Chosen People

by Robert Whitlow

  “Not much. I just want Sadie to put a face to a name. I’ll tell her more about you myself.”

  “I’d like to hear that conversation.”

  “Girls only.” Hana smiled. “It will also be good for Ben to see you.”

  “Should I say anything about Gloria?”

  Hana paused. “That might make Sadie sad. She doesn’t understand the lawsuit and won’t be listed as a plaintiff on the pleadings.”

  “Why does she think you’ve dropped into her life?”

  “She isn’t analyzing it, just feeling the love.”

  “That’s powerful,” Daud said.

  “I hope so.”

  It was five when Hana arrived at the Neumann townhome. Ben had picked up a Mexican take-out dinner. Sadie’s tastes were simple; her desired fare was two basic tacos, but she was proud that she could tolerate a dash of mild hot sauce. Every time she took a bite, she fanned her open mouth with her hand.

  “You don’t have to put hot sauce on it,” Ben said after the fourth display of hand waving. “The meat is seasoned.”

  “No, it’s the way you’re supposed to eat them,” Sadie answered. “Marquita at my school told me. They’re hotter than the spicy chicken Poppy buys me.”

  Hana and Ben were eating bite-size empanadas, chilaquiles, and delicately seasoned rice. When the meal was over, Hana took out her phone and showed them the video sent by Daud.

  “I understand him!” Sadie squealed when he greeted her by name in Hebrew and asked how she was doing.

  “Keep listening,” Hana said.

  Daud’s deep voice continued in English: “Hana tells me you are a beautiful and smart girl. She enjoyed your birthday party and told me about it. I live in Jerusalem. I hope that someday I will meet you in person in Israel or in the United States. Please hug Hana and kiss her on the cheek. If you want to send me a video, I would like to see it. Bye-bye.”

  “Let’s watch it again,” Sadie said immediately.

  The little girl held the phone in her hand and stared at the screen while the video replayed. After viewing it the second time, she returned the phone to Hana and gave her a tight hug followed by a kiss on the cheek.

  “If you marry Daud, will you live with him in Israel or Atlanta?” Sadie asked.

  “Who said I was going to marry him?” Hana asked in surprise.

  “It happens,” Sadie said matter-of-factly. “Let’s make a video for him.”

  As soon as the video started, Sadie launched into a lecture explaining how Daud should treat Hana. Both Ben and Hana laughed so hard they were on the verge of tears.

  “I’m serious,” Sadie said when she’d finished and they stopped the recording.

  “And right,” Ben replied. “I’m sure Hana appreciates all the help you gave her.”

  “Absolutely,” Hana said.

  “Can I play in the backyard with Leon?” Sadie asked.

  Hana and Ben stayed at the kitchen table.

  “May I ask you a personal question about Daud?” Ben asked when they were alone.

  “Yes.”

  “Sadie assumed you were dating him. Is she right?”

  “We saw each other a couple of times when I was in Israel, and we’ve talked almost every day since I returned. Sadie is right. Daud and I are attracted to each other.”

  “Which is your business, not mine. My concern is that Daud’s involvement in the case stays at the right level. It seems to Jakob and me that you’re involving him in everything, instead of giving him a defined role.”

  “He has a defined role,” Hana replied defensively. “He’s investigating the case. Once that’s complete, he won’t have an active role. And don’t worry about my personal feelings affecting my professional responsibilities.”

  After Sadie came inside, she and Hana sat in the living room so that Sadie could show off her literary skills by reading two picture books, both of which showed signs of frequent use. Written inside the front cover of one of the stories was an inscription from Gloria to Sadie: To my precious Sadie Ann—May your heart find the same love of beauty and kindness as Katelyn. All my love, Mommy.

  “I didn’t know your middle name was Ann,” Hana said.

  “I don’t like it that much. That’s why everyone calls me Sadie.”

  The book was about a little girl named Katelyn who helped her mother plant a flower garden. The mother became ill, and Katelyn faithfully tended the flowers, taking bouquets to her mother in the hospital. The child began delivering flowers to other people in the hospital, who were blessed by her kindness and shared bits of their lives with her. The watercolor illustrations were a perfect complement to the text. As Sadie turned the pages, Hana, sensing the mother would die and the last flowers Katelyn gave her would be placed on her grave, began to dread the outcome. However, the mother recovered, and the final scene was a year later when Katelyn took flowers to the hospital to celebrate the birth of her little brother. When Sadie finished, Hana noticed Ben standing in the doorway to the kitchen listening.

  “I’d rather have a little sister than a brother,” Sadie announced when she closed the book. “But that can’t happen until Daddy gets married again.”

  “Let’s read another book,” Hana said without looking at Ben.

  “Will you stay for my bathtime?” Sadie asked. “I don’t need help except with my hair. It gets all tangled and angry.”

  “I’m not sure—”

  “One more book and then Hana needs to take Leon home,” Ben said. “He’s a tired puppy and fell asleep on the floor.”

  In the middle of the night, Hana had a dream. She and Sadie, dressed in clothes from the 1940s, were standing next to each other on a train station platform. A train rumbled into the station and stopped. A conductor called for those who had tickets to board. Hana leaned over to Sadie, who was clutching a yellow ticket in her hand, and told her this wasn’t their train. Hana opened her purse to check her own ticket. It wasn’t there. Frantically, she rummaged through the purse but found nothing. The conductor issued a final boarding call, and Sadie calmly stepped forward. At that moment, a woman appeared at the top of the steps to the train car.

  It was Gloria Neumann.

  A smile on her face, Gloria held out her hand to Sadie, who ran up the steps to embrace her mother. They held each other with a fierceness reserved for mother and child. When Gloria lowered Sadie to the floor, the little girl looked back at Hana and blew her a kiss. The train pulled out of the station, leaving Hana numb with loneliness and abandonment. When the train disappeared from sight, Hana looked down at her hand. In it was her ticket. As she woke up, it took several seconds for her conscious mind to engage.

  Hana got up and walked into the living room, then knelt in front of the sofa and closed her eyes. The images were so fresh and vivid, she felt on the verge of slipping back into the dream. She focused on a possible interpretation. The little girl might want to board the train to be with her mother, but her ticket was for a later departure. One likely meaning was like a punch in the stomach—the dream foretold Sadie’s premature death. Hana buried her head in the fabric of the sofa and sobbed. Her breath came in gasps.

  Twice before in her life she had cried like this during prayer. Hana knew they were tears of intercession, drops of salty water that cause heavenly ripples as large as tidal waves. The prophet Jeremiah once wrote: “Oh, that my head were a spring of water and my eyes a fountain of tears! I would weep day and night for the slain of my people.” This night Hana wept not for a nation, but for a seven-year-old girl descended from the ancient Jewish prophet. She cried out from the depths of her spirit and asked the Lord God Almighty to protect the child’s life until she reached the fullness of days allotted to her.

  CHAPTER 28

  Hana had trouble containing her excitement during her morning Skype session with Daud. In two days she would see him in Jerusalem. However, the investigator was in a serious mood.

  “Is everything okay?” Hana asked.

  “Yes, yes,
” he answered. “I’m under stress related to another matter and hope it won’t spill over into the time when you arrive.”

  “I’ll understand if you need to be working on something else. There will be things Jakob and I can do.”

  “Of course, but I want us to be efficient and productive. I’ve made progress with the man who holds a grudge against the Zadan clan. I’m certain he will meet with us and may be a key to unlocking information the Shin Bet didn’t find.”

  “Good.”

  “But I’m not sure where Jakob Brodsky fits in. From what you’ve told me, he seems like a liability, not an asset,” Daud said.

  “Mr. Lowenstein has the same concerns, but Jakob has put his heart and soul into this case. We can make it work.”

  “He will need to be flexible.”

  “I’ll be responsible for him,” Hana said, knowing the job would fall to her anyway.

  “What is the status of the police investigation into the physical attack and destruction of his car?”

  “I’ve not heard anything new for several weeks.”

  “What did you decide about seeing your family during this trip?” Daud asked.

  “They don’t know I’m coming. If I’m able to squeeze in a visit to Reineh, it will be a huge surprise.”

  “I think keeping the trip confidential is a good idea.”

  “Me too.” Hana checked the time. “Listen, I need to leave for work. I have a lot to do.”

  “Okay. I won’t be available in the morning, so the next time we see each other will be at the airport.”

  Hana’s heart leapt in anticipation. She spoke a formal farewell in Arabic that included the promise of a soon reunion. Daud smiled.

  “I haven’t heard anyone say that in a long time,” he said. “My grandfather used to say that to my grandmother before he would leave for a week away from home.”

  “I think it is a lot better than ‘bye,’” Hana replied in English.

  During the month since returning to Atlanta, Hana had talked several times with Sylvia Armstrong at the US Attorney’s Office in New York. None of the conversations yielded any more new information, but Mr. Lowenstein insisted that the lines of communication stay open. Armstrong called Hana again.

  “Are you still scheduled to go to Israel?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  “My contacts inform me that your investigator has been active.”

  “That’s why we hired him,” Hana answered, glad about the favorable opinion of Daud’s efforts from a third party.

  “If you need help convincing the Israelis to work with you, let me know. I sent emails to several people this morning letting them know you’re on the way and our interests are consistent.”

  “Thank you,” Hana replied. “Can you provide me any names?”

  “Yes, one name is Aaron Levy. He works in an antiterrorism unit in Tel Aviv and knows as much about the Neumann murder as anyone. Daud Hasan has already contacted him.”

  Hana didn’t recall Daud mentioning that name in any of his reports.

  “Okay,” Hana said. “Anything else?”

  “Safe travels.”

  After the call ended, Hana sent a quick memo to Mr. Lowenstein, Jakob, Ben, and Daud about the phone call. She expected Daud to respond with additional information about Aaron Levy, but he didn’t.

  The following morning, Hana arrived very early at the office. Janet was already at her desk.

  “Why are you here now?” Hana asked.

  “This is what assistants do when one of their bosses is leaving the country.”

  Hana thought about her backlog of work. She’d given up hope of having it all done and resigned herself to handling it remotely.

  “There are a few extra things you can do,” she said slowly.

  “Bring it on.”

  As the two women were going over the projects, the phone buzzed. It was Gladys Applewhite.

  “Good, you’re here,” Gladys said. “Mr. Lowenstein wants to meet with you first thing. He pulled into the parking deck and should be in his office in five minutes.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  “Pep talk or thunderstorm?” Janet asked.

  “I have no idea.”

  The senior partner’s door was open and Gladys, who was on the phone, motioned for Hana to enter. Mr. Lowenstein was standing and drinking a cup of coffee.

  “It sounds like Ms. Armstrong is cooperating.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Build on it. She could be more help than our investigator and a lot cheaper. Remind her that our tax dollars pay her salary.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “No, but I talked to Armstrong’s boss after I received your email. They want to help but expect reciprocity of information.”

  “Daud Hasan wants to protect the identity of some of his sources.”

  “You’re in charge, not him. You’ll be the clearinghouse.”

  Hana wasn’t sure how to follow Mr. Lowenstein’s orders. It was like trying to predict the weather a month in advance.

  “And that goes double for Jakob Brodsky,” Mr. Lowenstein continued, tapping his desk with his index finger. “You know I don’t like him tagging along, and your comment about the investigator gives me an idea. Hasan can exclude Brodsky from meetings and interviews. The fact that Brodsky is Jewish should work for any situation in which Arabs are present.”

  Hana didn’t want to mention that Daud had the same problem with Jakob.

  “I understand.”

  “And your former involvement with security personnel at the airport would be another justification,” Mr. Lowenstein said. “The Israeli authorities will likely be comfortable with you in the room and prefer to keep Brodsky out.”

  Once again, the older lawyer’s ability to quickly come up with innovative ways to deal with a situation impressed Hana, even if she didn’t like the ideas he gave.

  “But how do I keep Jakob busy? He can’t sit in a hotel room all day.”

  “Give him research tasks that he can do online or interviews with English speakers who aren’t very important. And he can always be a tourist, even though I don’t like paying for it.”

  “The money he and the client deposited in our trust account is funding the trip,” Hana said and then braced for a negative reaction.

  “Good point,” Mr. Lowenstein said with a smile. “Hana, I wanted to tell you that I have the highest confidence in you. You’ve handled everything we’ve thrown at you superbly since you joined the firm. You may be tentative at first, which is good because you don’t charge off in the wrong direction, but once you get your bearings you do impressive work. If Ben Neumann has a case, I believe you’ll find a way to move forward.”

  “Thank you.”

  Mr. Lowenstein stood. “Copy me on everything you send out, no matter how minor it seems. I can separate the important from the trivial.”

  The senior lawyer escorted her to the door of his office. “Gladys, is there anything you want Hana to bring you from the Holy Land? I know you and the people who attend your church are interested in Israel.”

  “No, sir.”

  “If you change your mind, let her know.”

  Mr. Lowenstein returned to his office and closed his door.

  “There’s one thing,” Gladys said to Hana.

  “What? I’d be glad to pick something up for you or the congregation.”

  Gladys, a serious look on her face, spoke in a low voice. “I want you to be careful and come back safe and sound. That will be plenty for me. I’ll be praying every day until I see you standing exactly where you are right now.”

  “Thank you,” Hana said gratefully.

  Jakob pressed down hard to close his large suitcase. The small carry-on bag containing his laptop leaned against the foot of the bed. Emily was scheduled to pick him up in ten minutes. Jakob bent over to shut another latch on the suitcase, then stood and hit the right side of his head on the corner of a chest of drawers. He caught his breath a
nd winced sharply in pain. Feeling slightly nauseous, he dragged his suitcase to the front door, then made his way to the couch and sat down. He closed his eyes and tried to forget about the throbbing pain.

  The sound of loud banging on the front door of his apartment startled him. Shaking his head to get rid of fogginess, he stumbled across the room and opened the door. Emily was standing on the landing outside his door.

  “Why weren’t you downstairs?” she demanded. “I waited five minutes, texted three times, and called twice.”

  “Uh, I must have dozed off on the couch,” Jakob replied.

  “Are you okay?” Emily asked, her frown turning into a look of concern. “You look pale. Did you pass out?”

  “I’m not sure. I hit my head on the corner of a dresser.”

  “Is it bleeding?” Emily stepped closer for a better view.

  Jakob touched the spot. There was nothing red on his fingers. “No, but it made me woozy. Come in. I need to eat a snack before we go.”

  Jakob bumped into the corner of the couch on his way to the kitchen. Emily followed. He opened the refrigerator and took out a yogurt.

  “Would you like one?” he asked. “I have strawberry and peach.”

  “We need to get going soon.”

  “Okay, okay.”

  Jakob took a deep breath and felt steadier on his feet. Grabbing a plastic spoon, he headed toward the front door. Emily was in front of him and reached for his large suitcase.

  “No, no,” Jakob said. “I’ll take that one if you can handle the carry-on bag.”

  Emily eyed him skeptically. “Sit down and eat your yogurt first,” she said. “I’ll make up the time on the way to the airport.”

  Jakob didn’t argue. He peeled the top from the yogurt. “Are you sure you don’t want one, too?” he asked.

  “I’ll grab a peach,” Emily replied.

  When the first slightly tangy bite hit Jakob’s tongue, he felt mentally clearer. The second spoonful brought him more fully into reality. Emily returned with a peach yogurt and sat on the other end of the couch.

  “I had a concussion spell,” Jakob said. “No doubt about it.”