Separation of Power

Those early years had left scars. The shrinks at Mossad knew none of this, nor did anyone else. These were Rosenthal's own private demons. The solitary bravado of his early years had cracked. He hated operating alone. As a predator he had gone from a lone wolf to developing a pack mentality. Never again would he hunt alone. He would never go back to the camps, never go back to the sleepless nights, worrying that he might let something slip in his dreams. No, that was all behind him. Now he did everything possible to stack the deck in his favor.

And his discerning eye didn't like the lack of cover on the streets. Over the last twenty-four hours Rosenthal had scoured the file Freid man had given him. It was obvious it had been heavily censored. Much of it was blacked out, and there were large gaps where entire operations had been omitted. Rosenthal had no doubt the old man had personally removed the information. Part of it was for reasons of compartmentalization and secrecy, but Rosenthal knew the old man too well to think that was the only reason. Freidman had removed information that might cause Rosenthal to hesitate rather than assassinate. Rosenthal was no novice. Although he had not yet reached the age of thirty he had been doing this work for close to a decade. Despite the heavily censored file, Rosenthal knew that this Donatella Rahn had done a lot for Israel, but this was the ugly side of his business. One day you're a prized asset; the next day you're a liability.

As the taxi neared The Galleria Vittorio, Rosenthal told the driver they were close enough to the hotel and asked him to stop. He paid the man and got out. He gave a quick glance over both shoulders and then entered the magnificent nineteenth century architectural structure. The Galleria Vittorio Emanuele II was laid out in the formation of a cross, the north-south section co

Rosenthal stopped into a bookshop and purchased a copy of the London Times. He loitered near the front of the shop for a moment to see if he was being followed and then continued on his way out the north end of the structure and across the Piazza della Scala. On the other end of the plaza he leaned against a light post and acted as if he were reading the paper. After several minutes a maroon Flat sedan pulled up to the curb and Rosenthal got in.

It was the man from the airport. He pulled back into traffic and said, "You're clean."

"Good. And the woman?"

"She's at her office. Yanta followed her to work this morning. She got there at nine and hasn't left."

"What about her apartment?"

"We decided to wait for you before we made that move."

Rosenthal nodded. The man driving the car was Jordan Sunberg. Although he looked a good ten years older than Rosenthal he was actually two years younger. Sunberg had a thick black beard and an unruly head of curly hair. The two had worked with each other on many occasions in recent years. They were two of Freidman's favorite katsas. "Did you get the things I requested?"

"Yes. It's all back at the flat."

Rosenthal checked his watch. "Good. We'll make our move this evening."

CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

Rapp watched A

A

A

"I love you, too." He squeezed her tightly and began kissing her neck. After a minute he led her back toward the king-size bed.

"What are you doing?" asked A

A

Nope. We only in Milan for a day and a half, and I'm not going to spend it in bed."

"Why not?"

"Don't ask stupid questions." "Come on," he said baiting her. "It won't take long."

"Maybe for you."

Rapp laughed. "Now ... now. Be nice."

"It has nothing to do with being nice. I'm being a realist. If I get into bed with you, we'll have sex, and then you'll fall asleep. I don't want to sleep right now. I want to get out and see the city." She started for the bathroom. "Besides, you're always better when I make you wait."

Rapp stared up at the mural on the ceiling. "I'll have to work on that." He let out a loud groan that was mostly for show and then got off the bed. After peeling off his clothes, he strutted into the bathroom.

A

"You wish," gri

After the shower Rapp went out into the bedroom and put on a fresh set of clothes. He stood over his suitcase and wondered what was the best way to handle his next move. He was tempted to assemble the gun and slip it into the specially designed interior pocket of his leather jacket, but he knew that was an invitation for disaster. A

The best way to handle it with A

When A