Promised Land

by Robert Whitlow

  “I was explaining how to make the perfect crepe,” the captain answered with a wink toward Daud.

  “Cut the comedy,” Joe said.

  From the bridge, Daud could see the entire front deck of the yacht. The launch from the cruiser arrived, and several sailors came on board. Bright lights illuminated both ships. Artem and Esma appeared with guards on either side of them. One man had a firm grip on Artem’s right arm.

  “I don’t think Kolisnyk will jump off the boat into the ocean,” Daud said.

  “We didn’t think he would dive into the water at the marina,” Joe replied.

  “True,” Daud admitted.

  A few moments later two men bearing Uri Bondar on a stretcher made their way across the deck. Bondar’s eyes were closed. Bandages covered the right side of his neck and face.

  “He got nicked in the neck,” Joe said. “A fraction of an inch closer in and he’d be in a body bag.”

  “Any idea who fired the shots at the marina?” Daud asked.

  “No, and I heard Kolisnyk telling Lynn about the attack at their villa. Close call. Good work. This mission was much dicier than they led us to believe in the briefing sessions.”

  * * *

  Hana, Ben, and Sadie ate at the small table in the breakfast nook. Sadie insisted on sitting so she could watch Leon in the backyard and kept up a running description of the dog’s antics throughout the meal.

  “A squirrel that steals the food from our bird feeder hopped up on the fence, but it ran away when it saw Leon.”

  “He would be more likely to lick it than bite it,” Hana said.

  After they finished the meal, Sadie disappeared into her room. Ben and Hana cleaned the kitchen.

  “Laura loves to cook,” Ben said. “She really wants to come over and prepare a nice dinner for me. I’d like to do it, but there’s no one to babysit Sadie this week, and I’m not—”

  “She could spend an evening with me,” Hana said. “She’s begged to do that for months. It’s been tough to schedule since the wedding, but with Daud out of town, this would be a perfect time.”

  “Could she spend the night? If Laura fixes a fancy meal, we’ll be eating late. I could come to your house early the next morning to pick up Sadie for school.”

  Hana hesitated, but she’d already committed to the idea of an evening with Sadie. “Okay,” she said. “I could do it either tomorrow night or the following night.”

  Ben grabbed his phone. “Let me text Laura first and find out what works best for her,” he said.

  Hana scooped a small portion of hummus into a plastic container to take home. Ben’s phone buzzed, and he left the kitchen to accept the call. He returned with a broad smile on his face.

  “We’re set for tomorrow night. That’s the only time Laura could squeeze it into her schedule. Could you pick up Sadie at school? I’ll arrange for her to be at the extended day program.”

  Hana checked her phone to make sure she didn’t have a late-afternoon commitment at the office. “I can be at the school by the regular time.”

  “Great. I’ll email the office and let them know you’re still on the list of people authorized to pick her up.”

  Ben stopped and glanced back at the living room where he’d just been. “Do you think I should take down the photos of Gloria hanging on the wall before Laura gets here?”

  They went into the living room, and Hana tried to put herself in Laura’s shoes. There was one photo of Ben, Gloria, and Sadie taken at the beach when Sadie was a baby in her mother’s arms. In another picture Ben and Gloria were wearing jackets and standing on a mountain in Maine.

  “Laura needs to see the photos,” Hana answered. “She already knows Gloria was a huge part of your life, but seeing the pictures tells her you’re a man who’s continued to care and didn’t try to forget his wife after her death.”

  “I’ll never forget,” Ben said slowly. “But I do want to move on. It’s been five years. That’s a long time.”

  “Hana!” Sadie called out. “I’ve finished in my room! You can come in now!”

  Hana and Sadie spent forty-five minutes reading together.

  “Time for bed,” Hana said.

  “Can you stay and tuck me in?”

  “No, but would you like to come to my house tomorrow after school and spend the night with me?”

  Sadie’s face exploded with excitement. “Yes! Did Daddy say I could?”

  “It was his idea.”

  Sadie jumped up and opened the door of her closet. She pushed aside some clothes and pulled out a small suitcase on rollers. The suitcase was navy with white flowers.

  “I’d better pack now,” she said. “I’ll be too sleepy in the morning and might forget something.”

  It seemed like a logical plan, and Hana helped load the suitcase. Sadie wore uniforms to school, so deciding on an outfit for the following morning was easy. Picking what she wanted to wear after school with Hana and the right pajamas took much longer.

  “Will we play outside with Leon?” Sadie asked.

  “Maybe.”

  “And because I’m going to your house, I want to bring Fabia,” Sadie said. “I have to be careful with her now. Her head is kind of loose.”

  Sadie opened the small drawer in the nightstand beside her bed and took out the brown-skinned doll she’d named after one of Hana’s cousins. Fabia’s bedraggled condition was the result of overuse through love, not neglect. Sadie gave the doll a quick kiss and laid her in the suitcase.

  “That’s it,” she announced. “I’ll carry my pillow. Do you still have the toothbrush you bought the last time I stayed with you?”

  “Yes.”

  “And I love your shampoo. It smells way better than what Daddy buys me.”

  Sadie gave Hana a final tight hug. “I love you,” Sadie said when she released her.

  “I love you too.”

  Chapter 8

  Daud placed his hands on the side railing of the yacht. The moon was below the horizon and stars covered the sky. It had been half an hour since they left the navy vessel. The French captain came up to him and pointed to a dinghy strapped to the deck.

  “You’ll use that so you can make it all the way to shore. There’s a beach about a kilometer west from the resort. I suggest you go ashore and enter the resort from land.”

  “Without a car or luggage?” Daud asked.

  The captain shrugged. “We’ll lower the dinghy in a few minutes.”

  Fifteen minutes later Daud climbed down a chrome ladder and into the dinghy. It bobbed up and down in low waves that didn’t bother the larger boat. The captain tossed him a bottle of water.

  “Bon chance!” he called out.

  Daud pressed the start button for the motor. The engine coughed twice and sputtered to life. He opened the throttle, and the little boat shot through the water with unexpected power. He pointed the bow toward a faint line of lights the captain had identified as his target. The dinghy bounced up and down across the water.

  A few minutes later the inflatable craft crested a gentle wave and scraped against the sand. Daud hopped out and dragged the boat out of the water. He then made his way through the grass and bushes to the coastal highway. The shoulder of the road was a mix of ground-up shells that crunched against the soles of Daud’s shoes. He saw the lights of an approaching vehicle and moved back into the shadows. After passing by, the car stopped and backed up. Daud could either dart back into the darkness toward the beach and raise suspicion or engage in a conversation that he hoped would appear normal. The driver lowered his window.

  “Do you need a ride?” a young man asked.

  “I’m on my way to the Suef resort,” Daud replied. “I was out for a walk and came up from the beach.”

  “Get in,” the man offered. “They shut the gates after midnight, but I know the guard on duty and can get you in.”

  Daud hesitated. In addition to the driver, there was a sleepy-looking boy of about ten in the passenger seat. The presence of t
he boy caused Daud to relax.

  “Thanks,” he said. Daud opened the door and got in the backseat.

  “I’m Mohammed Nadir and this is my little brother, Adil,” the man said. “We live in the old town of Sharm el-Sheikh.”

  “Ibrahim Abadi,” Daud said.

  “We’re on our way home after visiting our sister in Dahab.”

  It turned out that Daud was farther from the fishing resort than he’d thought. During the short drive, he learned that Mohammed and his brother came from a Bedouin family who left their nomadic lifestyle and settled in the village of Sharm el-Sheikh a hundred years previously. Since then, they’d become successful traders and merchants, first with camels and livestock and more recently with locally produced crafts that they sold to shops in Sharm el-Sheikh and exported to Europe. The business generated enough income that Mohammed and all his brothers owned cars. Adil piped up and said his greatest desire was to own a guitar, not a car. He’d already written five songs.

  “We’re about to sign a deal to ship some of our products to America,” Mohammed announced proudly. “Our wholesaler lives in a city called Atlanta. I looked it up on the internet. It’s very lush and green. Have you ever been to America?”

  “Yes, and Atlanta is in a beautiful part of the country.”

  “You know it?” Mohammed exclaimed and punched his little brother in the arm. “See, I knew we were supposed to pick him up! It will bring us good luck in America!”

  Mohammed turned off the roadway in front of a sign announcing the entrance to the Suef fishing resort. They came to a gate that consisted of a single metal bar across the road. There was a tiny guard shack with no lights showing.

  “No one is here,” the driver said. “I’ll take you to the hotel.”

  It was several hundred meters to the low-slung hotel for the fishing resort. Daud’s American money was soaked, but he handed Mohammed a slightly soggy fifty-dollar bill.

  “No,” the young man said as he held up his hand in refusal. “Your presence is a sign of blessing on our business in America.”

  Suddenly, Daud had another idea. “Adil, how much does a good guitar cost?” he asked the boy.

  “Four hundred American dollars, sir,” the boy answered. “I’ve saved eighty-seven dollars so far.”

  Daud peeled off $350 and showed it to Mohammed. “May I give him the money to buy the guitar?”

  Mohammed’s eyes widened. “Why would you do that? Are you a malak?”

  “No, just a man who believes in the dreams of a child.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Abadi,” Mohammed said, taking the money and passing it to his little brother, who was staring wide-eyed at Daud.

  “Receive it,” Daud said with a smile. “Along with my blessing to all in your family. My prayers go with you from this day forward.”

  “I will write a song about you,” Adil replied excitedly. “I can already hear the sound in my head.”

  * * *

  Unable to shake her concern for Daud, Hana stayed awake later than normal before finally falling asleep. When she awoke it was almost 5:00 a.m. Her time with the Lord in the night was an invitation, not a command, and since she usually woke up around 6:00 a.m., she rolled over in bed to grab another hour of sleep.

  When she got up, she brewed a pot of strong Arabic coffee flavored with cardamom. The coffee was served boiling hot, and Hana poured just enough of the dark liquid to cover the bottom of a small handleless cup. Once the coffee cooled, she drank all of it in one sip. The custom in her home when guests were present was to refill the cups with small amounts multiple times as an ongoing affirmation of hospitality. It was a beautiful custom that produced a friendly rhythm to a visit. Hana stopped at three modest portions. The potent caffeine was eye-popping.

  Curling her feet beneath her on the sofa, Hana read from Psalms, Jeremiah, and Ephesians. She was a Bible grazer and didn’t follow a systematic reading plan. However, she often followed themes that opened up to her. Writing in her journal, she made a few notes about a passage in Ephesians that affirmed the vastness of God’s love and then reread the prayers she’d offered two nights before. The journal entries tethered her to a place of continuing communion, and her lifelong study of the Scriptures enabled her to draw from an inexhaustible library. After she prayed for Daud, her heart was drawn to pray for Ben and Sadie. She did so, then added a new name—Laura.

  Arriving at work, Hana stopped at Janet’s desk on her way to her office. The assistant lifted her fingers from the keyboard and removed her earbuds.

  “Did they have summer clerks at the law firm where you worked in Israel?” she asked.

  “Occasionally, but it’s not as common as it is here.”

  “Jimmy Duncan is old-school,” Janet replied, shaking her head. “I’m used to clerks typing their own research memos, but Jimmy is dictating like he was Mr. Collins or Mr. Lowenstein.”

  For many US law firms, hiring a student prior to the final year of law school provided an opportunity for a three-month job interview. Jimmy Duncan, an eager young law student with red hair and freckles from the University of Georgia Law School, had been assigned to Janet, who was already at maximum capacity.

  “What is the memo about?” Hana asked.

  “Conflict of law issues related to a dispute between a company based in New York and our client here in Georgia. In that Deep South accent of his, Jimmy sounds like he’s fighting the Civil War all over again.”

  “Is the research good?”

  “Yes,” Janet sighed. “I believe we’ll see him in his own tiny office after he graduates and passes the bar exam next year. If our office manager tries to assign him to me on a permanent basis, I’ll need you to go to war to protect me.”

  Hana laughed. “Do you have time to hear about my time with Sadie last night?” she asked.

  “Always,” Janet answered, turning her chair away from her computer. “Jimmy isn’t a partner yet.”

  Hana told Janet about preparing and eating Sadie’s hummus.

  “Adding the red peppers sounds like something I’d like,” Janet said. “Most of the hummus I’ve tried reminded me of a cross between the white paste we used to glue papers together when we were kids and watered-down cement.”

  “Where have you eaten hummus? That sounds terrible.”

  “Actually, that’s only true about my mother-in-law’s hummus,” the assistant answered with a grin. “Donnie’s mother can cook lobster thirty different ways, but when she tried to go Middle Eastern, she fell off the boat somewhere between Maine and the Mediterranean. Her hummus sticks to the roof of your mouth, and you have to pry it off.”

  Hana laughed. “I’ll bring you some of Sadie’s tomorrow,” she offered. “Unless she and I eat it all when she spends the night with me.”

  “A sleepover!” Janet exclaimed. “What’s the occasion?”

  Hana told her briefly about Ben and Laura.

  “How did you feel when he broke the news to you? I mean, even though Sadie isn’t your child, you’ve taken her into your heart in a huge way.”

  “True,” Hana replied slowly. “I wasn’t jealous, just concerned that Ben makes the right choice. I can’t imagine what it would be like to try to create a new marriage after your spouse died so young.”

  “And the trauma of a murder.”

  Hana remembered the tears she’d cried the last time she visited Jerusalem’s Hurva Square, the site of the terrorist attack that killed Gloria. On that day, she’d not shed tears of grief but wept with rage directed toward the evil that took the young mother’s life and scarred Sadie inside and out.

  “Take it moment by moment and realize that you’re not in control,” Janet continued. “Not wanting Sadie and Ben to suffer anymore is completely understandable.”

  Hana nodded.

  “What’s on your calendar for today?” Janet asked.

  “Working on a few projects for Mr. Collins and not sending you any dictation so you can finish what you need to do for Jimmy.”
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br />   “I like that plan,” Janet said and put the earbuds back in place.

  * * *

  “Mustafa is dead and in the company of martyrs,” Khalil said soberly.

  Rahal, who had just come in from a business meeting with a member of the Qatari royal family, stared in shock at his favored assistant.

  “How?” he managed.

  “I’m not sure. The Egyptian police found his body at the resort where Kolisnyk was staying. He’d been tied up and shot in the head.”

  Rahal eyed Khalil, who seemed surprisingly stoic in light of the horrifying news. As a Hafiz, Khalil must have resources to draw from at a moment of profound grief unknown to Rahal.

  “Mustafa’s last message came after he left the restaurant where an Arab man accosted Kolisnyk and his wife while they were eating dinner,” Khalil continued. “He told me he was going to wait for them at their villa.”

  “Did the Egyptian police mention Kolisnyk in their report about Mustafa?”

  “I’m trying to obtain that information. There is a lawyer in Sharm el-Sheikh who claims he can provide us with a copy of the police file. I’ve wired him the money needed for baksheesh.”

  Bribery was a common part of business dealings in the Middle East.

  “I’ve also asked him to obtain the security camera footage from the resort and the restaurant.”

  “What about from inside the villa?”

  “Not likely,” Khalil said and shook his head. “Mustafa would have disabled any cameras, but I will check.”

  The two men stood in silence for several moments.

  “This is even more reason to avenge ourselves against Kolisnyk,” Rahal said.

  “Yes. And with the help of Allah, I will track him down wherever he hides.”

  * * *

  Toward the end of the day, Hana received a phone call from Abdul Erekat about the Land Rover.

  “I just talked to the mechanic,” the car dealer said. “Except for needing new brakes, the vehicle is in good shape.”

  Hana was excited about surprising Daud but also nervous in case he wouldn’t like the huge gift.

  “You think I should buy it?” she asked, more to herself than to Erekat.