Josef picked up the receiver of the phone on the empty desk, anxiously testing whether it still worked. The usual tone sounded in his ear. He quickly dialed a number. “Tomorrow morning at seven,” he said softly when a voice answered in Hebrew. “Be quick, but don’t make trouble. The withdrawal itself must proceed without a hitch.” Josef rested his face in his hands. The time had come—he finally had to decide. He took a deep breath. He owed the British for taking him in as a child, and he had attempted to pay them back. He’d worn their uniform for years. He had risked his life for them in the
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