Athir nodded. Wahib walked beside him carrying his subha, a strand of ninety-nine white prayer beads that he used to glorify God. They strolled down the familiar streets. It was only a short time after ten o’clock, but only a few people were still outside. The stars glittered in the midnight-blue sky. Neither of them spoke for several minutes until they came upon a beggar. Wahib did not say a word, but he took all of the change he had in his pocket and put the coins into the man’s cup.
“Thank you,” Wahib said to the beggar.
Athir smiled. “I remember.”
“You remember what?” Wahib said with a smile because he already knew what Athir remembered.
“The story you once told me.”
“Oh, I told you many stories. To which one of them are you referring?”
“The one that explains that it is better to give than to receive. That’s why you thanked the poor man, isn’t it? You thanked him for the opportunity to give…”
“Yes, Athir. Exactly right.” It is a blessing to be able to give to someone.”
Athir smiled into the darkness. He loved this old man. He’d loved him since the day they met. It was strange because Wahib had become close to all three brothers, and yet Athir was the only one who had allowed Wahib’s teachings to influence his way of thinking and his life. Perhaps it was because he was the youngest of the three boys. The firstborn, Kazim, was the oldest and from the day their father had been killed, had assumed the role of the man of the house. Fadi was two years younger than Kazim and he followed his older brother blindly. But Athir had come as a surprise to his parents six years after Fadi. He was the baby, and the entire family had treated him like a child even as he was growing older.
“May I be so bold as to ask how your friend is doing?” Wahib asked.
“What friend?” Athir said, pretending not to understand, but he knew that Wahib was talking about Raeda, the girl Athir was in love with.
“Oh, you know who I mean,” Wahib laughed, “the pretty girl who has caught your eye and your heart.”
“Raeda? She is fine. I see her sometimes, and I am always overcome by her beauty. I’ve been saving money so that I can offer her a nice dowry when I ask for her hand in marriage.”
“A wife is a gift from Allah. You know this, of course. I have told you many times. Once you are married, you must always remember to treat her well. But before you even consider marriage, you must be able to support her, to provide a home and the things she will need. Our beloved Prophet, peace be with him, made this very clear.”
“Yes. I am trying to do everything I can to be a good husband to her and father to our future children. I am planning to go to school in America. I want to study medicine. I have very good grades, and I have already been accepted to a medical school in the United States.
“This is a good thing. Have you told Raeda of your plans?”
“I’ve already told her. I sort of hinted that I would like for her to marry me and go with me. In the beginning, while I am in school, we would be poor, but only in money, not in spirit. In spirit, because of our love, we will always be rich.”
“You’re right, my son. Real riches come from God, not from money. If you love her, and she loves you, you will always be rich. It would be better if you were established before you married, but I understand that if you are going to America, you want her to go with you.”
Athir sighed. “I would be most blessed if she will be my wife. She is the most beautiful person I have ever known. When I look at her, she takes my breath away. But that is only the smallest thing about her that I love. Mostly it is her heart that is the most precious thing about her. She is kind and good. I will care for her for the rest of our lives, as our Prophet, peace be with him, has said it should be.”
“You are a good son, and a good Muslim, Athir. You make me very proud.”
Athir trembled slightly although the air was not chilly. The guilt he felt was swallowing him up like quicksand. He knew that he must tell Wahib why he had come. Once Wahib knew what he had become involved in, would Wahib still be proud of him? Athir dreaded exposing the truth, the truth about the two American girls being held in deplorable conditions, and his part in the entire plan.
They walked in silence for several minutes. A slight breeze caressed the trees, but otherwise the night was still, the only sound was the honking of a car horn in the distance.
***
“So, Athir, something is wrong. I can sense this from you. I know you too well, not to see that you have come tonight with a heavy heart. What is it? What did you want to talk to me about?” Wahib asked.
“How do you feel about the Jews?”
“The Jews,” Wahib said, stroking his beard. “This is why you have come? Hmmm. The Jews will fight to the bitter end to keep their homeland, and the Palestinians will do the same to get it back. The bloodshed will never end.”
“There is so much hatred in the world. So much is wrong.”
“Yes, and it is destroying everything that Allah has provided for us.”
“Wahib. I don’t know what to do. I am troubled beyond anything I have ever felt before.”
“Go ahead. Tell me, my son, what is on your mind? Speak now, I am listening.”
“My brothers,” Athir said, “my brothers are members of a group that is a part of the Fatah. You know this, of course. You are aware that Fadi is in prison.”
“Yes, your brothers have lost their way. I had hoped they would not go down that path, and live. Sometimes I think maybe they have been possessed by an evil jinn.”
“That could very well be the case, because things have gotten way out of hand. I have not told you until now because I didn’t want to worry you, but it is worse than it was before. I, too, am now involved.”
“But why? Why would you, my precious son who is so wise, become involved with a group of terrorists? Have I not taught you better?”
“Yes, father, yes, you have, and I am most ashamed for this because you have taught me so well. But I became involved because of my brother Fadi. Kazim wanted to find a way to free Fadi and some of his other friends. It has all become very twisted and complicated. When Kazim first came to me with his plan, I thought it was a good idea. I only agreed to help because I missed Fadi so much. Now I have made a terrible mistake, and now I don’t know what to do.”
Wahib waited. He did not say a word. Athir cleared his throat then he went on “You see, my brother and the rest of his group took two Jewish girls hostage. These girls are from America, and they are young. I think that they are close to my age. The FPN, which as you know is the name of the terrorist group, is holding these two girls prisoner in a dark warehouse.
Kazim has already made contact with Mossad and the American embassy. He told them that he would trade the girls for Fadi and some other members of Fatah who are in prison. I was willing to cooperate with this plan.
But earlier today, Kazim told me that if our people are not released, they will have no choice but to kill the girls. Kazim said that if they do not get what they want and they don’t kills the girls, the FPN is going to kill them, and I am sick to my heart about it.
Wahib, I cannot betray my own brother and turn him in to the authorities. There is no doubt they will put him in prison or maybe even execute him. As you can well imagine, my mother suffers enough with Fadi in prison. She cries all the time. And yet, how can I stand by and watch as Kazim murders two young women? I am confused and conflicted. My insides are twisted like a knotted rope. I must do something, but I don’t know what to do. You, my dear friend, have been like a father to me, and you are the wisest man I know. So I’ve come to you for advice.” Athir took a deep breath and waited for Wahib, to answer.
“Where are these girls?”
“Let’s walk, I’ll show you,” Athir said.
They had walked for a half hour before they arrived at their destination.
When they got to the building, Athir said. “They are in there.”
“Do you
have the key?”
“No, only Kazim has the key.”
Wahib nodded, and then he sighed so loudly that the sound carried in the night air. “Come. We will go to my house and have some tea.”
Athir took a seat on the floor next to a low table next to Wahib. Wahib poured the steaming-hot tea into two old and chipped porcelain teacups.
“But, Wahib?” Athir asked.
“It will all be all right.” Wahib said, and put his arm around Athir. “You be sure to stay far away from the warehouse. Do as I say. Do you understand me?”
“Yes…”
“Will you do as I say?”
“Yes…”
“Do you have the acceptance papers to that college in America, and all of your other identification papers?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Do you have pictures of yourself and Raeda?” he asked.
“Yes, but why?”
Bring all of your papers and all of Raeda’s papers and pictures to me here in one hour. I will take care of everything. Trust me.”
CHAPTER 40
Athir left as he was bidden and Wahib watched his back as he disappeared down the noisy, crowded street. Once he was sure that Athir couldn’t see him, he grabbed a couple of coins from his coin jar in his cupboard and walked down the street to a payphone. He dropped the coins in the phone coin-slot and dialed the number. The phone rang twice.
“Mossad, Amsel speaking.”
“As-salamu alaykum,” my friend.
“And shalom, my friend. How are you, Wahib?”
“There is much trouble. I must see you tonight.”
“Remember the old safe house where we met in the Arab quarter?”
“Yes.”
“We moved to a new one two blocks to the south. There is a palm tree in front of the building. I will leave a light on in the left room from the street so you can be sure. I will be there in an hour.”
“Thank you. Peace be upon you.”
“Shalom.”
Elan called Mrs. Finkelstein and told him to watch Noa and that he would be very late coming home this evening.
Elan lit the wick on the oil lamp, trimmed it and placed it in the window of the left room as agreed. He was dressed Arab-style: a cream-colored dashadasa, with a plain, light brown vest, leather sandals, and a green and white keffiyeh headdress, wrapped around the head, neck, and lower face. He unwound the headdress and laid it on the kitchen counter. He checked his watch and it read seven-thirty. The last rays of the setting sun were soon to vanish from his window.
Elan put the teapot on to boil and opened the cupboard for something to offer his guest. Mossad kept the kitchen stocked to help entertain informants and agents who needed to lay low, but still remain in the Arab quarter. This was a new safe house just set up after the last one had been compromised.
Ah, he thought, perfect. He reached into the cupboard and found some dates, a bottle of balsamic vinegar and a bottle of olive oil. There was some fresh pita bread in the fridge, and he turned the oven on to two hundred fifty degrees and let it warm up. He tore two pitas in half and laid them on a stone to put in the oven when his guest got there. The teapot whistled, and Elan reached over and turned the burner off.
Elan had interrupted his investigation to meet with Wahib. They had an understanding that Mossad never sought Wahib out. Wahib would come to them if he knew anything that would be helpful to Mossad. . Elan hoped that the information Wahib wanted to discuss with him tonight was the about the girls and would be of help to them..
There was a soft tapping on the door to his apartment.. Elan retrieved the silenced 9mm pistol from the holster under his vest and made his way to the door, and stopped, positioning himself at the door’s side.
“Who is it?” Elan asked.
“Wahib.”
Elan holstered his gun and opened the door.
“Shalom, my friend.”
“As-salamu alaykum,” my friend.
“Come in. The teapot has just come to a boil. The oven is hot. I will pop some pita into it and warm it up.”
“Thank you. That is a kind and gracious gesture.”
“It is the least I can do. We rarely see each other, and I want to break bread with you as we talk. Please take a seat at the table. Wahib took a position on the floor beside the traditional low table. Elan placed the stone with the pita bread on it into the oven and poured hot water into two teacups with a loose-leaf tea ball in them. He placed the two teacups on saucers and brought them to the table.
“Be right back,” he told the older man.
Wahib smiled and nodded.
Elan took two plates out of the cupboard and poured some olive oil on one-half of each of the plates, and balsamic vinegar on the other half. He shook some za’atar spice onto the olive oil on each plate. The pita was now warm. He grabbed an oven mitt, opened the oven, and removed the stone.
The smell of the bread filled the room, and he realized he was hungry. He grabbed the two plates and the small bowl of figs he had set aside and placed them on the table. Returning to the stovetop, he grabbed two half-pitas and returned to sit down with Wahib.
Elan waited until Wahib prayed the blessing, and they turned their attention to the meal. The both removed the tea balls and sipped the steaming hot liquid. They tore off pieces of pita and dipped them in the vinegar and then the olive oil and za’atar spice. The men ate in silence for a time, and then Elan thought it was time to break the silence.
“Wahib, you said there was trouble. How can I help you?”
Wahib put his teacup down and sighed. “I have some information for you, and I need your help as well.”
“What can I do for you, old friend?”
Wahib retrieved and envelope with papers and pictures. He placed the pictures of the two young people on the table.
“These two young people are good people. They deserve a chance to live a good, peaceful life.” They will soon be married, and the boy has been accepted into medical school in America. Here is his acceptance letter to medical school.”
“How can I help?”
“It has to do with the information. He is a good boy, and he has been sucked into bad business with his brothers.”
“Has this anything to do with the American girls’ kidnapping?”
“Yes, exactly. This boy’s name is Athir Nasir.”
“Is he related to Fadi Nasir, one of the FPN members that the FPN is trying to get released?”
“Yes, he is his brother, but he needs to be free of their influence and start a life of peace, learn to be a doctor, and to heal people.”
“What is needed?”
“I need a passport for each, two air fares to America, and some money to help them along when they get there. And if he is on a terror watchlist, his name needs to be removed.”
Elan exhaled. “That’s a lot to ask for.”
“It is a bargain. The Americans will help you. The boy showed me where the girls are being held, and I will show you.”
“Are you asking me to make a deal?”
The old man smiled. “No, my friend. I will tell you where they are because it is the right thing to do. You will help this boy and his girl because it is also the right thing to do.” He handed Elan a piece of paper with the address written on it.
“I will make someone listen and get you what you want.”
“May the blessing of Allah be upon you, my friend.”
They finished another cup of tea and a few dates, and Wahib excused himself and left.
Elan washed the dishes that they had used, put everything away, placed the papers and pictures in a pocket in his vest, and blew out the lamp. He wrapped his head and face back up in his keffiyeh, closed and locked the front door and headed out into the night. He had to get back to the Mossad office and start calling some people.
CHAPTER 41
That night Athir was lying on his bed thinking. He assumed that Wahib was planning to talk to Kazim. And as much as he wanted to be
lieve that Kazim would listen to Wahib, he knew that his brother would not heed the advice of an old man. He also knew that Kazim would be angry with him for telling Wahib what the FPN was doing.
Athir was sure that the girls would die, and he would have done nothing to prevent their deaths. How could he ever pray and speak to Allah again without guilt? Another thing bothered him. What did Wahib want with those pictures and papers? He did not sleep well that night.
Wahib had proven to be a genuine intelligence source before, so Mossad trusted him. Elan trusted him, too, but trying to extract hostages from a terrorist lair is always dangerous.
Elan Amsel and five other Mossad agents stormed the warehouse, taking the terrorists by surprise. Only two of the terrorists were present at the time that Mossad arrived, Kazim and another man. Kazim ran to the table, took a gun and aimed it at Elan. Elan shot both men dead within seconds. He’d always been a perfect shot. The two terrorists lay in a pool of blood across the room from each other. On the table, Elan saw a pile of weapons.
“You stay here…” Elan pointed to a tall male Mossad agent. “Make sure that you watch the door in case more of them come in. I think the old man was telling the truth, but we still need to be careful. It could still be a setup.”
“Yes, sir,” the junior officer responded.
Then, with guns extended, the agents carefully plowed through the warehouse looking for other FPN members that might be hiding. They saw no one. Once Elan was sure that there were no other terrorists in the building, he and the others began to search for the girls.
One of the agents found a locked steel door and yelled for the others. Elan shot the lock off the door and then pulled it open. The sound of metal against metal thundered throughout the building, and Bari’s heart pounding like a triphammer. She was not sure what was taking place outside the small room where she and Marilyn huddled together on the floor.
A few minutes earlier when they’d heard the gunshots, Marilyn had begun to whimper again. Now there was the sound of the door bursting open. Anything could happen, anything at all.
Forever, My Homeland: The Final Book in the All My Love, Detrick Series Page 20
