, again with heavy losses to the Israeli side. The proposal before the Cabinet was to drop atom bombs on Cairo and Damascus. Not even the most hawkish ministers actually relished the idea; but the situation was desperate and the Americans were dragging their heels over the arms airlift which might save the day. The meeting was coming around to accepting the idea of using nuclear weapons when Nat Dickstein made his only contribution to the discussion: "Of course, we could tell the Americans that we plan to drop these bombs--on Wednesday, say-unless they start the airlift immediately . And that is exactly what they did.