The Second Messiah

The major closed the passports and tapped them in his palm. “Lost? I doubt it somehow. You Bedu know these deserts better than a blind camel.”

Josuf pleaded, “Please, sir. What I say is true, as Allah is my judge. I wouldn’t lie.”

“We’ll soon find out. You’re all under arrest.”

One of the soldiers finished searching the pickup and came back brandishing several pairs of licence plates, along with a curved Arab dagger in a sheath. “We found these under the driver’s seat, sir.”

The major examined the plates, then angrily tossed them on the sand. He held up the curved Arab knife. “What’s this for, Bedu? Picking your teeth?”

“It’s a tradition for my people to carry knives. The major must know that.”

“And false number plates too?” The major struck Josuf across the face. He staggered back, blood on his lip.

The major removed his pistol and sneered. “Your lies will cost you your life, you old fool.” He cocked his pistol and aimed at Josuf’s head. For a second or two it looked as if he really meant to shoot, then he grinned and released the hammer, decocking the weapon. “Perhaps I’ll keep the pleasure of beating the truth out of you and your friends back at headquarters.” He replaced his pistol in its holster and snapped his fingers at one of the soldiers. “Put them on board the truck. Have one of the men follow in their pickup.”

“Yes, sir.”

The major barked at the lieutenant. “Continue with the patrol. Search the area in case there are other intruders.”

“Yes, sir.” The lieutenant snapped off a salute and went to join his men in the first truck.

The major turned to Jack. “For your sake, I hope your presence here can be explained, American. Do you have anything more to say?”

“I’d like to talk with a U.S. consul, if there is one.”

The major grinned. “I doubt it. But even a consul couldn’t help. All of you could be spies. And the penalty for spying against the Syrian state is death.” He snapped his fingers at his men. “Put them all in the back of the truck. If any of these vermin try to escape, shoot them.”

29

TEL AVIV

ISRAEL

3:50 P.M.

The helicopter carrying Lela Raul touched down at Ben-Gurion Airport with a clatter of engine noise. When she stepped out of the cabin she saw a small, cheerful-looking man wearing a flowered beach shirt, waving from the tarmac. He came over to join her. “Good to see you again, Lela. How’ve you been?”

“Ari, what are you doing here?” Lela was surprised to see Ari Tauber. They had known each other since serving together with the Jerusalem police force, until several years back, when Tauber had somehow ended up in Mossad. And as colleagues, it had transpired that both their grandfathers had even served together in the same Jewish partisan group that fought Nazis in Ukraine.

Ari took her arm warmly and led her toward the terminal. “I could ask you the same question, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t know the answer. Come on, I’ve got my car outside.”

Minutes later Ari drove them in his blue Ford toward the whitewashed sprawl of Tel Aviv. Lela asked, “How are the wife and kids?”

“Sharon is still working as a medical secretary. And Nathan’s nine now, if you can believe it. Geli is hitting fourteen and as beautiful as her mother. And if I needed proof I’ve got a procession of pimple-faced teenage boys knocking on our front door every ten minutes, smelling of cheap aftershave.”

Lela said more seriously, “What’s the story, Ari? Why does the head of Mossad want to see me?”

Ari shook his head. “I’m afraid you’ll have to wait until my boss talks with you. I’m under strict orders to keep my mouth shut. I was on my day off, enjoying a family barbecue and a few cold Heinekens when I got the call from headquarters.”

“But you know what it’s about?”

Ari’s cheerful expression changed to a serious look. “I’ll have to refuse to answer that question on the grounds that it might incriminate me. Relax, you’ll know soon enough, Lela. Now, tell me how life’s been treating you.”

Fifteen minutes later Ari pulled into the private grounds of a concrete building in Herzliya. The blue and white flag of Israel, the Star of David in the center, fluttered on a flagpole above Mossad’s headquarters. Two uniformed armed guards stood at a barrier gate and when they checked Ari’s papers and Lela’s ID, the car was waved through.

The Ford drew up in front of the building and a guard came forward to open the car doors, a machine pistol draped across his chest.

Lela stepped out and Ari said, “Ever met the head of Mossad before?”

“Never.”

Ari grinned and clapped a hand on Lela’s shoulder. “Then you’re about to join the ranks of the chosen few. Come on, I’ll take you up to the top floor to meet God himself.”

30