KHAN YUNIS, GAZA, FRIDAY, 2.40AM

He was not asleep. He was not even lying down. He was, as so often these days, sitting bolt upright, turning over one scenario after another in his head. Moves, counter-moves, his mind never stopped churning, least of all at night. He would have so many plans, he would grow impatient for the morning prayer. He would want dawn to come so that he could emerge again into the daylight and get back to work.

He was awake, so he heard the footsteps himself. Instinctively, he removed the safety catch on his pistol and waited in the dark. He saw a curve of candleglow before he heard a voice.

‘Psst. Salim, it’s Marwan.’

‘Come in, brother.’

Warily, the younger man tiptoed into the room where Salim Nazzal was bedded down for the night. He looked around, counted three teenage boys, all fast asleep on a single mattress, and lowered his voice still further. He had no idea whose house he was in, which family had opened its doors to their leader for tonight.

‘Salim. They say they have something. A sighting, in Jerusalem.’

‘Of this tablet?’

‘Of the Zionist’s son. And the American woman.’

Nazzal replaced the safety catch on his gun. He wanted time to think.

‘The unit on the ground want to know whether they should strike.’

‘They weren’t meant for this!’

‘But your orders: that recovering the tablet was the highest priority.’

One of the boys on the bed stirred. Salim waited until he was sure he had gone back to sleep.

‘Tell them,’ he said eventually, ‘that they are free to act—’

‘OK—’ He strode away at once.

‘Marwan! Come back here. Tell them they are free to act, but only if by acting they either secure the tablet or discover, for certain, its location. No point killing these two, Guttman and the American, if we don’t get the tablet. Do you understand?’

‘I understand, Salim.’

‘I mean it, Marwan.’ And he cocked his weapon once more, just to leave no doubt.