Saving Sophie: A Novel

by Ronald H. Balson

  “We can’t discount another guard or two inside, but we agree, he probably won’t want a gunfight in his house,” Moshe answered.

  “And once we walk out the door, the Light Brigade will be waiting in the yard to protect us, right?” Liam said.

  “That’s the plan.”

  “Too many things can go wrong with that plan. I want a gun. I want Kayla to have a gun.”

  “I told you, we have planted weapons in the van,” Yonit said.

  Liam shook his head. “They’re going to search the van. I’m a PI, they’ll expect me to have a gun. Who would go to a gunfight without a gun?”

  “He’s right, Yonit,” Eliezer said. “He should go with his gun. They would expect that. They’ll take it from him outside, and then maybe they won’t look so carefully in the van. Even better.”

  “You guys are nuts. I’m not going in without a gun.”

  Yonit shook her head and spoke forcefully. “They won’t let you in the house with your gun. But if you pay attention, we’ll tell you where you can find a hidden gun.”

  “If I pay attention?”

  “Your Irish charm is fading,” Kayla said.

  “Charm? He has charm?” Yonit said. “When you get to the house and once they finish searching you outside the gates, and they take your gun, we expect you will get back into the van and drive through the gates. That is the plan. There will be weapons in the van, which they will not have found. You can extract them and hide them in the pockets of your jacket.”

  “Why won’t they find the weapons?”

  “Because they are in a hidden chamber in the back of the center console that will not open for them.”

  “What if they search the vehicle and then instruct us to walk through the gates?” Liam said. “What if they insist on driving the van into the compound themselves? What if one of their guards gets into the van with us? What if they search us again after we get in the gates? In all those scenarios, how do we get weapons?”

  “We don’t think they’ll search you twice, there would be no reason to do that.”

  “Why would they let us drive into the yard by ourselves?”

  “Why not? There are only three seats in the van. Driver, passenger, wheelchair. Three chairs—three tushes. No room for anybody else. They won’t want you to leave the van in the street. They’ll direct you into the compound.”

  “Yonit, you’re logical. Your plan is logical,” Liam said. “But the terrorists may not be logical. What if one of them gets into the driver’s seat? Now what?”

  “Still okay,” Eliezer said. “We’ve considered the possibility that the guards will take possession of the van and drive it into the yard and tell you and Kayla to walk. But Jack is locked into the wheelchair seat and somebody has to operate the power lift. This, they cannot do.”

  “Why not? They don’t have disabled people in Hebron?”

  “Did someone once accuse this man of having Irish charm?” Eliezer said.

  “We’ve made the chairlift impossible to operate unless you know the sequence of the buttons,” Yonit said. “There’s a code. There are two controls in the van. The one in front of Jack’s wheelchair is not functional. It will not work. He will ask for assistance. The guards will try to operate the master controls on the door panel, but they won’t be able to move the chair without knowing the code. They’ll still need you or Kayla to enter the code and operate the lift to get Jack out of the van. There’s a chamber hidden into the back of the center console. Once the code is activated, the clasp on the back of the console will release and the weapons can be accessed.”

  “And they won’t see us?”

  “The position of your bodies should block their vision. Each of you will wear a jacket. There will be two small handguns hidden in the console.” Yonit spread her hands and shrugged. “We have confidence that you can do it.”

  “So, let me get this straight,” Liam said. “We get into the yard and Kayla and I get out of the van. The guards search the van, but the console’s not open, so they don’t see the guns. We hear Jack say that his controls are not working. He needs someone to push the buttons on the door. The guards go over to operate the controls on the door, but they don’t know the code, so the chair doesn’t move. So I offer to operate the lift. I put in the code, the chairlift is lowering, the back of the console opens, I take the guns, slip them in my jacket pockets, and no one can see me do it. Right?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Are you kidding me? That’s the plan?”

  Eliezer shrugged. “Why not? It’s perfect.”

  “Has anyone practiced this maneuver?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Oh, Jesus.”

  “The van is downstairs. We can all go practice. I have high confidence in the plan.”

  “Oh, Jesus,” Liam repeated.

  “Obviously, if you have hesitation, you need not participate. Your involvement, while highly valuable, is not compulsory, as is ours,” Eliezer said. “We are prepared for the alternative, which is launching the raid tonight.”

  “No, please don’t,” Jack said. “Someone has to protect Sophie. I need to get inside.”

  “We need to get inside,” Kayla said, “with as little commotion as possible. We know that al-Zahani’s laboratory continues to assemble IEDs, explosives, chemicals, whatever, at the rate of forty bags per day. The recorded conversation disclosed al-Zahani’s intent to repeat the attack at some future date. So, he’s stockpiling. If you storm the compound, he blows the building, we learn nothing of the plan, and we have no grounds to arrest al-Zahani. Then he’s free to organize the next attack.”

  Eliezer and Yonit nodded.

  “Although we know he’s mined the building, he’s not going to be eager to throw the switch,” Kayla continued. “He’s arrogant and ambitious, a fatal combination. If he doesn’t have time or the inclination to detonate the building, we can seize the remaining devices, interrogate the workers, and learn what we need to know about the pending operation in Jerusalem. For that, we need to get inside, and Jack is our only ticket.”

  “I understand,” Liam said. “I’m just pointing out the risks when everything doesn’t go according to plan. Then what?”

  “Improvisation, I’m afraid,” Eliezer said. “You’ll be mic’d and we’ll be listening. When or if something goes wrong, you’ll alert us and the IDF will move in. You may have to scramble to access the weapons and do your best.”

  Eliezer eyed each of the attendees at the table. “Are we all on board with this?” Each nodded approval. Eliezer stood. “Yonit will show you the van. You’ll want to practice.” He smiled.

  As the group filed out, Eliezer stopped Liam. “I understand it was your idea to tell al-Zahani that the briefcase is armed to explode. Very clever. You know he would have certainly shot you all the moment you showed up.” Eliezer nodded and slapped Liam on the back. “Clever indeed.”

  “We did it in Antrim in 1996. Same plot, different movie. So, where’s the briefcase and the money?”

  “Yonit has them. A little under four million euros in five-hundred-euro notes. Eight and a half kilos. The case is metal, rotary combination, and otherwise quite ordinary.”

  “You get that all into a metal case? Four million euros?”

  “Approximately thirty inches of bills, stacked top to bottom. They fit quite nicely. All counterfeit, of course.”

  “Counterfeit? That’s hardly the IDF stamp of confidence, is it? If he succeeds in opening the briefcase, getting his hands on the money and killing us all, well, at least we’ve managed to give him bogus money.”

  Eliezer shrugged and gave Liam a weak smile.

  Outside, a standard handicap van sat in the parking area, a metal platform extending from the open door and resting on the pavement. “We’ve opted for a mechanized platform rather than just a ramp, for obvious reasons,” said Yonit. “This is top-of-the-line. The wheelchair locks onto the movable platform. Two sets of controls, one in front of the wheelchai
r and one just inside the door behind the passenger seat, operate the motor. As you can see, there are three buttons on each control box. The top button, labeled RETRACT, engages the motor to raise the platform from street level. The middle button is a pause or stop button. The bottom button, labeled EXIT, slides the platform from its passenger position sideways to the doorway and then down to the street. The mechanisms are simple to operate, unless you have reprogrammed them, as we have done.

  “The lift will not work at all without the code. Here, look. To engage the lift in either direction you must first double-press the pause button. That will prevent the guards from operating the lift. They’ll push the bottom button, and when the chair fails to move, you’ll offer your assistance. Standing in the doorway, blocking their vision, when you double-click the middle button and the platform engages, this panel behind the center console, above the air-conditioning vent, will release. There will be two loaded handguns inside. Leaning over to guide the wheelchair will place your hand in proximity of the guns. Your actions should not be visible to others.”

  Liam stepped on the runner. His frame blocked the door. He pressed the middle button twice and then the bottom button, the lift engaged, and the back of the center console opened. He saw the two small handguns inside.

  Yonit smiled. “There, you have the weapons.”

  Liam managed the maneuver without detection from behind, placing the guns in the inner pockets of his jacket as the wheelchair was lowered to the street.

  Liam nodded. “Very smooth.” He ran the test again without a flaw.

  “Then it’s a go for tomorrow at noon,” Eliezer said. “You’ll reassemble in Kiryat Arba. Godspeed, ladies and gentlemen.”

  SEVENTY-FIVE

  “LUBANNAH, WHEN SOPHIE COMES home from madrassa, I’m going to talk to her and I want you to talk to her with me.”

  “Does this concern her father and his visit?”

  Al-Zahani nodded. “It does.”

  “I want no part of this.”

  “Lubannah, I appeal to your reason. Did I not arrange to take her from Chicago, that depraved and unholy land, and bring her here to Hebron, just so that you could be with her?”

  She nodded.

  “Have I not always had her best interests in my heart? Do I not raise her as my own daughter?”

  “Yes, you do.”

  “Then stop questioning me. Cooperate with me and help us to take the next step; to sever all ties with her American past. To help her accept her life here.”

  “What is it you want me to do?”

  “Just be supportive. Talk to her with me. And when Sommers comes, help me to calm her and comfort her on her loss. That’s all.”

  “What loss?”

  “Sommers will come, he will offer us money, we will allow him to see Sophie, that she is being raised properly, and he will leave. Sophie will be told the truth—that he has left her for good. She must make a break with her futile, incessant pining.”

  “I will talk to her. I will support you, but she is strong-willed, like her mother. She will not believe us. When Sommers comes, she will be uncontrollable.”

  “Leave it to me. I will handle it.”

  Bashir entered the house with Sophie. “The little one had a very good day. Her teacher told me so.”

  “Really?” al-Zahani said. “Tell me, Sophie.”

  “Teacher said my painting was the best in the class.” She held up a watercolor on construction paper.

  “Very, very good.” Al-Zahani held it up, turned it from side to side, and smiled. “I see many trees. Where is it?”

  “It’s a park in Wisconsin where my daddy took me.”

  Al-Zahani shook his head and put the picture on a table. “Your Jadda and I would like to talk to you. Sit down, here.” He patted the couch. “You know, your father has not talked to you in many, many months.”

  “But, that’s because—”

  “No, wait.” He held his hand up and closed his eyes. “I have demonstrated to you that he left the city, left your house, and, most importantly, left you. He quit his job. And he went away by himself to be apart from everyone he knew. Including you, Sophie.”

  “I don’t believe—”

  “Wait, wait, child. No one knew where he went. You made the phone calls. His house was empty. He quit his job. But I knew how sad you have been about this. So I said, I have to find this man for my Sophie. I searched and searched. And I sent men all around the world to find your father. And you know what? I finally did it. I found him.”

  Sophie jumped off the couch. “You did?”

  She threw her arms around him and hugged him. “Oh, thank you, Jaddi. Thank you.”

  He patted her on the head. “Do not thank me so much yet. Your father did not want to come here. He didn’t want to see you, I am sorry to say.”

  Tears welled up in Sophie’s eyes. “You’re a liar. You’re a big liar.”

  “Wait, wait. I knew you would say that. So, I made him promise to come here anyway. He is bringing some papers. The papers will say that he wants us to raise you here in Hebron. You will see for yourself. He will be carrying a satchel when he comes, and inside that satchel will be the papers.”

  “No, he won’t. He will want to take me home. And I will go with him.”

  “Oh, my child, I despair deeply of your impending disappointment. I ask only that you not get your hopes too high for something that will not happen. He has told me he will not take you with him. He has moved on in his life. Please, child, do not take my word for it. See for yourself. He will come here tomorrow and in his hand he will have a case. When you see that case, you will know that I have told you the truth. Then, if you will leave us alone for a little bit so I can review the papers, I will let you go outside and talk to your father all you want. That is, if he will even stay long enough to talk to you. If I’m lying about what I’ve said and he wants to take you home, you can go with him. I will not stop you. But if I’m telling the truth, then you have to stop all this crying and pining about going back to Chicago.”

  Sophie looked at Lubannah. “Is this true?”

  “It is true, my Sophie. It is all true.”

  “When is he coming?”

  “Tomorrow at noon.”

  SEVENTY-SIX

  MARCY, KAYLA, AND JACK took their places in the van, pulled away from Mossad headquarters, and followed Yonit’s car toward Kiryat Arba. The hills looked peaceful in the moonlight, their tranquillity belying the havoc that was sure to await them beyond the next ridge. Yonit took the southern route past Yavne, Kiryat Gat, Beit Guvrin National Park, and into the West Bank through a southern checkpoint. She dropped Liam at a four-story building and drove off. Kayla pulled in seconds later and parked the van along the curb.

  “Yonit will be here in the morning,” Liam said. “She’ll have the briefcase, our microphones, and Kayla’s nurse’s uniform. She assured me al-Zahani would take my gun from me at the front gate and that the hidden-gun trick would work perfectly. Not so comforting, I’m afraid. Oh, and she said to get a good night’s sleep.”

  “Why don’t we take a ride by the house in the morning?” Jack said. “Maybe I could catch Sophie on her way to school. We might be able to avoid the confrontation altogether.”

  “Jack, you’re dreaming,” Liam said quietly. “Do you think he’s going to be careless with Sophie on the day he’s expecting five million dollars?”

  Kayla nodded. “She’s never alone anyway. She’s guarded to and from school. You know we could never do that.”

  “Let’s be honest,” Marcy said. “You wouldn’t do it if you could. Sophie’s your passport into the compound. If Sophie was walking down this street by herself, you wouldn’t stop to pick her up. That’s the sorry fact of the whole thing.”

  “Stop, Marcy,” Jack said. “If it wasn’t for Kayla, we’d never see Sophie again. This is the only way I can bring her home.”

  “He’d better get clemency or immunity or something for doing this,” Ma
rcy said. “He better not put his life on the line to stop a terrorist attack just to return to prison. You need to take care of him.”

  “I promise, I’ll push as hard as I can,” Kayla said.

  * * *

  AT MIDNIGHT THE APARTMENT was dark and quiet. Liam found a bottle of Jameson in the cabinet, poured a couple of inches into a glass, and sat alone on a stool at the kitchen counter, musing over the events that had brought him to this juncture. A call from Walter Jenkins, a meeting in a conference room, and a simple skip trace turns into a firestorm in Hebron. Life’s road has funny turns.

  He reached into his pocket and took out a picture he had ripped from a magazine before he left Honolulu. Solitaire wedding rings. There had been no time before they left, it all just happened so fast. It would have to wait until he got home.

  “Buy me a drink?” Kayla said, sliding onto a stool beside him.

  He filled another tumbler and placed it before her. They clinked their glasses.

  “You know, there’s no way this goes down easy,” Liam said. “Jack’s a sitting duck, no pun intended.”

  “As long as they think it’s just a ransom exchange and that you’re the muscle he brought from Chicago, we have the element of surprise. They won’t be ready for the IDF.”

  “I like Yonit. Her fearless bearing, that inner strength, I can see why men would follow her into battle.”

  “And women.”

  He nodded and smiled sheepishly. “And women, of course. That’s an unusual name: Yonit.”

  “In Hebrew it means ‘dove.’”

  “‘Dove’? Oh, that’s terrific. Just what we need.”

  They sat in silence for a few minutes.

  Liam looked down, swirled the whiskey in his glass. “How do you see this playing out?”

  “I hope it’s pretty much as Eliezer and Yonit have said. We’ll pull up to the gate, the guards will search us—”

  “I’m not giving up my gun.”

  Kayla pursed her lips. “They won’t let you go in with it.”

  “We’ll see. I don’t trust this hidden-gun trick in the van, and I’m sure not walking into a terrorist’s house unarmed.”