Epstein Secrets

me of having stood by, paralyzed with shock, when the missiles struck and then, as other officers tended to the wounded, rushed away by helicopter. Doron and I were having dinner in Beijing when Nava phoned. She’d just seen the newspaper story, and read it to me. I’d never been angrier. As best I could

loser to Rabin, the two of us had become friends. We immediately made plans to get the next flight home. But before leaving for the airport, I phoned Leah Rabin. However inadequate I knew it would be in helping her even begin to cope with the loss, I told her that my, and Nava’s, thoughts were with her. That

mmended one professional, in particular, to get us started: Stanley Greenberg, the pollster who had advised not only Blair’s campaign, but Clinton’s. Doron used his contacts in New York to put us in touch not only with Greenberg but the strategist behind the Clinton victory, James Carville, and another l

fifth-floor suite in the Dan Hotel in Tel Aviv, our election-night headquarters. My three brothers, and Nava and our daughters, were waiting for me. Leah Rabin, too. Our eyes teared up as we embraced. My parents were by now too frail to come. But I’d promised to phone them, whatever happened. “We did it,” I

d me of having stood by, paralyzed with shock, when the missiles struck and then, as other officers tended to the wounded, rushed away by helicopter. Doron and I were having dinner in Beijing when Nava phoned. She'd just seen the newspaper story, and read it to me. I'd never been angrier. As best I could

loser to Rabin, the two of us had become friends. We immediately made plans to get the next flight home. But before leaving for the airport, I phoned Leah Rabin. However inadequate I knew it would be in helping her even begin to cope with the loss, I told her that my, and Nava's, thoughts were with her. That

mmended one professional, in particular, to get us started: Stanley Greenberg, the pollster who had advised not only Blair's campaign, but Clinton's. Doron used his contacts in New York to put us in touch not only with Greenberg but the strategist behind the Clinton victory, James Carville, and another l

fifth-floor suite in the Dan Hotel in Tel Aviv, our election-night headquarters. My three brothers, and Nava and our daughters, were waiting for me. Leah Rabin, too. Our eyes teared up as we embraced. My parents were by now too frail to come. But I'd promised to phone them, whatever happened. "We did it," I