“Sick and scary. Your dear Lenin is the key to the whole thing. He’s the-”
“Good night!” Masada slammed a few shekels on the table and left.
Monday, August 18
A wail tore Elizabeth from a deep sleep. A second later, it repeated, amplified, bouncing off the walls. “Allah Hu Akbar.” She groped in the darkness and felt the concrete floor and the bunched-up blanket under her head. Her bladder threatened to explode.
The muezzin repeated his dawn call to prayers.
Sitting up, back against the wall, she rubbed her eyes. Dim light outlined the door. She shifted, pain shooting through her shoulder. “Hello!”
There was no response. She pounded the door. “Let me out!”
The baby jolted in her lower abdomen. She stood, leaning against the wall. “You’re a hungry little guy, aren’t you? Mommy’s hungry too.”
Reflecting on what had happened, Elizabeth realized Father had to punish her for defying him in front of his followers. His honor had required it. But this morning he would release her, and she would dress more appropriately for the award ceremony.
She heard footsteps outside.
Silver woke up before 4:00 a.m., unable to sleep. Today his plan was going to become a reality. The Jews’ lifeline to America would be snipped. It was a dramatic paradigm shift, brought about by his personal genius and determination.
The front desk clerk allowed him to use the office to call a law firm in Phoenix, arranging an agreement to represent Masada. The lawyer promised to confirm the agreement by fax later.
He left the Ramban Hostel before dawn and found an open cafe. Freshly baked rolls, goat cheese, and real coffee, all of which he consumed with relish before the inception of another day of fasting. He sat in the corner and listened to the customers’ conversations. Some of the Jews thought the American senators would never suspend military aid to Israel-why would they hurt their own defense industry? Others joked that the Americans would come back begging for Israel’s forgiveness when they realized China was ready to fill the role of Israel’s defense trading partner. The woman at the coffee machine, while changing filters, argued that the Israeli government should resign to appease the Americans. Her boss, pulling a tray of rolls out of the oven, said it was all an FBI sting operation directed by the American president who is a secret Muslim.
A patron in a dark suit and a tie, who picked up a cup of black coffee, jokingly asked the proprietor for a dishwashing job. “If they pass this thing, I’ll have to shut down my company.”
By the time Silver left the cafe an hour later, he wanted to dance on the sidewalk. Raising his hand against the brightening sky, he looked straight at his palm, seeing a black circle surrounded by a hairy belt. Had the blotch grown overnight? He must remember to put in the drops as soon as he reached his room!
“Professor!” The call came from a car that stopped at the curb, Rajid at the wheel. He was wearing a black skullcap like an Orthodox Jew. “Come, I’ll give you a ride.” He flashed his shark-like smile.
Inside the car, the smell of citrus blossom made Silver gag.
“My apologies for the other night,” Rajid said. “I was out of line.” He reached under his seat and pulled out the gun, the barrel extended by a silencer, and dropped it in Silver’s lap. “Keep it for your protection.”
The professor raised the gun, examining it.
Rajid’s hand left the steering wheel and pushed the gun out of sight. “The Israeli police don’t appreciate guns in the hands of Palestinians.”
“Then how do you get through the Israeli checkpoints and the separation wall? Aren’t you afraid?”
The handler laughed. “I have enough sets of ID papers to pass a soccer team from Ramallah to Tel Aviv and back. The Israelis’ underestimate our capabilities. They don’t realize that we’ve been watching them and learning!”
They drove in silence for a few minutes.
“So,” Rajid said, “the Jews fixed your eye?”
“It’s a process.” To change the subject, Silver told him about the ceremony he’d promised Elizabeth. “We’ll tell her the event had to be cancelled for security reasons.”
“Where is she?”
“At the Kings Hotel. We can have a ceremony in her room. You’ll thank her on behalf of Palestine and give her a medal.”
Rajid waved his hand dismissively. “Forget her. She’s already done what we needed.”
“She could be useful in Phase Two.”
“You want her involved?”
“She is a prominent lawyer in America. The next phase of my plan-inciting an international boycott of Israel-would benefit from her legal expertise in drafting documents for the various human rights organizations, press releases, legal opinions and so on.”
“Would she do it?” Rajid drove by the Ramban Hostel and continued at a moderate pace.
“I guarantee it. She’s susceptible to threats and temptations. In her position, she could be very influential for the cause.”
“I’ll discuss it in Ramallah, see what our leaders think.” Rajid turned onto a side street.
Silver found the door handle. “You can drop me off here.”
Rajid slowed down but didn’t stop. “I need your papers about Phase Three. To keep in a safe place.”
“It’s safe.” Silver opened the door, though the car was still moving.
“Just think.” Rajid tapped the brake, inching forward. “How terrible it would be for Palestine if the media got hold of it.”
“Are the Israelis looking for me?” Silver tried to read Rajid’s expression. “They have informants in our ranks, that’s known.”
“The Israelis?” Rajid laughed. “They’re chasing explosive belts, not papers.”
“So why?”
“The leadership in Ramallah is nervous about you, Abu Faddah.”
“Then it’s time I presented my plans in person!” Silver stuck his foot out through the open door. “Pick me up tomorrow morning at the cafe. I’ll bring my papers, and you’ll take me to Ramallah.”
Rajid gripped Silver’s arm. “My orders are to pick up all your papers now. The president himself is concerned. Exposure at this time would ruin everything.”
“There will be no exposure.” Silver tried to free his arm. “Let go!”
The light came on above Elizabeth’s head, a single bulb dangling from a wire in the middle of the ceiling. A key turned in the lock. She wiped her face and brushed back her hair.
The door opened. A veiled woman entered, closed the door, and revealed her face.
“Aunt Hamida!”
They hugged. Aunt Hamida was Father’s younger sister, who had taken care of his household after Elizabeth’s mother had died. She looked much older now. And very nervous. “Here!” Aunt Hamida unfurled a dark robe. “Put this on.”
“I like my clothes.” Elizabeth searched the floor, relieved to find her purse. She located Bob Emises’s card. “Call this man at the American consulate.” She pushed the card into Aunt Hamida’s hand. “Tell him to come and pick me up from the Israeli checkpoint in two hours.”
“Quick!” Aunt Hamida held forward the robe. “Put it on. I’ll show you a way out of the mosque. You can walk to the checkpoint and ask the Israelis to call a taxi for you.”
“I’m not running away. This time, I’ll be leaving through the front door with Father’s blessing.”
“Elzirah, listen-”
She felt the baby kick. “And bring something to eat, please.”
“It’s Ramadan. No food!”
“How about a bathroom?”
“They’ll come for you soon.” Aunt Hamida left, locking the door.
The baby gyrated, giving her that unique fluttering sensation. “Hey, little guy, calm down.” Not even born yet, and he was already making her laugh.
On his way back to the hostel, Rabbi Josh noticed a car cruising down the quiet street with the passenger-side door open and a foot dangling through. As the car passed by, he r
ecognized Professor Silver. Despite the pain in his blistered feet, the rabbi gave chase, reaching the car just as it stopped near the end of the street. He pulled the door open. “What’s going on here?”
The driver removed his hand from Levy’s forearm. The fingers left red marks on the professor’s skin. Mirror shades hid the driver’s eyes. His yarmulke sat on slicked-back, black hair. Rabbi Josh smelled a strong fragrance in the car.
“Joshua!” The professor got out, forcing Rabbi Josh to step back. “What a pleasant surprise!”
The rabbi realized the aroma simulated citrus blossom. “Are you alright?”
“Shalom!” Silver waved at the driver. “All the best.” He slammed the door. Threading his arm in the rabbi’s. “What a beautiful morning!”
Rabbi Josh’s eyes followed the departing car. “What was that all about?”
“That nice young man gave me a ride from a little coffee shop on Ben-Yehuda Street. You know it?”
“He didn’t seem so nice.”
“Well educated, works for a large organization. We discussed the American vote, of course. I reminded him what the prophet Ezekiel said: Israel is like a sheep among the wolves.” Silver chuckled. “He thinks China would take over as our benefactor. Can you believe it?”
“I believe God is our real benefactor, not America or China.” Rabbi Josh’s feet were on fire. He found a low wall separating a private garden from the sidewalk and sat with a sigh of relief.
“I told you to see a doctor.”
The rabbi wanted to remove his shoes to air out the angry blisters but knew his swollen feet would not fit back into the shoes. “Let’s go,” he said, grimacing. “I need to lie down.”
They turned the corner onto Ramban Street and had to step off the sidewalk. A woman with a glue roller stuck a yellow placard on a wall, announcing a rally at the Jaffa Gate tonight. The wall was covered by different posters that alternately protested the American vote, accused the Israeli government of underhanded actions, faulted American Jews for electing a president hostile to Israel, or pointed out that everything happened because God had ordained it in His wisdom. The ads were signed by various organizations-Union of Orthodox Synagogues, Peace Now, the Chief Rabbinate, Reform Congregations of Israel, Boys and Girls Scouts, Hebrew Gay and Lesbian Society, Chabad of Israel, United Kibbutz Movement, Bnai B’rith, and others
Silver peered closely. “What a rancorous people.”
“Argumentative is a better word. And fearful, I think.”
“Why fear? Isn’t the Messiah due to come when Israel fights a great war against the whole world?”
“Gog and Magog?”
“Armageddon.” Silver waved a fist. “God will show the goyim who is king. The best thing for Israel.”
“The End of Days is a minority view.” Rabbi Josh touched the red marks on the professor’s forearm. “Must have been quite an argument.”
“You know how Israelis are with politics. They beat you up for disagreeing and hug you for standing up for your opinion.”
“I didn’t know you believe in Armageddon as the ultimate salvation.”
“You can barely walk.” The professor stopped, gazing down. “It could get infected.”
“Levy!” Masada was marching toward them, her long legs consuming the distance rapidly. “I was looking for you!”
Rabbi Josh didn’t let go of the professor’s arm. “Good morning, Masada.”
“Your morning is good. Not mine.”
“I hope it improves.” He was determined not to respond in kind to her misguided hostility. “A person is happier when able to distinguish between good and evil.”
“Can you distinguish?” She pulled Professor Silver toward the hostel.
“Come now, meidaleh,” Silver said. “Not nice to speak like that. Joshua is grieving.”
“I’m grieving too!”
The rabbi watched the professor follow Masada up the stairs and into the Ramban Hostel. Resting against a parked car, he sighed. Could he tell good from evil? Whoever bribed Mahoney was evil. But was Masada evil? His gut told him she was good. She was also angry. And sad. But her intentions were noble, he was certain. And Al? He had not been evil either. Mentally ill, yes, and delusional, easy to manipulate, but merely as a pawn, not a general. That left Professor Levy Silver. But could such a wise Jewish man, so learned and warm, be wrapped around a core of evil?
Across the street, a mother walked with a boy about Raul’s age, with reddish hair and springy feet. Rabbi Josh searched the boy’s face for Raul’s features, as he had been doing every time a child reminded him of his son.
Stop it! Raul is gone! Free of this world. He’s sitting with God.
The rabbi suddenly remembered Silver’s dramatic declaration after Raul’s death, that the disaster had moved him to make aliyah. He had not mentioned the scheduled procedure to save his vision. Another small lie. But was it an indication of a propensity for bigger and worse lies? Could Levy be the one who had sent Al to bribe Mahoney, to stalk Masada, to shoot a gun in the temple? Had Levy told Al to rape her?
No! It’s too monstrous! Impossible!
Rabbi Josh pressed his temples until his head hurt. Levy Silver had no reason to do these things. He was a retired academic with an affinity for unnecessary secrets and silly inconsistencies, but he wasn’t evil. Could he be a true believer in Armageddon? Fanaticism could hide behind the most civilized facade.
Rabbi Josh stepped toward the hostel, his shoes rubbing the raw blisters. He recalled something that had made no sense at the time. What had Colonel Ness said at the Wailing Wall? You just don’t want to see it. It’s too inconvenient.
Masada led Professor Silver into the hostel. “Okay, Levy! I have some tough questions for you!”
“Really?” He approached the front desk, and the clerk handed him some papers. He browsed the papers and handed them to Masada. “Take a look.”
The first page was a letter from a Phoenix law firm confirming that Monte Loeb, Esq., would represent Miss El-Tal subject to receipt of the professor’s $10,000 retainer check, as well as his signature on the enclosed agreement to place a lien on his house to guarantee payment of all her legal fees and expenses.
“So?” Silver beamed. “What do you think now of your old friend?”
Masada looked again at the letter and the guarantee. “Thank you, but I can’t let you do this. You could be on the hook for a lot of money. You could lose your home!”
“It’s just walls and a roof. And this lawyer is worth every penny.” Silver chortled. “I spoke to seven lawyers in Phoenix early this morning. They all said the same thing: Get Monte Loeb. He’s the best immigration lawyer in Arizona.”
Masada looked at the letter again. “Ten thousand in advance?”
“Loeb read about you in the newspapers. He’ll play hardball.” Silver looked at his watch. “We’re having a telephone conference with him tomorrow, after we return from Mount Masada. Now, what’s your tough question?”
She shrugged. How stupid she’d been to suspect him. “Did you search my Corvette for the memory stick?”
“Yes. I had to look for it because I had a terrible feeling.” He pounded his chest with a fist. “Dreadful, just like before my son was killed. A premonition. Something terrible was going to happen to me, but instead-”
“It happened to Raul.”
He nodded.
“The memory stick is in a safe place.” She bent her leg, the brace pressing her knee.
“I should have told you.” He sighed. “Please forgive me.”
She hugged him. “I’m going to pay you back the legal fees as soon as I can.”
“Nonsense.” Levy planted a kiss on her cheek. “I’m arranging a taxi to take us to the memorial service. You’ll see familiar faces, experience nostalgia.”
“I doubt it.”
“A memorial service for your brother is an opportunity to reflect, to reconnect with people. Do it for me.” Silver touched her cheek. “Confront the p
ast, meidaleh. How else will you heal?”
“What did he say? How long?” Elizabeth watched her aunt shut the door.
“There was no answer.” Aunt Hamida pushed Bob’s card into Elizabeth’s hand. “You must change! Where’s the robe?”
“But I called him at this number yesterday! Did you put in the area code?”
Aunt Hamida found the robe on the floor. “The number is no longer in service.”
Elizabeth pushed away the robe. “Then call the main number for the American Consulate in Jerusalem.”
“You must-”
“Ask for Bob Emises and tell him Elizabeth McPherson, the chief counsel from Arizona, will be waiting for him at the checkpoint. And tell him to bring food because-”
“Elzirah!” Aunt Hamida held Elizabeth’s chin as if she were a young girl. “I called the American consulate. They never heard of this man!”
“It’s a mistake. He is in charge of VIP visitors. He picked me up from the airport!”
“You must escape. Cover yourself and come with me.” She bunched up the robe to slide it over Elizabeth’s head. “Quick!”
Elizabeth stepped back. “I’m not running away from him again.”
“But-”
“I’m a successful professional, not a frightened teenager. I deserve Father’s respect.”
“Allah’s mercy!” Aunt Hamida’s hands fell, and the robe dropped to the floor. “Stubborn, like my brother. I beg you, child, please!”
Men’s voices sounded from down the hallway.
“Thank you.” Elizabeth kissed her aunt. “Now go and call the U.S. consulate again.”
The handgun was a modern version of the old Beretta he had carried in Amman in the seventies. Professor Silver checked the magazine, which was full, and reset the safety. The silencer could be useful on Mount Masada in case things got out of hand.
He placed the gun under the pillow and lay down on the bed, closing his eyes. The possibility that he would have to actually shoot Masada was remote. Her tragic end must pass for a suicide. He would surprise her with a shove, sending her plummeting to her sad, untimely death at the foot of the mountain.
The Masada Complex Page 34