by Andrew Watts
At least he kept up a healthy relationship with them both. He paid for Ava’s boarding school in the US and sent a stipend to her mother. He was a good man, Ava thought. Even if he hadn’t approved of her desire to pursue music. She knew he cared for her. Although she was never really close enough to know him beyond his walled exterior.
“Are you nervous?” her mother asked.
Ava realized she had been bouncing her knee under the table. She stopped. “I’m fine.”
Her mother said, “Relax. If you are serious about him, your father would have to meet him eventually anyway.”
“I know . . .”
“Although I can’t see you being serious with a Goy.” Her mother’s eyes glimmered.
Ava cast her mother a warning look. “Please don’t keep calling him that.”
“Why not? He won’t know what it means.”
Ava shook her head, sighing.
An SUV pulled up to the curb and a pair of security guards wearing suits and sunglasses got out. One of the men opened the rear door and her father stepped out.
Heinrich Klein was of average height, lean, and tanned. He had intelligent eyes. His hair was thinning and brown, and he wore expensive business-casual attire appropriate for the warm weather of Israel’s coast.
Ava stood, as did her mother. He embraced both women, kissing his daughter on the cheek. His manner was always tense. The relationship was cordial, one of kindness, loyalty, and respect, but not overly close. Ava knew only a little of what her father did for a living. He was financially successful enough to travel by personal jet and always had at least two security guards with him. His work dealt with both technology and investments.
She was much more familiar with his demanding attitude toward her studies. He was not happy with her decision to take a year off between college and her next phase, whatever that turned out to be. He saw her love of performing music as a childish pursuit. And she was worried he wouldn’t want her to follow around some American sailor, throwing away her talents for silly young love.
So, she wouldn’t tell him all of that. Instead, she would merely introduce him to her new American friend. It was the minimum requirement, she told herself. Whether he would recognize it for what it was remained to be seen.
The three of them sat at the table, catching up. One of her father’s security men positioned himself just out of earshot, standing by the nearest street corner. The other security guard was somewhere in the market across the street.
A waiter came over and Ava’s father ordered a mineral water. When he left, Ava’s father said, “So I understand I have arrived at an opportune moment.”
Ava reddened. “Please be kind to him.”
Heinrich said, “A quick, merciful judgment.”
“See, Ava? He promises to make the slaughter quick,” her mother said.
They ordered a plate of olives and hummus, then spoke about the usual things: Ava’s future plans, her mother’s relatives, their shared local friends, and her father’s travel. The minutes went by, but still no Colt.
“When will he be here?” her father asked, checking his watch.
“Soon, I think,” Ava replied. She checked her phone again. No messages or calls. He was a few minutes late. Perhaps he had trouble getting off the ship again? If that was the case, she wished he would call.
A van was honking its horn down the block. Ava saw her father’s security man snap his head in that direction and begin speaking into his earpiece. They were always overly cautious. Ava had gotten used to it over the years. Once her father had taken her to a play in New York City and one of his security men had actually slammed a bothersome street peddler up against a brick wall for getting too close to her.
“Would you like some more drinks? Or are you ready to order?” the waiter asked.
“I’ll take another water,” Ava said. “We’ll wait to order.”
Ava checked her watch again. Colt should have arrived by now. She could see the impatience on her father’s face. The tardiness made her second-guess her optimism. Was she being ridiculous about the whole relationship? Moving too quickly with a man she had met only a few months earlier? Maybe Colt wasn’t as perfect as she had hoped and it was just young desire, projecting the image she wanted to see.
More honking from down the block. Her father looked up, frowning.
Her new sense of doubt grew as she kept up conversation with her parents, avoiding any talk of her singing. She tried to keep noncommittal on her master’s degree plans. As the minutes went by, Ava knew this first meeting would forever paint Colt as undependable in their minds. They would never approve. She cursed herself. She should have made it more clear how important this was. Or maybe she shouldn’t have pushed it so soon. Or realized he wasn’t what she was pining for.
“Where is your horse?” asked her mother.
Ava stood, annoyed. “Let me give him a call.”
She rose from the table and walked inside the café. Behind her a diesel motor grumbled. Brakes screeched. She walked deeper into the café, turning at the noise. A food delivery truck had just stopped in front of the restaurant.
The interior was dark and she just barely missed running into a waitress carrying a food tray. Ava squinted as she typed a text message to Colt and pressed send, but she got an error message. No signal. So annoying. Ava looked up when she heard shouting in the street outside. Her father’s security guard was arguing with the truck driver. Ava and everyone else in the café were staring at the commotion.
Then the passenger in the truck opened his door and ran away, morbid fear in his eyes.
The café went dead silent.
Ava’s survival instincts pricked up.
A patron stood from the table beside Ava, knocking over his glass while frantically pulling his wife along with him.
She realized her father’s security guard was kneeling on the ground, clutching his stomach.
Blood on his hands as he looked up.
The second security guard was now hunched over him, looking at Ava’s father, shouting. Then the rattle of gunfire in the distance, followed by screams.
“Get out!” someone in the café shouted, and then people were scrambling, bumping into each other.
Ava’s first thought was to rush to her parents. She could see her mother’s long dark hair, streaked with gray. Her father standing up. The restaurant’s guests raced past Ava and out the back door of the café. Someone placed an arm around her and threw her into the kitchen behind a steel refrigerator.
Then a booming explosion sucked all the air from the room.
Shrapnel tore through fleeing civilians, smoke and flesh and fire.
Everything went to shreds.
And everything went dark.
Ava awoke in a hospital bed a day later. A nurse informed her that both of her parents were dead. The nurse cried, but Ava didn’t. The doctor told her she was in shock. She was bruised and concussed, but she would recover soon. Physically.
Two of her college friends came to see her. They flew from the US as soon as they found out she was in the hospital. They were both a bawling mess before long, but Ava barely spoke to them and they went home two days later. She didn’t want to see them. She was still numb.
A day before she was to be released from the hospital, a woman came to visit her. Ava recognized the face but had trouble placing a name to it.
“Good morning, Ava. May I come in?”
“Aunt Samantha. Yes, of course.”
Samantha Klein was her father’s sister. Ava had met her fewer than five times in her entire life, most recently at her father’s home in the Hamptons two Christmases ago. Aunt Samantha was, like her father, of dual US-Israeli citizenship.
She pulled a chair close to Ava’s bed and spoke softly in Hebrew. “I am so sorry that this happened.” Her aunt’s face looked worn and tired.
“Thank you.”
“I have made funeral arrangements for your father, and I have been in contact with you
r mother’s sister. She is doing the same for your mother. I will make sure you are taken care of, Ava.”
She nodded. “Thank you.”
They sat in silence for a while. Aunt Samantha seemed comfortable just sitting there. The hum of hospital equipment and an old air-conditioning unit sputtered along.
Ava almost forgot she was there, until her aunt whispered, “Did you see the men who did this?”
She felt a wave of anger. Shaking her head, Ava said, “I was in the back of the café. I couldn’t—”
“It’s okay, dear. It’s okay.”
“I only know what they said on the news. A terrorist group.”
Her aunt patted the white hospital sheets covering her legs. “Yes.”
“Why would they go after my father?”
Aunt Samantha glanced at the empty doorway and then turned back to look at Ava. She cocked her head, the same way Ava’s all-knowing boarding school instructors did when they were explaining something they felt was too adult for the children.
“Your father was a powerful man.”
Ava said, “On the radio, one of the news reports implied he had ties to Mossad.”
Her aunt didn’t answer.
“Is that true?” asked Ava.
Aunt Samantha looked down at the ground. “Let us speak of this another time.”
Ava sighed, resting her head back on the pillow.
“They say you are free to leave tomorrow. Do you have anyone to take you home?”
“I believe my mother’s sister—”
“I will take you.”
The next morning, Aunt Samantha walked Ava out of the hospital and drove her to Tel Aviv. Ava cracked the window open when they got off the main road, relishing the fresh air, the scent of the sea. This was her home, even if she’d spent most of her formative years in America. But now she had no mother to live with. And she felt lost.
Aunt Samantha said, “What will you do when you are rested and healthy?”
“I don’t know.” There were boys playing in the street. Without thinking, Ava put the window back up.
Aunt Samantha’s voice was gentle but firm. “You are afraid. And angry.”
“Of course I am.”
“May I ask you something? Are you angry at the men who did this?”
Ava turned toward her aunt.
Aunt Samantha glanced at her, and then continued looking forward while she drove.
“What do you mean?”
Her aunt said, “You asked about a news story concerning your father. It mentioned our country’s intelligence service.”
“Our country?” Ava was born in the US.
“Israel.” Aunt Samantha’s eyes darkened. “You are an Israeli citizen. Is this not your country?”
“I . . .” Ava paused. “I’ve always considered myself an American. I haven’t spent much time here.” In truth, she had made sure to spend less than one month per year in Israel to make sure she maintained her exemption from military service.
“Well, you are also a citizen of Israel.”
“What does this have to do with my father?”
“What if it were true? About him being involved with the Institute for Intelligence and Special Operations? That is the official name, you know.”
“Is it true?”
“If it were, would that make you any more interested in serving your country in the same fashion?”
Ava blinked. “Why are you asking me this?”
Her aunt shrugged, turning the wheel as they made their way into a neighborhood. “Just a thought.”
Ava stared at her aunt’s face, which didn’t reveal much.
“I am interested.”
Her aunt said, “You will never get your parents back, Ava. And no matter what you do, nothing will solve the way you feel. This wouldn’t be about revenge.”
Ava said, “I understand.”
“Would you still like to hear more?”
“Yes.” The spark of purposefulness formed inside her.
They pulled up to the curb outside her dead mother’s house. Her mother’s sister was waiting by the door. Aunt Samantha said, “I can’t promise anything. Very few are selected. But if they choose you . . . it is a very noble calling.”
“How do you know?” Ava asked.
Her aunt waved away the question. “Don’t tell anyone what we spoke of here.”
The phone call came two weeks later.
“Is this Ava Klein?”
“It is, who is this?”
“Your name was provided for a possible job opening with the Prime Minister’s Office. Are you available to come in for some tests and fill out questionnaires?”
At first Ava had no idea what the person was talking about. She was about to tell them they had made a mistake when the conversation with her aunt came back to her.
“Yes. Yes, I am available.”
Two days later she found herself in a government office answering computer questionnaires about her life and psychological makeup.
Ava was always a good test taker. And this was just another test. She figured that Mossad wanted their operatives to fit a certain psychological profile. Someone who was open to taking risks, but was also a very good decision maker. She figured Mossad would want them to be brave, patriotic, loyal, and intelligent. That last part couldn’t be faked, but Ava had it in spades. Part of the test involved reasoning: solving puzzles of shapes and patterns. Mathematical problems. The second part of the test was a psychological questionnaire. But for Ava, they were both reasoning tests. In both instances, she identified the answer they would want her to choose. As the test went on, she became more and more confident she would receive a job offer.
The tests were just the beginning, however.
Two days later she was asked to come in for more questions, these ones not on a computer. Ava was hooked up to a polygraph and a man wearing unfashionable eyeglasses proceeded to ask her questions for the next two hours. He asked her everything. Drug use. Sexual habits. Any crimes she hadn’t been caught for yet?
By the end of it, she was red-faced and decidedly less confident in her decision to apply to the Institute. The man questioning her thanked her with an impassive face and told her she would hear from them if they needed anything else. A full week went by and she hadn’t heard a thing.
Then an email came.
It was from Colt.
Ava’s heart skipped a beat when she read it.
She hadn’t responded to any of the previous three emails. She hadn’t been ready. She had been so downtrodden and consumed by her parents’ deaths she couldn’t bring herself to write him back.
Colt’s explanation for why he had missed the meal that day was reasonable. The loss of her parents had numbed any sense of young love she felt prior to the incident. Ava didn’t harbor any anger toward him. She wasn’t sure what she felt anymore. It was easier to be alone with her despair and anger.
But reading this email now—and with the knowledge she likely hadn’t gotten the job with Mossad—she warmed to the idea of seeing Colt again. She learned he had just arrived home in the United States. His deployment was finished, and she was surprised to learn he would be getting out of the Navy within a few months. He had some type of terminal leave vacation he could take, and he wanted to know if he could fly out to visit her.
The idea was enthralling. Maybe that was exactly what she needed. She began typing a response but stopped as the phone rang.
“Hello?”
“Is this Ava Klein?”
“Yes.”
“Congratulations. You have been selected for our next class of recruits.”
She listened as the man informed her she had been selected for Mossad, although he never said the name of the organization. He also told her she wasn’t to discuss her new job with anyone. A bus would leave from Tel Aviv on Friday. They would have paperwork waiting.
She thanked him and hung up.
Ava looked at the email she had drafted to Colt, h
er cursor hanging over the send button.
It had been eight weeks since her parents had been killed. Her training to become a Mossad officer would last for the next two years.
She moved her cursor and clicked to delete the email. Then she shut down her computer, staring at the blank screen.
That part of her life was over.
36
Present Day
The train came to a halt in Naples. Colt felt his phone buzz. Another Trinity message. He turned to look at the other passengers in his car. Several had heads down in their phones as well. So far, he knew three buyer identities. Ava for Israel. Liu for China. Petrov for Russia.
There were a few others he thought he’d seen in the hotel. They were either corporate buyers or part of the Russian “extras,” testing Trinity’s security.
Colt looked at his phone and read the message. Ava was already done reading. “One night in Naples. Then an early wakeup. No hotel listed this time.”
“Wonder why?”
“They probably knew some of us were going to get competitive. It isn’t a good idea to put us too close. Well, some of us.” She stared at him, a provocative look in her eyes.
For all the anger and frustration Colt felt, those eyes still caused a stirring in him. A glimmer of hope for what might lie ahead.
But a part of his mind called out a warning. He couldn’t help thinking she may be trying to use him still. At least she had told him the truth about Haifa. He didn’t have to always wonder if it was his fault. He felt relieved and realized he had been angry at himself about that for a very long time. When he was young, he told himself there would be others like her. But there weren’t.
They decided to catch a cab together and stay at the same hotel. “We’ll work better as a team,” she said.
“You’re probably right.”
The cab ride was a death-defying trip through roundabouts and busy streets in downtown Naples. The cabdrivers all drove like they were trying out for Formula One, if the competition gave additional points for shouting and hand gestures. Ava found a boutique hotel that looked safe and had good visibility and exit routes if there was any trouble. They walked inside and she said, “Let’s just get one room.” Colt didn’t argue.