Black Alert at Gonzo Station

Assuming you remembered your way between the explosive hazards that remained long after the clean-up, and that you no longer trusted the glue holding the bombed out bridge together over the river Jordan just north of the Dead Sea into no-man's land, you would still decide to travel at night. But even if you made it in by day, you'd never make it out. The prerequisite for any clan destined to initiate an illegal activity was to meet halfway between their side and ours, at night, alone and unarmed.

The nearly half moon was low in the sky, half smiling as if in approval of the agreed exchange. The small, rough-looking soldier carefully climbed out of the jeep he'd parked between the sand dunes and waited for the signal. A seasoned informer, he had traveled this excuse of a road enough times to know most of its twists and turns. Although he could have safely navigated his way in the middle of the night, the hour was early enough to allow him some sense of anonymity with the evening traffic, yet late enough for his unlit vehicle to travel out of bounds without being seen.

The soldier stood there surveying the horizon, his heart drumming out the secret message. A flashlight winked three times. Crunching footsteps started their plod in the sand toward the front of the jeep, and no sooner had they arrived than one big army boot raised itself from the desert and took refuge on the bumper. The unmistakable sound of a metal-cased, liquid gas lighter flicking open, and the roller flinting its flame was to the soldier, if nothing else, a token of trust. Experience teaches that forced words can bring death. In such meetings body language speaks volumes. A voice that breaks under stress can throw the balance of arbitration in the other's favor. A smile can confirm that all is well, yet hide the betrayal if there is one. Even the New Testament describes Judas pointing Him out by using the sign of kissing him on the cheek rather than uttering a word, a word that, in its effort to hide the fear, could reveal the lie. The eye has difficulty in picking up any such irregularity on its own, but speak, and the well-trained ear can add enough depth to the understanding to perceive any such deceit.

The new visitor raised a virgin cigar to his mouth, bit off the end and sucked it into life, using the luminescence as much to allow the soldier to see the smile on his face, as to generate heat. The soldier was confident that the distant flame hid his surprise at being met by such a young adversary. What mercenary delights could a 19 year-old boy have mastered to achieve the rank of Major in the Palestinian army, if indeed he was a Major or in fact a recruit of the army at all, he thought to himself. If death at this point were to be the final handshake then they would have sent someone older. If his curiosity showed the Major never let on. The young officer puffed on his cigar, continuing to allow the flame to do its work in the night. Keeping his eyes firmly fixed on the soldier's gaze, he slowly and deliberately lifted his hand to his inside pocket. Gently, a large envelope was pulled and placed on the front of the jeep. The soldier reached over; picked it up and counted its contents and took a small step closer to the Major's ear. Though Israeli was his native tongue, he spoke in English.

"An army truck carrying a Colonel and a driver will arrive in the city no earlier than ten-thirty this evening. That's just about two hours from now. They will join with an escort for the remainder of the journey as they leave the suburbs; I cannot be sure exactly where. Are you ready for them?" The Major did not reply. He just stood there examining the soldier's face for any little detail that would give him cause to doubt the accuracy of the information. It was as though he was waiting for the pointers on the machine taking the pulse and respiratory responses to quiver their announcement, but none came. The soldier's heart jumped as the Major flicked shut the lighter's lid, and in the second it took for his eyes to become accustomed to the darkness once again, the visitor was gone. Money in hand the wealthy soldier jumped to his jeep and started it. He backed around and sped off into the darkness, determined not to turn his lights on again until he'd at least reached the bridge. It took him all of twenty minutes. On each of the five previous occasions he'd agreed to trade like this, he had pondered the chances of getting out alive. Now that he was again successful he smiled to himself that his demands for a higher fee were accepted. This was his biggest payment yet and it was not getting any harder. The more that he survived the more valuable he knew he became. They needed him and his information more than they feared betrayal.

However, he could have charged five times as much for this particular exchange and they would have paid him gladly. They knew that while he was a bargain, the risks for now were relatively cheap.

The jeep finally made its way safely over the bridge, and eighty miles later drove up to the main gates of the Israeli Research Center at Rehovo.