Saving Sophie: A Novel (29 page)

“Don’t patronize me, Kayla. I’ve served my time in this business and I have a right to know who I’m partnering with.”

Kayla nodded. “Yes, you do. On the books, I’m a diplomatic attaché, assigned as a resource to assist you in your investigation.”

“And off the books?”

“As Harry told you, I’m looking at al-Zahani. It’s not an official operation yet, so maybe I’m a tiny bit rogue in what we’re doing. But there’s no question his group is planning something and we need to figure it out. Our first stop today will be at Avraham Avinu. There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

As they walked past a newly constructed apartment building, Kayla asked Liam, “Why did you leave the service?”

He shrugged. “My assignment in Ireland was over. I had no interest in an office or administrative job, and frankly, I was tired of working for the government. Unless we accept a senior staff post on some foreign desk, people like you and me, we have no future in this business. Working for myself seemed like a good idea.”

“And has it been?”

“Pretty much. Why do you want to start at the bakery?”

“You’ll know in a minute.”

They opened the door to a domed building housing a tiny synagogue and entered the sanctuary through one of three stone archways. Walnut railings framed a bimah in the center of the room. An open book sat on a pulpit. A carved wooden ark, the
aron kodesh,
stood along the wall facing the Temple Mount in Jerusalem. A decorative
ner tamid,
the eternal light, hung above the ark. A large chandelier lit the center of the dome.

“Enchanting,” Liam said, looking around the sanctuary. “And cozy. Is this where we’re meeting your contact?”

She nodded. “This is the Avraham Avinu Synagogue. The original was built in 1540. In the years after the 1948 war, during the time that Jordan occupied the city, the Jewish section was torn apart and demolished. They converted this area into a trash dump and a public toilet. Right where we’re standing, they placed a goat and donkey pen. As soon as Israel liberated the area in 1967, the synagogue restoration began.”

A man who had been sitting quietly on a chair in the dark of a corner rose to greet them. “Quite right. Kayla knows her history.”

“Aaron, this is Liam Taggart, the investigator. Liam, meet Aaron Weinberg, a treasure in this community.”

“We are grateful for your service,” Aaron said as he clasped Liam’s hand. To Kayla, he said, “We have not seen Fakhir at the bakery yet today, so it may be a good day to try for the placement.”

She nodded. “And the evil doctor?”

“Nothing unusual. No change in his routine.”

“Have we learned anything further about the group?”

He shook his head. “That is why we hope you can successfully place the device.” He handed a small plastic square to Kayla.

“I think we’ll head to the market now,” Kayla said.

“I’ll walk partway with you,” Aaron said. Then he asked Liam, “Have you been to Israel before?”

“No. This is my first time.”

Walking from the synagogue, Liam noticed a colorful mosaic on the side of the stone wall. He stopped to examine it, furrowed his forehead, and looked at Aaron. “That’s a disturbing piece of artwork.”

Aaron nodded. “Tell me why you think so.”

“Well, it’s an orange baby buggy, but it has giant red flames of fire coming out of where the baby would sleep. And there’s a line of Hebrew words that I don’t understand.”

“It’s a memorial, Liam. To a ten-month-old girl, Shalhevet Pass, who was murdered right here where you stand. Just a baby.” He pointed at the horizon. “Do you see the security tower on the crown of that Hebron hill? It used to be the site of a tall building in the Palestinian neighborhood of Abu Sneineh. From there, a sniper shot the little baby through the head. Her father, who was pushing the buggy, was hit by two bullets himself. The shooter’s building was subsequently torn down by the IDF.”

Aaron brushed away a leaf from the memorial. “As if that weren’t disturbing enough, when they caught the sniper, he confessed that he was aiming at the baby.”

“Thank God they caught him.”

“Well, the Palestinians were the first to arrest him, but then they let him go. It took Israeli security to find him and take him into custody.”

Kayla reached down, lifted a handful of arid, rust-colored sand and held it out for Liam to see. “This dry dirt, these pebbles, these astringent stones of Hebron, from which you would think nothing can grow? Well, you’d be wrong. Hebron spawns some the world’s worst terrorists. They erupt from the soils here, Liam. So many of them. Full of rage and hate. They sprout out of the ground like weeds and find nourishment in the stones here. They don’t want peace in this land and they never will accept it. That sniping occurred during the Al-Aqsa Intifada.” She dropped the stones, brushed her hands together.

“There are schools throughout the Palestinian territories that are named in honor of suicide bombers,” Aaron added. “Even kindergartens, in tribute to terrorists.”

Liam shook his head. “And they call this the Holy Land.”

“The baby’s father, his name was Yitzhak Pass. He was a young man, a student here,” said Aaron. “You can’t imagine his despair. The whole country wept with them. But then Yitzhak joined a group that planned an act of retribution. Violence begets violence, Liam. And, regrettably, it hasn’t been all one-sided.”

“That’s true,” Kayla said. “Except on this side of the fence, people do not gather in the streets to cheer violence and shoot guns into the air. Here, we put them in jail. Yitzhak Pass was arrested in possession of explosives and was sentenced to two years for plotting.”

“Israel jailed the baby’s father?”

Kayla nodded. “Terrorism is terrorism. No exceptions. Let’s move on.”

A quarter mile farther and a huge stone fortress came into view—an ancient structure whose thirty-foot walls were built of large, rectangular blocks of oatmeal-colored limestone. A guardhouse with armed police sat at the top of wide steps that swooped upward from a small plaza below.

Liam looked to Kayla and tilted his head in the direction of the structure.

“The Cave of the Patriarchs,” she said. “Ma’arat HaMachpelah, the land that Abraham bought from Ephron to bury his wife. Genesis tells the story in exquisite detail. This place has been a sacred site for thousands of years, a place of religious pilgrimage, long before there was any significance to Jerusalem.”

Kayla stopped and stared. Her throat caught and she turned her head to dab her eyes. “Would you mind?” she said to Liam and Aaron. “May I have a moment, please?”

She walked a short distance to where the grass met the walkway, bowed her head, and appeared to be lost in prayer.

“What is this all about?” Liam asked Aaron.

“She’s saying kaddish,” Aaron said quietly. “A prayer spoken by mourners. Really, a series of prayers, praising and sanctifying the name of God and praying for peace.”

“For whom does she say kaddish?”

“It’s not for me to say. She’ll tell you in her time if she wants you to know.”

When she returned, her eyes were red and her lips were quivering. It was clear to Liam that she had confronted a difficult memory. “Are you all right?”

She tried to speak, but just shook her head. He put his arm around her shoulders. She put her head on his chest and wept.

As they walked slowly from the site, Aaron picked up the conversation. “Three thousand seven hundred years ago, so the story goes, Abraham, the wandering shepherd, was seated outside his tent, right in this very area. Three strangers approached. Abraham offered them shelter and a meal, but the calf he selected for dinner broke loose and ran into one of the caves. Abraham went searching. There was a fire in the mouth of a cave, placed there by angels so that no man could enter. But when Abraham approached, the fire died and Abraham went in. There he smelled a sweet and lovely fragrance. As he walked further into the cave, he came upon Adam and Eve in their eternal rest. Beyond them lay the entrance to the Garden of Eden, from whence the lovely fragrance emanated. But Abraham could not enter because man had been expelled from paradise. When Abraham returned to his tent, the strangers were gone. It is that cave, that very cave, Machpelah, which Abraham purchased for the burial of his beloved wife, Sarah.

“The structure you see was built by King Herod two thousand years ago to surround and protect Machpelah, and it has remained generally intact throughout the ages. Saladin, the first sultan of Egypt and Syria, who conquered this land in the twelfth century, added the turrets. A mosque was constructed inside. Access to the caves themselves has been closed for five hundred years. There are now cenotaphs—empty tombs for the patriarchs and matriarchs, decorated and sitting in small chapels—which can be visited within the structure.”

“So, Abraham actually purchased this land?” Liam said. “He got a deed?”

Kayla nodded. “I see where you’re going. My teachings have not fallen on deaf ears. Yes, as it is written, he purchased the land, the fields, the caves, and all the trees within its borders, to bury his wife and so that he might be buried there as well. It was all done in a well-documented real estate transaction for four hundred shekels, a fair market price for the property, in the presence of all the Hittites.”

“And so the father of the Jews becomes the first Jewish landowner in Hebron.”

“In all of Israel, as far as we know,” Aaron said. “He insisted on a deed. Ephron wanted to make a gift of the property, but Abraham was shrewd. He knew he could only pass it on to his heirs if it was purchased and deeded. You could certainly say that the concept of a Jewish homeland began with that real estate purchase. But remember, Muslims consider Abraham to be a prophet and an ancestor of Muhammad.”

Kayla put her hand gently on Liam’s arm. “Thank you for your understanding back at the steps.”

They walked on a little farther until they reached the Israeli checkpoint at the H1 border. “This is as far as I can go,” Aaron said. Liam shook his hand and bid him good-bye.

Once Liam and Kayla had cleared the checkpoint and began their walk into the center of Hebron, Liam said, “You were at that wedding, weren’t you. At the cave of Machpelah? Where the terrorist shooting occurred?”

Kayla shut her eyes. “Yes, I was.”

“And back at the checkpoint, one of the IDF guards knew you, didn’t he?”

“Not IDF. Magav, Israeli Border Police. They provide the security here.”

“An old friend?”

Kayla nodded and they walked on.

The market area of central Hebron, Bab al-Zawiyah, was bustling with daytime shoppers. Just off the square, a fluttering canvas awning over a shop proclaimed in Arabic script it was the Breadstone Bakery.

Liam stopped Kayla before they could enter the bakery. “Tell me why we’re here. It’s not because we might pick up a little gossip. It’s not because the group met here in the past. And it’s certainly not to buy a doughnut. Why are we really here?”

Kayla moved close to Liam and opened her hand to reveal the small, black plastic listening device that Aaron had handed to her. “I’m going to plant this in a back room. Let’s enter separately.”

Breadstone’s interior walls were lined with glass cases displaying the morning’s products. The customers, mainly women, were snatching up hot rolls, sweets, and pitas. Liam pretended to be interested in the pastries, while Kayla conversed with a young man behind a display case. She asked for a sample wheat pita, which she held to her nose. She took a small bite out of the edge, tilted her head back and forth in a “so-so” gesture and said a few words to the clerk, who snapped a few words back at her. She turned and ambled back to where Liam was standing, stopping to look into the bakery racks.

“I told him the pita was tasty, but a bit dry and cold, so I couldn’t tell how old it was,” she said quietly. “I ordered twelve hot pitas, right out of the oven, and I didn’t want him taking the cold pitas and putting them in a microwave. You saw him. He said he didn’t sell old pitas, that I should take them out of the oven myself, and I said, ‘Fine.’ The oven is in the back room, which is what I had hoped for.” She looked around at the busy bakery. “I need a distraction. When I go into the back, see if you can grab the attention of the shopkeepers and keep them busy. I just need a couple minutes.”

Kayla followed the clerk into the back. Liam elbowed his way up to the case and pointed at a pastry. “Excuse me. Excuse me,” he said loudly. “I’d like a sweet roll. Understand? Sweet? Roll? Do you have to take a number here? I didn’t see any numbers. Where is your number machine?” A clerk came over and spread his hands in a questioning gesture.

“I want something sweet and gooey. That one. No, no, not that one. That one. Yep. Yep. Nope. More to the left. That one. Nope, the other one.” The salesclerk uttered a phrase under his breath, shook his head, rolled his eyes, and called for the other clerk to come from the back room to help him.

“I speak English,” said the second clerk. “What you want?”

“I want a gooey, cinnamon sweet roll and a cup of coffee.”

“No cinnamon. No coffee.” The clerk reached into the case. “Here, take this, you like it.”

Liam furrowed his forehead. “What’s in it?”

“Almond. It’s good. Here, take it.”

Liam fumbled with some money in his pocket.

“No charge. No charge. Good-bye.”

Liam saw Kayla come out of the back room with a paper bag and leave through the front door. He took a bite of his sweet roll. “Mmmmm.” He held it up for all to see. “Man, this is pretty good. Not too bad at all.” He nodded to the women in the store, holding out the sweet roll. “You all should try this. It’s almond. Very tasty.”

The clerk closed his eyes. “Okay. Okay. Go now. Go.”

“Have a nice day,” Liam said loudly to the clerk and the women in the store, bowing, smiling, and backing out the door to meet Kayla on the sidewalk.

“Nice work, Liam. The clerk took me into the back where the baking ovens were. The pita oven is a noisy, belted thing. I waited by the oven taking my pitas as they dropped onto the tray. The clerk stood right beside me until you started your commotion. As you know, he rushed into the store to quiet you down. Behind the ovens there’s a large office. It’s also a sitting room with chairs and a couch. I managed to attach the bug to the underside of the couch. I believe that’s where the group held its meetings.”