‘At this point, I don’t think there’s any other way to put it.’
Jacob opened the door and guided Lourds into the air-conditioned building. ‘I did put off cleaning the office until we could get someone that knew Professor Strauss well enough to put his work into perspective. The university doesn’t want to lose any of his research that needs to be saved.’
Lourds removed his sunglasses and looked at the lobby. History fairly dripped from the walls. Jerusalem was filled with thousands of years of artifacts from cultures all around the world. The Department of Restoration and Conservation specialized in prehistoric, biblical, and classical archaeology. Pictures of digs sat on display.
‘A special exhibition of some of the projects the institute has done. To introduce our work to prospective students signing up for fall classes.’
A plastered skull from Kfar Hahoresh sat in a glass case, the closed eyes and straight line of the mouth giving the face the semblance of sleeping. Pottery shards from the Yoqne’am Regional Project were arranged on another shelf. A replica of a mosaic of a Roman archer in armor hung on the wall. Dozens of other pieces, all impressive, occupied more space.
‘It should get their attention.’
‘It has.’ Jacob pointed down a hallway. ‘Professor Strauss’s office is this way.’
Lev’s office looked like a bomb had gone off inside. Lourds would have been surprised to find it any other way. When they’d roomed together in Vienna, they’d both been messy about research and work, and neither had complained about the other. However, each one had known where every scrap of paper he was working with was located.
‘I apologize for the mess.’ Jacob looked a little embarrassed. ‘Perhaps I should have had someone tidy up.’
‘No. This is perfect. Lev thought in groups.’ Lourds pointed his hat at the organized chaos. ‘With everything left untouched, I’ll be able to follow Lev’s thinking like a bloodhound trails scent.’
‘All right. I’m glad you like it.’
Lourds smiled. ‘Besides, if people had always cleaned up after themselves, archaeologists would have nothing to discover.’
‘I suppose that is one way to think about it.’
‘It is.’
Jacob held out a set of keys. ‘These will get you into and out of the office. How long do you think this will take?’
‘I don’t know. A few days at most.’
‘All right.’ Jacob pulled a business card from his pocket. ‘These are my office and home phone numbers. If you should find you need anything, please don’t hesitate to contact me.’
‘Thank you.’
Jacob nodded. ‘There’s a university cafeteria within walking distance, and a few places the students like to go. You can even have food delivered from a few nearby restaurants.’
‘I’ll keep that in mind.’ Lourds pocketed the keys and the business card, anxious to get to work.
‘A graduate student will be by shortly to assist you.’
Lourds looked at the man. ‘Oh?’
‘I looked for a volunteer to help you shift Professor Strauss’s papers.’ Jacob smiled and shook his head. ‘That’s a lot of work to do by yourself. Plus, she’ll know more about the university.’
‘All right.’ The idea of someone peering over Lourds’s shoulder made him slightly uneasy, but there wasn’t much he could do to dissuade the university president. He was fortunate they were even letting him onto the premises. He looked around at the office as Jacob said good-bye and walked away.
Of course, the office was a lot of work.
For a time while she was walking through the halls of the university, Miriam Abata could believe that she was back in school. Those days were barely behind her. If she could step back, only a few days, the two dead men wouldn’t be haunting her.
Every now and again, she thought she saw one of them standing just a short distance away, caught in the corner of her eye, pistol drawn. But every time she looked, no one was there. Nights were the hardest. She played the events over again and again, wondering if there was some other way she could have handled herself.
Let it go. That had been Katsas Shavit’s advice. Accept what is, know that you did the best you could to save yourself. That was your job. Save yourself. That is every operative’s primary job.
They had talked for a while, then Katsas Shavit had taken her to a piano bar and gotten her drunk. Later, at Miriam’s flat, they had cried together. Somehow, Katsas Shavit had gotten her into her bed and left.
They’d never talked of the shooting or the drinking since, but Miriam knew the woman would be there for her if she needed her.
She drew a deep breath as she took the final corner toward the office she was looking for. The assignment had come as a surprise because she had expected to be left on her own for weeks. From what she had learned from other agents, that was how things were generally done.
At first, she’d been resentful yesterday when Katsas Shavit had laid out the assignment for her. Being involved with Thomas Lourds had already proven detrimental. Then she’d looked at the recent days that she had behind her. For the past week, she had gone to counseling sessions — I am so sick of those — worked out in the dojo near her house until she’d barely had the strength to walk to her flat, and drunk entirely too much. She always knew when she drank too much because during those times, she wondered what her father would have thought of her and how her life had turned out.
Would he have been proud?
Or would he have wanted her to be anything other than a Mossad agent?
Most days, Miriam wished she could ask him those questions. She visited his grave regularly, but she hadn’t gone there since she’d killed the two men in Namchee Bazaar. Until she made that right in her mind, she knew she’d find no solace at her father’s final resting place, and she didn’t want to drag that baggage there.
When she reached the office door she was searching for, she took a deep breath. Now was the point of no return. Lourds had been drunk the night he’d seen her, and since then she’d colored her hair black and added an exotic blue-and-white stripe on the right side that drew attention from her features.
He shouldn’t be able to recognize her.
She knocked on the closed door and waited, thinking that Lourds would recognize her immediately, and she would be sent back to Tel Aviv. She told herself that would be fine, that she didn’t need any part of the man.
Then something crashed on the other side of the door. She gripped the knob, reached for the pistol that should have been at her hip but wasn’t, and put her shoulder to the door as she went through.
35
Lourds lay sprawled on the floor. He looked up at Miriam in stunned surprise.
She stared down at him, then at the pile of books that had toppled from the desk to the floor. What is it with this man? ‘Are you all right?’
‘My ego may be a little bruised.’ Gracefully, Lourds pushed himself to his feet. He pointed at the swivel chair behind the desk. One of the wheels lay on its side, crushed, allowing the chair to tilt dangerously. ‘The chair gave out.’
‘While you were sitting in it?’
‘Standing on it, actually.’ Lourds picked his hat up from the floor and hung it on the coatrack in the corner of the room. He started picking up books and putting them back on the desk.