Chosen People

by Robert Whitlow

  Puzzled at Daud’s denial, Jakob tried not to show that he understood the exchange between the two men. Anzor turned his attention to Jakob and spoke in English: “Tell me about this Latif Al-Fasi.”

  Jakob again tried to prolong the time needed to reveal the information. Anzor interrupted when he described the appearance of Al-Fasi on the video seized from the computer at the Zadan residence.

  “I’ve told him to be more careful,” Anzor said in Russian to Daud. “Is this true?”

  “Yes,” Daud replied. “But I was unaware that Al-Fasi had been identified. If this idiot found out, then the Israelis and Americans already know. Where is Al-Fasi?”

  “In Los Angeles meeting with Simi Valley Productions, the company we use to transfer resources to fund our work in the West.”

  Anzor spoke to Jakob in English: “Hasan says you did not tell him about this. Is that true?”

  It was a moment Jakob had been anticipating ever since Daud lied to Anzor about Al-Fasi. His internal debate had been fierce—contradict the investigator and it would deservedly put Daud’s life in greater danger, or go along with the lie and see why Daud deceived Anzor. Jakob avoided looking at the investigator.

  “I never trusted Daud,” Jakob replied. “Hana Abboud was in love with him and believed everything he told her. I withheld the information.”

  Anzor grunted. “What else did you hide from Hasan?”

  Jakob described how he had violated Daud’s instructions and forwarded the video to Detective Freeman for evaluation. “I sent it to my detective friend in America, and he passed it on to Homeland Security. They identified Al-Fasi and sent the detective a dossier with information about him.”

  Anzor said a curse word in Russian. Jakob stopped.

  “Go ahead,” Anzor said curtly. “Leave out nothing.”

  “Ms. Abboud told Daud what I did even though I instructed her not to,” Jakob said and stopped.

  “Does she know about Latif Al-Fasi?”

  “Yes.”

  Anzor looked at Daud and spoke in Russian: “Stay here. I’m going to ask the woman about this. I should have let her finish earlier before you interrupted.”

  Anzor left. Daud turned to Tawfik and said something in Arabic. Tawfik nodded. Daud then quickly left the room with a sideways glance at Jakob, whose heart was pounding out of his chest. Tawfik took a knife from his pocket and faced Jakob.

  CHAPTER 41

  Exhausted and devastated, Hana could barely mumble a prayer. Her jaw ached where Daud had struck her, but it wasn’t the physical pain of the blow that penetrated to the core of her being. It was the malevolent intent behind it. Everything she had thought true about Daud was false. The door opened, and her interrogator returned. Hana shrank back.

  “Tell me what you know about Latif Al-Fasi,” he demanded in Arabic.

  “Uh, he’s an American who films and edits execution videos,” she said.

  “More! I’m losing patience with you!”

  Hana spoke as rapidly as she could. “He appeared in a video on a computer seized at the Zadan house in Deir Dibwan. Men were hunted down by masked teenage boys and killed. It was a video within a video. I do not know if that makes sense, but—”

  “How did you and the American Jew identify Al-Fasi?” the man interrupted.

  “Jakob sent the video to a police detective in Atlanta, and the US authorities identified Al-Fasi.”

  The man stared hard at Hana for several seconds. “Did you report this to Daud Hasan?”

  “Yes. It was yesterday or today. I can’t remember exactly.”

  Rage flew across the man’s face. Hana closed her eyes to avoid what she feared was coming. The man yelled something Hana didn’t understand. She opened her eyes as he turned toward the door to leave.

  At that instant a massive boom shook the walls of the apartment and caused pieces of the ceiling to fall. Hana’s first thought was that someone had detonated a suicide vest. Her interrogator covered his ears with his hands and stumbled toward the door. Before he reached it, two men wearing helmets and military uniforms burst into the room. They knocked the man to the floor and one of them pressed the muzzle of a rifle to his head while the other grabbed his hands and secured them behind his back with metal handcuffs. Although her ears were still ringing loudly, Hana heard gunshots from elsewhere in the apartment.

  The soldier holding the gun to the man’s head looked at her and yelled something in Hebrew, but she couldn’t understand what he said. The other man was emptying the Caucasian man’s pockets. Hana saw the lighter along with a handgun. The soldier ripped off the man’s shirt to determine if he was wearing a suicide vest.

  “Who are you?” she called out in Hebrew.

  The soldier pointed to a patch on his uniform. She recognized it as the insignia of a special forces unit in the IDF. Hana closed her eyes in gratitude. The dust swirling in the room made her cough. She heard more gunshots. Then everything grew quiet. Another soldier entered the room, knelt beside her, took a knife from his belt, and cut the ties binding her wrists, arms, and ankles. Hana cried out in pain, and the young soldier looked at her with concern.

  “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she repeated.

  The soldier left. Hana rubbed her wrists gingerly. The two soldiers jerked Hana’s interrogator to his feet and dragged him from the room. He didn’t make eye contact with her. The other soldier who had unbound her reentered the room and spoke to her. “Can you walk?” he asked in Hebrew.

  “I think so,” Hana answered as she rose unsteadily to her feet but then plopped back down onto the floor.

  “Stay there,” the man replied. “I’ll send a medic.”

  Hana moved her legs carefully several times while she waited. A young Jewish woman entered the room and closed the door.

  “What did they do to you?” the woman asked in Hebrew.

  Hana explained, and the woman checked her. Anything other than minimal movement of Hana’s hands caused shooting pains in her hands and wrists.

  “I hope it’s temporary nerve pain,” the medic said.

  “What about the American? Is he okay?”

  “He was shot and is on his way to the hospital. I don’t know the seriousness of his wounds, but he was conscious when I saw him.”

  Hana’s lower lip trembled as she struggled to maintain her composure. “What about the terrorists?”

  “Neutralized or in custody,” the woman answered, rising from the floor.

  The door opened, and a man entered. It was Daud. There was blood on the front of his shirt.

  “No!” Hana screamed.

  The medic spun around.

  “It’s not what you think,” Daud said in Hebrew. “I contacted the Shin Bet and let them know we were hostages. That’s why the soldiers are here.”

  “He’s lying!” Hana said to the medic who stood between her and Daud. “I want to speak to your commanding officer!”

  “I’ll get him,” Daud said and left the room.

  “He betrayed us and struck me in the face,” Hana said to the medic, frantically pointing to her cheek. “He needs to be arrested!”

  “I don’t know who he is,” the woman answered. “Colonel Tarif is in charge of the operation.”

  Hana was trembling with rage and fear. Daud was such a smooth talker that she knew he could turn the situation in his favor.

  A middle-aged Druze man with a thick mustache and wearing a military uniform entered the room. He spoke first to the medic. “Is she able to talk to me?” he asked.

  “Yes,” the medic answered.

  “Leave us,” the officer said. “And tell no one to interrupt.”

  The medic left the room and closed the door behind her.

  “I’m Colonel Tarif,” the man said to Hana in Hebrew.

  “Don’t believe anything Daud Hasan tells you,” Hana said breathlessly. “He was collaborating with the terrorists who took us hostage. Arrest him immediately.”

  “I can’t do that,” the offic
er answered. “Mr. Hasan is authorized to be here.”

  “But he is working with the terrorists! Were you able to talk to Jakob Brodsky before they took him to the hospital? He saw it all and will verify what I’m saying!”

  “One of my staff interviewed him briefly, but I can’t tell you what he said.”

  “Then what can you tell me? You have no idea how manipulative and deceptive Hasan can be!”

  “The area is secure, and you are no longer in danger.”

  “Not as long as Daud Hasan is free! It’s not secure, and I’m still in danger!”

  Colonel Tarif stepped to the door, opened it, and motioned to someone outside. Daud entered.

  “What are you authorized to tell Ms. Abboud?” the colonel asked Daud, who eyed Hana cautiously.

  Hana could not believe what was happening, but it was clear no one was going to listen to her. “Please, get me out of here,” she begged Tarif.

  “I was speaking in Russian to Anzor, the man in charge of the terrorists,” Daud said to Hana. “He’s originally from Chechnya. If Colonel Tarif and his unit hadn’t arrived when they did, Jakob would have been killed and you would have been sent to Chechnya and—”

  “What?”

  “Been forced into a marriage with a commander in the local Islamic militia. It was my suggestion as a way to keep you alive until you could be rescued.”

  Hana stared at Daud. “I don’t believe a word you’re saying,” she said, her voice trembling.

  Daud glanced at Colonel Tarif. “Leave me with her alone.”

  “No!” Hana said to the officer. “Please, no!”

  After hesitating a few seconds, the colonel turned away. “We’ll need to go soon so you can be debriefed,” he said to Daud.

  “I understand.”

  Tarif left, leaving Hana glaring at Daud. “There’s nothing you can say—” she began and stopped as Daud knelt down on the floor at her feet.

  “I’m going to make sure you learn enough of the truth that you’ll know I would never do anything to harm or hurt you.”

  “You hit me!” Hana responded, pointing to her face.

  “I had to convince Anzor there was nothing between us to keep him from becoming suspicious of my loyalties and killing you.”

  “You convinced me of your loyalties!”

  Daud looked down at the floor for a moment before responding. “I haven’t been completely truthful with you from the first time we met. My role here is much more complicated than you or Jakob realized. I believed I could walk a tightrope and serve my country and your client, but I fell, and it almost destroyed us all. That’s all I can say for now.”

  “I’m going to do everything I can to make you pay for what you’ve done!” Hana yelled. “Leave, now!”

  Daud slowly rose to his feet and their eyes met. There was no lingering evidence of the deadly gaze he’d given her moments before, but the memory of it remained burned into her mind.

  Jakob closed his eyes for a moment. A dead terrorist lay sprawled on the floor of the room. People in real life didn’t die like they did in the movies. Even though the man had been fatally shot, his body continued to twitch. A medic knelt and checked Jakob’s left leg. He cut away the cloth to reveal the wound left by a bullet that had nicked Jakob’s thigh on its way into the abdomen of one of the terrorists.

  After he was hit, Jakob had fallen to the floor and stayed there with his eyes closed until the shooting stopped. When he raised his head, Tawfik was gone, and the wounded terrorist was bleeding out on the floor. The time from the initial boom of the concussion grenades as the special forces troops burst into the apartment until the final gunshot was less than a minute.

  An hour later, Jakob was receiving treatment in a military hospital. His left leg numb from multiple shots of anesthetic, he watched the Israeli doctor stitch up the wound.

  “How many stitches did it take?” he asked the doctor, who had told Jakob he’d immigrated to Israel from New Jersey.

  “About thirty.”

  Jakob thought about the thirty-seven stitches that closed the wound on Sadie Neumann’s face.

  “You’ll be sore. Limit your activities for a couple of weeks and avoid lifting anything over fifteen pounds. I gave you a shot of antibiotic and will write a prescription. The nurse will provide written instructions about wound care. You won’t be running any marathons for a while.”

  “I never wanted to run one,” Jakob answered. “What about Hana Abboud, the other hostage? How is she?”

  “They brought her in a few minutes ago.”

  “Was she shot or seriously injured?”

  “She wasn’t shot. I’m not sure about her medical status.”

  “I’d like to see her.”

  “I’ll find out if that can be arranged.”

  The doctor left. Now that he was no longer in imminent danger of dying, Jakob missed his cell phone. Sitting on the bed, he felt completely isolated from the rest of the world. He touched his ears in a vain effort to stop the ringing and rubbed his eyes. There was no removing his memory of the scene in the apartment. A male nurse entered his cubicle.

  “Mr. Brodsky? Do you want to see Ms. Abboud?”

  “Yes,” Jakob replied, preparing to lower his leg to the floor and stand.

  “No, no,” the nurse said, holding up his hand. “I’ll bring her to you.”

  A few moments later the curtain was pulled back and Hana slowly entered. She was still wearing the green dress, but her fancy shoes had been replaced by hospital slippers. She shuffled forward. Her hair was a mess. Seeing Hana alive, Jakob felt hot tears rush to the corners of his eyes and stream down his cheeks.

  “I don’t know where those came from,” he said, clearing his throat and wiping away the tears. “But boy, am I glad to see you.”

  Hana sat in a plastic chair and eyed the bandage on Jakob’s thigh. He told her what had happened. While he talked Hana’s face remained as impassive as a stone statue. He suspected she was experiencing shock.

  “What about you?” he asked.

  “After we were separated, I spent most of my time alone with the man they called Anzor until the soldiers came.” Hana paused and gingerly touched the discolored place on her cheek.

  “Daud did this to me. Now he wants me to believe he wasn’t cooperating with the terrorists.”

  “I think he may be telling the truth.”

  Hana looked up. “Why?”

  As best he could, Jakob pieced together the conversations he’d overheard between Daud and Anzor. He hesitated when he reached the part about plans for his death and Hana’s enslavement in Chechnya but told her anyway.

  “I already know,” Hana said. “Daud admitted it but claimed it was a way to keep me alive.”

  “That wasn’t clear to me at the time,” Jakob said. “The key information had to do with Latif Al-Fasi. Daud didn’t want Anzor to know that we’d identified Al-Fasi and linked him to Tawfik and Abdul. When I brought up Al-Fasi’s name, Anzor stormed out of the room to question you about Daud’s knowledge of the situation. That’s when the soldiers arrived.”

  Hana slowly lifted her right hand and brushed a strand of hair away from her face. “I’m not sure what to think or feel,” she said. “Daud claims he was some sort of double agent working for Israel. If that’s the case, his cover is blown, because the terrorists who were captured will soon spread the word that Daud wasn’t arrested.”

  “His life will be in danger every time he steps onto the street.”

  “You know what that feels like.”

  Jakob remembered Anzor’s comment about Simi Valley Productions and told Hana about it. “That’s something we should check out,” he said. “It might be—”

  “My mind can’t go there yet,” Hana interrupted. “I’m still in shock about Daud.”

  Jakob thought for a moment. He spoke slowly. “Even though I have questions, I suspect Daud is on the right side. I mean, somehow he got word to the government that we were hostages.”
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br />   “Unless it came from someone else.”

  “Who?”

  “I don’t know!” Hana answered with frustration in her voice.

  They sat in silence for a few moments.

  “Are you spending the night in the hospital?” Jakob asked.

  “No. As soon as they release me, I’ll go back to the hotel.”

  It was a natural statement, but the normality of it jarred Jakob. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

  “Colonel Tarif, the commander of the soldiers, told me security officers will establish a secure perimeter around the hotel. He also asked me not to talk to anyone about what happened. I desperately want to call my family even if only to hear their voices—” Hana stopped as fresh tears coursed down her cheeks. Even in his own pain, Jakob wished he could comfort her.

  “A specialist is going to check my ears that have been ringing like crazy,” Jakob said, then stopped.

  Hana wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “My ears stopped ringing after an hour or so, but you were closer to the initial concussion explosions than I was.”

  Hana struggled slightly as she rose to her feet. Jakob eyed her with sorrow and pity. “Hana,” he said, “I’m sorry I contacted Leon Lowenstein and dragged you into this mess.”

  “You didn’t see this coming,” she said and sighed. “And I made a choice, too. Mr. Collins and Mr. Lowenstein left it up to me as to whether to help you or not.”

  They were silent for a moment. Jakob was glad for the quiet of a safe place. “We’ll find out the truth about Daud,” he said.

  Hana turned to go. “Don’t bother. It won’t make a difference.”

  CHAPTER 42

  Every cell of her being exhausted, back at the hotel Hana slipped on a nightgown, crawled into bed, and pulled the sheet up to her chin. She woke several times during the night when she moved her hands or feet in a way that caused pain. Otherwise, she was blessed with no nightmares. In the morning, she took a shower and stood beneath the water a long time to cleanse body and soul. The warm, soothing water helped more than she thought possible. After getting dressed, she turned on the local news, which reported a raid on a terrorist cell in Beit Hanina that resulted in the death of an unidentified terrorist. There was no mention of what really took place.