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2.

Kalev Tauber walked out of the interrogation room.

He walked without looking up at anyone, acknowledging the salutes his subordinates gave by waving his hand in the air, dismissing them. The salutes were just formality and protocol — everyone knew not to get in Chief Tauber's way after an interrogation.

He stormed into the washroom, and shut the door with a thud that resounded throughout the building. He looked at himself in the mirror — a face with disheveled hair and red eyes greeted him. He spun the handle of the tap and washed his bloody hands, occasionally splashing some water onto his face. After wiping his face and hands with his white handkerchief, he walked out of the washroom.

Palestinian interrogations were always like this for him. Somehow, he could never push out the image of the dead bodies of his parents whenever a Palestinian sat in front of him, on the interrogation chair. They had been taught to be brutal with suspects, but for him, brutality was not a last resort — it was a passion. He walked back into the interrogation room to see the mangled body of his suspect being carried away by two peons. He then returned to his cabin.

A few minutes later, the Prime Minister walked in.

"Another near — death case! What the hell is wrong with you, Tauber?"

Tauber pulled out a few papers from a file.

"Suspect was linked to the recent terrorist attack. The names of his partners in crime are — "

"Besides the point!" The Prime Minister yanked the sheets out of Tauber's hand and threw them into the air. Tauber sighed and put his head between his hands.

The Prime Minister pulled up a chair and sat next to the Chief of the MOSSAD.

"Tauber, I know. It must be tough to face the people of the very country that sent terrorists to our motherland to kill the natives, like they did to your parents. But we cannot resort to their barbarism.  Moreover, you must be an example to follow for your sub — ordinates. Believe me, I'm for impulsive action as much as you are. But not everyone supports that style. We all know how the United Nations condemned the MOSSAD for the Adolf Eichmann case."

The Adolf Eichmann story was one of Tauber's favourite boyhood stories. For a brief moment, he was taken back to his childhood. He remembered how he would sit on his mother's lap, and she would feed him eggplant salad and fish, while his father would tell him the story of how five MOSSAD agents, led by Shimon Ben Aharon, made their way into Agrentina in 1960 and managed to capture Adolf Eichmann, who had by then started living under the name of Ricardo Klemento. They had then brought him to justice in Israel, where he was hanged to death as punishment for his crimes during the Holocaust. The United Nations Security Council had rebuked them for this heroic deed, but had agreed to bring him to trial and punish him, where punishment meant death, likewise.

Tauber was brought back to the present by the Prime Minister's voice.

"I know the Palestinians killed your parents, but that does not mean that you take the angst out on each and every suspect that we capture."

Tauber was infamous for that, but it was an infamy that everyone admired. He personally interrogated Palestinian suspects, and his interrogations were intense, to say the least. With his bare fists, he would lash out at them, until he had procured all the information he had wanted to. And this lashing out was a result of the fact that they were from Palestine. The Prime Minister, though he felt the same way, was not of the same mind regarding the methods they had to be dealt with; nevertheless, he was immensely proud of Tauber, who, being the Chief of the MOSSAD, reported directly to him, and they both shared professional as well as personal respect for each other.

"Go home, Tauber. Relax." He picked up the notes he had earlier thrown to the ground. "I will take a look at this list, and we will discuss and decide the course of action tomorrow. Take the rest of the day off."

Tauber thanked his Prime Minister, and after a handshake, made his way to his house. He threw his bag onto the floor and took a swig of cold water from the fridge. He shut the fridge and booted up his laptop. Relax was a word that did not exist for him. He was a workaholic. And he liked it that way.

He went through the details of the terrorist attack once again. Five dead, six injured. His blood boiled. Eleven children of Israel. He picked up the television remote that was lying next to him and flung it across the room. He heard the sound of the batteries falling out, and he knew he'd have to check up on the remote later, but he felt better. The fact that the situation compelled him not to watch television that night soothed him. He got back to work.

The next morning, he entered his cabin to find the Prime Minister already present, sipping on his coffee. With his free hand, he gestured to a number of papers present on Tauber's desk. Tauber picked them up, and as he read more and more, his eyes grew wider and wider with surprise. As he reached the last sheet, his disbelief grew. He placed the sheets back on the table, and rested his hands on the table, looking up at the Prime Minister. The Prime Minister stared back. After a few minutes of silence, the latter spoke up.

"Beats me as much as it beats you, Tauber. I did not see this coming. Believe me, I thought it was the Palestinians too. The man who came in yesterday was not from Palestine. Jolly good proof he had to trick us, though. Fake ID, fake accent....possibly even fake contacts. And to think that he withstood your hammering. Determined chap."

Tauber continued to stare out of the window. He knew not what to say. More than the man, the situation puzzled him — why would a group of people kill five Israelis, for a reason not yet known? But what scared him was not the reason — it was that Israel now not only had Palestinians as enemies. He could feel his country calling for him. He knew he had to find out who they were. The very people that had murdered five of his siblings, and injured six others. His thoughts were manifested into word — form by the Prime Minister.

"We both are probably thinking the same thing, Tauber. We have to find out who these people are, where they are from, who they work for, their motive, future plans, and of course, their last wish, before they are brought to justice in our very courts. Your new assignment has presented itself to you.

Tauber nodded in acknowledgement, and the Prime Minister exited his cabin. He sat down at his desk, planning before he started his work. The Prime Minister poked his head back into the room.

"Mazel Tov, Tauber. And one more thing. That suspect was one I'm glad you thrashed the living daylights out of."