From Fire Into Fire

by Normandie Fischer

  “But they hate Americans,” she said.

  David agreed. And the idea of learning Arabic while also trying to earn a living sounded just oh-so-fun. “Arabic has a different alphabet. A completely different alphabet.”

  “You speak Hebrew,” Eli said, “and many words are the same. You’ll pick it up easily enough. And the people we’re talking about don’t hate Arab-Americans. As a matter of fact, they recruit people from the States and try to lure them away from the liberal way of life and the trappings of Western civilization. If you’re willing to help us, there are a few things that we’ll need to put in place soon.”

  The logistics seemed overwhelming. Granted, they needed to get out of the line of fire of any crazies who made it across the Atlantic. But Lebanon? David shook his head. “Lebanon isn’t a place I want to visit, much less take a baby. This just won’t work for us.”

  Eli held out his hand to stop the words. “No one wants to send you in while the civil war rages, but it won’t last forever. We’re thinking years down the road. Years for you to prepare. All we’d need from you at this point is a willingness to begin the process. We can use you in the States once things are in place.”

  “What does ‘begin the process’ mean?” Meira asked. “What would you want from us?”

  “Submit to a name change, a relocation.”

  “Explain,” David said.

  “If you agree to help, we’ll supply you with new passports, a new job, a language tutor, and a home in another city. You would become Da’oud and Mirah Rasad.” He spelled Meira’s Arabic name.

  David wondered how much the death of his parents had influenced Avram’s choice when he’d sent Eli here. “Was Meira’s safety the only reason you picked us? Or did it have anything to do with my having no family left outside of Israel?”

  Eli shrugged. “I’m sure that weighed in the discussions. But the main issue is the safety of your entire family. Our solution takes care of that.”

  “Maybe in the short term,” Meira said, “but how would we get back into Israel? How would I visit my parents?”

  “Any way we look at this, there are going to be difficulties and compromises. You’re no longer safe as Meira and David Rassadim. But as Da’oud and Mirah Rasad, you’d have freedom of movement. The logistics could be managed, just as your father managed their living arrangements.”

  David stood abruptly and paced to the patio’s edge before turning to glare at his cousin. “There’s bound to be some law about impersonating someone—and if there isn’t, there should be—and there’s bound to be one that forbids U.S. citizens from working for a foreign country.”

  Eli’s chuckle sounded smug. “Well, no. The only issue would be if you worked against U.S. interests or involved yourself in a conflict against the United States. The faction in your government I mentioned earlier? There are people at the highest levels who want a safe Middle East in which the Jewish homeland can prosper and survive, and they have approved this program.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” David said.

  “What can I say? Except to note that they’ve promised to cover those who are part of this ultra-secret program.”

  David looked over at Meira, whose squint probably matched his, although he couldn’t see it in the dim light. “Do you trust them?” she asked him.

  “About as far as I can spit,” David said.

  “That’s what I’m thinking.”

  Eli cleared his throat. “If they fail to protect you, we will.”

  “If you could protect us, we wouldn’t be having this discussion,” David said.

  Meira stood. “Eli, may I get you anything else before we call it a night?”

  “No, thank you. I know you’re tired, as I am. Perhaps you will think about my proposal?”

  David nodded. “We’ll promise to consider it. Now, do you think you’ll be able to find your way back to your hotel in the dark?”

  “I should. You want to go over the turns I’ll have to make before I get to a highway?”

  “It’ll be easier if I just lead you out to the main road,” David said, grabbing his keys off the entry table. “Once you’re on it, you won’t have any trouble getting to the interstate and your exit.”

  “I would be very grateful.” He turned to Meira. “Thank you so much for your hospitality. We will speak again.”

  “Bivakasha,” Meira said. “You’re welcome.”

  David leaned in to kiss her. “Be right back.”

  They’d resolved nothing. Yes, they needed to hide. But to head into danger, even if that danger were years away?

  They were getting ready for bed when Tony woke, fussing. “I’ll get him,” Meira said. “It’s probably that tooth.”

  “You need help?”

  “I’ll give him something if he has a fever and rock him until he settles.”

  Rocking their snuggly boy helped settle his parents, too. If Tony woke later, David would take a turn. After all, it was only fair that he get in some baby time.

  Before long, he heard Meira’s sweet voice singing a lullaby, and he smiled to himself.

  When the phone rang, he reached across the bed to grab the receiver and listened while Eli spoke. Then he walked into the baby’s room.

  “Eli thinks someone may have followed him to his hotel.”

  13

  Tony

  His dad stood. “I need a break. And food.”

  Tony’s mouth fell open. “You can’t quit. Not there. Not with a bad guy showing up.”

  Mom headed toward the hall. “First dibs on the bathroom.”

  Dad laughed. “I’ll go forage. Cheese okay?”

  “That works,” she said over her shoulder. “Don’t forget the pickles.”

  Tony’s stomach rumbled at the mention of food. Fine, if he had to wait for answers, he’d eat.

  “Come help spread the bread.” Dad waved him toward the kitchen.

  “It’s not fair. You know the ending. I mean, I get it. You’re alive, but did you get shot at? Were there guns?”

  “Food first,” his dad said. “Patience.”

  Patience. Great. He hated someone telling him that, like he could just will himself not to want answers or to wait for something.

  What about that Eli person? Was he dead?

  Nah. He seemed like the sorta guy who got other people killed. Not himself.

  See, there were too many questions. If these Popular Front guys were Palestinians, that made them Arabs. Arabs, like Bahir and his family. Like the kids in school. Like his teachers. And Mr. Munir at the grocery. And what about Mr. Faisal, who took care of their building? Or Wafa and Madg, Mr. Faisal’s daughters?

  Tony’s friends.

  He knew there were bad guys and good guys everywhere, but not like this. His friends in Lebanon would never try to kill his mom and dad just because his mom had seen something that got a bad guy shot.

  Maybe the PFLP was like the mob. The Mafia was a bunch of Italians who killed people, but not all Italians were in the mob, and not all were bad.

  Okay. That made sense. A few bad guys gave the rest a bad name.

  Only, how come his parents didn’t get that?

  He dipped the spreading knife into the mayo. He and his mom liked mayo and mustard. His dad only liked mustard. He slathered some on the bread his dad had put on the plates, one slice and then the next.

  “Dad, are you gonna keep lying to Dr. Ramah and his wife?”

  “Bahir’s parents?” His father opened a jar of pickles and started slicing them. “Why don’t we talk about that after you’ve heard the whole story? Can we do that?”

  “It’s not right. You won’t say, so that means you’re gonna.”

  “It means we’ll talk about it later. Put cheese on one side of the bread while I get the lettuce washed.”

  “Dr. Ramah is your friend.”

  “I know. He’s a good man.”

  “But you don’t trust him.”

  “It’s not that. Nasri a
nd Hala are good people who hate evil and violence as much as we do.”

  Mom walked in, and he could tell she’d heard because she took the lettuce from dad and didn’t say anything.

  “Mom, you hang out with Mrs. Ramah. How can you do that and look her in the face, saying you’re somebody you’re not?”

  She turned and leaned her back against the counter. “It’s not spoken, honey. I don’t stand there and lie to her face. Yes, she assumes things about me that aren’t true, and I don’t fix that…”

  Suddenly, her eyes looked really sad and a little scared, and her sigh was loud. “Maybe we’ve asked too much of you. Maybe we shouldn’t have assumed you were old enough to understand.”

  He stared at her. What did she mean? She wished they’d kept on lying to him? “You think you shouldn’t have told me yet?” His voice hit a high note and made a squeak, but he didn’t care.

  “No, of course not. I’m just worrying out loud.”

  “I’m old enough to know the truth. I always was.”

  “Oh, sweetie. Try to trust us, will you?”

  Yeah, easy for her to say. But right now? Hard to do. Really hard to do.

  Going along with them would destroy his whole life.

  14

  Meira

  1983

  Had someone actually followed Eli, or was that a spy’s overactive imagination at work? David hadn’t seen anything out of the ordinary when he’d led Eli out of town.

  “Stay in here, will you,” he asked her. “Try to keep the baby calm and quiet?”

  “What about you? What are you going to do?”

  “Check the locks and turn out the inside lights. I’ll make sure the outside’s illuminated, but that leaves the sides of the house vulnerable, so stay away from the windows—even if it’s dark in here.”

  “Your gun?”

  The idea that they might need a gun here in rural Virginia appalled her. Yes, they’d followed her father’s advice that they both be armed, but the pistols were locked away, untouched except when they went to the range once a week to keep their skills honed.

  “I’m getting them both. You need yours at the ready, too.”

  “Oh, David.” This was just too much. Why was it happening now, and why here? She wished she could blame David’s cousin for leading someone to the house. “What will Eli do?”

  “Call it in, but if he follows the chain of command, that’s a lot of people between him and any help for us.”

  So they’d sit here, waiting for something to happen? That sounded worse than risking a departure. “Why don’t we go to a motel?”

  “If anyone’s out there, we’d be more vulnerable than if we stay here.”

  “I wish it were daylight.”

  David looked at his watch. “It will be in about seven hours.”

  “Thanks.” Seven hours to worry and watch and wait. She looked down at her sleeping son. “I’ll put him back in bed and watch over him.”

  “Be right back.”

  She listened to her husband’s footsteps move through the house as he checked windows and doors. When he returned, he set her revolver along with a box of ammunition on the table next to her chair. Then he took a flashlight from his pocket. “New batteries. I’ll be in the living room.”

  With Tony asleep in his crib, she curled up in the big rocking chair. And then she waited.

  The loaded gun at her side didn’t give her peace. Yes, they might need to protect themselves in a world that still wanted to annihilate their kind, but neither she nor David had ever wanted to have their gun-handling knowledge put to the test in a real life situation. And yet here they were.

  She’d impressed the men at the range with her ability to get the job done and all her shots clustered in the black, with several in the bull’s eye. Sometimes she even beat David’s efforts, which brought raucous laughter from the guys who thought it cool that this little Israeli woman could shoot better than her strong, tall, ex-military husband, whose marksmanship made him formidable.

  Other women didn’t seem to frequent the range. Perhaps the men went home and told their wives about their neighbor the sharpshooter, the woman, the foreigner. No wonder they stared at her and never invited her over. She was too different. Which would make it easy for someone to find and target her. Them. Her baby.

  Every dog’s bark set her pulse soaring. A twig snapped outside her window, but would the sound of footsteps penetrate the glass panes?

  No one looking in could see the rocker or the crib, but she had an angled view toward the yard. And so she watched.

  When she felt her eyelids begin to close, she stood and walked to the crib. She touched her son’s cheeks. They were still cool.

  David must have heard her stirring. His whisper came from the doorway. “You okay? Need anything?”

  “No, thanks.”

  Floorboards creaked even after she’d heard the sound of sagging springs in their old couch, long after there should have been only silence. She heard them and knew someone was sneaking in to get her, to hurt her baby, to destroy them all.

  Was that plop-plop only water dripping in the basin?

  That was definitely metal on metal. You couldn’t miss metal on metal.

  She grabbed the arms of the chair, and, instead of staring out at the night, she focused on the doorway. She should grab her gun, have it ready.

  Tony fussed. Oh, baby, don’t, she whispered soundlessly.

  If someone walked the hall, he’d have gotten David first. He’d have to get past David, and no one would get past David, would they?

  Maybe her husband had fallen asleep. Maybe it was all up to her now.

  Please, Adonai, don’t let David be hurt. Or worse.

  She couldn’t just sit here. What if her baby woke up? What if she were the only one between him and a madman?

  She picked up her gun, checked the cylinder, and stood as carefully, as quietly as possible, before she tiptoed to the door. Listening, she eased out into the silent hall.

  A soft snore came from the couch. She smiled. Not wounded, then.

  Doing a walk-through of the house, checking out the windows, took a while. By the time she’d finished, she heard a snuffling from the nursery. She headed back to the sanctuary of her boy’s room, set the gun within reach, and lifted Tony before his mumbles could turn into a full-fledged cry.

  She changed him and gave him another dose of pain killer/fever reducer so he’d sleep at least another four hours. Whispering sweet nothings, she returned to the rocker with him nuzzled against her chest.

  In spite of the fear that continued to hover, her body settled into the peace that filled her when she held her baby close. She’d do anything to keep him safe.

  Anything.

  15

  David

  1983

  The bark or snort or whatever noise his throat made—or was that his nose?—startled him awake. For a moment, he couldn’t remember why he was on the couch, his neck at a crick-inducing angle, instead of in his bed.

  And then he glanced down. His gun rested near his thigh.

  The dim light of dawn filtered through the uncurtained windows. He listened, waiting.

  There it was, the soft creak of the rocker on the carpeted bedroom floor, whispered words from the back bedroom. He cleared his throat so he wouldn’t startle Meira and headed in the direction of the nursery.

  The sight that met him was one he’d never tire of. It made his heart catch, the beauty of his wife cradling their nursing son. David leaned against the doorjamb.

  “Good morning,” she whispered.

  “Did you get any rest at all?”

  She nodded. “I did. Not much, but enough.”

  “Good thing my vigilance wasn’t needed.”

  Grinning, she said, “Good thing.”

  “Was I making a lot of noise?”

  “No, not until that snort, which obviously woke you. I did a couple of walk-arounds when I thought I heard a bogeyman in the hall. It w
as just my imagination working overtime.”

  “I’ll go fix coffee, then maybe take a check outside after I’m fortified.”

  “I could use a cup.”

  Tony raised his head to give his father a toothy grin.

  “Those teeth look like they could do some damage. He’s not biting you?”

  Meira laughed. “He tried once. I discouraged him, and he hasn’t since.”

  “Good thing.”

  They sipped their coffee while Tony played with his crib toys. And they tried to decide what to do next.

  “You don’t think he’s found us, do you?” she asked.

  “My guess is not yet. If he had, he’d have tried something last night.”

  “But just in case?”

  “We’ll check things out and make a few plans. We still don’t know who, if anyone, followed Eli to the hotel.”

  “You think it could have involved something other than us—me—and that vendetta?”

  “I hope so. Hope it has nothing to do with us.”

  “I’m hoping it was his overactive imagination.”

  David smiled over the rim of his cup. “You and me both.”

  “You want a bagel?” Meira asked.

  “We have any eggs? I need protein.”

  She sliced a bagel and dropped it in the toaster. Then she got out eggs and a bowl, whipped up five, added seasonings, and sprinkled in some grated cheddar before folding the omelet. While it browned and the cheese melted, she slid the bagels on a plate, brought out cream cheese and strawberry jam, and refilled their cups.

  “Smells wonderful,” he told her when she handed over his share, the hefty, loaded-with-cheese portion of the omelet.

  The doorbell rang as she was serving herself. “Da-vid.” Her voice rippled with fear.

  “Stay here.” He picked up his gun, walked into the front hall, and called through the door. “Yes?”