predicted, the BMW eventually reappeared.
“I’m impressed,” Bathsheba said, “you called his next move.”
“Bashir had to come back here to reorient himself. Now he’ll go straight to a cheap hotel that rents rooms by the hour.”
This time, Bathsheba stuck to the BMW with only a few cars separating them. She counted on Bashir’s false sense of security.
*
Abu Yusuf felt his pulse rising, accompanied by a happy lightheadedness. Avenue De Friedland became Boulevard Haussmann. They were getting closer. At Chaussee D’Antin, Bashir waited for a green light and took Rue La Fayette all the way to the Gare du Nord-the city’s railway station for all northbound travelers. He eased into an alley and parked under a yellowish neon sign: Pinnacle Motel.
They got out of the car. It was quiet except for the music from a bar at the corner.
Bashir grabbed Grant’s knapsack.
“It’s okay.” Abu Yusef put a calming hand on Grant’s arm, and they watched Bashir empty the bag on the hood of the car. His callous hand sorted through the objects-a book, a wallet, a magazine about motorcycles, and an orange. Bashir threw the book into the bag, then the wallet and the magazine. He held up the orange and examined it against the street light. The shining skin had been marked by a knife. Bashir turned the orange and put his thumb under the stamped word: Jaffa.
Abu Yusef said, “My friend’s family once owned a citrus grove in Jaffa.”
The bank clerk nodded, and Abu Yusef realized how alien their political grievances must appear to this young Frenchman.
Bashir dropped the orange into the bag and quickly frisked Grant’s body. “I called your bank’s headquarters,” he said. “In Paris. They never heard of Grant Guerra.”
“ I’d be surprised if they did,” the answer came without hesitation. “We have over four hundred branches and seven thousand employees. But they’ll know my name when I’m chairman of the board.”
Even Bashir smiled at this response, and Abu Yusef breathed in relief. He had high expectations for tonight and didn’t want the mood spoiled before the pleasure began. He tilted his head at the car, signaling Bashir to watch the briefcase, which rested on the passenger’s seat.
*
Bathsheba parked the car around the corner from the Pinnacle. Elie got out and peeked. He could see Bashir’s head through the rear window.
“It’s getting cold,” she said.
“ It was colder in the attic,” Elie said, “when I watched a bunch of German soldiers kill my siblings. They used the knives my father sharpened daily for the ritual slaughter of kosher animals. I heard my brother explain to my baby sister that it wouldn’t hurt-a quick nick and she’d fall asleep, just like the lambs. But one of the Germans heard him so they cut her belly open and laughed as she screamed.”
For the first time since she’d join SOD, Bathsheba was speechless.
“ They’re beasts.” Elie pulled the wool cap down over his ears. “The Germans. The French. The Arabs. All of them. Beasts. Don’t forget it. They’re the beasts and we’re the lambs.”
“ Get back in the car,” she said. “Gideon can manage by himself.”
“ Redundancy is the key to success.” Elie touched the handle of the blade that was sheathed against his thigh. The pain was gone from his chest. The net was suspended above his prey, ready to drop. He felt like the fearless youth he had once been, kneeling in deep snow by an Alpine road with Abraham Gerster, ready to take revenge on another Nazi.
*
The room on the third floor smelled of hashish and unwashed bodies. The plastic shade over the lamp on the night table was painted with red leaves and green flowers, which threw bleak shadows on the walls. A stained quilt covered the bed. A fan turned slowly above.
Gideon put his knapsack on the bed. Before he could turn, Abu Yusef’s hands encircled his waist, and the soft belly pressed against his back. He shuddered in disgust as moist lips slurped his nape.
“Ah, Grant!”
An overwhelming tide of nausea swept Gideon as Abu Yusef’s hands grabbed his crotch. The room rolled around him, and he took a deep breath, exhaling loudly. This brought about a series of lustful sighs from behind, and Gideon raised his hands to absorb the impact as he was thrown facedown onto the bed, the Arab atop him, thrusting, breathing faster. A tongue stuck deep into his ear.
In panic, Gideon rolled aside, pushing him off.
Abu Yusef was panting hard. He slipped his fingers into Gideon’s curls, clutching hard. “You’re just so sexy!”
He forced a smile. “ Merci. ”
Abu Yusef seemed bothered by something. He reached into the pocket of his jacket and took out a round object. As he placed it on the bed, Gideon realized it was a hand grenade.
*
Any feelings of inadequacy evaporated when Abu Yusef saw Grant’s apprehension. He had planned to impress the young banker with the grenade, and the effect was magical. Overweight and out of breath after a few minutes of lustful physical exertion, he was still a warrior, a brave man, who inspired awe in young men. It had been the same with Latif, may he rest in peace.
“Is this a real bomb?”
Abu Yusef sat up on the bed. “Don’t be afraid. It’s not going to explode-unless I make it go off.”
Grant nodded, but his face remained tense, and he glanced at his knapsack on the bed. He must be thinking of leaving, Abu Yusef realized. “I’m experienced with weapons. It’s very safe if you know what you’re doing.”
“ Really?”
Abu Yusef held up the grenade. “If you pull this ring and the pin comes out, it’s four seconds.” He made a sudden motion with his hands and yelled, “Boom!”
The laughter brought them closer, but clearly the bank clerk was not yet ready to take off his clothes. Abu Yusef got down from the bed, placed the grenade on the floor, and pushed apart Grant’s knees. They parted reluctantly, so he pushed harder, which excited him even more. “Let me pleasure you. Don’t be afraid.”
“ Okay…but go slow.”
“Sit back, and I’ll take care of you.” Abu Yusef leaned forward and kissed the rough cloth of Grant’s trousers, his hand reaching down to unzip his own fly.
*
The hardest part was not to vomit. Gideon’s hands rested on Abu Yusef’s shoulders. He wished he could just strangle the Arab. He could try. He was younger. But Abu Yusef was bigger and heavier.
Stick to the plan!
He looked down at the Arab’s head digging in his groin, heard the sounds of slurping and groaning. From above, the sight of the thinning, oily hair made him convulse. Abu Yusef reached for the grenade on the floor, held it, rubbed it against himself, while his kissing lips searched through Gideon’s trousers for a trace of an erection. It would not be long before he realized this was a one-sided affair.
Gideon swallowed to push down a tide of sickness. He reached into the knapsack with one hand and found the orange. He tore off the skin with the underlying foil and held the small ball in his fist.
His face still buried in Gideon’s groin, Abu Yusef lifted the grenade and pressed it to Gideon’s chest. The sight of the live grenade in the Arab’s hand was unsettling. Would Abu Yusef manage to pull out the fuse in the last minute and take Gideon’s life with his own?
There was no time for contemplation. Gideon brought the tiny bomb to his mouth, and closed his teeth on the head of the tiny fuse. At the same time, he placed the palm of his right hand on Abu Yusef’s forehead. The Arab shook with lust, his motions intensifying, biting into Gideon’s crotch, his teeth plowing the pants. Gideon pushed on the sweaty forehead, tilting back the head, and Abu Yusef’s face turned upward, the mouth gaping, dripping with saliva, the eyes wide and partly blinded by the light. Gideon’s left hand pulled the small ball, the fuse pin remaining between his teeth, and dropped the ball into the Arab’s gaping mouth, shoving it deeper with his thumb until it slid far down the back of the mouth into the throat.
