Love Among the Unicorns

Every field agent has a handler. Mine was back in Langley. So, the Pontifical Institute had a special new feature -- an encrypted, direct access, long-distance telephone line. It was installed in my sleeping cell at the Chapter House. It was eleven PM in Jerusalem. Which meant it was only four in the afternoon back in DC. So, Chuck was in the middle of his day.

He said, "Yeah! Whadda ya want?" I said, "I have two targets, one is female and Mossad. The other looks MI-6. His handle is Peter McPherson and his legend is archaeology. He's been following the first target. So, I want you to find out if the Brits are doing anything in this patch. And if so... then I need you to find out who this guy is."

Chuck said, "If he's a Brit I might be able to get something from the Five Eyes network." That's the special cooperative espionage arrangement that we have with Britain, Australia, Canada, and New Zealand. Chuck added, "I'll give you a ring tomorrow if anything turns up." Then he disconnected to prevent any eavesdroppers from getting enough side channel data to break the encryption.

The return call was at eight o'clock the following morning. Chuck must have been busy in the prior nine hours. He said, tersely, "His name is Peter Ashworth and they call him the Archangel. He is a very high level field agent for MI6, you are both there for the same reason -- to find out what the Jews are up to.

Then he added rather guardedly, "The CIA also has an asset in place. He's at the Director level and he's compartmentalized. So, I can't tell you what he's doing. But his code name is King, like the monkey. He's pretty recognizable though because he looks like a silverback gorilla. I stifled a gasp, "That was the mysterious fourth man."

Chuck went on with, "He's the spymaster for the entire Middle East. So, don't burn him with anything trivial. But you have permission to contact him if it's important enough -- recognition code Kilo-Oscar-November-Golf. And make sure that you don't step on your dick doing it." Then he quickly hung up.

*****

Peter was overseeing a team that was excavating the Roman portal at the foot of the Damascus gate. The walls were built by the Ottomans 1,500 years after the Twelfth Legion had utterly destroyed the biblical city of Jerusalem. But the Roman city of Aelia Capitolina - which rose on the ruins of that city - needed walls too. The portal that Peter was excavating had been part of those.

Archaeology is hard physical labor, most of it spent on your knees... and the day was scorching. The Roman gate was buried in an older deeper stratum. Hence, Peter and the team were working in a hole in the ground, next to the existing walls. Physical things were easy for Peter. Even so, he had soaked his dirty safari shirt with sweat as he dug and sifted. In the meantime, chattering herds of tourists were passing over his head on the ramp leading into the Damascus Gate.

Peter utilized archaeology as a legend whenever he operated in the Middle East. It was a particularly easy role for him to adopt since he had a First Class Honours in Classical Studies from Queens. He'd picked it up while he was doing International Relations at Kings - next door on the Cam - because he adored history. Peter even had some serious academic publications to support the legend that he was a humble archaeologist.

Peter put down his trowel and contemplated the new information. There was another player in the game. Hence, the presence of the priest had to be taken into consideration. He looked American. But it was anybody's guess who he actually worked for. In fact, for all Peter knew he might have been working for the Vatican -- since the man was a Jesuit.

Peter had made the priest before he, himself, had even stepped out of cover to pick up the tail on Josette Sharpe. Her incongruous last name - at least, for a Mossad operative - came because her American step-father had adopted her when she was five. Peter had a nagging memory that he himself had met her in France during that period.

Josette was raised in Tel-Aviv and joined the Mossad when the Israelis told her that women couldn't fly in combat. Josette had done an intense 15 minutes of low level aerobatics in a P-51 - directly over the roof of the Air Force headquarters in the Kyira - just to demonstrate what she thought about that decision. Josette was like that.

Normally, a woman with Josette's stunning attractiveness would be destined for swallow work. But Josette was so tough and brave, not to mention deadly, that the Mossad used her exclusively for black ops and wet work. It was her proficiency with the most unorthodox of weapons - the ice pick - that had earned her the nickname of l 'Aiguille, or "The Needle."

What puzzled Peter was the fact that Josette had recently begun to appear on the arm of twenty-nine year old Colonel Mohammed Al Husseini. Al Husseini was Ata Ali Haza's Aide de Camp. Haza'a was the commander of the Jordanian troops in East Jerusalem. So, this was obviously a swallow gambit, which had turned Josette into a definite person of interest..

Al Husseini was a handsome playboy with deep connections to the Jordanian Royal Family. Peter reasoned that the only interest that Josette would have in a man like Al Husseini was because he had access to something that the Jews needed to know. Otherwise, the man wasn't worth The Needle's attention. Because killing Al Husseini would do nothing more than rid the world of one more useless womanizer.

A high value Mossad operative like Josette, had to be pursuing critical intelligence -- the kind of information that would help Peter unravel the situation vis-à-vis the Jews and the Arabs. Peter made no judgements about Josette using her superb sexuality to pry that information out of a mark. Peter was far too dedicated to Queen and Country and he had played the game way too long to EVER question the means for achieving an end.

It wasn't hard to maintain surveillance on a woman as spectacular as Josette. Hence, Peter had watched the beginning of the exploit from the American Colony's courtyard on Nablus Street. He knew that Al Husseini was Ali Atta's Aide de Camp. And... Peter had no respect whatsoever for the man whatsoever, because Al Husseini put personal pleasure above his commitments.

Peter was truly an Archangel. His obvious physical attractiveness made him stand out - both to men, who envied him and to women who wanted to be his lover. He was unspeakably handsome, tall, slim, and muscular. Plus he had that special fast-twitch coordination that made him remarkably effective in any form of physical exploit - from cricket, to murder.

Peter was the sort of guy who intimidated other men. Since, unlike many of them, he lived a strictly disciplined life. He was modest and self-effacing and incredibly self-controlled. He was also reputed to be a master swordsman among the ladies. But he was always a true gentleman - both in the bedroom and the drawing room. So, nobody really knew.

That was because Peter was always in control of any situation and he was eternally dedicated to doing the right thing. His favorite novel growing up had been Ivanhoe and it was as if he was trying to be a modern incarnation of knightly chivalry. Peter didn't know why he was so obsessed with decency. Most men would just enjoy life, not constantly examine their actions. But Peter had a strict moral code.

Al Husseini, on the other hand, was a libidinous playboy who seemed to relish his utter lack of decency. It was obvious that the man only thought of himself and his base urges. He treated women like Kleenex. And he was brutal when he was with them -- ruthless in rejecting them. Nonetheless, most pertinently, he was a Colonel in the Arab Legion, a highly respected military organization. Yet, he was both cavalier in his responsibilities and lax in the performance of his duty.

Peter had spotted the ubiquitous briefcase, which Al Husseini always carried with him. That briefcase must have been Josette's target. He knew that it was important and he had guessed why the man was carrying it. "Personal servant" was a perfect military role for a man so morally weak and undisciplined. But why would Al Husseini risk bringing something so sensitive to an afternoon tryst?

Peter had been extensively briefed on Josette and her exploits as The Needle. Yet, the basic person was hard to pin down. She was a French Jewish orphan, living in Tel Aviv. Her adoptive mother was a member of the fabulously wealthy Milhaud family and -- oddly - her American father was from some place in rural Wisconsin. To add to that incongruity... both of Josette's parents were sleeper assets for the American CIA. Thus, espionage was in Josette's blood.

And yet... it was not clear whose side Josette was on. She had been a Mossad field agent since her mandatory age of service, at eighteen. But her most notable exploits were done under the tutelage of her "Uncle," King, who was way up in the hierarchy of the CIA's Clandestine Service. Thus, it was unclear who she was working for. Was this a Mossad gambit, or was it a CIA op?

Peter, on the other hand, was as English as afternoon tea. His parents had met in an Underground bomb shelter during the Blitz. Peter's real father had been killed in the early fighting in France. His adoptive father, who was an important name in news reporting, had interviewed Peter and his mother during a nightly bombing raid. And that was the beginning of a lifelong love affair, which survived his father's escape from Nazi Germany as well as the Massacre at Malmedy.

Peter was aware that his commitment to his Country precluded any possibility of a conventional relationship. But he sometimes wished he could find a fellow unicorn -- one who would accompany him through life. The fact that his present target, Josette Sharpe, was probably the closest he'd ever come to his ideal woman was not lost on him. It only made Josette's current exploit more poignantly cruel. Because she was clearly running a sexploitation honey-trap.

Josette had been working her target for a fortnight and it appeared that today was going to be the culmination. Whatever happened inside that hotel room would just be The Needle doing her job. But she was going to do it with a man who Peter considered despicable. Peter was astonished by how that made him feel -- or rather... the fact that it made him feel at all.

Deep inside his highly disciplined soul, Peter was sick with jealousy at the thought of that beautiful woman rutting with that pig. But he also knew she was doing it for her Country -- and for no other reason. Sometimes the amorality of Peter's life as a spy utterly tarnished his little boy vision of himself as the noble Ivanhoe.

One of Peter's oddest talents was his ability to be unobtrusive. He was a stunningly handsome man with almost regal grace and bearing... the intelligence of the genius shone in his daily demeanor. So, one would expect that he would stand out anywhere he went. But Peter could make himself nondescript and harmless through body language. He was doing that now, as Josette and Al Husseini checked in.

Peter was slumped in a chair in the luxurious courtyard, with a cheap tourist ball cap pulled low over his eyes. Sure... you would notice him. But his clear lack of importance ensured that the memory wouldn't register. Hence, Josette and her mark breezed right past without a second glance. That was Peter's art.

After Husseini finished paying the exorbitant price for a room, Josette stood on tiptoe to give him a steamy kiss. Then the two of them walked through the hall doors and disappeared. Josette was hanging on the man's every word. Peter chuckled. Because, to Peters trained eye -- The Needle was playing her victim like a Stradivarius.

Peter steeled himself to wait out what would follow - no doubt a four hour debauch. A lot of spy work is reacting to what happens next and Peter was prepared for the endgame... whatever it might be. Nevertheless, he wasn't ready for Josette to appear a mere forty-five minutes later looking smug and totally un-fucked. Peter's heart soared. That reaction was utterly confusing to the Archangel....

*****

Josette was trying to decide how far she would have to go with Al Husseini. She had done swallow work before. Most notably the recent rendition of a Stasi operative. But she had not had to truly utilize her superlative bedroom skills.

This time, however, the mark was insistent and Josette needed what he had. So, the two of them were checking into the American Colony Hotel, not quite 600 meters past the Mandelbaum gate - on the other side of the Green Line in East Jerusalem.

It wasn't hard for Josette to acquire the mark. He was a well-known connoisseur of beautiful women. So, Josette had just walked into Hataklit, on ha-Malaka Street, grabbed a seat at the bar and ordered a beer. Arabs weren't welcome on that side of the Green line. But Al Husseini was so well connected that he could pass through the checkpoints like they weren't there. And after all, a bar is a bar... all bets are off in a place where the goal is hook ups.

Al Husseini was good-looking and clearly a player. So, nobody questioned his presence. More pertinently, the Mossad had specifically guided their target into the trap by clearing out any impediments to him being there. Al Husseini's approach to Josette was blandly conventional. But Josette handled it with a perfect amount of hesitancy and interest... to set the hook. Then Josette got her victim boiling with a night of kissing and fumbling.

Everybody who played the game knew that Mohammed Al Husseini was the weakest link. He was fascinated by beautiful women and he was known to be indiscrete. There was no more beautiful woman in all of Israel than l 'Aiguille, The Needle, and the American Colony Hotel was where they planned to consummate their tryst.

Husseini had access to something that Josette's Mossad masters absolutely needed, which was the precise time that two Egyptian Generals were planning to visit Bir Tamada airbase in the Sinai. Josette didn't know why Mordecai Hod, the head of the Israeli Air Force, needed the information so badly. But he had personally met with Josette to stress that the survival of the State of Israel hinged on her finding out the exact time that those two officers would be in the air.

Josette had lost both her parents to the holocaust. She was only five at the time. But she was very brave. She had been rescued by Suzy Milhaud and then almost lost again - when the Nazis dragged all of the Jewish children in her orphanage off to the death camps. That heinous act was known as the Tragedy of Izieu.

An American flyer named Jed Sharpe had literally dropped in on them out of a burning B-26 and Jed and Suzy had successfully snatched five girls from the slavering jaws of Nazi persecution. Jed and Suzy married after the war, quickly adopted Josette, and lived happily ever after. Hence, in that respect, Jed Sharpe and Suzy Milhaud had set the bar very high for their daughter.

Josette thought, "Perhaps overcoming that kind of adversity was what made them so close." She longed for the loving relationship that her parents had. Josette knew that she would never settle for anything less than what her parents had built. But still, the peripatetic life of a spy doesn't lend itself to home and family. And it's hard for a field agent to form a genuine attachment, particularly one as beautiful and deadly as the Needle.

Josette was a healthy twenty-eight year old woman... with a woman's vigorous interest in sex. But her current assignment was particularly difficult for her. She was always highly selective about the men she gave her superb passion to and Al Husseini didn't come close to qualifying. And yet, Josette was about to go to a room with him and she would have to fuck him if things didn't work out exactly as planned.

Al Husseini finished paying for the room. Now, it was time for Josette to get to work. She lovingly kissed him. Then they proceeded down the hall to their room. This was going to be a nooner. So, of course, they had no luggage. However, Al Husseini always carried a ubiquitous briefcase.

Al Husseini was carrying that briefcase because Ata Ali Haza'a, commander of the Arab Legion garrison in Jerusalem, didn't deign to handle his own classified documents -- Al Husseini did that for him. However, Al Husseini's possession of Jordanian military secrets wasn't an indicator of his capabilities. It was quite the opposite Ali Haza'a thoroughly enjoyed making Al Husseini into his personal body man.

Al Husseini had been foisted off on Ali Haza by the Jordanian royal family - Al Husseini's mother was a cousin. Hence, the potential loss of sensitive information was a minor concern for Ali Haza'a, compared to the pleasure of humiliating that arrogant little rat. The problem was that it also put Jordanian secrets in Al Husseini's incompetent hands.

Al Husseini was loudly bragging about how well-fucked Josette was going to be, as they entered the room. Josette, in turn, was trying to decide how to drug the arrogant fool. She had an ampule tucked into the usual spot in her abundant hair. It contained enough chloral hydrate to knock out a camel. The difficult part would be getting Al Husseini to drink it. Which was why Josette was toting an expensive bottle of Chateau Lafitte -- just to celebrate.

They hadn't gotten far into the room when Josette's mark plastered her against the wall, stuck his tongue down her throat and began to vigorously manipulate her pneumatic left breast. Josette felt a surge of passion. She was a fiery woman. Then her iron discipline kicked-in and she began a litany of gasps, sighs, and moans, all designed to convince Al Husseini that he was the stud he thought he was.

It seemed incredible to Josette that men would fall for something that easy to fake. Then Josette broke away gasping with barely controlled excitement -- another simple thing to mimic -- and said in an agitated tone of voice, "Wait-wait-wait... Let's have a drink first. I need a little romance to get me started."

Al Husseini didn't notice the contradiction between what Josette had just said and her seemingly extreme - but absolutely phony, reactions. That was due to the fact that even a short experience with Josette Sharpe made most men simple-minded. Plus, he wanted to play it right. Josette was a trophy, not one of his usual sluts and... this afternoon was going to be epic. So, he got himself back under control and said, "Certainly, my dear.".

Josette said coquettishly, "Turn around, I'm going to get undressed." Al Husseini acted like he was playing into Josette's little game of seduction. He turned momentarily, and then immediately turned back around, as he heard Josette slip her silk t-shirt over her head.

Josette was counting on the shock-and-awe of her perfect naked breasts to hold Al Husseini's attention while she palmed the vial in her hair. She secured the vial behind her fingers as she poured the wine into each glass. Her fingers masking the fact that she was adding something "special" to Al Husseini's wine.

Josette needn't have bothered. Husseini's eyes never left her firm full boobs. Josette thought, "MEN!! What is it and their fascination with tits?" The knockout drops would take a minute to act and an accelerated heart rate moves that process along. So Josette stripped off her tight jeans while giving Al Husseini an exclusive view of her perfect backside.

The man was wild with lust as he flew out of his Arab Legion uniform, grabbed Josette, and threw her on the bed. Josette made all the right sounds as Husseini's hand dove between her legs. But Al Husseini was already beginning to act distracted. Ultimately, he hesitated, stopped, and slowly sank down on top of Josette's naked body.