Only Shapiro reacted quickly. He ran to the door, checked to make sure it was locked, then stepped to the side to look through a window to see who was outside. He threw the door open.
A hysterical Judy Katz ran in, babbling.
“I’ve never driven so fast in my life but I was afraid the police would stop me and that couldn’t happen because you have to see this you just have to see it.” The words shot from her mouth with no spaces between them.
Shapiro put his hands on her shoulders and shook her.
“Judy, stop it,” he said. “What happened? Tell us what happened.”
She walked into the living room and dropped the black nylon carrying case for her laptop on the coffee table.
“You have to see this,” she said. “Somebody, somebody at the camp must have put it in my computer. Here, look. It’s horrible.”
She removed the computer from the case as she spoke, lifted the screen and pressed the power button.
“I went to the camp,” she said. “I didn’t see much, but when I got home I was so angry. I took a shower. Searched the fridge. Then sat at the table to check email. When I turned on the computer, there was an icon on the screen that said Untitled CD. I hadn’t put any CD in the computer. I hardly use that drive. So I clicked on it and, and, this happened.”
She slid her forefinger around the mouse pad and tapped twice. A video began to play.
It was shot from above, looking down onto a desk. A young woman lay on top of a board on the desk, wrapped like a mummy in gray tape. An older woman in a white coat stood at the young woman’s head. Three men, two in uniform, stood around the desk.
Katz pointed at the third man, wearing jeans, who stood at the young woman’s feet.
“I saw him at the camp,” she said. “He took my computer. I wasn’t allowed to carry it there. I think he put the disc in it.”
She glanced at the screen, then turned away.
“I’ve seen it twice,” she said. “I can’t look again.
The sound was fuzzy, but the words could be made out.
The brief video ended with the young woman’s body being carried from the room. The man in civilian clothes was left alone. The last scene showed him glance up at the camera, then walk quickly from the room.
Katz closed the lid on the laptop computer.
“Mengele,” Abram whispered, as if speaking to himself. “Mengele.”
Katz’s face was white, her eyes wide, darting to her computer. “You… you don’t think this doctor is doing experiments, do you?” she stuttered.
“No, not experiments. Interrogation,” Shapiro said coldly.
Abram pounded his hand against the wall to get their attention.
“Enough. How much more do we have to see? Did you hear the question that woman, that Mengele asked?” Abram’s voice was strained, his throat tight. “She asked about the bomb, the bomb that God put in our hands. They’ll do anything until they find it. I tell you, use it or lose it.”
“God didn’t give you that bomb,” Reuben retorted. “I did. I got that thing out of the desert. I found a boat to take it to Spain. Chaim and I brought it here. Chaim gave his life to bring that thing here. It was Chaim, not God, who brought that bomb to this country.”
“God directed him,” Abram said calmly. “It was God’s will that it come here. How could it have happened if it were not God’s will?”
Abram looked at the others.
“The Arabs used their bomb. It worked. They won. They wiped away Israel and its people. Now we use our bomb to save what’s left of our people. It will work. Quaid will have to give in. He doesn’t know how many bombs we have. Simple.”
“Enough talk,” Shapiro interrupted. “We have to make a decision. I’ve thought about this long and hard. I’ve come to my peace. Here’s what I think. America should be ashamed of itself. This was a great country. They said they wanted to make America great again, but it only got worse.”
“Much worse,” Reuben mumbled.
“America is far from great now,” Shapiro said. “Not today. Not with what is happening here; in fact, not for a long while now. America once held itself out an example to the world. Now what are we an example of? We’ve lost our way. Just like the Roman Empire. Just like the British Empire. Just like every great power in history. America’s time has passed.”
He paused, the enormity of what he’d said striking him momentarily speechless.
“There is a right course for America to take and a wrong course. Standing by and watching Israel die is wrong. Standing up to intimidation, saving people herded into concentration camps, reestablishing the State of Israel as a Jewish homeland, those are the right things to do. I’m ready to send a message to America that there is a price to pay for doing nothing in the face of injustice. I’m with Abram. We use it or we lose it.”
He’d risen to his feet, an old habit of a trial lawyer who never addressed a judge and certainly never addressed a jury while seated.
“Debra,” he said. “You brought us this thing. What do you think?”
“I already had to make this decision once. Damascus. It’s the same decision. Why should it be more difficult to kill innocent Americans than it was to kill innocent Syrians? They’re all human beings.”
“And they’re all innocent,” Sarah interjected.
“They’re all innocent, I agree,” Reuben said. “I say we use the bomb. Harry Truman dropped two bombs. You don’t burn longer in hell for a second bomb, do you?”
“We gave them a choice,” Sarah said. “They could have released the people; they could have done that. What would be the harm from setting innocent people free? I don’t understand them. I hate it. I absolutely hate it, but I understand why we have no choice now. I agree.”
She turned to her husband. “We all know what your position is, Abram.”
“Use it or lose it, and teach that Quaid a lesson.”
Katz leaped to her feet and ran from the room, her feet pounding on the stairs up to her room.
“I’ll talk with her,” Reuben said. She followed Katz up the stairs.
Abram looked at the stairs, then back to the others.
“Let’s make plans,” he said.
Not even Reuben knew much about the workings of the bomb. None of them had any idea how powerful it was, except that it was atomic. They assumed, since it was designed to be carried by a person rather than placed on top of a missile or dropped from an aircraft, that it was a relatively small atomic bomb.
But that was like confronting a small elephant. You wouldn’t want it to sit on your lap.
Reuben went to her room and came back with a Chemical Bank of New York Visa credit card. She passed it around to the people sitting at the kitchen table. Katz had joined them.
“Are you going to do some shopping before we start World War III, Debbie?” Katz asked.
Reuben explained how the card was used to arm the detonator. She had debated with herself whether to disclose the arming code to be punched into the bomb’s keypad after the card was read. She decided these were the only people she could trust. Besides, should something happen to her before she gave them the password, the bomb would be useless to them.
“It’s 0-9-1-1,” she said to their shocked faces.
“That is so inappropriate, Debbie,” Katz said.
“It seemed like a good idea at the time,” Reuben said. “Remember, when we set the code I expected that America was going to be Israel’s savior. Back then—God, it seems so long ago—back then the Arabs were the only bad guys. Besides, I thought it would be an easy number to remember.”
She explained how the detonator could be set for a time delay anywhere from instantaneous to twenty-four hours. That left them considerable discretion in their planning.