Sami stared down.
“Word from the Jordanian hospital was that a man screamed bloody murder at the hospital staff when he found I’d gone and then at the man who accompanied him. The scene, I’m told, included a threat and a promise of vengeance.”
The head shot up, the eyes still brimful of anger. “That wasn’t Bahir.”
“I believe it was. Who would Achmed hold responsible for my escape? Who would he blame when I lived?” Tony kept his voice calm, but he couldn’t mask his sadness. He’d shed tears, knowing he’d never again have a chance to help Bahir or rescue him from Achmed’s machinations. But Sami was so young. He had to find a way to save him. “I slipped in and out of consciousness when they loaded me on a boat in Aqaba and carried me to Eilat. All this time, I have been with a very kind family who nursed me back to health. I didn’t leave there until three days ago.”
Sami’s protestation sounded much weaker. His “You lie” was only a whisper.
Tony stood. “You’re an intelligent man. Think about that bullet hole in me and the damage it did, then see if you can’t shake the truth out of this mess. If I couldn’t have killed Bahir, who would have reason to?”
51
RINA
While waiting for the marriage paperwork to come through, she studied Judaism with her uncle and learned about the Sabbath preparations and the feast days. She also began a course in Hebrew—with its completely different alphabet—and felt stupid.
But she was proud of Israel when the government finally said enough is enough and initiated Operation Protective Edge. Sirens had been shattering the peace all summer as Hamas shot more and more rockets across the border, sixty-six in thirty separate attacks in June alone. By July 8, Hamas had lobbed two hundred and fifty missiles toward Israeli citizens.
Every time she turned on Adam’s computer to read the English language updates, she tamped down her anger and made room for the latest media outrage. She should have let it go, let it slide off her. But she wasn’t as philosophical as her uncle was.
In the days that followed the operation’s inception, the IDF dropped warning notices into areas of Gaza targeted for bombing, but many civilians ignored them. It seemed they’d been told by Hamas leaders to hold fast, no matter what. As they had so often in the past, the terrorist leaders put their people in harm’s way while Hamas launched rockets from or near hospitals and schools and used these civilian sites to hide the tunnels they’d dug into Israel.
The international media stirred untruths like poison in soup, hoping no one would notice the altered taste of the broth. Israel noticed. So did Israel’s friends.
Adam and Tony not only read about the action, but they also listened to folk who had family on the front lines. The reports from those who were actually in the middle of the action were vastly different from words mouthed into foreign microphones. It made her sick.
Tony had moved in with his cousin Zif after three days on Adam’s couch, but he returned to the house early and left late. He promised he was taking care not to be noticed when he came and went, but she couldn’t help fretting.
She liked Zif, a widower whose only son had been killed on the Lebanese border several years ago. He was a slender man, a little shorter than she, with thinning hair that still held much of its original brown and pale skin that could have used more time outside, and glasses. The glasses covered bags under his eyes until he took them off to clean the lenses. He looked as if he could use some fun in his life as well as sunlight, but perhaps handling people who lied for a living sobered a man. Even if the lies they told were for a good cause.
The afternoon Adam returned home waving an envelope and smiling, she knew they could finally schedule the wedding. They’d planned a simple affair with only Adam’s secretary, Anita, standing up for her and Tony’s cousin Zif at his side, but when Tony called Ben and Gila Cohen to give them the news, they said they’d drive up for the ceremony. Rina couldn’t wait to meet them.
If only Tony’s parents and her own mama could have lived to see this day.
Acie grumbled about having to miss the ceremony. “You have got to be kidding me,” she said. “Girl, your timing stinks.”
“I know. I’m so sorry. If things were different. If there weren’t a war on.”
“I wouldn’t let a small thing like a war get in my way. I mean, planes are still landing at the airport, aren’t they? But I promised my sister, and she’s due any minute.”
“And we did have fun while you were here. Mostly.”
“We did.” Her voice sounded husky, as if she were holding back tears. “Just you remember that you’ve got to come to my wedding. No excuses allowed. No matter where you are or who you are. Hear me?”
Rina laughed to cover her own near-tears. “Yes, ma’am. As soon as you set the date, I’ll put it on my calendar.”
“Good. I want pictures of yours. Someone has to take pictures.”
The conversation with Auntie Luze had been full of more tears—but no reproaches. Rina couldn’t wait to see her beloved aunt again. But she didn’t feel comfortable bringing Luze into the country at this time. She promised they’d visit Morehead right after the Paris honeymoon.
Anita took her shopping for her dress, arguing for white and traditional, but Rina couldn’t see herself in a white wedding dress without the church and trappings. Yes, she’d dreamed of that once upon a time, but now all she wanted was to marry her beloved. As she fingered fabrics, she paused at a light turquoisey silk. Tony loved that color on her. The mid-calf dress flowed down off her shoulders to an uneven hem, with an underskirt in a darker shade. She twirled. Anita oohed. The saleslady clapped. And Rina bought it. Oh, and shoes, high-heeled shoes—just because she could. And a large-brimmed hat for now and also for Paris.
“You know,” Anita said when they climbed into her car with the loot stashed in the trunk. “That color, the teal blues of your dress, is one Arabs—and Jews of Arab descent—use to ward off the evil eye.”
“Really?”
Anita grinned. “Of course, it’s merely a silly superstition, but I thought you might enjoy the connotation considering all you’ve been through.”
“As long as it’s a positive one, I’m satisfied. It’s my favorite color.”
Anita had lost all of her standoffishness during their excursion. Rina turned to her now. “Speaking of colors and clothes, what about you? Don’t you need something new? Or maybe we could stop for something to drink or eat somewhere?”
The older woman beamed. “I don’t need anything, and I’m not really hungry, but I know this wonderful ice cream shop. I always have room for ice cream.”
And so they ate bowls of delicious confection, and Rina discovered a new friend.
Which helped, because she missed Acie. And she missed Auntie Luze.
And, yes, she talked to God, because she couldn’t quite relax her vigil with war happening outside that door or terrorists who wanted Tony dead.
52
RINA
Rina studied Judaism and Hebrew, while Tony spent time with Sami, who continued to thaw slightly, very slightly, every day.
His stay at Zif’s worked out well for both of them until the morning his cousin poured him a cup of coffee, leaned against the counter, and said, “We need your help.”
Tony lifted one eyebrow. Hadn’t his cousin used those words the last time he’d roped Tony into acting against his best interests? “What do you mean by ‘help’?”
“There’s a job opening in the U.S. that fits you perfectly.”
He’d signed out. Signed off. “Sorry. We’re leaving for Paris the day after the wedding. I’m finished with intrigue.”
His cousin polished his glasses. Zif knew how to dig those guilt knives into his most vulnerable spots, but it wouldn’t work this time. No sir. He’d done his part. His parents had done theirs before a drunkard snuffed out their lives on an icy road. It was over.
Finally looking up and through the cleaned lenses, Zif said, �
�You’ve seen what the international media is saying about us and have heard some of our own agreeing with them. Now, suddenly, we’ve discovered that more than information and opinion peddling is coming from high places. And it could prove disastrous for us and for the world.”
“Espionage?”
“In the guise of working toward a peaceful solution to help the downtrodden masses.”
“Masses who just happen to be trying to kill all Jews.”
“Exactly.”
“So, what? Is this traitor drinking the wrong Kool-aid?”
Zif laughed at the image, but his laughter lacked humor. “Looks like it, but somehow he—and others like him—can’t taste the cyanide.” The glasses came off again. He squinted to see where they needed cleaning, wiped them, checked, wiped once more, and sighed. “Here’s the thing. We need an engineer who knows the oil industry to go to work for a company owned by a man who happens to be a personal friend—and confidante—of the U.S. Secretary of State, with ties to media outlets around the world. He also happens to be the brother of our home-grown terrorist-abettor.”
“Zif. No.”
“We need someone on the inside.”
“Yeah, but why choose an engineer? How often do engineers hobnob with company CEOs?”
“This CEO is setting up a special task force of senior personnel within the company. We’ve prepared a résumé for Anthony Walker, senior research engineer with experience in oil drilling in the Middle East.”
Senior research engineer? “Excuse me? I’m about to turn thirty-three. Senior anything’s not going to fly unless you have me starting in the field at age twelve.”
Zif cleared his throat. “Have you looked in the mirror lately? Do you know what squinting at the sun does to a face?”
Tony worked on a glower. Zif ignored it. “Some unfashionable glasses, and voilà, you’re forty-five. Young, but a go-getter.”
“None of that was on the résumé or passport you gave me.”
That’s when Zif produced a new manila envelope. “All fixed.”
Tony pulled out the papers and opened the new passport. “Photoshop?” he asked when he noticed more lines than he thought he had. He touched his face. “Do I really look like this?” He looked at his cousin, who nodded. “And Rina? Are you aging her, too? Or am I supposed to have robbed the cradle?”
Zif laughed. “Trophy bride.” Then he leaned forward, his forearms braced on the desk. “We believe this man is planning to sabotage a refinery.”
“Here?”
“Maybe here. Maybe elsewhere, but the blame will fall on Israel.”
“And he’s a Jew? Working against us?”
“It happens. His work, and his brother’s, began subtly with propaganda. But it seems he wants to escalate to violence.”
“And you want me why?”
“Your résumé says you worked in Arab countries and have traveled to Israel. You are fluent in Arabic and Hebrew. But you sympathize with the Palestinian cause.”
“Zif. No. I just did that.”
“The stakes are much higher now.”
“I can’t.” Tony put all the documents back in the envelope and shoved it across the table. “You do remember that my last job almost got us both killed. I can’t do it. I promised Rina.”
“Why don’t you bring her in, let me talk to her?”
Tony stood, pushed in his chair. “You need to find someone else. It’s not going to be me.”
His cousin took another sip of coffee and spoke casually. “What if I told you I could work a deal for your young friend if you take this job?”
That stopped him. “Sami?”
“Sami.”
“What kind of deal?”
“We’d send him to the States. If he agrees to certain stipulations, he could go to school.”
Tony waited. “He wouldn’t stay. You send him to a school there, he’ll just buy a ticket straight back to the arms of Achmed. I assume you wouldn’t tell him where I am. I’d have no opportunity to work with him or help him.”
“No.”
“He’s too angry.”
“We’ll do our best to fit him into a place where he could be watched and where he’d be part of a community.”
Tony sighed. He did not want to hear this. He balled his fists. “And if I say no? What happens to Sami?”
“I don’t know. Prison, probably. Or a prisoner exchange.”
“So back into Achmed’s world.” None of it sounded good. He stood. “I won’t let you hold my life at gunpoint.”
“There are no guarantees in life,” Zif said with a shrug, “but there’s a lot in that envelope to sweeten the pot for Rina. A house in DC, a car, anything else you might need.”
“Zif, buddy, neither of us needs your gold-plated trappings.”
“Tell her about them anyway.”
“Not happening. But don’t exchange Sami. I don’t want him back there.”
“We’ll talk after the wedding.”
“After the wedding, I’m going on a honeymoon. Period.”
53
RINA
Tony’s normally jovial self had seemed subdued in recent days, but she chalked it up to his concern for Sami. When it hadn’t eased by the morning of the wedding, she drew him into the guest room and patted the bed beside her.
“You’re not having second thoughts, are you?”
His stunned expression was almost comical. “What do you mean? Second thoughts about us?”
She pulled her lip between her teeth and nodded.
“Rina, honey, never. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me.” He pulled her up on his lap and whispered in her ear. “We’re forever.”
His breath tickled her skin. She giggled and circled his neck with her arms before planting a kiss on his lips. When she broke away, she said, “Then what is it? Sami?”
He sighed. “Partly. Partly it’s because Zif is trying to suck me back into his world.”
“No.”
“Don’t worry. We’re going civilian all the way.”
“Good.” She ran her fingers through his hair, through that longish piece that so often fell onto his forehead. “If you told him no, why are you still worried.”
“I’m not.” He rubbed his hand down her spine and nuzzled her neck. “You, my beautiful soon-to-be-wife, have a wedding dress to don and any number of other things to do, and I have a few tasks of my own before the guests arrive.”
“I hear Anita already out there.”
He set her back on the bed and stood. “You want me to send her in to help you?”
She nodded, her smile spreading.
She was about to be married.
The wedding ceremony took place in a blur of words, some of which she recognized. Uncle Adam had asked her how much of the traditional Jewish ceremony she wanted, and she told him to keep it to a minimum, please, as she was still getting used to her Jewish identity. She stood in her lovely dress next to her lovely groom, connected to the excitement flowing through her and the realization that she was actually here, marrying the man of her dreams. She focused on Tony and those eyes twinkling at her, on Tony and that slightly crooked smile aimed her way.
He sealed their contract with a delicious kiss that promised more later, and they were swept up into hugs and congratulations, champagne and yummy treats.
Ben and Gila made them promise to keep in touch. And then everyone said good-bye, including her uncle, who was escorting a dazzled Anita out for the evening. “I’ll get myself a hotel room after. Better me than you two,” he’d said. “No one’s gunning for me.”
She turned to say good-bye to Tony’s cousin Zif, who stood far too many feet from the door. “May I have a quick word?” he asked, reaching for his briefcase. She didn’t like the look of that briefcase.
“Now?” Tony loosened his tie. “In case you haven’t noticed, this is our wedding night.”
“I know. But you’re planning to leave for Paris tomorrow.”
&nb
sp; She moved up to Tony’s side and slipped her hand into his. “We are.”
Zif cleared his throat, obviously uncomfortable. “Look, I know this is inappropriate. And I’m sorry. But some higher-ups called to ask what you’d decided. There’ve been new developments.”
Tony’s brow almost hit his hairline. “I told you my decision.”
Zif’s gaze traveled from her back to Tony before he bent to extract a large envelope from his briefcase. “I’m going to leave this here. Take it to Paris. Talk it over. I know how you feel, but I promised I’d approach you again. There’s a lot at stake.”
As Ziff leaned in to give her a kiss on the cheek, Tony picked up the envelope, thrust it into his cousin’s hands, and ushered the man to the door. “Go away. There are plenty of other engineers on your payroll. I’m no longer one of them.”
Zif sighed. “Well, I tried. Have fun in Paris.”
The door closed with a click. It sounded final, but Rina doubted they’d heard the last of whatever Zif was peddling. His words had left a bad taste in her mouth. “I don’t think I like your cousin.”
Tony laughed. “Right now, I don’t either.”
He finished removing his tie and coat and moved toward her. “But he will not ruin our wedding night.” He took her hand in his and lifted it, palm up, to his lips. “You are mine, and nothing, absolutely nothing, can take away the magic of that.”
Her breathing became less steady. “I should get out of this dress.”
“You should. Why don’t I help you?”
“I need to excuse myself for a few minutes.”
He grinned and turned her toward the bathroom. Moments later, music filtered through the door.
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