Epstein Secrets

ver the Atlantic, the mood on board was sober. Huddling with the inner core of my negotiating team — my policy co-ordinator Gilad Sher, security aide Danny Yatom and Foreign Minister Shlomo Ben-Ami — I could see that the way the summit ended had hit them hard. It was probably true, as all three often reminded

attacks after one of its planes had been hijacked to Algiers in the summer of 1968. It was also the same kind of plane — a Sabena flight, hijacked to Tel Aviv’s Ben-Gurion Airport — which I stormed, before sunrise, four years later with a force of nearly two dozen Matkal commandos. The shooting was over withi

mission on the road from Suez to Cairo. Giora Zorea, who, like me, had come up through the unit and was one of our most experienced team leaders. And Danny Yatom. Born not far from Mishmar Hasharon, but a city boy, from Netanya, he was smart, level-headed and a sure-handed organizer, and with whom I’d somehow

the war, he was reassigned as an operational officer in military intelligence in the kirya. He was still at his desk when Fatah terrorists landed on Tel Aviv’s seafront a little before midnight on March 4, 1975. They were spotted by a police patrol, which opened fire. The Fatah men ran from the beach, firing

Uri Saguy, the head of military intelligence; Gadi Zohar, in charge of civil administration for the West Bank and Gaza; my own former sayeret deputy, Danny Yatom, who was head of the central command; and Rabin’s military aide, Kuti Mor. Also included were longtime political and media aide Eitan Haber, and anot

. He, like all of us who had campaigned for him, knew what was at stake for the country. It had been barely six months since Rabin was gunned down in Tel Aviv’s main square, by a fellow Israeli riding a tide of hatred so blinkered that it could paint Yitzhak — who had worked all his life to create, defend and

ho, when I was chief of staff, had been in charge of the logistics branch of the military. I gave him Sayeret Matkal backup as well, in the person of Danny Yatom, my longtime friend and former sayeret deputy. But all that was process. Winning or losing would come down to how our message, our ability to forge

he most terror, and death: at bus stations, on buses, in shopping centers, restaurants and cafés. Over a 12-month period, beginning with a bombing of Tel Aviv’s main bus station at the beginning of January 2003, they murdered 145 men, women and children. It would not be until two years’ later, with the West B

ver the Atlantic, the mood on board was sober. Huddling with the inner core of my negotiating team — my policy co-ordinator Gilad Sher, security aide Danny Yatom and Foreign Minister Shlomo Ben-Ami — I could see that the way the summit ended had hit them hard. It was probably true, as all three often reminded

attacks after one of its planes had been hijacked to Algiers in the summer of 1968. It was also the same kind of plane — a Sabena flight, hijacked to Tel Aviv’s Ben-Gurion Airport — which I stormed, before sunrise, four years later with a force of nearly two dozen Matkal commandos. The shooting was over withi