“I’m not sure I agree, but I’m listening.”
“Vladimir’s aunt in Haifa found an inventory of the great-grandfather’s collection. It was prepared as collateral for a loan and certified by a Russian bank officer on May 14, 1910. The first page lists the more important items, like the coins minted during the Bar Kokhba revolt and a clay olive oil lamp. The ceramic head appears directly beneath the coins and is described in Russian as ‘decorated head of ancient high-ranking female.’ I’ve seen a copy and should have the original document by the end of the week.”
Hana didn’t want to squelch Jakob’s enthusiasm, but she had to tell him the truth.
“A Russian bank officer doesn’t qualify as an archaeological expert,” she said. “How would he know it was ancient or a high-ranking female?”
“He wouldn’t, but the document establishes the existence of the head in a private collection long before the time when fraud in these types of ancient artifacts really took off. And it syncs up perfectly with the old photographs. I did some research after our lunch, and the big market in fakes didn’t develop until after the Dead Sea Scrolls were discovered in 1948. Before that, bogus items surfaced occasionally, but it wasn’t a booming business, and never an option for a poor Russian immigrant working on a collective farm in northern Israel. Vladimir’s great-grandfather didn’t have the cash to buy anything, whether genuine or fake.”
Jakob was making a few good points, but they supported only the fact that whatever Vladimir’s ancestor took with him from Palestine to Belarus was at least a hundred years old.
“Okay, but that doesn’t help you locate the supposed queen’s head now. That’s what you really need to know.”
“Which is where you and Daud come in.”
Hana realized she’d fallen into Jakob’s trap. She couldn’t suppress a smile.
“What do you have in mind?” she asked.
“You and Daud speak multiple languages and have extensive personal contacts within Israel, the West Bank, and elsewhere in the Middle East that I can’t touch. He’s worked as a private investigator, and you’re a lawyer licensed in Israel. What I’d like to do is develop an action plan and go over it with both of you to see what makes sense. I’m setting up a dummy company to act as Vladimir’s agent. That keeps his family’s name out of the picture and will make inquiries businesslike. Of course, if we locate any of the stolen items, there will likely be a lawsuit to recover them, and the Russian bank inventory will be powerful evidence. Mr. Lowenstein might not let you help me file a lawsuit, but you could direct us to lawyers who could help in Israel or one of the surrounding countries if it becomes necessary.”
“Several of those countries don’t have a reliably functioning legal system.”
“But some do. Since the Gulf War, there seems to be a lot of traffic in antiquities passing through the Persian Gulf states like Bahrain, Qatar, the United Arab Emirates, and Iraq. Publicity about the discovery of the king’s head near Metula might flush out whoever has possession of the queen because her value would skyrocket, through a sale to either a museum or a private collector. Most of the items like the coins and pottery are generic, so they will be hard to identify unless chain of custody can be established linking them to the Russian colonel. The queen is the crown jewel.”
Hana was impressed with Jakob’s creativity. “Daud is keeping a low profile and can’t travel all over the place meeting people and asking questions.”
“And he knows how to do things discreetly. I don’t want to put him in danger, but I bet he’d love to sink his teeth into a project like this.”
“I’ll mention it to him,” she said noncommittally.
“I’d rather make the pitch directly—”
“No. I want to do it.”
Jakob paused for a moment. “Then promise you’ll do it with the same enthusiasm I have.”
* * *
Daud picked up Leon from the dog day care center. He’d never owned a pet and was still getting used to the idea of sharing his home with an animal, especially one as big and hungry and hairy as Leon. But Hana loved the furry black-and-white creature. Daud led Leon away from the kennel toward the Land Rover. The dog resisted when they neared the vehicle.
“If you don’t want to ride, it’s going to be a long walk home,” Daud said in Arabic.
Leon sniffed an area near the rear tires. After his run, Daud had driven through a marshy patch not far from the river and collected mud in the rear wheel wells. Apparently Leon’s nose picked up an interesting scent in the dried residue. Daud let Leon sniff until the dog seemed satisfied.
“Maybe you could be trained to sniff out contraband,” Daud continued in Arabic to Leon. “That way you would have a job to go to every day and contribute to the household income.”
Leon looked at Daud with soulful brown eyes before jumping into the passenger seat of the vehicle. An hour later Hana walked through the door, and Leon leapt up from his spot on the kitchen floor and bolted to the door to greet her. She grabbed the dog’s head with her hands and planted a quick kiss on the top of his head. She then turned to Daud and extended her arms for an embrace.
“Shouldn’t you kiss me before you kiss the dog?” Daud asked.
“There’s plenty of love to go around. Help me with the groceries. I’m going to fix you a nice supper.”
Daud grabbed all six plastic bags and brought them into the kitchen. Hana was pouring dry dog food into Leon’s metal bowl.
“He’s already eaten,” Daud said, placing the bags on the kitchen counter.
“But that doesn’t mean he isn’t hungry. I’ve seen your appetite roar back within an hour of finishing a meal.”
“True,” Daud admitted.
“Tell me about your day,” Hana asked cheerily as she began to unpack the grocery bags.
Daud told her about driving the Land Rover to the trailhead near the river.
“Did you go into any rough areas?” Hana asked.
“Just a little bit of mud that I washed off after I picked up Leon. He seemed to like exploring a new smell.”
“Yes, he’s always had a curious nose,” Hana said as she rinsed fresh green and red peppers in the sink. “And by the way, I called the vet and scheduled an appointment for him to be neutered.”
“Have you ever thought about training him to do something?” Daud asked.
Hana gave Daud a puzzled look. “He’s passed all the levels of obedience training at the kennel,” she said. “He failed some lessons the first time and had to take them over, but eventually he made it all the way through. I have a certificate to prove it.”
“I was thinking about something more financially beneficial.”
Daud carefully laid out his idea about training Leon as a detection dog. Hana let him talk as she continued to prepare the food.
“Dogs in the canine unit were invaluable,” Daud concluded. “Leon is still just a big puppy, and we could have him checked out by a training facility to determine his aptitude.”
“Were any of the IDF dogs ever killed or injured?”
“Uh, not that I recall.”
Hana dumped cut-up peppers and onions into a saucepan of olive oil and faced him. “Leon’s most important aptitude is the thing you mentioned when I walked through the door a few minutes ago,” she said.
Puzzled, Daud asked, “He can eat all the time?”
“No, his ability to love. That’s all I expect or want from him.”
As if on cue, Leon walked over to Daud and licked his hand.
“See,” Hana observed. “He loves you too.”
Hana waited until the last minute to add the thinly cut pieces of Kobe steak to the onions and peppers sizzling in the pan. She didn’t want to overcook the expensive steak strips.
“The rice is ready,” Daud said.
When they sat down to eat, Daud prayed a blessing. “And God bless Leon,” he said in conclusion.
“Even if he doesn’t become an income generator for our househo
ld,” Hana added.
Daud grinned. “Training Leon to work in security at the airport may not be the best idea I’ve had since we married,” he said.
“It was entertaining,” Hana replied. “Most of the dogs we used at the airport were German shepherds or Belgian Malinois, although another breed would occasionally be thrown in. I don’t ever remember seeing a dog similar to Leon.”
At the mention of his name, Leon left the kitchen and trotted into the eating area with his nose in the air.
“No, you’re not eating table scraps,” Hana said to him in English. “Lie down on your bed.”
Daud reloaded his plate with food. “Mr. Lowenstein called me this morning,” he said. “He told me about the interfaith forum he’s putting together and asked me if I could oversee security for the event.”
“What did you say?”
“I didn’t commit. My bigger concern was about you participating as a speaker. Are you sure it’s a good idea?”
Hana paused before taking another bite. “It came up while you were gone. There might be risks, but it seemed too good to pass up. How else am I going to get a chance to speak to that many people at once about what we both believe? And with you in charge of security, I’ll feel safe.”
They ate in silence for several moments.
Hana’s casual response didn’t really reflect how she felt. She knew Daud was right. It was hypocritical for her to be worried about him and tell him he couldn’t worry about her.
“Do you want me to tell Mr. Lowenstein I can’t do it?” she asked.
“Maybe,” Daud replied.
“Are you serious?” Hana laid her fork beside her plate.
“Did you think I’d just say okay?” Daud asked. “I don’t want to keep you from doing something you believe in and want to do, but I need more time to think about it.”
Hana tilted her head to the side. “Out of courtesy to Mr. Lowenstein, I need to get back to him soon,” she said.
“Sure, that makes sense. I do too.”
Hana finished the meal with mixed emotions swirling around inside her. She was glad Daud placed such a high value on her safety but chafed at any restrictions. When she and Jakob were held hostage in Jerusalem, Daud had been forced to act as if he were cooperating with the terrorists. He’d even slapped Hana as part of an interrogation. Afterward, Hana learned Daud’s actions were strategic and ultimately led to their rescue, but the incident still troubled her. After dinner she fixed hot tea, and they sat together in the living room.
“Oh, there’s something else I needed to tell you that came up while you were gone,” she said when they sat down. “It has to do with Jakob Brodsky and a new case.”
Daud was immediately interested in Vladimir Ivanov’s story. “I’d like to see the photos,” he said. “And I’m already thinking about some people in Israel I can recommend to him.”
“That’s what he’s looking for. But with Jakob it might not end there. There’s no way the law firm will allow me to get involved as cocounsel, so it will be totally different from the Neumann case.”
“I understand. I’ll give him a call after I get back from Washington.”
Chapter 13
Daud left Reagan International Airport and took an Uber to the meeting with Charlie. It would be his first time to actually meet the person in charge of the Sharm el-Sheikh mission. Daud had some words of constructive criticism for him. The driver stopped in front of a small two-story building that looked identical to ten other buildings in the business complex. The windows were opaque, and there was no signage on the exterior except a number—6035. The front door was locked, and Daud pushed a button beneath a small speaker. After he identified himself, the door clicked open.
Inside, he encountered a burly young guard who asked him to empty his pockets and then waved a wand over him. It clicked when it reached Daud’s right calf. The young man looked up with raised eyebrows.
“Surgery?” the man asked.
“No, shrapnel fragment from an old land mine.”
When he was on active duty with the IDF, Daud and some friends had been hiking in the Golan Heights when a cow in a nearby field stepped on an old Syrian land mine and blew it up. Three tiny jagged pieces of metal flying six inches off the ground shot twenty meters through the air and into Daud’s right leg. He pulled up his pant leg and showed the guard the jagged scar.
“Okay,” the man said. “The conference room is upstairs to the left.”
The meeting room was empty. There were several bottles of water on the table. Daud sat down to wait. A few minutes later a tall, lanky man in his fifties with closely cut gray hair entered.
“Mr. Hasan,” the man said with a clipped accent. “Pleased to meet you. I’m Charlie.”
Charlie sat across from him. The place at the head of the table remained empty.
“Is anyone else coming?” Daud asked.
“No, but everything we say is being recorded.”
“I understand,” Daud replied.
Charlie’s manner immediately reminded Daud of Aaron Levy. The similarity helped him relax.
“Did you prepare a written report?”
“No,” Daud replied, raising his eyebrows. “That wasn’t in my orders.”
“Good. I don’t want there to be a written report. Did you take any notes or prepare any memos about the mission on your computer, phone, or by hand?”
“No. I treated it as a covert operation.”
“That’s correct,” Charlie said as he opened a bottle of water and pushed it across the table to Daud. “I’ve already met with all others involved in the extraction of Mr. Kolisnyk and Mr. Bondar from Sharm el-Sheikh. Tell me what took place from the time you identified the Kolisnyks at the restaurant and received my message to proceed.”
Daud was used to giving verbal accounts of his activities, but not in English. He normally had an excellent ability to communicate details and in a clear, chronological order, but doing it in a language that was his fourth best after Arabic, Hebrew, and Russian was a challenge. Charlie listened without interruption all the way to Daud’s arrival at the Newark International Airport. He then spent the next hour and a half asking questions that Daud recognized as having two primary purposes: extracting more information if it existed and probing to see if Daud’s story remained credible upon closer scrutiny.
“Talking this long in English is difficult for me,” Daud said, taking a sip of water.
“Certainly,” Charlie said, leaning back in his chair. “It’s clear you didn’t approve of the way Lynn supervised the operation.”
“Correct. Placing members of the team, along with the Kolisnyks and Uri Bondar, in danger on the dock could have been a disaster. And I should not have been dumped off at the beach and left to find my own way back to the US. I was provided a second passport but nothing else. There was a lack of planning about my exit strategy. It made me believe I was considered . . .” Daud paused as he searched for the right word.
“Expendable?” Charlie suggested. “I understand why you might feel that way, but we also put out a false story about you trying to leave the area through Egypt. That meant the assets searching for you were divided. Your safe return from the mission was a high priority.”
Daud wasn’t convinced. Charlie continued. “Subsequently, there have been inquiries to our Department of State from the Egyptian government about what happened at Sharm el-Sheikh. The photographs and video taken of you by patrons at the restaurant appeared on social media, and the Egyptians sent them to us for assistance in identification. There is one significant difference between the information they provided and what you just told me.”
Daud couldn’t recall omitting anything important.
“What is it?”
“The Egyptians now claim you killed the man you encountered at the Kolisnyks’ villa.”
Daud’s mouth went dry. “That’s not true.”
“You would have been justified in killing him. We’re still working on findi
ng out who he was and how he died. Did the wanted poster at the Taba border list any crimes?”
“No, all it said was that I should be arrested so that the police in Sharm el-Sheikh could question me.”
“With the video and photos from the restaurant, there’s a strong likelihood the Egyptians will identify you. In today’s world it’s almost impossible to remain invisible.”
This wasn’t a shock, but it was tough being confronted with the fact that his identity would be compromised.
“What do you think the Egyptians will do?” Daud asked.
“Nothing,” Charlie replied. “Because I suspect they killed the intruder after they interrogated him and extracted all the information they could from him. We may or may not receive confirmation of my theory or identify the man who died. Also, I don’t know if there was a connection between the intruder and whoever fired the shots at the marina. The situation was much more volatile than anticipated. Lynn was focused on removing the Kolisnyks and Uri Bondar from the area and didn’t consult with me about your status.”
“I’d like to know more, both about the assassin at the villa and what happened at the marina.”
Charlie screwed the top back onto his bottle of water. “We accomplished our goals when we extracted Artem Kolisnyk and Uri Bondar, so answering those questions has a low priority. If you want to find out more, it will be up to you. In the meantime, I agree with your criticism of the way Lynn handled your exit strategy.”
Daud knew it was as close to an apology as he was likely to receive.
“One other matter,” Charlie added. “I’d like to discuss another mission with you. I think you’ll find it—”
“No, thanks,” Daud said.
* * *
Since Daud was out of town, Hana borrowed his Land Rover and drove it to work. Sitting in traffic elevated above ordinary cars gave her a heady feeling of superiority, but navigating congested streets in a bigger, bulkier vehicle gave her a headache. She was glad when she finally pulled into a space in the parking deck. Before going inside, she took a photo of the Land Rover on her phone to show Janet. The secretary was furiously typing away when Hana approached and interrupted her. Janet placed her earbuds on the desk beside her keyboard.
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