Elizabeth made two cups of coffee and pulled another chair over, facing him.
“Shukran.”
“You better stick to English, or you’ll blow your cover.”
“You could make a good agent.” He leaned forward, gazing intently through the open door.
Elizabeth saw a man with dark hair cross the lobby and push the glass doors with both hands in a violent manner, leaving the hostel. “You know him?”
“No worry.” The professor watched the lobby, as if expecting the man to return.
“What happened to you?” She touched a bruise above his left eyebrow.
“It’s Ramadan.” He chuckled. “By the end of a day of fasting I walk into walls.”
“You had an argument with your handler?”
Silver gave her an appraising look. “You are astute. He, on the other hand, is not.”
“What did he want?”
“Thought he could find some documents in my room.” Silver removed his glasses and rubbed the thick lenses on the sheet. “The Jews would love to put their hands on him.”
“They’d love even more to put their hands on you.”
“They think I died in the desert.” He lit a cigarette and drew at length, blowing it toward the ceiling. “Even the mighty Israelis won’t superciliously contrive to catch a ghost.”
“Can I speak with your handler regarding my award ceremony?”
Another exhalation of smoke clouded his face. “Be patient.”
She opened a window, letting in the night air. “Don’t toy with me.”
“Relax, Elzirah.” The professor tightened the sheet around his shoulders and joined her at the window. “Our brothers will contact you before Wednesday to arrange for your travel to the camp. You’re the guest of honor, remember?” He drew once more and tossed the burning cigarette out the window.
“By attending the funeral,” Masada argued, “Ness revealed he was connected with Rabbi Josh!” She beckoned the bartender. “I need something stronger than water.”
“Me too.” Tara gave him a professional smile.
He returned her smile. “Friday night we can only serve wine or beer. Kosher beer.”
“Surprise us.” Masada swiveled on the barstool toward Tara. “Now I understand why Rabbi Josh told Silver to tell me not to attend the funeral. But he didn’t know you’d be there and see Ness.” She grabbed a bar napkin and scribbled: Find additional connections between Ness amp; Rabbi Josh. Family? School? Mutual friends? Find local past for rabbi. Schooled in Israel? Volunteered in IDF? Developed / maintained friendships? Find rabbi’s rewards. Israeli gov. pension? Apartment? Car?
Masada bit the tip of the pencil. “What else? We must find out everything about him.”
“He’s got charisma,” Tara said. “Very attractive man.”
“Rabbi Josh?”
“The rabbi’s more than attractive, he’s a knockout.” Tara gulped her beer. “I was talking about the colonel. He’s a tad old, but he’s got serious appeal. He radiates strength.”
“He was my first love.” Masada sipped from her beer, which was better than she had expected. “He talked about divorcing his wife to marry me. I was too young to even think in terms of marriage, but I was crazy about him. He was a brilliant officer, the youngest colonel in IDF history, a sure bet for the top. Even in bed he was incredible. But I went from love to loathing in one night.”
Tara gulped from her beer. “Everyone ends up loathing their first lover. I mean, go to any big NASCAR racetrack just before they open the gates and watch who gets in first-it’s always the jerks. I should have bit off my first boyfriend’s balls. At most they would have convicted me of animal cruelty. I’d be rehabilitated convict by now.”
“Like me?”
“Exactly!” Tara laughed and punched her on the arm. “But there’re few good ones also, like your hunky rabbi-yummy!”
“Ness must have hired him years ago. Perhaps he studied in Israel while training to become a rabbi. Imagine a young, idealistic, innocent rabbinical student, completely susceptible to the Israeli heroism credo.”
“Great sentence.” Tara scribbled it down. “I love it!”
“We need to prove that Rabbi Josh was recruited to be a sleeper agent in Arizona.”
“That’s speculation.”
Masada thought for a moment. “He’s the key to the whole thing. My theory is that Rabbi Josh had learned from Al Zonshine about Mahoney’s dark secret of betrayal at Hanoi Hilton. The rabbi reported it to Ness, who realized the extortion potential. They must have been disappointed that Mahoney failed to win the U.S. presidency.”
“Imagine that!”
“Ness had the rabbi recruit Al to the imaginary Judah’s Fist, some kind of contemporary Jewish zealots saving the Chosen People, and sent him to Mahoney with the money for sponsoring the Mutual Defense Act for Israel.”
“Why did they need to pay him if they had that secret over his head?”
“Exposing the Hanoi secret was the stick. The pile of cash was the carrot. You need both to achieve something of this magnitude. I mean, Mahoney was risking everything. The cash balanced the risk.”
“Makes sense.” Tara’s blonde hair cascaded over her face as she took notes in her pad.
“Mahoney passed the Mutual Defense Act in his committee and got ready to push it through the Senate. But then I got that memory chip, and the whole thing fell apart.” Masada finished her beer and wiped her lips.
“And Sheen?”
“Another sleeper agent. Definitely not a professional.” Masada scribbled on the napkin: Sheen-Donor? Did Sheen give $$$ to rabbi, who then gave it to Zonshine?
Tara’s eyes narrowed. “If Sheen wasn’t a pro, then what is he?”
“A Jewish businessman, maybe, whom Ness convinced to donate the money.”
“But who would give away so much money?”
“To Israel?” Masada laughed. “Do you know how much money American Jews give to Israel every year? Hundreds of millions! And this donation must have been irresistible-secret, dramatic, a pivotal move to bind the United States to Israel in all matters of defense. Can you imagine the incredible boost of self-importance for such a donor? He probably insisted on delivering the cash personally. What an adventure!”
“That explains why Sheen forgot the memory stick in the car. An amateur, filled with eager pride and nervous as hell.” Tara browsed her own notes. “But what’s the evidence that Ness actually knew Rabbi Josh? Maybe he came to the funeral out of guilt about the boy’s death.”
“No evidence,” Masada admitted. She was feeling hot and slightly dizzy. “But logically, Ness had to have a senior agent in Phoenix, someone local who’s a fanatic Zionist and in a position to dominate Al. Who except Rabbi Josh fits this bill?”
Tara had no response.
“What exactly did Ness tell you at the funeral?” Masada picked up the beer glass and held it against her forehead.
“He told me the bribe was paid by Israel’s enemies to cause a crisis with the United States. He asked me to be fair in my reporting. And he invited me to fly with him tomorrow.”
“Fly?”
“Thank you, honey,” Tara said to the bartender, who put two more beers in front of them. “He said it’s an experience I won’t get standing on the ground.”
“You notice the sexual innuendo?”
Tara contorted her face. “He said I could bring a friend.”
“Forget it!” Masada slipped off the barstool, took a step toward the exit, and stumbled. The room turned dark. She heard Tara yell, and someone caught her before she hit the floor.
Rabbi Josh found a bench in the rear of the plaza. He sat down, facing the Wailing Wall, cradling his chin in his hand, and reflected on what Masada had done to him.