by Brad Taylor
He removed the gloves he was wearing, picked up his cell—his real one—and pulled up the contacts list. He decided to pull the trigger, executing his escape. There would be other times to implement his plan; all he needed was patience. He dialed a number and heard it ring. The motion detector he’d emplaced in the courtyard went off. He ran to his video feed and saw Masoud walking to the door. The cell phone connected, and he heard, “State your security code.”
He hung up.
Masoud rang the bell, and Ezra gave him a moment, not wanting to appear overeager. He replaced his gloves, answered the door, and noticed the sweat on Masoud’s brow, his face sickly.
Ezra immediately thought that there were men coming in behind him. He placed his hand on the butt of a pistol at his back and said, “Are you okay?”
Masoud pushed his way in, saying, “No, I’m not okay. This is tearing me apart.”
Ezra relaxed, closing the door behind him. He said, “We’ve done nothing yet. Come on, man, you need to hold up.”
Masoud looked at him and said, “I’m not sure I can. I’m really not. I haven’t slept for days.”
He rubbed his face, then looked back at Ezra. “Are you positive about this? If I get the guns in, you’ll be able to prevent any killing?”
Ezra went to the kitchen, then brought him a glass of water. He said, “Of course. The entire point is to solidify our operations together. Right now, the Israeli public feels suspicious about the Islamic Waqf. Having anything other than a complete interception of the attack would be self-defeating. My command would never authorize this without absolute assurances that it would succeed.”
Masoud nodded and said, “You have the weapons?”
Ezra went to a closet, pulling out a duffel bag. “Here. Six AKs, with one magazine each.” He didn’t mention that there were two more AK-47s in the closet, waiting to be discovered when the border police searched this house.
“How will the terrorists find them?”
“The terrorists worship at the al Aqsa mosque. They know it intimately. You place them, tell me where they are, and I’ll make sure the assholes who want to use them can find them.”
Masoud sagged back into his chair, saying, “Are you sure this is the right thing to do? What if they kill someone?”
“They won’t. I promise. All you need to do is watch the cache. The minute someone moves to it, call me”—Ezra held up his flip phone—“and we’ll be in there before they can even load them.”
Masoud set the water glass on a table and stood. He picked up the duffel bag and said, “Okay, okay. This is a huge risk. Please don’t screw it up.”
Ezra said, “I won’t, I promise. Tomorrow, you’ll be a hero. But the weapons must be in place before one P.M. Can you do that?”
“Yes, I can do that. I’ll hide them tonight and tell you where they are.”
Ezra stood as well and said, “Good, good. Trust me, this will work out.”
Masoud opened the door and left the house, taking the duffel bag. Ezra watched him walk away and exhaled. He went back to the closet, making sure that the other weapons were still in place. The ones he’d use when he “discovered” the central planning location for the assault, and the mastermind behind it. He now had Masoud’s fingerprints on the doorknob of the house, as well as the chair he’d sat in and a water glass that would remain exactly as it was until the police broke down the door.
8
Aaron and I made it back to the hotel before Shoshana and Jennifer. We’d split up the various antiquities dealers between us and checked out each one. Our list had proven uneventful, with every dealer well aware of the arrests that had already been made, but we did locate one shady guy whom Aaron said he’d want to explore further.
We waited on the girls in the oriental bar of the famous King David Jerusalem Hotel, just a rock’s throw from the Old City. It seemed that everything in the country of Israel had a piece of history tied to it, and the King David was no different. While it was the hotel of choice for dignitaries and royalty visiting Jerusalem, it had the infamous pedigree of being the location of one of the deadliest terrorist attacks in the twentieth century—conducted by the Irgun, a militant group of Jewish nationalists fighting for the creation of the state of Israel.
In 1946, it was home to the headquarters of the old British administration that oversaw the historical land. The Irgun blew it up, killing ninety-one people, and leading to a split in the methods the Zionists would use to achieve statehood. A country born out of terrorism, Israel had been battling the demons of its own tactics since its inception.
I came back to our table with a couple of beers from the bar and said, “What’s taking them so long? We had one more shop than they had.”
Aaron took his bottle and said, “Pretty sure Shoshana’s taking Jennifer on a tour, since you showed no interest in doing so.”
“Hey, that’s not fair. We had work to do today, and you guys are taking us to the Temple Mount tomorrow, before the wedding.”
Jennifer had a degree in anthropology and was fascinated by anything smacking of history, and you’d be hard-pressed to find another city on earth that had as many historical sites as the Old City. It was probably too much to ask for her to just do the boring work we’d been tasked with.
Aaron laughed, saying, “Maybe she didn’t trust we’d get the approval for the special visit.”
“Did you?”
“Yes. The Ramsad said we’re good. He’s sending me the passes.”
The Ramsad was the head of the Mossad, which meant that Aaron and Shoshana still had some pull. I said, “From the top dog himself. Wow. I’m impressed.”
“Well, it’s not the current Ramsad. It’s one who retired years ago, but he still holds sway. He put Shoshana on my team. He’ll be at the wedding.”
I smiled, saying, “I would love to hear that story.”
Aaron said, “It wasn’t pretty, trust me.”
“Hey, you don’t have to convince me. I’m the one that almost killed her. I’m sure you came close to doing the same a time or two. How on earth did you two end up engaged?”
Aaron looked me in the eye and said, “But you didn’t kill her, did you?”
“That was Jennifer’s doing. And your intervention.”
“Was it?”
I could tell he knew I was lying. I said, “Okay, I don’t know why I didn’t kill her. I really should have. Wait, that came out wrong. I mean, given the position I was in, and what I believed she’d done, I should have.”
“The reason you didn’t kill her is the same reason I love her. We both see something in her. You believe it’s pure, but crazy. I know otherwise.”
I thought, Because you’re just like her, only you keep it hidden.
Of course, I said nothing out loud. Aaron took some peanuts from the bowl on our table and said, “You know, she loves you two almost as much as me. Because of her past, she is very stingy with her trust, and you made the cut.”
I laughed, and he turned serious, hissing, “They’re here. Drop it.”
I turned around and saw Jennifer and Shoshana enter the bar, laughing about something. They approached the table and I said, “What took so long?”
Jennifer said, “Our final shop was on Via Dolorosa, so we had to see the last walk.”
I said, “The last walk of what?”
Jennifer frowned and said, “The last walk of Christ. Seriously? Shoshana’s a pretty good tour guide. We went through the stations and ended at the Church of the Holy Sepulchre.”
Shoshana said, “I guess having a biblical name didn’t do much for your religious education.”
I said, “I’ve seen plenty of churches, thank you very much.”
Shoshana’s mouth opened slightly, and I realized it was because she couldn’t believe I was that stupid. I said, “What?”
Jennif
er said, “Pike, the Church of the Holy Sepulchre is where Christ was crucified, and where his tomb of the resurrection is located. It’s not just another church.”
I held up my hands, knowing I was outgunned. I said, “Okay, okay, I’ll go back with you tomorrow if you want.”
Jennifer sniffed and said, “We won’t have time. We’re going to the Temple Mount tomorrow, and then we have the wedding.”
They sat down, and I said, “Our recce of the stores was a little bit of a bust. How about you?”
Jennifer glanced at Shoshana and said, “Ours was the same. Nobody wanted to bite on the bait.”
I could tell she was holding something back. I said, “But?”
Shoshana slid her eyes to Jennifer, then said, “But nothing. As you Americans say, we struck out.”
I looked at Jennifer, and she nodded. Aaron stood, saying, “Well, we’ve got a pretty big day tomorrow, and a few preparations to take care of. Meet you for lunch around noon?”
I stood as well, saying, “Sounds good. Where?”
Shoshana said, “Jennifer wanted to check out a restaurant we saw today, the Panoramic Golden City, but we ran out of time.”
Jennifer brightened and said, “Oh yeah. It’s got a rooftop deck. It looked cool.”
I said, “Fine by me. We’ll see you guys there.” I shook Aaron’s hand, then risked kissing Shoshana on the cheek. Her lips curled into a smile, liking the gesture.
Whew.
We watched them walk away, and when they were out of earshot, I said, “This restaurant serve anything besides goat meat?”
“I didn’t check the menu. I just want to see the view.”
I turned to her and said, “Okay, what happened today?”
Jennifer said, “I honestly don’t know. That last shop we went to? The one on Via Dolorosa? Shoshana went into the red. She did that weird thing she does, and I thought she was going to attack the clerk at the counter. After we left, I asked her about it, but she refused to talk to me, saying it was nothing.”
I watched them walk through the courtyard and said, “Maybe it was nothing. She’s crazy.”
Jennifer followed them with her eyes and said, “She might be crazy, but she’s never wrong. It was something.”
9
Dawood closed the flip phone, watching the sun rising outside the window of the hostel room they’d rented. He thought about returning to the store one more time. It would be open by now, and he wanted to apologize to Abdul, tell him he was a good brother. But he knew he couldn’t. Doing so would potentially compromise the entire operation.
He would have to be satisfied with his hug the day before.
He found Faisal in the small kitchenette and said, “I got the call. I have the location of the weapons.”
Faisal’s face grew cold, the words no small thing. It meant he would sacrifice his life today. He said, “We should wake the rest. Let them prepare.”
“Yes. I was thinking we would go to prayers together at the mosque. One final time.”
Faisal solemnly nodded. “That would be good.”
Dawood said, “You can’t go. I’m sorry.”
Faisal’s face closed down, and Dawood said, “Wake them up. We need to make the videos.”
They gathered the men, and all of them were awkward, unsure of how to act. They had no commander to tell them what to do. Nobody who had done this before. For all of the bluster in the news about social media, they had not been radicalized that way. In truth, they found groups such as ISIS and al Qaida a world apart from them. Something that happened, but had nothing to do with their trials.
They cared not a whit about a caliphate. Their fight wasn’t religious. It was political. They wanted a state, period. They wanted to remove the boot on the throat of their brothers in the West Bank. And they had reached a level where they were willing to give their lives to do so.
They made awkward GoPro videos expressing their hatred of the Jewish occupation of East Jerusalem, but each man appeared unsure of himself. Dawood made them redo the staged scene, aggravated that they sounded so hesitant. After the third take, he was satisfied.
He placed the GoPro on the center table of the hostel room, knowing the Jewish investigation would find it. He said, “It’s now eleven o’clock. We have two hours. Eat some food. Get energy. We leave in forty-five minutes.”
Faisal said, “I want to come pray with you.”
“No. You remain here. You’re close to your target here, but will be too far away if you go with us, and I cannot predict what will happen when we go to pray. Worst case, you get prevented from moving due to a security lockdown.”
Faisal reluctantly nodded, saying, “You will be the heroes. You will fight until you die. I will just die.”
Surprised, Dawood said, “We will all die, but your attack will be much, much greater than ours. There have been many attacks in Haram al-Sharif. There has been none where you go. It’s why I changed the plan.”
Faisal considered his words, then said, “Maybe you’re right.”
“It is key that you don’t move from here until I call. If I can’t call, listen for the sirens. Wait until everyone is focused on Haram al-Sharif. Do not go early, and when you get in, hide. There will be confusion, and you must time it right. If everyone starts running to the exit, detonate where you are, but you know the goal.”
Faisal nodded, saying, “I do.”
“Get there. Make a statement.”
“I will. Allah will be with me.”
Dawood smiled, but he felt no joy. Truth be told, he felt sick to his stomach. He said, “As with us.”
***
Ezra unlocked the door to his safe house, once again wearing gloves. He gingerly worked around the doorknob to prevent tainting the fingerprints left by Masoud. He went inside, his sole purpose to cleanse any indication that he’d ever been there. He didn’t think there was anything, but he was meticulous to a fault. He went from room to room, even looking under the bed, and decided the place was clean.
He used his contact phone to call Masoud. It rang, and then a nervous voice answered, “They’re still in place. Nobody’s found them.”
Ezra said, “Good, good. The men are on the way. They’ll pray first, and then execute the plan.”
Masoud said, “I don’t think we should wait. You should come in during the prayers. Separate the worshipers and then you pinpoint the ones that are evil. Don’t let them get the weapons.”
Ezra heard the trepidation and knew he had to squash it. He said, “Masoud, you know the border police can’t come into the mosque. I can’t assault it. That would probably engender just as much of a protest as someone shooting a gun. Calm down. This will work out. Let them come in.”
And then he had a thought. “You loaded the magazines into the weapons before putting them in your hiding spot, correct?”
It wouldn’t do for his little cell to waste time distributing magazines and loading the guns in full view of others. They might be intercepted by worshippers inside the mosque. No, they needed to grab the weapons, run to the courtyard, and start shooting.
“Yes, I did. Wait, are you saying I should have left the AKs empty? Yes! I should have thought of that. All you need is for them to grab the weapons. They don’t need ammunition.”
Ezra snapped upright, thinking furiously. He said, “We can’t have them tricked. It can’t look like a setup. Anyway, there’s no time for that. Don’t touch the weapons. It’s daylight. Someone will see you. Let it go.”
He heard, “Okay. Okay.”
Ezra said, “Hang in there. It’ll be over soon.”
He hung up, surveyed the safe house one more time for any signs of his presence, then left. He needed to be closer to the Temple Mount when the next phone call came.
The one that would detail success.
10
S
hoshana came bounding out of the rooftop door to the restaurant, looking as excited as a kid going to Disneyland. It was weird seeing her like this. Usually, I was trying to keep her from slaughtering someone, and I could count on one hand the number of times I’d seen her smile. Well, smile from joy instead of something twisted.
She caught sight of us and began dragging Aaron by the hand. We stood up, and Jennifer saw me grimace at her enthusiasm. She hip-bumped me, whispering, “Come on, Pike. Let her enjoy this.”
I whispered back, “Look at her. I think she’s had a stroke or something. This is like that movie Primal Fear. What happens when Carrie decides to return?”
Jennifer put her palm over her mouth to hide her smile, and I stuck a hand out to Aaron. He shook it, and Shoshana stood by, looking at me expectantly. At first, I was confused, then I saw her face darken, the little demon starting to seep out. I caught on quickly. I leaned in and gave her a hug and a peck on the cheek. She beamed, all smiles again.
I wondered if she’d have tried to gut me if I hadn’t given her a kiss.
We took a seat and Aaron held up some official-looking papers, saying, “Our entrance to the Temple Mount. We’ll go in between the morning opening and the afternoon. When it’ll just be us. Well, us and the Arabs, who can go at any time.”
Jennifer said, “How’s that work?”
“The Temple Mount is closed to non-Muslims from eleven thirty until one thirty. The tourists will start lining up to get in, but we’ll get to cut the line.”
“Do we need a guide?”
Shoshana said, “I’m the guide.”
Looking at the menu, I said, “Looks like it’s goat meat for lunch.”
Shoshana said, “Sorry they don’t have a Big Mac. Eating something different could do you some good. You don’t need the extra fat.”
I started to respond when Jennifer changed the subject, glaring at me like a mother separating two siblings. “So, Shoshana, did Aaron give you a ketubah?”
