Promised Land

by Robert Whitlow

  “I should also be there when you talk to the woman in Talbiya,” he said.

  Hana was silent for a moment.

  “I won’t intimidate her,” Daud continued. “She’s going to have a lawyer or family member or both with her. I’ll pour the coffee for everyone and call you Ms. Abboud.”

  “Okay, okay.” Hana chuckled. “Anyway, I have good news. I spoke with Mr. Collins this morning about taking a trip to Israel. He requested a proposal and responded much more quickly than I expected. He approved it. Collins, Lowenstein, and Capella will pay my expenses as long as I’m able to set up a couple of business meetings, one in Herzliya and another in Ra’anana. I asked Mr. Collins if you could join me for the client meeting in Herzliya, but he turned down that part of the request.”

  “When would we leave?”

  “As soon as I schedule the meetings with the clients. I’m waiting to hear from them now. I’m aiming for Thursday through Tuesday in Israel, with a travel day on either side. We’ll squeeze in everything we need to do in Jerusalem after I finish the law firm business. Maybe we can see your mother and brothers before driving to Reineh.”

  Hana’s initial appointment with an obstetrician was scheduled for the following week. The accelerated schedule would mean an early reveal of the pregnancy to their families.

  “Have you talked to Jakob about the trip?” Daud asked.

  “Not yet. If he can’t go on short notice, he’ll have to decide if he wants us to meet with Mrs. Zarkawi.”

  “Jakob will insist on being there,” Daud said. “After I dropped off Leon, I called the real estate agent about the house here and left a voice mail that we’re not ready to move forward with an offer.”

  “I checked the listing a few minutes ago, and it’s still active.”

  “We prayed; now we’ll see what happens.”

  Daud could hear Hana talking to someone else.

  “I have to go,” she said. “Janet says Mr. Lowenstein wants to see me as soon as possible. Bye.”

  Daud lowered the phone and returned to his computer. There was a prompt reply from Mr. Chatti in the UAE expressing further interest in hiring Daud as a consultant. The businessman had a number of questions. Daud started working on a response. Working for corporate clients could bring in a steady flow of income and be a lot safer than working as an independent contractor for the CIA in places like Sharm el-Sheikh.

  Chapter 29

  “Leon is a magnificent dog,” Mr. Lowenstein said to Hana as he held up the photo on his cell phone. “I appreciate the picture including you and Daud, but I’d like one with just Leon. Better yet, bring him to the law firm and we can take a photo here in my office.”

  “Are you serious?” Hana asked.

  “Absolutely. My wife laughed so hard she cried.”

  “Maybe I can pick him up early from the dog day care where he stays and bring him by.”

  “Is it a nice place?”

  “Yes. I can monitor him via video during the day.”

  “Show me.”

  Hana opened the app on her phone. Leon was lying beside a metal water bowl with his tongue hanging out of his mouth. She handed the phone to Mr. Lowenstein. “He plays hard when he first gets there, so he’s taking a break.”

  Mr. Lowenstein smiled and shook his head. “That’s how I look in the clubhouse after walking eighteen holes on the golf course.”

  He watched a few more seconds before returning the phone to Hana. “Jim Collins told me about your upcoming trip to Israel,” the senior partner said. “That would set up a prime opportunity for a representative of the law firm to meet with one of our shipping company clients in Rome. Book a flight that includes a day in Rome so you can meet with an executive of the company’s risk management group. He’s originally from Beirut but moved to Italy twenty years ago to get away from all the political problems in Lebanon.”

  It was a familiar tale. Every time she heard about the turmoil in Lebanon, Hana felt sad. “That should be easy to include.”

  “Akeem speaks passable English,” Mr. Lowenstein continued. “But he’s more comfortable in Arabic, and a personal visit from you would be a boost to client relations. He was excited to find out that you work here. I’ll prep you thoroughly on the substantive ideas to pass along. It’s a PowerPoint presentation I often give to clients.”

  “Okay,” Hana replied. “I’m just concerned about the follow-up questions.”

  “One beauty of the program is that additional questions are funneled back to the firm and generate billable hours. You’ll see.”

  Back in her office, Hana followed up with the companies in Herzliya and Ra’anana. Both wanted to meet with her on Friday. It would be a tight schedule. She found a flight that allowed a layover in Rome on the return trip and sent the itinerary to Mr. Lowenstein, who approved it. Jakob called immediately after she forwarded it to him.

  “I can’t make the trip,” the young Jewish lawyer said. “I have a trial on the calendar, and if that doesn’t go forward, I have to cram in three depositions in another case. Are you and Daud willing to meet with the rich Arab woman in Jerusalem?”

  Hana knew all along that she and Daud would likely end up in the middle of Jakob’s case. “Yes, so long as we do it during our personal time. That shouldn’t be hard, because I’m going to conduct all my business for the firm on Friday.”

  “Make sure you tell Mrs. Zarkawi the story of Vladimir’s family. That’s our strongest argument.”

  “I’ll work it in.”

  “I have one hundred percent confidence in your ability to handle this better than anyone on the planet, even me. Even if I was there, the language barriers would make me a wallflower. Find out what you can, and we’ll patch in Vladimir so the three of us can determine the best way to proceed from there.”

  * * *

  Rahal had a headache that forced him to cancel his morning meetings and lie still in a darkened room. It was midafternoon before strong medication beat back the pain enough that he could go to his office located on the thirty-second floor.

  “Are you feeling better, sir?” Khalil asked.

  Rahal rubbed the area of his right temple that was most affected by the pain. He could tell that the headache still waited at the gate to storm his mind.

  “For now,” he replied. “I’m only going to take care of any pressing matters before going back to bed.”

  Khalil went over several business issues and offered suggestions.

  “Those are matters you can take care of,” Rahal said with a wave of his hand. “There’s no need to do anything except prepare a place for me to sign and authorize your recommendations.”

  Khalil placed several sheets of paper on the glass-topped table in the corner of the office where they sat. Rahal quickly scribbled his signature without reading them.

  Khalil gathered them up. “Thank you,” he said. “There’s one other piece of news.”

  “Make it quick,” Rahal grunted.

  “We’ve initiated direct contact with Daud Hasan and are working on a meeting with him in Ramallah.”

  “You did what?” Rahal forced his half-shut eyes open wider.

  “Our investigator was able to locate a recent client of Hasan, and I used his name to gain access. Using the internet presence we created in the UAE, I formed a dummy company that is going to hire him as a consultant to assist in opening a plastics manufacturing business in Palestine. I’ve already exchanged multiple emails with him. He’s planning a trip from America to Al-Quds in the near future and may be able to include us in his itinerary. My plan is to notify the Chechens of Hasan’s location and let them eliminate him.”

  Rahal clapped his hands together and then winced at the resulting pain. “Well done,” he said.

  “It’s not done yet,” Khalil responded. “Should we leave this up to the Chechens, or should I travel to Palestine myself? Hasan has friends in the Zionist government who may have infiltrated the Chechen network.”

  Rahal’s head wa
s pounding again, and his stomach felt queasy. “Use the Chechens,” he responded. “They are highly motivated and have people on the ground in Palestine.”

  * * *

  Daud recommended the Jericho Agro-Industrial Park as the best place for his new client to locate its plastics business. Partially funded by the Japanese government, the industrial zone was close to Jordan with good access to the rest of the West Bank and Israel. Mr. Chatti proved to be an active client with lots of questions.

  Arab chicken stew was one of the few meals Daud had perfected as a bachelor. He would prepare a large quantity, then eat it for days afterward. The stew contained both white-meat and dark-meat chicken with the skin removed. Daud moved about the kitchen. He boiled the chicken and added tomatoes, zucchini, onion, diced potato, and diced carrots, along with cloves, coriander, tomato paste, cumin, black pepper, cardamom, cinnamon, and salt. After boiling it for an hour, he let it simmer the rest of the afternoon. The smells teased his stomach and he repeatedly lifted the lid from the pot to enjoy the aroma. He sampled the broth to make sure he’d properly balanced the spices. The door opened, and Hana entered with Leon.

  “That smells amazing,” she said.

  “And I believe it will taste good too.”

  Hana lifted the lid from the pot. “That looks and smells better than the chicken stew my mother makes,” she said. “Sorry I’m late. I went back to the office after I picked up Leon.”

  “Why?”

  “So Mr. Lowenstein could meet him in person.”

  Hana took out her phone and showed Daud a photo of Leon sitting in the senior partner’s chair. In a second picture, Leon and Mr. Lowenstein were in front of the lawyer’s collection of antique sailing-ship models.

  “That one made me nervous,” Hana said. “One swipe of Leon’s tail could have wrecked an entire fleet of the ships.”

  “Maybe he can dog-sit while we’re in Israel,” Daud said with a smile.

  Hana shook her head. “No. And we’re not just going to Israel. There will be a stopover in Rome on the way back.”

  While they finished preparing the food, Hana explained the reason for the extension of the trip to Rome. She ate three bites of the stew without commenting. Daud thought it tasted good, but he’d not been shy in the use of spices and might have overdone it. After the fourth bite, he couldn’t wait any longer.

  “What do you think about it?” he asked. “It there too much cardamom? I know it’s potent, but if I’m going to use some, I want to taste it.”

  Hana held up a piece of chicken on the end of her fork. “In a few seconds this is going to be one of the best bites of chicken stew that’s ever crossed my lips,” she said.

  Daud grinned. While they ate, Hana summarized more about her day, including the conversation with Jakob.

  “That doesn’t surprise me,” Daud said. “I may also squeeze in some business for a new client.”

  He told Hana about the plastics manufacturer based in the UAE.

  “Chatti originally mentioned Ramallah as a location but quickly shifted to the business park near Jericho.”

  “That makes sense. The development at Jericho is an island of stability.”

  “Do you think there might be a possibility that this company can work with your family?” Daud asked. “I especially thought about recycled materials.”

  “Maybe,” Hana said with a slow nod. “My father already brings in a lot of that sort of stuff from the West Bank.”

  * * *

  After the meal, they cleaned up the kitchen and loaded the dishwasher.

  “Did you hear from anyone at the hotel about the interfaith convocation?” Hana asked as she scrubbed the pot used for cooking the stew. “Several emails came to me this afternoon.”

  “No, I’m still waiting to receive the layout and specifications from one of the assistant managers. It’s going to be more complicated than the event planner hired by Mr. Lowenstein believes, and I’d like to get started before we leave on our trip.”

  “Send her an email with a copy to Mr. Lowenstein,” Hana suggested. “That will get her moving.”

  Once Daud’s head rested on a pillow, he could fall asleep in less than a minute. Hana lay on her back staring at the ceiling. Melding two lives together was like preparing a delicious bowl of chicken stew. She thought about the simile and smiled. Both she and Daud were being tenderized and flavored.

  Unable to sleep, she slipped out of bed and checked her social media accounts in Israel. It had been several weeks since she’d allowed herself the luxury of browsing the internet postings of family and friends in the Middle East. Fabia and Farah regularly included photos and information about their children. Other family members did the same. Hana loved keeping up with her extended relatives but never posted anything about herself. Thinking about the planned surprise visit and the chance to freely communicate made her happy.

  * * *

  The following morning Hana called Janet into her office and told her about the upcoming trip to Israel.

  “It’s great that Daud can go with you,” Janet replied. “Is that when you’ll tell your family about the baby?”

  Hana smiled and nodded.

  “That will be so awesome! And even a short side trip to Rome will be fun. Will you be a little bit nervous when you’re in Israel?”

  “Daud and I need to be careful. Not even my parents know the full story about our adventures last year in Jerusalem.”

  “I hate that what happened is still hanging over you,” Janet said as her face became serious. “You deserve to be happy and carefree.”

  Hana half expected Janet’s words to produce tears, but instead, she felt a sense of resolve rise up inside. “Thanks,” she said. “I’m happy, but I don’t know anyone who is carefree.”

  “I had a few nonstressful days like that before the kids came along, but I didn’t realize it at the time.” Janet sighed. “I thought I experienced anxiety when I was single and had no children, but the responsibility of a baby changed everything forever. Not that I have regrets. I’m glad they’re here. It’s just a change in perspective that I wish I’d had earlier in life.”

  Hana glanced at the burnished walnut that rested beneath her computer screen. She knew there were many unknowns waiting in her future.

  “Maybe Donnie and I will have another chance at bliss once we’re empty nesters.”

  It took Hana a second to understand the term. She was at a completely different place in her journey.

  “And I’m just trying to figure out where I should build my nest,” she replied.

  Chapter 30

  Daud shifted in a window seat during the short flight from Atlanta to New York. Hana knew commuter planes weren’t designed for a man his size. They’d upgraded their seats on the overseas flight to give him a few extra inches of legroom. The past few days had been a rush of activity. Hana worked late at the office several nights and squeezed in the initial visit to her obstetrician, who told her everything looked normal. The big surprise was that she was at least two weeks farther along in the pregnancy than she’d thought.

  Daud leaned over and spoke to Hana. “I brought the schematic diagrams of the hotel so I can work on the security layout at some point during the trip.”

  “I’m glad they finally sent them to you.”

  “I still wouldn’t have the plans if Mr. Lowenstein hadn’t intervened. My Arab name didn’t instill confidence in the hotel management.”

  Hana patted his arm. “I know you’re the best.”

  Daud was able to sleep during most of the flight from New York to Israel. Once on the ground, they stood in the immigration line designated for passengers with Israeli passports. Their Arab names prompted a couple of extra questions by a bored young woman sitting in a tiny booth.

  The airport was familiar territory to Hana. When she worked there as a security officer, she’d questioned thousands of people coming into the country. Visitors to Israel came from every tribe and language. Hana’s fluency i
n both Arabic and French determined how her supervisors used her. Some of her favorite conversations were with French speakers from West Africa. Their exuberance at being in the Holy Land knew no limits.

  At their hotel, Hana collapsed on the bed without changing clothes and fell into a sound sleep. When she awoke two hours later, she thought for a moment it was the middle of the night because Daud had completely closed the blackout curtains and it was pitch-dark in the room.

  “Where are you?” she mumbled.

  “Over here,” Daud answered.

  Hana blinked a couple of times and could make out his form in a chair on the other side of the room. She picked up her phone and checked the time.

  “I’d better shower and get ready,” she said.

  Refreshed by the nap and a change of clothes, Hana emerged back into a room with the Middle Eastern sun streaming in. Still sitting in the chair, Daud had propped open his laptop and was typing.

  “What are you going to do while I’m gone?” she asked.

  “Exercise, talk to Avi, and work on the project for the plastics company.”

  “I can’t rush through these meetings,” Hana said.

  Before putting the finishing touches on her makeup, Hana walked over to Daud and kissed him. “I’m glad we’re here,” she said. “Even though we’re in a hotel room, it feels right already.”

  Daud smiled. “I know,” he said.

  Hana took a taxi to the meeting in Herzliya, where she participated in a discussion with a group of twelve Jewish men and women, including a CEO in his thirties. The tone of the conversations around the beige plastic table in the corner of a large, open office space was aggressive and argumentative, but in the rough-and-tumble world of Israeli business, that wasn’t necessarily a sign of trouble. The negative give-and-take was a common decision-making model for Israeli companies influenced by people who went through universal military service. In the IDF, junior commanders routinely challenged superior officers, and enlisted personnel did the same to junior commanders. At first, Hana’s suggestions were rejected by several people who eventually came around to agreement with her position. Her Arab ethnicity wasn’t an issue, and she was able to engage in the rapid-fire Hebrew conversations.