The Taba Convention: Prologue and 1st 17 pages (Book now widely available)

            Getting up early on the third day, Yuval idled near the front desk after a hurried coffee. Iyad appeared and he followed him as he left the hotel. He caught the same train that arrived at St. Moritz at ten-thirty in the morning. Iyad then bought a ticket for the five past eleven mountain train to Alp Grum from platform twelve. Arriving just in time before departure, Yuval had been fortunate to find a seat on the open wagon three rows behind the Palestinian. Yuval thought there must be a good reason for the trip, perhaps a clandestine meeting that he would witness high up on the mountains. A momentary surge of fear washed over him. The train pulled into Alp Grum with typical Swiss precision at twelve noon.

            Climbing up a winding track to a cafe perched on a ridge above the train station, Yuval sipped on a double espresso. He saw Iyad converse with a blue-coated railway worker down below. The feeling of unease crept back. They looked like they knew each other.

            Iyad started on a short hike along one of the many trails that led past mountain streams and meadows and the ever-present views of the deep valleys and the Italian landscape far down below.

            The Palestinian joined a group of three hikers, and it took Yuval a second before he realized that they all knew each other. He knew in that instant that Iyad had lured him here, that he must have been made some time ago in Zurich.

He pulled out his cell phone. He looked at the screen and another wave of panic hit him. No wireless reception. Goddamn it, they must have been too high up there. There had to be a landline in the restaurant; he would make the call from there.

            He hurried back to the station and entered the restaurant to place a call.

            Yuval brushed against another railway man in the narrow corridor on the way to the telephone. It was wall-mounted in the corner, and Yuval was relieved to see that it took coins and not a phone card. He lifted the receiver with one hand and searched in his pocket for some Swiss francs with his other hand.

            He put the receiver up to his ear. Dead. The damn line was dead. They had gotten there before him. Following the wire from the phone, he traced it along the wall. It was cut in two places, a gap of five centimeters cut to make sure that no new connection was possible. The trap was closing in on him. Like a fly trapped in a spider’s web. This was not supposed to be the way it happened. He had been trained to hunt, not to be the hunted

He heard the train pull in after the loudspeaker announcement. He walked briskly along the platform toward the train. Fresh air washed over his face, but the foul stench of fear clung to him.

He chose the open car, and sat at the very back of the last one. Other passengers got on and took their seats in the middle of the car.

He spotted a group of dirty and disheveled looking railway workers dressed in stained blue overalls and muddy black work boots who were taking the opportunity to catch a lift down the mountain. He watched as they clambered into the last car behind the open one, a freight wagon.

            From where he sat, Yuval could see Iyad still talking to the hikers. For a brief, terrifying moment their eyes met and the man let a small smile of satisfaction creep into his face. Iyad looked over his shoulder and acknowledged the group of workers. It was clearly done with the intention that Yuval see it, and he did. The execution had been given the green light.

The train started its descent to St. Moritz and briefly stopped at Bernina Diavolezza to pick up some hikers before continuing. As the train entered an avalanche tunnel, two of the railway workers left the freight car. Under the cover of darkness and the thunderous noise of the train reverberating in the tunnel, they came up swiftly behind Yuval. The young agent could not have realized how fast his death came. They crossed from the freight car behind him and stood on the links that held the cars together. It was as if he had chosen the ideal seat for them to carry out his execution.