“Natan, you look like you didn’t get any sleep last night. I haven’t seen bags under your eyes this bad since we went on that drunk after our last trek in the Negev. You need rollers for these bags.”
“Very funny. I got some sleep,” Schwartz protested, “but I couldn’t get my mind to shut down on all the planning we need to do, the logistics of the operation. I just know that I will be a far happier man when we can get in there, get the job done and get out.”
“You know, you could let me share some of that load,” Silberberg offers with all sincerity.
“Mark, you have enough to do, making sure we have all of the equipment and supplies we need, making sure that everything is in operating order, making sure we haven’t missed anything.”
“Yeah, the pressure is on both of us,” Silberberg agrees. “The last three desert treks we did, the IDF delivered all the equipment we needed. All we had to do was follow IDF orders. IDF did all the planning and supplying. But so can we. Now, though, I’m realizing how much we took for granted, what all goes into planning an operation on this scale. Holy shit, this can be a real mind trip when you’re never done it before.”
“Good. Face it and get it off your chest,” Schwartz encourages his partner. “But we’ll be okay, Mark. It’s just new, having to rely on ourselves almost exclusively, except for Yosef and whoever ferries us in. This is our show.”
“And speaking of Yosef,” Silberberg interrupts, “let’s give him a call and see how he’s making out with his end of things.”
Schwartz picks up the secure line on his desk, then dials the special number Bergman left with them. After the third ring, Bergman picks up. “Code words, please.”
“A million dollars,” says Schwartz.
“Okay, Natan. What can I do for you this morning.”
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