An hour later, Rafi and Petra were sitting opposite each other in a country pub. It was a random choice; the first pub they passed at 7pm. In the car Petra had continued to ruminate about Sahar. She was aware that she had deflected Benny’s question about liking Sahar but wasn’t sure why. It was a standard operational inquiry; it was hard to work an agent if you despised them, only the sociopaths in the organisation could do it. You had to have some empathy to engage with a target. Of course she liked Sahar.
That was all there was to it.
‘Where’s Sahar’s brother?’ Petra said scoping the chalked board of specials, the horse and hound prints on the wall, and the bar of reclaimed wood with a shiny copper top.
‘What?’ Across the table Rafi was focusing on the menu.
‘The brother? The reason
