The Syrian (Natasha Kelly, Mossad Spy)

by Felicia Mires

  He carried both cases outside, waving away the customs and airport security. Natasha followed along in amused silence. He was up to something.

  When they reached the car, he placed the bags in the trunk and turned to open the door for her. "Surprise!"

  Her mouth dropped as she bent to look at the cascade of fragrant flowers filling her seat. "But…how?"

  He pulled Natasha into his arms just as a brilliant sunset burst through the clouds. In an emotionally charged moment, she kissed him with enthusiasm.

  When she finally looked at David's flushed face, he murmured, "Was that for me?"

  "Yes. Shall we go?"

  He handed her into the car and helped her arrange the flowers then walked around the car. Her lap was full. How did he manage so many different blooms? She'd never thought about florists in Israel. As she breathed in deeply, the different scents titillated her nose.

  That kiss. Her face flamed. A little too much gusto had gone into that. It had to be fatigue…or adrenaline from her attack. She'd leave it at that. Thankfully, the flowers somewhat hid her from David's view.

  Not that he was easily put off. He slid into the driver's seat then ran a light finger along her jaw line. "You're blushing."

  "That kiss…I don't want you to…"

  "It's all right. I caught you by surprise." He grinned. "We'll call it even. Besides, I need all the encouragement I can get. You never know when some movie star will come around and steal the girl in the last scene."

  She turned away to look through the window as David pulled into traffic. "Let's not talk about him. Shouldn't we discuss that note?"

  "Eventually. But first, have you heard from Dirk? I could find out where he is through official channels, but I don't want to draw attention to such a request."

  "I haven't talked with him, but he did leave several messages I didn't answer. His last note said he was going to the States."

  "Why haven't you answered, Natasha? Surely you aren't afraid."

  "I really don't know why you care if I speak with Dirk or not. I don't see a reason to continue the liaison. We finished the job, and there's nothing else to discuss."

  "All business and no play? I don't want to butt into your business-"

  "Then don't."

  "However…when Dirk was in hospital, he said…some things. I very much dislike being trapped in the middle, and I would refuse, if my own feelings weren't involved."

  How unfair she'd been to David. Relationships with men were certainly a lot of trouble.

  "I've asked you to consider a more lasting relationship between us. Before you left Israel, you were confused about your feelings for Dirk. That often happens to an agent, especially someone untrained who doesn't know what to expect."

  She stiffened. "So you think I'm imagining the way I feel."

  "Don't get in an uproar. I much prefer you feel nothing at all for Dirk Sloan. I have a better chance that way." His tone teased, but she could tell he spoke in earnest.

  "David, I also prefer not to feel anything for Dirk Sloan. So I'm taking time off from his distracting personality to see if the 'feelings' last. Besides, as I told you before, there's something more important to me in a relationship. Your personal commitment to Jesus as your Messiah."

  "You'll be happy to know…I am searching. But what you're asking me to believe is professional suicide. It would probably destroy my personal life as well. Jesus Christ is a passionate subject for a Jew. I must tread lightly, until I'm sure."

  "That is the most thrilling thing you've ever said to me!"

  "Well...your life encourages me to care passionately about something. But I've seen the orthodox Jews. They are passionate. Yet they don't seem to have your joy or peace."

  "As long as you're thinking and noticing things." She scanned the scenery once more. "Where do we go from here? It looks to me like we're in Tel Aviv, not Henzelia."

  He slowed to enter the recreational district of Tel Aviv. "We have reservations. Are you hungry? Would you like to see some night life before you settle into work?"

  She remembered the plastic food of the plane. Hungry? Yes, but what did he mean by nightlife?

  "All right."

  "Your enthusiasm is overwhelming."

  "It's just that a club at home usually means a lifestyle of which I don't approve. Does that make me sound stuffy?"

  "Perhaps, but it's further evidence you live out what you believe. Don't you think I know where you'd feel comfortable? Trust me a little."

  He parked the car and turned toward her. Dark eyes studied her with appreciation, and she thought again how handsome he was. Slender face, thin, long nose, high cheekbones, wavy brown hair, olive skin. Very much like she imagined Jesus. If she didn't move soon, he'd lean over and kiss her. She shifted a flower pot to reach for her bag.

  David laughed as he got out of the car and walked around to open her door.

  The hostess seated them before a large glass window at a round table draped in white linen. Outside, a lighted fountain sprayed first green, then blue, then orange water into the air. A lavish display for a country in the midst of a drought.

  In the center of the dining room, a graceful young woman played the piano and sang in Hebrew. A great place to pop the question. Natasha's stomach lurched. He'd better not.

  "Relax, I won't bite," said David, reaching for his menu. "Are you very tired?"

  How could she let him continue to hope, when she was convinced her heart had already found a home, even if it was the wrong home?

  "I am tired, but this is a welcome surprise. Thank you for going to so much trouble. I think you've got a romantic streak."

  "My sisters always said, 'With the right girl'…Would you allow me to order for you? They have a traditional Jewish menu I thought you'd enjoy. I'd like to make amends, somewhat, for your previous trip."

  A wonderful suggestion. She sat back, allowing David to manage their arrangements. Everything about this atmosphere relaxed her. She almost hated to remember why she was in Israel. She shut her mind to a picture of John wasting away in some forgotten cell.

  David reached for her hand, covering it with his own. "Let's not speak of work yet. However, before I can press my advantage, there are some things of which we should discuss."

  She pulled her hand away. He reached for her again, and she rolled her eyes. "I think we covered that."

  "Not entirely. You refused to see Dirk before you left Israel. He asked after you several times. I gave him the earrings you returned from your mission. He was annoyed you refused to keep them. His actual words were something like, 'Bloody stubborn wench. Can't she accept a gift? What do you do with a woman like that?' He wanted to know why you wouldn't come to the hospital. I didn't know what to say."

  David gave her hand a little squeeze. "This is where you really need to pay attention. He said, 'I guess she knows how I feel about her, but…Listen old man, if you get an opportunity to speak with her before I do, there's something I'd like very much for you to tell her.'" He mimicked Dirk's proper British accent perfectly.

  Natasha had to smile as she listened.

  "I agreed to relay his comment when next we spoke. He said, 'Tell her I believe what she said, and I've taken care of it.' So, there you are."

  Amazing. David gave Dirk every advantage. He really intended to remove any reservations she had about Dirk so he could pursue her with a clear conscience. She'd never met a man so chivalrous. His tight grip on her hand revealed his anxiety even if his carefree expression didn't.

  She stared in his eyes. "What are you saying? You believe Dirk is now a Christian?"

  "I do. How do you feel about that?"

  "I don't...know. My little heart didn't go pit-a-pat if that's what you mean. And I'm not sure he knows what he's talking about, so I'll reserve judgment until I see a change."

  David frowned. "You can't put him on trial, Natasha. Most of the things you see him do in public are arranged to complete his cover. If you really want to know what
's inside the man, you should give him the dignity of explaining himself."

  "I once said the same thing to him about listening to me."

  "Obviously, he did." David waved his glass at the waiter. "Enough touchy-feely talk. I've done my share for the next year or so."

  Natasha nodded. David was indeed different from the reserved agent she'd first met. They spent the remainder of the meal on light topics chosen simply to amuse. She felt thoroughly at ease by the time they exited the restaurant...until David performed his usual once-around-the-car for signs of sabotage.

  Was that what she wanted for the rest of her life?

  "David, how did you become so completely a part of this job?"

  Any care-free attitude disappeared as his eyes took on a powerful light, and his body tensed. The consummate agent.

  "That's how you stay alive. There's not a high life expectancy among spies. You'll have to learn also."

  He started the car, and they left the restaurant parking lot. David's solemn expression appeared every bit the professional, and she regretted the change. "What are you thinking about Agent Benjamin?"

  "Is it that obvious?"

  She nodded.

  "I think we'll leave the note for analysis. The wording sounds like your friend, the monk. Always quoting Bible verses. But everyone knows this of him. It could easily be a fake. How could he send a message to you? The Syrian wouldn't reveal to John what the Mossad are doing with you or allow John to have access to persons sympathetic to his cause."

  "Have you been able to verify the name, Yaakov, or where they took John?"

  "Neither. But don't despair. There are agents who believe they have a firm lead. A terrorist of this magnitude is a prime target for all of Israel's resources. We've enlisted the aid of Shin Bet."

  "That reminds me. Why were the Mossad involved in a diamond investigation? I thought the Shin Bet handled all of Israel's homeland espionage."

  "A tricky situation. The sabotage of our country's international trade is undoubtedly an investigation for the Mossad. We're the only Israeli organization involved with the Trinity. Your involvement began outside the boundaries of Israel, so the investigation remained with Mossad. But there's much to be learned from Shin Bet. They have different sources. We must retain cordial relations like your CIA and FBI."

  "Do you think Yaakov is in Israel?"

  "No. The lead I mentioned is in Syria, but it takes months to set up a successful cover for an agent. Even if Yaakov's base operates out of Syria, he may not have the monk there. It will take time to have someone close enough to find out."

  "John will be wherever Yaakov is hiding. He'll want John to decipher that manuscript so he can find the exact location of the Garden of Eden. But how much time could that take?"

  David slowed the car and looked at Natasha over the cluster of flowers she held. "Do you believe the source for Eden is in Israel, in another dimension like the monk said?"

  If she said yes, he'd think her a nut and discount what she had to say about salvation.

  "I don't know. But I'll tell you how I think about God, and maybe that will explain it. The Talmud says that God knows our past, our present, and our future. I've always had this picture in my mind of God holding our entire universe in His hand. He sees every part of it, all the time. The future is before Him, just as our present is before Him. He sees all dimensions because as much as He's part of our lives, He also stands outside His creation. Thus, allowing us the autonomy of free choice, even though He knows where those choices will take us.

  "The Jews rejected Jesus because they thought Messiah was supposed to free them and set up His kingdom on earth. Jesus came meekly preaching forgiveness and righteousness, and He was crucified. And yet, everything He said about how He would suffer and die here…His resurrection, and His explanation of coming here again to set up His kingdom…It all fulfills the Jewish prophecies. But I'm getting away from the point. I think if God knows everything, then He certainly exists in some dimension of which I'm not aware. I can't know everything, so I'm open to suggestions."

  They entered the Mossad base of operations, and David remained quiet as he drove through security. Natasha glanced around their surroundings, but the night sky offered little illumination beyond the light posts. She saw anonymous concrete and brick buildings, much the same as her previous visit.

  David drove to the living quarters. Continued study of his impassive face brought Natasha increasing anxiety. "David?"

  "Hmm?"

  "Do you think I'm crazy?" His opinion mattered. Maybe too much.

  He put the car in park then leaned back in the seat. "What you say makes sense…but to accept the existence of Eden, I'd have to believe everything else. I've never practiced the Jewish faith. You probably know more about Jewish scripture and prophecy than I do."

  Natasha opened her mouth to speak, but he waved her off. "No, listen. I don't examine often what I believe or think. I believe in the sovereign right of Israel to exist as a free nation, and I will do most anything to protect those rights. I haven't weighed the moral issues very often when our enemy has no scruples about destroying us.

  "You and I haven't spent much time together. But you remain consistent in what you say, and you act out what you believe. I read the reports from your mission, but I don't…You walked into a barrage of bullets. Why? You weren't shot, but no one could have missed you at that distance. Why?"

  Natasha really wanted to interrupt him, but he wasn't finished yet.

  "You say God has done this for you, and everything I've seen about you would lead me to believe you. But that means I would have to believe God. And it would change my life. That I'm not ready for."

  He sat in silence, but Natasha could feel the tension in his body. She didn't know whether to push for an advantage or wait and let God continue to work on his heart. He was asking the right questions. She'd wait.

  "As long as you don't think I'm crazy."

  "I'm probably crazy for not believing!" He opened his door. "Here we are again. No one will invade your room this time."

  "So when I go to bed tonight, I don't need to barricade the door?"

  He crossed his hand over his heart. "You have my word. Let's go in. I know you're tired."

  He brought in her cases then helped her with the flowers. They covered the surface of the small round table and the night stand, filling the sterile room with a hothouse scent.

  He walked to a chair and pulled it out. "Come, sit. Before I go, there are some things you must know. Your base of operations will be at this facility. A normal training period for a Mossad officer is four to six months. Unfortunately, we don't have the luxury of time. After your assessment, you'll get through what your trainer feels is most necessary. From now on, we speak only Hebrew. You must learn to respond and think in Hebrew. Most of our population can speak some English, but you mustn't rely on it. Your trainers won't take it easy on you or wait for you to understand." He paused for a moment. "This isn't easy. Not even for someone in perfect physical condition, and you still suffer from your accident. I won't be allowed to help you. I may not even be allowed to speak with you.

  "The hardest part for you, I think, won't be the physical. The mental exercises are designed to make you capable of functioning on your own, without back-up, without encouragement. When you go through training, they won't tell you if you do it right. They won't tell you if you do it fast enough. They'll make you do assignments over and over, but you'll never know if they're satisfied. Do you understand, Natasha? There is no positive reinforcement in the Mossad."

  A sinking feeling grew in the pit of her stomach. "Is that what this whole night was about…the flowers, the romantic music, the restaurant, the feigned jealousy of Dirk? To bind me with this romantic link to the Mossad so I would do anything they say?"

  "No!"

  Natasha jumped up. Weeks of pent-up emotions and conflicting loyalties rose to the surface. "Were you setting up the naïve, little American, Bible girl, so she
could take a fall for the big, bad Mossad?" She jabbed a finger in his chest. "Let me tell you something, David, I've read those exposés from past agents, and they don't make the Mossad look like the knight in shining armor you think you are. And if you think you can get me to betray my country for the benefit of God's chosen people, you'd better think again. I won't ever let you or anyone else use me, my family, and especially not my shipping business, to further the political interests of Israel."

  David Benjamin stood glaring at Natasha, and she wondered if she'd gone too far.

  "Are you quite finished, Natasha? My respect for you prevents me from uttering a few words that right now seem appropriate. Dirk was correct. You're a bloody, stubborn wench. You don't want a man to care about you. When someone shows honest emotion, you'd rather believe they've got some ulterior motive and master plan to use you or take advantage of you. I admit…the Mossad considered all those things for you. That's the way we operate. That's the way every spy organization operates! But not now. For one thing, you're too bright to fall for the 'Protect the Holy Land at all costs' bit. For another, you seemed a perfect choice to add to the Trinity organization, and that's not the way they treat their operatives. I tried to boost your confidence tonight, but not because I wanted something from you.

  "I take that back. When a man is courting a woman, I guess he does want something from her. I want you to succeed in life, and if you want to join the Mossad, I want you to succeed at that. Remember, you asked to join us. By the way, you look wonderful. This is how I really feel about you." He wrapped his arms around her so tightly, she barely breathed. When his mouth covered hers in an anger-filled kiss, she recoiled.

  David shifted, and the kiss became soft and coaxing. His raw emotion mingled with her own until tears slid down her cheeks.

  At his sudden release, she swayed. He marched out the door, and slammed it behind him.

  She leaned against the back of the chair. Should she go after him? She'd created a major rift in their relationship and had no idea what to do. She needed to apologize before this grew into something she couldn't salvage.