Living Stones (12 page)

“Where generally would it go?”

“It looks like the first few days are in Bethlehem and Galilee, then a trip to the Dead Sea and Qumran—you know, where the scrolls were found. Then Masada, then north to Jericho, and the last few days in Jerusalem.”

“Do you know how many are going?”

“Looks like eleven people are signed up with their deposits, according to a list printed on Friday.”

“Could you tell me who they are?”

“I’m not sure I should release the names. Are you interested in going? I can send you a brochure.”

“I’ll think about it, you know, and maybe get back to you. Thanks for the information.”

He had just found the key to eliminate the final threat.

Robert could hardly wait to get home to his room. He had saved lots of news feeds about the bombing on his computer, including on Facebook. He scrolled back to the day after the event and sure enough, there was her picture. Ashley Wells. He stared out the window, gritting his teeth. She’d seen him again, at church.

Robert rehashed memories of Imam Jabril as he parked his Corvette a few blocks away from the Islamic Center. He found the imam alone in the kitchen of the mosque at three-thirty, following afternoon prayers, preparing tea. He looked at Robert with those piercing dark eyes. Like a scowling Ayatollah Khomeini.

“Tea?” he said, offering the cup to Robert. “Where have you been?” He changed to a soft whisper. “We haven’t seen you since the bombing. I haven’t seen Ali either. You both just disappeared.”

“I’ve been changing my routine.”

The imam put his index finger over his mouth. “Security,” he whispered.

The imam continued, his voice barely audible. “You succeeded. Congratulations. Allahu akbar.”

“Only with your help, you know. And now I need it again.”

“Come,” Jabril whispered. “We’ll go out in back to the chairs under the big tree. The police drive by here sometimes, and I’m suspicious they may have a bug in the main prayer room. We are careful in what we say out loud now.”

Robert drew up a chair outside, opposite the imam, and sipped his tea. He told Jabril about going to the Seattle Central Community College, not far away from the Islamic Center. Without mentioning the church, he shared about Ashley Wells, about seeing her initially across the street at the synagogue, and that she saw him just before the explosion.

“I’ve read the articles on my computer right after the bombing. Did she survive?”

“Yeah, she did. She dropped out of the news after about a week. She wouldn’t do interviews, so I guess they left her alone.”

“Are you sure she saw you at the synagogue?”

“Yeah, I am. You know, our eyes met, like just momentarily before the bomb went off. Then she collapsed on the sidewalk.”

The imam nodded, stroking his beard. He picked up his cup and sipped. “Have you seen her since?”

“Yeah, that’s the problem. We were fairly close in a crowd, and she saw me looking at her. At first I didn’t recognize her, but I know she recognized me, probably by the red birthmark above my eye.”

“Are you sure the girl you saw in the crowd is Ashley Wells?”

“I went home and looked up her picture on Facebook. Same girl.”

“Have you seen her since then?”

“No, and I don’t want to. That’s why I’m here. She is the only one in the world who could identify me as the bomber . . . besides you and Ali.”

“Wasn’t there a man with her?”

“Yeah, but the guy had his back to me.”

“So what do you want from me?”

“Imam, I need your help to eliminate this threat.” Robert told him about her impending tour with the church group to Israel without relating how he learned of it. He didn’t want anything to happen here since the police loomed everywhere. Could the imam help with his international contacts, to have something happen to her in Israel?

“How do you know she’s going to the Zionist Entity?”

“I’ve checked it with the church by telephone and confirmed it on their web page. I know exactly when they are leaving, which airline. Destination: Tel Aviv.”

“You want me to arrange with my friends there to trail her and
find some opportunity to get rid of the infidel?”

“Yeah.” Robert nodded.

“I can make it worth your while. Also for your friends there.”

“How much?”

“Thirty thousand up front, and another thirty when the job is complete.”

Imam Jabril gazed off toward the house, which needed repair. He nodded. Several moments passed. Robert wondered what he was thinking.

Finally he spoke.

“Do you have that kind of money?”

“Yeah, family trust fund. I can bring you a bank check tomorrow.”

The imam nodded. “I’ll see what I can do. I have secure e-mail so I will check with my friend in Jerusalem. Then we’ll see if he can help. Come back day after tomorrow.”

Robert couldn’t keep his mind on the lectures. He met Jenny after class.

“Hey, Jenny, I won’t be going back to the church, but we can see each other at school and have coffee together once in a while.”

She frowned and sighed. “I guess I’m not surprised. OK then.”

He liked her, but didn’t want to get close. She shouldn’t learn any more about him. Distance equals protection.

He couldn’t think of anything except his meeting with Imam Jabril tomorrow. The financial transaction had been a snap at the bank. He’d mentioned buying a new car, and the teller handed him the bank draft for thirty thousand dollars without any questions, based on his large amount in their money market fund.

The imam had their tea ready, and they walked out to the white plastic chairs under the big tree. Robert noticed the whole place needed fixing up, inside and out.

“Did you hear from your friend?” Robert didn’t wait for any greetings or small talk.

“I did.” The imam nodded and continued.

“He has people there
who can help with the project. And yes, he is interested . . . for a price.”

“How much?” Robert asked.

“Fifty thousand if they succeed. But I have to share the up-front costs with them, so I’ll need more as well.”

Robert stopped to consider that. If they didn’t get rid of her, he’d eventually be dead meat. “Fair enough. I’ll also provide another thirty to you on proof of success. Here’s the down payment.” He handed Jabril the bank draft for thirty thousand dollars noted to “Cash” and a flash drive. “And here is all the information you will need on Ashley Wells. You know, picture of her, flight information, itinerary with departure and return dates from Tel Aviv. It’s all on there. Are we in full agreement?”

“We are. You are well prepared,” Jabril said, nodding his head.

“And you can count on my friend in Jerusalem. He has men who are skilled. He will succeed.” They shook hands. “Allahu Akbar.”

Ashley looked out the window at the white beaches rapidly approaching as they glided silently, descending over the blue Mediterranean into Ben Gurion airport near Tel Aviv. The flight attendant announced the time: three p.m. With a short day and night, Ashley found herself too excited to sleep. She would crash in the hotel later. Her new friend and seatmate, Marie, a quiet, single woman in her thirties with short brown hair, shared her enthusiasm. “Look at all the people on the beach. The tall buildings must be hotels,” Marie said. “It looks like Waikiki.”

Ashley leaned toward the window, next to her conservatively dressed friend, who she couldn’t imagine frolicking on the beach in Honolulu.

“I’ve never been to Hawaii. I’ve been to northern Mexico, but that’s it.”

“Well, we’re in for a treat, Ashley.”

The bus trip to Bethlehem took only one hour, with traffic. Thirty miles sounded like nothing in Oklahoma. Ashley had studied Bethlehem and couldn’t wait to see it. The pictures on the Internet didn’t suggest the “little town of Bethlehem” she sang about every Christmas. They ascended on the highway winding through hills and forests, getting higher all the time. Scattered farms and large collections of white towers on the tops of hills looking like condos gleamed in the sunshine.

They pulled to a stop at a low building with a roof that crossed the highway. Ashley saw an armored personnel carrier and a uniformed man armed with an automatic rifle approaching the driver. He showed the soldier some papers and all of the team’s passports. Jim Swain, the young pastor and team leader, had collected them. After several minutes, the Israeli soldier waved them through. Jim stood in the front of the bus and explained as they turned onto a smaller road toward Bethlehem.

“This is just a security measure, routine, don’t worry. We are now out of Israel proper and in the West Bank. We will encounter several checkpoints during our trip, but as Americans, we’ll have no problems.”

Ashley sighed. She hadn’t been afraid. The stark reality of checkpoints simply surprised her. She began to notice apartment buildings, some with holes in the walls. Small shops appeared as they drove. The city appeared shabby and old, mixed with some attractive buildings, churches and mosques with their minarets. She turned to Marie. “Bethlehem doesn’t look like I pictured it in my mind.”

“Are you surprised?” Marie asked.

“Yeah, I guess I am. I had envisioned a quaint large village with all kinds of open shops.”

“Well, remember that the Israeli Defense Forces raided the city in 2002 looking for terrorists.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Some of them fled into the Church of the Nativity and became hostages for about five months. The soldiers killed several, deported others. Bethlehem became a war zone.”

“That accounts for the holes in the apartment buildings?”

“I presume so. You can’t have a war without damage to the city.”

Marie seemed to know the recent history of Bethlehem. Ashley had read mostly of the area’s ancient past and felt embarrassed that she knew so little of current events.

The whole team streamed into the hotel and rested before
dinner. Ashley and Marie asked to room together. After eating and visiting with the eleven team members, Ashley escaped to their room and crashed into bed. Though her watch read nine at night, her biological clock said it was midday. She finally slept and dreamed of soldiers and artillery firing on people in their apartments who then ran into the Church of the Nativity. A soldier came out of an armored vehicle with an assault rifle and demanded her passport. She woke up relieved she’d been dreaming.

The next morning Ashley and Marie stepped off of their tour bus along with their team and other tour groups. Jim led the way past a large open square with shops and a mosque.

“This open area is called ‘Manger Square,’ and that very old building ahead is our goal.”

The group approached a historic church built of ancient carved stones with a flat front wall, very plain and deteriorated with age. They bowed at the low doorway to get into the Church of the Nativity, the oldest standing active church in the world. It seemed unreal to Ashley to be in a church building seventeen centuries old.

Crowds of people swarmed the open areas. Some other tourists kissed the raised stones on the floor. A line wound down the stairs to the “cave.” Jim explained that this was thought to be the actual site of Jesus’s birth, commemorated by an ornate silver star in the floor. It had a hole in it that visitors could peer through to the cave itself where the birth occurred. Ashley dropped to her knees. She couldn’t see much.
Imagine, the King of the Universe, born in a dark cave used to house animals!

Ashley found Marie, and after looking at some paintings, they stepped quickly out into the sunshine. “I’m confused. I should be more thrilled to be standing where people over many centuries commemorate the birthplace of Jesus.”

“It’s hard, isn’t it,” Marie replied. “There’s no magic in stepping where Jesus came to our world. But it does make me realize that it actually happened. History verified. Our faith validated. Maybe it’s the press of the crowds that bothers us, or the confusion. But that’s
what he experienced, many times.”

“That helps.” Ashley gazed at the crowds of tourists pouring out of their buses. She remembered that Jesus quieted throngs of people, fed them, healed many, and taught them. He had compassion. He didn’t seem to get frustrated. She needed to see beyond the chaos too.