“Hey there!” A voice yelled from somewhere in the house.
Levy! Masada tried to think. She had to warn him! “Don’t come in!”
“Surprise, surprise,” Al said. Keeping his gun on her, he crossed the room and pulled the door open.
The paint container landed on his head with the sickening sound of a cracked egg. His gun-holding hand jerked up, and a shot pounded her ears like a hammer. The bullet hit the pillow by her head, sending up a flurry of feathers.
Through the cloud, in the dim light from the window, Masada saw Al collapse.
A figure appeared at the door.
“Levy!” Masada sat up and brushed feathers off her face with a trembling hand.
Professor Silver kneeled next to Al and lifted his limp hand, still clasping the gun. He sighed. “After all we’ve been through, too bad it has come to this.” He looked at the gun. “Oy, meidaleh, what an unfortunate ending.”
“Police!” The voice came through the open door. A female officer appeared, both arms forward, pointing a gun at Professor Silver. “Drop it!”
He obeyed.
“Raise your hands!” The officer flipped the light switch on.
“That’s the intruder.” Silver pointed at Al. “He’s out cold. Thank God.”
The officer lowered her gun. “You’re the guy in the car. How did you get here?”
“I saw his van in the back. I was just in time.” He bent over Masada, caressing her head. “My poor girl. It’s really too bad it had to come to this. If only Al sought some mental help, all this wouldn’t have happened.”
Professor Silver went with Masada in the ambulance, holding her hand while inside he was fuming. If you want to shoot, shoot; don’t talk. All he had to do was to press Al’s finger on the trigger and drop the idiot’s hand. Masada would be dead, and Rajid’s order to monitor her would die with her. But his hesitation took away a singular opportunity, and now she and Al were going to the hospital and needing even more monitoring than before.
He sat by Masada’s bed in the ER. The sun was rising outside when a young doctor came to examine the bruises on her head. While they took her for a scan, Silver went to look for Al.
He found Hilda in the ICU, standing at the foot of Al’s bed. A blood-stained bandage covered most of his head. His eyes were closed, and he breathed laboriously. Several IV bags hung from hooks over the bed, the lines joined to a single tube that entered the side of his neck. A sack of urine hung low, just above the floor.
Silver said, “Blessed be He, Master of the Universe, healer of the sick and infirm.”
“Amen,” Hilda said, wiping her eyes. “Thank you for coming, Levy.”
“What did the doctor say?”
“He’s a mess. Concussion, trauma to his vertebra, a heart attack. Don’t ask!”
“Masada isn’t doing so well either.”
“Don’t get me started! That woman drove him over the edge. She played him like a puppet.”
“I agree. It’s outrageous!”
“She should go to jail.”
“Absolutely,” Silver said. “For life.”
When he arrived back home, Silver locked himself in the basement, rolled a joint, and sat at the computer to check the Israeli embassy web site. To become eligible as a new citizens, he would need evidence that he was Jewish, such as a signed letter from a rabbi.
At noon, he went outside to check the mailbox and found a large envelope from the U.S. government. Standing by his mailbox, Silver ripped it, eager to hold his green card. But inside was a thick booklet. Internal Revenue Service-Information for New Permanent Residents.
Silver tore it up, cursing in Arabic.
Next to him, a man said, “Your Arabic is quite good for a Jewish professor.”
Stumbling back, Silver lost his balance. Rajid grabbed him before he fell.
“Salaam aleikum.” Silver regained his composure and kissed Rajid on both cheeks. He beckoned the younger man into the living room.
“Shukran.” Rajid put aside his briefcase and sat down. “Ramallah sends regards.”
Knowing that the handler observed the fast of Ramadan, Silver didn’t offer refreshments. He assumed Rajid had come for an explanation about last night’s events, which had become national news. Fortunately, his presence at Masada’s house hadn’t been mentioned anywhere.
“Those Jews,” Silver said, shaking his head, “are emotional basket cases. I had no idea Al was going to make an attempt on her life at temple, let alone try again later.”
“We got word about another book you have written.”
“Excuse me?” Silver felt fear. How had they found out? He made a dismissive gesture. “A preliminary draft merely, some ideas about international sanctions.”
“You’ve submitted the manuscript to a publisher.”
He didn’t respond.
“Are you free from the chain of command?”
“It’s part of the plan.” Silver made himself chuckle lightly. “I was hoping to brief our brothers in person when I visit Jerusalem.”
“Taking action without prior approval?”
“Never.” Silver was starting to hate the cologne the agent was wearing-an imitation of budding citrus.
“The United States Senate moved up the vote against Israel to August nineteen. The White House announced that the president will sign the bill as submitted, saying that Congress has the administration’s support in its autonomous authority to take punitive actions over attempts to corrupt it. The next ten days are crucial. We don’t want any interference.”
Silver rubbed his goatee. “My plan is working even faster than expected. There is no problem.”
Rajid opened his briefcase. “There is a problem. You sent a manuscript to a publisher, drawing dangerous attention. You think the Israelis are asleep? They have eyes everywhere, including in New York publishing houses. Your actions could undermine the operation.”
“I am an academic. That’s what I do. Write. And this second book is part of my plan.”
“Your plan?”
He took a deep breath, struggling to control his anger. “We’re about to complete Phase One successfully. The Fair Aid Act will snip off Israel’s lifeline of American support. My second book constitutes the intellectual foundation for Phase Two-applying the South African precedent to Israel. The process has already started by Jimmy Carter’s book about Israel-Peace or Apartheid.”
“That’s right. Allah knows we’ve paid President Carter enough millions for his,” Rajid feigned quotation marks, “Peace Institute.”
“And the U.N. Anti-Racism Conference in Durban? We’ve got momentum against Israel. Phase Two is the apartheidization of Israel!”
“It’s a tricky argument. Israel has almost two million Muslim and Christian citizens with full rights, just like Jews.”
“No, no,” Silver raised a finger, “I’m talking about their immigration policies. Only Jews are entitled to become new, voting Israeli citizens. That’s racial discrimination.”
“Good point.” Rajid held a thumb up, which seemed almost humorous.
“Without an American veto, the international bodies will go ahead with it-the United Nations, European Union, NATO, Organization of African Countries, the Asian bloc-they’ll impose an economic boycott of Israel like they did with South Africa.” Silver rubbed his hands. “Just imagine-no trade, no raw materials, no access to financial markets, no new weapons, no tourism. Israel will choke! And for the world to release its chokehold, just like with South Africa, Israel will have to end its apartheid, grant Palestinian refugees the right of return, make them full citizens, and give them the vote.”
“You think they’ll allow Fatah and Hamas to run for the Knesset?”
The professor smiled, though he really wanted to smack him across the face. “We will form a new political organization-The Palestinian National Congress.”