The Celestial Gate

by Avital Dicker

  “Remember that the tunnels are booby-trapped,” Mor whispered. “If the briefcase blows up in one of the tunnels, all of Jerusalem might go up in flames.”

  Yam nodded in understanding. “Maybe we can blow up two birds with one boom,” he whispered back.

  Ido looked at the clock and put the coffee down on the table. “I’m sorry to do this, but time isn’t on our side,” he said.

  “He doesn’t know the half of it,” Mor muttered out of the side of his mouth.

  “I understand that you have a map of the underground city,” Ido continued.

  “Are you talking about the ancient map?” Yam asked, all innocent. Ido nodded.

  Mor drew Anise aside and whispered in her ear. The idea of going back into the tunnels made Anise quake, but she knew the boys were right. They weren’t finished yet. “You think it’ll work?” she asked tensely.

  Mor shrugged. “It better,” he muttered.

  “Hmm. The map…” said Yam to Ido, scratching his head. “We lost it during one of the explosions.”

  Ido looked at Yam with suspicion. “May I?” he asked, pointing at Yam’s backpack.

  “Sure,” Yam answered.

  Ido opened the backpack and emptied it onto the table.

  “Ido, is this really necessary?” Amalia was annoyed. Ido looked at her long and hard, and then turned to face the boy, tossing the empty bag back at him. Amalia’s heart gave a lurch when she saw the pain in his eyes. He doesn’t deserve it, she thought. Ido, the capable, the smart, who was always there for her. He could have been the perfect partner, but she was still in love with Yoav even though he didn’t deserve another chance. Yoav and Yam were her whole world.

  Discreetly, Yam felt around in his pocket. Yes, the map was still there. He breathed his relief. Then, “We can show you the way if you want,” he offered offhandedly. “We know the tunnels by heart; we were down there for days.”

  “Absolutely not!” Amalia was the first to protest. “You’re not going back.”

  “We didn’t have a chance to tell you,” Anise broke in calmly, “but we captured two terrorists. They’re down there right now. I’m pretty sure they can give you all the information you need.”

  “What? I… All right, where did you leave them?” Ido asked.

  “They’re in one of the oldest tunnels. We can take you there,” Mor chimed in.

  Ido knew he’d been bested. In all good conscience, he couldn’t send an entire unit into an underground deathtrap without knowing where they were going. “Fine,” he finally conceded.

  Yam looked at the clock again. It was already eleven-thirty. They really needed to get going. “OK, let’s move,” he said.

  “Nobody is going anywhere,” said a resolute Sual and marched up to stand between them. “These kids have been through enough.”

  “Mom, we’ll be back,” Anise said to Sual, projecting as much confidence as she could into her voice and eyes. Sual looked back at her daughter. How much you’ve grown these last few days, she thought proudly. The last remnants of Anise’s childhood were gone. In place of a girl was a brave, determined young woman.

  Theo put a hand on Sual’s shoulder. “Let them go,” he said softly.

  “Only on condition they wear cameras and we sit in the control room to watch every move,” Amalia laid down the terms.

  Ido nodded. “I promise to set them up with helmet cameras,” he said, taking the parents to the improvised control room.

  Three soldiers sat facing eight screens, each of which showed a different battle zone. “You’ll be able to see everything on the screens in real-time,” Ido told the parents before leaving the room.

  One of the soldiers invited Theo, Sual, and Amalia to sit. “They’ll be here,” he said, pointing at the central screen.

  Outside, Yam, Anise, and Mor got into the Jeep and Ido held helmets out to them. The way to the gate passed in tense silence. Several hundred yards from the gate, Ido turned the engine off while Yam turned his helmet camera on. “This way,” said Anise to Ido, and walked toward the tunnel entrance.

  Ido insisted on being the first down. Only after having secured the area did he motion for them to follow him.

  Anise took the lead, navigating the tunnel system that branched off in different directions. “We were down here long enough,” she said, in answer to Ido’s silent look of astonishment.

  A few minutes later, Anise stopped next to the tree trunk in the ancient underground plaza. Seeing the stunned soldiers behind her, she smiled. Mor found the point on the wall and pressed it. As it had done before, the rock wall slid quietly to one side.

  Ido’s jaw dropped. “That’s how we felt when we first saw this place,” Mor laughed. “Shalom and salaam,” he merrily greeted the two men who were still bound together in a corner, “you have guests.”

  “This man is the ISIS cell leader,” Ido said, surprised, as he looked at the Arab man, still not believing his eyes. “We’ve been looking for him for a very long time. And this Jew – well, he’s familiar to us as well. He’s a suspect in at least three arson attacks.”

  Sual was staring intently at the screen as the soldiers removed the two terrorists from the ancient room.

  “Look at our children,” she said to Theo with pride.

  Amalia, too, was looking at the video captured by Yam’s helmet camera. On the right-hand screen, where the soldiers surrounding the terrorists were visible, she was the only one to notice that Mor and Anise had used the opportunity to sneak out of the room. Mor held a silver-colored suitcase and both were running quickly. Amalia was torn but finally decided not to say anything. Several minutes passed before Ido, focused on the captives, noticed that the kids had disappeared. Despite her own nerves, Amalia had to laugh at the stream of curses coming from Ido’s mouth. “Take these two out,” he ordered, and then kicked the wall in frustration.

  The three arrived at the junction breathing hard. “The Gate of Mercy is on the right,” said Mor and turned to go down the alley.

  Yam looked at the suitcase and then at the tunnel walls covered in electrical wiring and bundles of explosives. “Look, it’s all booby-trapped,” he muttered.

  Anise looked at her watch. Eleven fifty. “We only have ten minutes,” she whispered.

  The three looked at one another.

  “Are we sure?” Yam asked.

  “They’re only stones,” Anise answered.

  “Those stones are holy to three major religions all fighting over them,” Mor said.

  “So, it’s either stones or hundreds of thousands of people dying when the tunnels blow up,” Mor added.

  “Human lives or stones. What do we decide?” said Anise, and the three exchanged looks once again. Her watch now showed eleven fifty-eight. “From the moment I turn this on, we have less than a minute to get out,” said Yam.

  “Let’s do this,” Anise smiled. “Let’s get it over and done with. I’m hungry.”

  “Let me disconnect the wires,” said Mor. “Anise, keep watch from above.”

  Yam turned the laptop on and quickly struck some keys. He looked at Mor worried. “It’s complicated. I’m not totally sure, but I think you have to cut the red one. Wait… maybe the blue?”

  “You think?” Mor whispered. “Considering the fact that my life depends on it, I’d be happier if you were a little surer of yourself.” He looked at the wires stretching the length of the walls. Sweat beading on his forehead, he brought his penknife close to the red wire.

  “Wait!” Yam yelled as the knife touched the red one. Mor froze.

  “Not the red, the green,” said Yam softly.

  “For both our sakes, I really hope you’re right,” said Mor. His hand shook, and the sweat was now getting in his eyes. He moved the blade carefully. It felt as if time had stopped. The palm of his hand was moist and the knife started to slip, stopp
ing only half an inch from the red wire. Then, with a sharp, smooth motion, he cut the green wire and breathed in relief.

  “What are they doing?” Ido screamed from the central screen at soldiers in the control room.

  “They’re talking about a bomb, commander,” said one of them.

  They looked at Mor’s face now filling the right-hand screen. “I know you can see us,” he said, looking straight into the camera. “It was a difficult decision,” he continued. “In another two minutes, the bomb in the suitcase is going to blow up. The tunnels are booby-trapped. If the suitcase blows up inside, the explosives in here will go off and tens if not hundreds of thousands of people will die.” He stopped to take a deep breath. “Our choice was between saving the holy sites or the lives of hundreds of thousands of people. We decided that human life is most holy. No stone is worth killing or dying for. After all, the Bible says, ‘Thou shalt not make unto thee a graven image, nor any manner of likeness,’” he ended his speech. The screen went blank.

  “Commander, I think you should all take cover,” the control room soldier mumbled to a stunned Ido.

  “Are you ready?” Yam asked Mor.

  Yam’s hand shook. “Now,” he yelled and hit the Enter key on the keyboard.

  Yam held the suitcase and both of them ran up the staircase. Yam flew over the top step, but Mor, a little behind him, stumbled and fell. “Keep going,” Mor yelled to Yam, but Yam had already turned back to help Mor.

  Holding his hand out, Yam said, “Let’s go. Anise is waiting,” and winked at his friend.

  Anise watched both running out of the tunnel. Yam let the suitcase go flying; it landed on the Temple Mount plaza. The three hurried to take cover in the courtyard of one of the nearby houses.

  A ferocious explosion rocked the Old City.

  “God!” the soldier muttered, his face just inches from the screen. “The Temple Mount. The Western Wall. They’re gone.”

  Theo looked at the flames and smoke rising on the screen. “That’s my son,” he said with pride, pulling Sual into an embrace. “Our son,” she corrected him. His lips met hers.

  Yoav looked at Amalia. “My son has taught me a lesson,” he said. Amalia returned his look. “Nothing is going to come between us ever again. I promise,” he whispered, and Amalia slowly put her hand in his.

  Anise looked at the Gate of Mercy. The rocks that had blocked it before had tumbled out, scattered by the force of the explosion. But the other gate remained untouched. The gate is open, she thought with relief, and then looked up. A white cloud, rapidly shifting its shape, was right above her. She thought for a second that old Ali was smiling down at her. “Look,” she said to the boys, pointing upward. All three saw the rainbow whose many colors were shining through the smoke.

  “Stones,” said Mor.

  “Stones,” smiled Yam.

  “Stones,” whispered Anise, looking at her friends with love. She would have to choose between them, she knew, but not now. Not today. We have time, she thought.

  “We chose,” she whispered and thought she saw the white cloud in the sky winking at her.

  Acknowledgements

  I would like to thank all those who supported me so steadfastly even when I was at the breaking point. Without them, this book would never have come to light.

  To all the wonderful people at Am Oved Publishing: Hanital Suissa who saw the potential even when she had to dig deep to find it and supported and understood me with patience and caring to make all this possible. Thank you for your courage; Hagar Yanai for her talent, patience, professionalism, and keen eye that found everything I missed. Thank you for the fruitful dialogue and for tolerating me quietly and with love, even when it was tough; and Hana Loeffler who saw every comma and word and provided incredibly accurate comments.

  Thank you to Eric Kneller for being who he is, which is simply indispensable.

  Thank you to Sigal Getz-Aviv, my beloved friend, for not letting me crack, for our conversations, for infinite support and love, and for reading and rereading and rereading, over and over again, without complaint, providing gentle but accurate critique. I am so lucky you’re in my life.

  Thank you to Dudi Oren who loved, amused, irritated, read, and was there.

  Thank you to my friends David Atias and Naor Cohen who tolerated every picky questions and all the despair.

  And finally, thank you to my family: my mother, Rachel Ben-Porat; my step-father, the late Ami Ben-Porat; my daughters, Nina and Lilo. A special thanks to my father, the late Theodor (Teddy) Dicker – this is for you.

  I cannot thank the Ebookpro team enough for producing the English-language version of this book: first and foremost to the brilliant Benny Carmi, capable of wresting water from the proverbial rock; to Kim Ben-Porat, for her endless patience in guiding me and the book and holding my hand throughout; and to Susann Codish whose dedication to the spirit of the original and respect and love for the written word are infused in every page.