summarized biography

At about the same time that the Ostrovskys arrived in Canada, the Margolin family - Esther, Hayyim, and their baby, Rafa - escaped the Russian pogroms and made their way to Palestine. They settled in Jerusalem and had two more children, Mira and Maza.

Syd Ostrovsky, the fifth of Aaron's seven children, served a full tour of duty as an airman in a Canadian bomber squadron over Europe during World War II. After the war, he joined the fledgling military of the newly formed state of Israel.

There he met Mira Margolin, who'd recently completed her tour of duty in the British army, fighting the Germans in North Africa.

The newlywed couple made their home in Edmonton, where, on November 28, 1949, I was born. My mother, who wasn't a typical housewife in any regard, found a job as a teacher in the Jewish school in Ebmonton and left the chore of raising her child to my paternal grandmother, Bessie Ostrovsky.

I was fortunate in the grandparents fate had selected for me. My mother was what might be called a free spirit, a bohemian type. A graduate of the Israeli Hagana underground and the British military, she'd dreamed of becoming an actress. Theatrical parts were few and far between, though, which left her an extremely frustrated person. My father, on the other hand, knew that he would one day reach his goal: the American dream of financial security and a quite life. But the road was long and hard. The un-bridgeable difference in character between my parents finally led them to separate. I was five at the time.

My mother took me back to Israel, where her parents, Hayyim and Esther Margolin, took on the job of looking after me. I remember fondly the small house on Ha-yod-daled Street as a warm, loving home, full with books and long talks about the fulfillment of the Zionist dream and how it could be translated into everyday life.

Since I'd shown an inclination for the arts, my grandmother introduced me to a painter by the name of Gilady, who lived in our neighborhood. He gave me a box of paints and some of his time, instructing me in the basics of perspective and the use of color. Gilady's lessons were one's I'd apply ever after - even as my childhood hobby ripened into a mid-life passion.

My early years were quiet. My mother would reappear from time to time like a swirling tornado, disappearing back into the blue sky just as fast. On one of her touchdowns, she decided that I would be better off in boarding school. All my grandmothers pleading was to no avail, and I would end up spending a year in a dreadful place called Hadasim, a boarding school in the center of Israel founded and supervised by Hadassah Wizo, a Jewish women's organization in Canada. I like to think that, had the organization been fully aware of the school's strict, Spartan quality and it's penchant for putting the kids to work, they would have closed it.

They weren't aware, though - as far as I knew - and by year's end, I'd taken the initiative and returned to my grandparents' home. Shortly after, my self-confidence was lifted when I joined the Gadna youth brigades and attained second place in a countrywide shooting competition as a member of the Abu Kabir target shooting club headed by an old army major named Dan David.

During my high school years, I met Bella, and it was love at first sight. We spent every moment we could together; we enjoyed reading the same books, hiking, and talking about politics, and especially being with each other. At about the age of eighteen, we were recruited to the Israeli military. Bella was assigned to the ministry of defense, and I was sent to the military police.

After basic training, I completed a noncommissioned officers' course, and then went to an officers' course, graduating as the youngest officer at the time in the Israeli defense force. I then graduated from the military police officers' and then snipers and demolition training.

Once I had completed my military education, Bella and I got married. We were not yet twenty. We were told we were to young, but I never regarded our union as a burdensome; it was something we were building together. A year later, Sharon was born, and things were looking up.

After I completed my three year term, I felt the military, having attained the rank of lieutenant. We went to visit my family in Edmonton and wound up staying there for five years. Our second daughter, Leeorah was born in Edmonton when Sharon was four.

We returned to Israel in 1977. The day after our arrival, I enlisted in the navy and was given the rank of captain. I served for the next five years, rising to the rank of lieutenant commander. For most of that period, I was in command of the department coordinating testing new weapon systems before they were incorporated into the navy's arsenal. During the time, I was also sent to and graduated from staff and command college, where I was a guest lecturer for the duration of my service.

Bella and I had a great time in those days. We had a wide circle of friends with whom we enjoyed weekend trips, family outings, and parties. Then I got my first call from the guess in the security service. I guessed it was Mossad or something similar, and I went through a long and strenuous series of tests before more information about the job was forthcoming. Ultimately, I learned that I was being considered for a "combatant" position, which would mean that I'd be separated from Bella and the kids for long periods of time. I declined, and after numerous attempts to persuade me, some of which bordered on harassment, they finally accepted my refusal.

In 1982, I left the navy and started a video magazine that was the first of it's kind in Israel. Like many firsts, it was a flop (the country's being embroiled right then in what was later known as the Lebanese quagmire didn't help). After that, I started a small stained-glass business. I was taking classes in computer programming, since I believed that was the wave of the future.

At that point, the Mossad came calling again. This time they made it clear that long separations from my family were not what they had in mined. I entered a second round of testing that was to last nearly a year.

While I was still working in my Stain-glass shop in Herzelia, I was approached by two men I'd gotten to know in my dealings with the video magazine. They were the manufacturers of the plastic casings in which the videocassettes were sold, and I'd done some graphic work for them. As it turned out, one of them, Itsik Zarug, was well connected in the Israeli underworld. He approached me on behalf of some of his friends, asking me to take part in a scam to forge large numbers of credit cards -Visa MasterCard and the like. He handed several stolen cards, telling me they wanted similar ones made.

I called a friend of mine, an attorney in Tel Aviv who was a former soldier of mine in the military police. I asked him to make contact with the police for me. I didn't want to put a stop to this affair without proper legal protection. My lawyer set up a meeting for me with a police officer named Eitan Golan, the head of the fraud department in Tel Aviv. I gave him all the information. He asked me if I'd be willing to work for the police undercover on a volunteer basis, and I agreed as long as my name would be kept out of it (I was already being tested for the Mossad).

Several months later, the entire ring was captured and sent to jail. The papers reported that the police had obtained the help of a graphic designer, but my name was not mentioned. The Mossad security department managed to squelch any police efforts to get me to testify. I was now under the aegis of the Mossad, a member of the elite team, a protector of the state. My life would never be the same.

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