A conversation with Daniel Silva, author of The Secret Servant

The Secret Servant is your tenth novel. It’s both deeply provocative and wildly entertaining. How do you walk that fine line in your work?
I tend to think it comes quite naturally to me. I’ve always felt that there are two writers living inside me, one with more literary leanings and another who is unrepentantly commercial. These two engage in an annual struggle for supremacy, and the result in recent years has been The Messenger, The Confessor, and A Death in Vienna, novels of entertainment that deal with terribly important topics of today and the past. I like to think of myself as a serious writer who works in the thriller mode.

The Secret Servant moves at a blistering clip from beginning to end. Did you consciously try to write a more up-tempo book?
I didn’t in fact. When I begin a novel, I try to have as few preconceived notions as possible. I want to bring the characters to life on the page and then let them lead me by the hand. But there is definitely a ticking clock in the book, with the life of an extraordinary young woman, and perhaps even the fate of a nation, hanging in the balance. It means the characters have to make decisions of great moral significance under conditions of extreme time pressure. It also means that the novel plunges forward at a breathless pace, particularly toward the end.

You speak of characters having to make decisions of moral significance under difficult conditions, and of course that would apply to Gabriel Allon, the hero of your last seven novels. Tell me about him.
It’s probably accurate to say that no one has been battling Arab and Islamic terror longer than Gabriel Allon. In 1972 he was a promising art student at Jerusalem’s prestigious Bezalel Academy of Art, when he was recruited by Israeli intelligence to hunt down and kill the Palestinian terrorists responsible for the massacre of Israeli athletes at the Munich Olympics. He’s worked on and off for Israeli intelligence ever since. He also happens to be one of the world’s finest restorers of Old Master paintings. As The Secret Servant opens, he’s just finished restoring a painting by Giovanni Bellini for the Vatican. When he returns to his apartment in Jerusalem, he finds Ari Shamron, Israel’s spymaster and his own mentor, waiting with another assignment. It’s an assignment that will take him back to Europe, to Amsterdam to be precise, where an asset of Israeli intelligence has been brutally murdered by a Muslim immigrant.

The murder scene is hauntingly reminiscent of the killing of the Dutch filmmaker Theo van Gogh in Amsterdam in November 2004. I assume the echo is intentional?
Of course. In many respects, the death of Theo van Gogh was Europe’s miniature 9/11. It sent shock waves through the Netherlands and the rest of Europe. It was a violent wake-up call, as was the rioting that swept France during the autumn of 2005. Many European countries now contain large Muslim populations that, for the most part, have not been properly integrated. Many of the young men in these Muslim communities are unemployed and angry. They’re fed a steady diet of hatred by their imams and the Internet. They’re trapped between two worlds, the world of radical Islam on the one hand and the secular, tolerant West on the other, and all too often they succumb to the siren song of terrorist recruiters.

You write in the book that “Europe is receding quietly into history. It’s old and tired, and its young are so pessimistic about the prospects of the future they refuse to have enough children to ensure their own survival. They believe in nothing but their thirty-five-hour workweek and their August vacation.” Are things really that bad?
Those were the rather gloomy observations of a longtime character in the series named Eli Lavon, but as someone who loves Europe and who has watched it change dramatically over the last twenty years, I would tend to agree. While it’s a risk to generalize, I do think that Europe has lost its way a bit; without question it is facing a looming demographic crisis. In virtually all the countries of Western Europe, the birthrate of the native population is below replacement level, while the Muslim population is increasing rapidly. Sometime in the very near future, Europe will have to confront these facts and make some difficult decisions about its identity. That process is already under way in France, Denmark, and Britain. I hope it is a peaceful process. I’m not at all sure it will be.

One epigraph of The Secret Servant quotes from the historian Bernard Lewis: “On present demographic trends, by the end of the twenty-first century at the latest, Europe will be Muslim.” If that comes to pass, what will be the consequences for Europe and the United States?
Profound, to put it mildly. I know for a fact that U.S. intelligence agencies are already thinking about the ramifications of a “Muslim” Europe for U.S. foreign policy. In the short term, however, the restive Muslim populations of Europe provide a fertile breeding ground for terrorism, and that’s the backdrop of The Secret Servant.

Without giving away too much of the plot: The book deals with a conspiracy by al-Qaeda and a little-known group of Egyptian extremists to kidnap the daughter of the American ambassador to London. The goal of this plot is to force the United States to release an Egyptian cleric jailed on terrorism charges. It sounds frighteningly plausible. I was discussing it with a friend who works for the CIA. He nodded and said, “Well, that’s certainly realistic.” Obviously, it’s something that I hope never comes to pass.

By now most people know that Osama bin Laden is Saudi, but do they realize how Egyptian al-Qaeda is?
Many people don’t know that. Egypt is indeed the heartland of Islamic extremism, and Egyptians are a major component of al-Qaeda. Ayman al-Zawahiri, the number-two man in the organization and, some would say, the real brains behind it, is an Egyptian terrorist leader who spent many years trying to bring down the government of Hosni Mubarak. It’s still one of al-Qaeda’s ultimate goals, though for now they’re focused on what they call the “far enemy,” meaning us.

A central theme of the novel is the morality of torture and the practice known as “extraordinary rendition” - taking known or suspected terrorists from one country and transferring them in secret to Middle Eastern countries - Jordan, Syria, Saudi Arabia, Egypt - for questioning. Why did you choose to deal with this in the book?
For me, the rendition program has been one of the most troubling aspects of U.S. response to the attacks of 9/11 - and mind you, this is coming from someone who believes Islamic extremism and terrorism are grave threats to American security and must be dealt with harshly. But the regimes you mentioned are some of the most repressive in the world. I believe they’ve helped create and foster the problem of terrorism by attempting to deflect the anger of their people outward to America and Israel. Ultimately, they’re part of the problem, not part of the solution. Borrowing their torture chambers is one of the big moral lapses of our response to the attacks of 9/11.

If the president of the United States had asked Gabriel Allon for advice on September 12, 2001, what would Gabriel have said?
He would have warned the president about the terrible price of climbing into the sewer with terrorists and fighting them on their terms. He would have told the president that the fight against terrorism was not only morally just but also morally imperative. But he would have cautioned the president not to resort to practices that don’t look terribly flattering with the passage of time. A few years ago I wrote a book called A Death in Vienna. It dealt with one of the more unsavory aspects of the Cold War: the CIA’s use of Nazi war criminals as paid assets. The novel was really a private plea to policy makers not to take similar morally questionable steps in the war against terrorism.

The Secret Servant contains some disturbing descriptions and accounts of torture as practiced by the Egyptian secret police. Are the accounts in your book based on fact?
Unfortunately, they are. I did a considerable amount of research on the practices of the Egyptian security services, and I heard first-hand accounts of their work when I was based in Cairo in the 1980s as a correspondent for United Press International.

That experience must have been very helpful to you when you were working on this book.
Very much so. I interviewed Islamic militants during that period, men who, I assume, went on to become members of al-Qaeda. They made it clear to me then what they wanted to do - they said they wanted to destroy us - and I believed they were serious. During the late eighties and early nineties, I told anyone who would listen that we would one day face a grave threat from militant Islam, and my fears were proven correct.

One of the most compelling characters of The Messenger was Sarah Bancroft. Why did you decide to use her again?
“Back by popular demand” is probably the best way to put. Everyone loved Sarah the moment I handed in the first draft of The Messenger, and the response I received from readers after publication was also overwhelmingly positive. I needed a CIA component to Gabriel’s team in The Secret Servant, and she was a perfect fit.

The book is set in a number of cities: Amsterdam, London, Copenhagen, Cairo, and Jerusalem, to name a few. Judging from the flawless depictions and other evidence of the amount of research you must have done, I guess you didn’t spend the entire summer on that cattle ranch in the hills of Umbria.
As much as I would have liked to, the answer is no. I returned to the States in July and spent a month on a book tour, then went back to Europe to start researching my next book. My family jokingly referred to it as the “Summer Euroterror Tour of 2006.” The first stop was London, where MI5 and Scotland Yard had just broken up the plot to bomb transatlantic jetliners with liquid explosives. Then it was on to Amsterdam and Denmark. My children are old enough to help out now. When their teachers ask them what they did on their summer vacation, they say they spent it helping their father pick out places to kill people.

***

A conversation with Daniel Silva, author of Prince of Fire
 
You described your previous three books as "an accidental trilogy dealing with the unfinished business of the Holocaust." Could Prince of Fire be the beginning of another "accidental" series?
When it comes to something as unpredictable as writing novels, it’s generally a mistake to make predictions, but, no, I don’t see this as the beginning of a new cycle of novels. Indeed, quite the opposite is true. This novel is something of a conclusion to the series. When I introduced the Gabriel Allon character in The Kill Artist, he was cast in the unlikely role of safeguarding the life of Yasir Arafat, who was then engaged in the Oslo peace process. Of course, everything changed shortly after that novel was published. Yasir Arafat rejected the peace deal he was offered at Camp David and then launched the second Intifada. In a way, I felt obligated to write this novel. The Kill Artist was written in a time of hope, Prince of Fire in a time of despair and terror, and I think that’s reflected in the tone of some of the book’s more memorable passages.

Prince of Fire offers a virtual history lesson on the Arab-Israeli conflict during the entire twentieth century. How did you develop an interest in this part of the world?
I’ve always been captivated by the history of Zionism and the conflict between Arabs and Jews in Palestine—the notion that history and Providence has thrown these two remarkable peoples together in this tiny slice of land and bound them in bloodshed. As a writer of fiction, there is a deep well from which to draw: fascinating characters, a compelling and violent history, and a starkly beautiful physical landscape. And, of course, it is a conflict that affects us all. I tried very hard to do justice to both sides and to capture, in microcosm, the pain felt by both Arabs and Jews. At its core, the book is a thriller, not a history lesson, but I was careful to include enough history so that situation can be understood and placed in context. It’s amazing how little many people really know about the history of the conflict.

In Prince of Fire the action moves across continents, from Rome, Venice, and Cairo, to London, Paris and Jerusalem.  Whether the setting is verdant Celtic ruins in Provence or the tan hills of Galilee, each location is vividly rendered. What kind of research did you do to capture each one so precisely? 
There’s really no substitute for going to a place and seeing it with your own eyes—looking at a landscape and imagining your characters moving across it. The research for this book took me from Israel to Paris to the south of France. A significant portion is set in Marseilles. It had been some time since I’d been there. In fact, the last time was before the attacks of September 11. It was interesting to look at a place like Marseilles and imagine it as a hub of terrorist activity. In all honesty, it wasn’t too difficult.
 
In the thriller's opening scenes, a massive terrorist bombing sparks an international manhunt for an elusive Arab terrorist. Was this an unconscious or a deliberate response to the September 11th attacks in the U.S.?
For a long time after the attacks of September 11, I felt reluctant to touch the subject of terrorism. For me, like most Americans, the attacks were a watershed event, a tear in the fabric of human history. I still don’t think I’ll ever write a book about a terrorist plot against America, but I finally felt capable of writing about terrorism in the Israeli context.

The terrorist mastermind in your book is a man named Khaled al-Khalifa. He is the son of the leader of Black September, the notorious Palestinian terror group of the 1970s that carried out the Munich Olympics massacre. Why did you choose to resurrect Black September for this novel?
As I say in the author’s note of the novel, the story of Prince of Fire was really inspired by a photograph taken at the funeral of Ali Hassan Salemeh, the operations chief of Black September. The photograph shows Salemeh’s young son seated on the lap of a grieving Yasir Arafat. It made me think: What if the boy had been hidden away by Arafat and trained to carry on the tradition of his father? As for my interest in Black September, it began with the Munich Olympics massacre. Like millions of other people around the world, I watched the drama unfold from beginning to end, and the murder of the hostages hit me very hard. Although we didn’t realize it then, the Munich Massacre was in many ways the beginning of the modern terrorist age. I believe Black September and the Palestinians must share some of the blame for the events of September 11. Remember, it was Black September that first demonstrated the utility of carrying out spectacular acts of terrorism on the international stage. I’m quite confident that the planners of Al Qaeda have studied their exploits carefully.

Your protagonist, Gabriel Allon, is a gifted art restorer when he's not involved in international espionage.  The meticulous description of his work suggests that you also have a great appreciation for the Grand Masters. Is painting or art history a passion of yours?
It is, and I’ve been able to indulge that passion with this series. I’m also fortunate enough to have wonderful and generous friends who know much more about art than I do.
 
Fidelity and loyalty are prominent themes in your hero's relationships with his estranged wife, his lover, and his boss in the Israeli Secret Service, as well as in his adversaries' relationships. Do these issues have special significance for you?
Something happened inside Israel when the Palestinian terrorists started setting off bombs on buses, in cafés and even during a Passover Seder. Israelis set aside their differences and demanded an end to the violence. A certain tribalism took hold, in my opinion, and Gabriel Allon was not immune to that. His name is significant. The archangel Gabriel is the defender of Israel, the angel of vengeance, and the prince of fire. In a time of terror and bloodshed, Gabriel has no choice but to pick up his gun once again in service of his country and his people. He does so with a certain reluctance, because he fears he is a soldier in a war without end, but he does so all the same, out of loyalty and fidelity.

Your characters offer strong opinions on hot-button issues such as Israel’s Separation Fence. Do you find yourself taking sides as you write?
At the risk of sounding as though I’m dodging the question, I have sympathy for both parties to the conflict. I believe that Jews have a right to a homeland. I also believe that Palestinians suffered terribly as a result of the birth of Israel and that they deserve a state of their own. That said, I have to say that I am profoundly disappointed, to put it mildly, in the way the Palestinian side conducted itself after the signing of the Oslo peace accords. I was a supporter of the Oslo Agreement, even though I had doubts about the ability of the two sides to reach a final accord. I believed that Arafat had truly reconciled himself to the existence of a Jewish State in the Middle East and was committed to peace. That turned out to be wrong. Arafat, I’m convinced, viewed the Oslo process as part of his “phased strategy” to bring about the destruction of the Jewish State. He said so many times, in Arabic, when he was speaking to his own people. I also believe he ended his career as he began it: as a terrorist. With his passing, there might be a chance for peace, but I tend to doubt it. Arafat left behind a mess, but then, he always did—in Lebanon and before that in Jordan. Still, one has to hope. The alternative is too awful to contemplate: Arabs and Jews, killing each other in the Promised Land, until the end of time.
 
Your popular protagonist, Gabriel Allon, is a melancholy man haunted by his past, or as you describe him, "the eternal wandering Jew." Is the character based on anyone you've actually known?
Thankfully, no. Gabriel Allon is truly a fictitious character.

Allon has a tense face-to-face conversation with Arafat. How did you prepare to write that scene? Did Arafat's death affect what you wrote?
Arafat died as I was finishing the novel, and I chose not to incorporate his death into the story. As for the preparation, I’ve come to know both of these men very well. It was really a matter of putting them in a room together, along with their terrible history, and letting them show me the way.

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