He had kept the gallery in the same location where it had stood for twenty years. He enjoyed traversing the ancient streets of the Old City to get to work. Experiencing the sights, sounds, smells and tastes of the area and its teeming masses of Arabs, Jews and tourists invigorated him.
For this visit, Nicole had accompanied him. She hadn't been back since the documentary had aired, and she was surprised to see how many people approached her husband these days to meet him and thank him for showing the public the temple treasures. Due to his growing notoriety, he'd been forced to give up some of his privacy. An armed security person accompanied him every waking moment when he traveled outside the United States, and although it was an inconvenience, it was essential for his safety. The man stood casually to one side, respectful but always vigilant, as fans asked the handsome American TV personality for autographs or selfies.
"It seems so peaceful compared to when we were here during the conflict," she said as they sat on the balcony outside their room. "I don't see how these people get used to it, but somehow they do. They go about their lives in ordinary ways, but they must always wonder when the next attack might happen. Maybe today, maybe next week, maybe not for twenty years, but as sure as God's in heaven, it's going to happen sometime."
She glanced up and saw Brian lost in thought, gazing off toward the Garden of Gethsemane in the distance. When she saw his face, she regretted her words. The things she said described not only an Israeli, but also her husband. She and Brian pretended the reason he needed protection was because he was a celebrity. Even though neither discussed the real reason, it was always lurking somewhere deep in their minds.
Tariq the Hawk was dead, but the million-euro contract on the head of Brian Sadler still stood, as far as the United States and Israeli governments could determine. No one knew if Abdel had evaded capture; since his disappearance from Skopje, Macedonia, over a year ago nothing had ever turned up about his whereabouts.
Brian was an optimist. He chose to think that those days were behind him. The man who'd harbored such deep anger for President Harrison, the United States and Brian himself was dead. Hopefully the need for revenge had died with him. Perhaps Brian would never know. His last prayer every night was that God would protect Nicole and him.
So far, so good.
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