JOHN LE CARRÉ Despite triumphs such as my mission in Turkey, life on the road was beginning to wear on me. Like many fathers whose jobs take them away from home for long stretches, I was beginning to wonder whether it wouldn’t be better to opt for a more stable nine-to-five gig. By now, I had put in almost seven years as a combatant. If you included my military service, my studies, and the Mossad training period, I hadn’t been a full-time father and husband for a decade. I was starting to show signs of what we call in Hebrew shchika—emotional wear and tear from living in lonely isolation. And although my family enjoyed France and my weekend visits, they were anxious to return to their home in Israel. I needed a change and wanted to leave Caesarea for a different job in the Mossad. My personal ennui had begun to affect my professional attitude. I was frustrated at Charles’s petty manipulations and Doron’s surrender to his every whim and demand. The stress was such that I began lashing out in inappropriate ways.
