Esther's Sling (50 page)

Within the hour, Enya Govenin and Amit Margolis were a married couple. Cohen had drawn the line at dancing the
Horah – too easy to be filmed on someone’s phone he told Amit. But afterwards, as the bride danced with General David Schechter, the head of the state of Israel pulled the young Mossad agent aside. “I have something for you, Amit, something I bring in my official capacity.”

Margolis drew closer to his commander in chief.

Cohen put his arm around the groom. “Your plan set back Iran’s ambitions by at least a decade.”

Margolis hoped that the prime minister was right. “I guess that gives me plenty of time to think up the next version of Esther’s Sling,” he joked.

Cohen smiled. “Seriously, the nation owes you much and yet you remain anonymous. This pains me.”

“I wouldn’t want it any other way. I like being able to go out and not worry.”

Cohen pulled a small hinged gift box out of his pocket and opened it. “This is from a grateful country.” Inside was the Medal of Valor – the Israeli equivalent of the American Medal of Honor. “The Knesset approved this medal last week. I am sorry that this medal will, like everything about you, remain a secret. If I am not mistaken, you and your father are the only father-son recipients of this honor.”

Amit Margolis exhaled. “I do not deserve this, sir.”

“You most definitely do, Amit. Those Shahab missiles that hit Tel Aviv and Haifa would have come soon with nuclear warheads if not for your plan. Now the world respects our capabilities again – because of you. This medal is insufficient recognition. It is the least we can do.”

“I am honored.”

“The honor is mine.”

Enya Margolis walked up at that moment, her right hand caressi
ng the back of her new husband.

“You are a beautiful bride, Mrs. Margolis,” Prime Minister Cohen
said.

“Thank you, sir. Thank you for being at our wedding.”

“You have married a national treasure. Take care of this man.”

“You have my word on that, Mr. Cohen.”

The prime minister laughed. “I am counting on it.”

On the afternoon of
Thursday, September 25, the start of the Hebrew year 5775, a ceremony took place on the compound of the Kirya in Tel Aviv. After a brief speech by Prime Minister Cohen, General David Schechter – the public face and public hero of the successful destruction of the Iranian nuclear program – reached up with his right hand and grabbed hold of a white sheet that enshrouded a new monument. In front of a crowd of over a hundred dignitaries and senior military officers, surrounded by construction equipment, Schechter pulled the sheet off as television cameras broadcast the event live in Israel. Photographers representing the major press agencies recorded the event in still images.

The edifice stood three meters high. The granite stone was topped with a stylized airplane soaring towards the heavens. Underneath the plane, a large Star of David had been carved. On the face of the six-pointed star, the names of the men of Mossad and the IDF who died in action during Block G were carved. At the top of the list – his place determined at the insistence of Amit Margolis – was the name
“James L. Miller – Pilot.”

Amit Margolis stood anonymously in the crowd and applauded.

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