The Masada Complex (43 page)

Rabbi Josh looked up, stunned. “Were you on
our
plane?”

Masada ignored him, her green eyes burning in her pale face as she leaned over the professor. “You lied to me!”

The rabbi felt drawn to her like a compass arm forced by a magnet. But he remembered Silver’s story, how she had lured Al Zonshine.
Come, big guy.

Masada pointed a finger in Professor Silver’s face. “You promised to hire a lawyer—the
best
lawyer in Phoenix! Where is he?”

“Yes. I know.” Silver opened his arms helplessly. “But I thought you’d be free. The judge said they must release you in the morning, right?”

“Answer me!” She shook Levy’s shoulder.

“Leave him alone,” Rabbi Josh said. “Can’t you see he’s not feeling well?”

“Do you know what you’ve done?” She thrust her bruised wrists in the professor’s face. “I’m back in this hellhole because of you!”

“But I didn’t know,” Silver pleaded. “I thought you’d be released.”

“You promised a lawyer, and I get
this
?” Masada kicked the ground, her face twisting in pain. “Damn you!”

Unable to restrain himself, Rabbi Josh shouted, “Enough! Enough! Enough!”

Masada’s ears rang from the shouting. She had never heard Rabbi Josh raise his voice, let alone shout at her. After twelve hours of seething, being stuck in the rear of the packed plane, with her hopes for a lawyer dashed, she could no longer contain her rage. Without a second thought, she raised her hand and slapped the rabbi across the face.

“Oy,” Silver said.

She stepped back, shocked at what she’d done.

The rabbi touched his cheek. “Haven’t you sinned enough already?”

She didn’t answer.

“Pray for forgiveness,” he said. “That’s why God brought you here, to his holy land.”

“It’s not me who should repent,” Masada said. “You’re not fooling me
Agent Frank!
”

He continued to look at her with innocent eyes. “Yes, I also have to repent. I do repent. Every moment that I’m awake. But you, after all you’ve done, have you no remorse at all?”

“
Kinderlakh, please!”
Levy Silver reached up, and they helped him to his feet. “Joshua, Masada, I beg you like I would beg my own children. This isn’t a place for fighting.” He closed his eyes and recited, “
Go, depart from your birthplace, from your father’s home, and travel to the land that I will show you.”

“Give me a break,” Masada said. “Enough with the quotes!”

Silver looked up at her. “Didn’t I plead with you to stay in Phoenix and show them how my girl fights back? Didn’t I tell you to ignore the self-interested TV reporter? I assumed you’d be at your house by now. I was going to phone you as soon as we landed to discuss the lawyer. We have to make a choice and move forward!”

Masada tried to read his eyes through the thick glasses. “Why didn’t you tell me you’re going to Israel?”

“I didn’t want you to worry. I have an appointment at Hadassah.”

“You’re going to the hospital?” Masada felt the blood drain from her face. There it was again—her bad luck infecting the people she loved. “What’s wrong with you?”

“A minor problem.” He gestured at a hydraulic crane, raising a platform to meet the plane cargo hold. “Let us pay our respects.”

What are you afraid of?
Elizabeth tried to calm her nerves. She looked away from the uniformed Israelis, using her hate like a lever to lift her spirit. The body search in Newark had shaken her to the core. How dare they? She had already drafted a scathing complaint to Continental Airlines about this blatant ethnic profiling in clear violation of U.S. civil rights laws.

She saw the rabbi look up as the coffin descended from the plane. He wore a skullcap, his light-brown ponytail held with a rubber band. Elizabeth circled the group to get a better look at him. His strong, handsome face was struck by grief. Professor Silver, standing next to him, looked much more like a Jewish rabbi than this athletic hunk.

An airport hand in orange coveralls pried open the coffin. The rabbi kneeled, resting his elbows on the lid, and spoke quietly, saying words no one could hear.

The coffin was closed, and the rabbi stepped back, wiping his eyes.

A small book appeared in Silver’s hand. He opened it and recited, “
My voice, to the Lord I shall call; to God, my plea shall reach; and he will hear me; on the day of my agony, Master, my hand is extended to you, my soul seeks comfort.
”

The rabbi stood next to him, swaying back and forth, his lips repeating the words.

“
I shall remember the Lord,
” the professor chanted, “
my sighs, I shall not cease, my breath is faint
.”

Elizabeth was impressed with his proficiency in the Jews’ scriptures. Had she not conversed with him in Arabic about his daring plans, she would never doubt he was a Jew. As if to test her ability to suspend disbelief, Silver raised his bespectacled face at the sky and pled, “
Forever will you neglect us, Lord?”
He paused, taking a deep breath. “
When, Father, will you be pleased again with your children?
”

Thinking of her own father, Elizabeth felt her pocket, which held the folded page of her scribbled notes for the acceptance speech on Wednesday. It had taken many years, but in a few days
her
father would finally be pleased with her again. She had redeemed herself.

A black station wagon backed up to the platform and two bearded Jews loaded the coffin. They shook hands with the handsome rabbi. Elizabeth came closer to listen. “Five o’clock at Sanhedriah Cemetery,” one of them said. “The taxi driver will know where it is. Don’t be late. We have to finish before the Sabbath begins at sunset.”

The rabbi handed them an odd-shaped package, which they placed in the car next to the coffin.

“Be gentle with our boy,” Professor Silver said. “His name is Raul. Five years old.”

Elizabeth was amazed with his composure, so different from the panicked old man who had appeared at her apartment in the middle of the night after his sidekick had killed the boy.

“Raul?” One of the bearded man examined the bundle of papers in his hand. “Does he have a Hebrew name?”

“Yes,” the rabbi said, “his Hebrew name is Israel.”

Elizabeth heard a groan and saw Masada turn and rush to the waiting bus.

Raul. Israel
.
Srulie
. Masada clung to a pole in the front of the bus. There were seats in the back, too far for her to reach without collapsing.
Raul. Srulie
.

Other passengers boarded the bus. Rabbi Josh and Professor Silver sat in the back. The flight crew clustered in the middle. The bus moved with a jolt, the doors remaining open for a few more seconds, circulating the heat. She held on to the pole.

Raul. Israel
.
Srulie
.

“This place is a sauna.” McPherson wiped her forehead, combing back moist hair. “I can see why you didn’t want to return.”

Masada showed her back to the lawyer. A trickle ran down the inside of her thigh. She hoped it was only sweat. She had revealed to no one what Al had done. She couldn’t, or it would hit the news and no one would ever look at her without imagining that animal on top of her.

The bus sped up, bumping along on the concrete road, passing huge hangars and parked jetliners. A recorded female voice gave instructions in several languages about passport and visa inspections, as well as customs declarations. The message concluded with, “Shalom, and enjoy your stay in Israel.”

“Some joy,” Masada muttered, holding on as the bus turned around a plaza and lined up with a glass-and-stone building. She took a deep breath and stepped off the bus. A large clock on the face of the building indicated it was 1:47 p.m. Israel time. She shouldered her bag and pulled out her travel papers. She had to snap out of it, stop wallowing in self pity. Otherwise she would never recover all she had lost over this disastrous short period. She forced her mind to focus on planning. First, find a connection between Colonel Ness and Rabbi Josh and link them to Judah’s Fist. Second, unearth a copy of the document that had cancelled her conviction back in 1983, so she could recover her U.S. citizenship. Third, find out if the Arab who had killed Srulie was still alive and, if so, track him down and shove Srulie’s bone into the murderer’s eye—this time, all the way in!

Professor Silver lingered on the stone stairs leading up to the terminal. The sign above the entrance read
Ben Gurion International Airport.
Elizabeth lingered while the passengers entered the terminal.

“Why did you bring her here?” He kept his back to the glass doors. “You failed me!”

“A court is not a restaurant. You don’t order from a menu. No other country agreed to take her. What about my award ceremony?”

He wanted to lie about an unexpected cancellation, but feared she would lose her temper and cause their exposure. “Do not leave your hotel until I contact. Remember, both our lives are at stake!”

“You’re exaggerating.” She chuckled. “No one will touch a senior American official.”

“Don’t be so sure.” He climbed the steps, and the glass doors opened before him.