The Masada Complex

“What if I leave the country now?”

“We object,” McPherson said. “The government insists that she remains in custody pending deportation.”

Masada’s knee threatened to buckle, but she turned to the government lawyer and asked, “Who sent you after me? Washington? The Israelis? I have rights. I’m still an American citizen!”

“I am an angry man,” Senator Mitchum said, still smiling, “because a foreign government claiming to be our ally sent its agents with dirty money to buy favorable legislation in Washington.” He raised a fist and punched the air half-heartedly. “When its scheme imploded, that foreign government engaged in additional mayhem and violence in this peaceful valley, risking the lives of innocent Arizonans. That government must atone for its crimes.”

“That government,” Rabbi Josh said, picking up speed, “has a name!”

“Therefore, my first action as the new committee chairman was to propose the Fair Aid Act to suspend military aid and cooperation while we investigate inappropriate clandestine activities by a foreign country.”

“Here we go!” Rabbi Josh wiped the sweat from his face. “Say it. The bad Jews!”

Senator Mitchum shook a finger. “We will hold the guilty responsible!”

“Punish the Jews!” Rabbi Josh pedaled faster.

“A vote on the Fair Aid Act will take place on Wednesday, a week from tomorrow.” Mitchum must have tired of smiling, his face turning slack. “It will suspend all defense appropriations and sales of weapons to Israel.”

“That’s it.” Rabbi Josh panted. “Let Israel die!”

Masada looked up at the judge. “For the record, I contest the facts and the legal reasoning. However, in order to avoid incarceration, I request permission to leave the country voluntarily until my rights are restored.”

Judge Rashinski swiveled in his chair. “Your reasons for objection, Miss McPherson?”

Masada watched the lawyer’s face contort, as if the sweetness of victory had somehow turned sour. “We believe the process requires that Miss El-Tal is available for additional questioning and hearings. If she’s out of the country, what guarantee to we have that she would even respond to the motion?”

“She wants to win it, I believe.” The judge pounded his desk. “Miss El-Tal shall remain in custody in the holding cells in this federal building until arrangements are made for an official escort out of the country, but no later than ten o’clock tomorrow morning.”

“Your Honor,” McPherson protested, “the government needs more time!”

The judge smirked. “Unless an immigration official accompanies her onto a flight by ten tomorrow, she will be released on her own recognizance and make her own travel arrangements. So ordered.”

Thursday, August 14

Professor Silver had spent the night on the basement sofa, awake and despondent, drained of energy and hope. Elizabeth had failed him on both counts-Masada was going to be released in the morning, and he had no green card. He was doomed to blindness.

The irony didn’t escape him. For years he had labored to realize his vision of ruining Israel, and now, when his brilliance had finally brought the Zionist enemy to its knees, his own demise was imminent.

Blind!

From his perch on the sofa, through a thin cloud of smoke, the dark blotch showed against the opposite wall. He moved his gaze to the left and the blotch moved with it. Last week it was smaller, next week it would be larger, and soon his hands would grope for the walls on his way to the bathroom.

He wished he remembered how to pray. “Allah,” he begged, a tremor in his voice, “guide me, tell me what to do!” He went down on his knees. “Don’t begrudge me, Great One, for my absence from your mosque. How could I, when my duty required that I live as an infidel Jew all those years?” He bowed, bringing his forehead to the ground too fast, bumping the concrete floor. “Ay!”

He went upstairs to fetch ice. The early rays of the sun flooded the kitchen. His airline ticket was on the table. He sat down, feeling sick. All his efforts had gone to nothing.

The light was blinking on the answering machine. He pressed Play.

“It’s me.” Elizabeth McPherson’s voice was hushed. “It’s one in the morning. Where are you? I made some calls to the computer people in D.C., made a fool of myself, but got an electronic copy of your green card. I had it stamped and dated. I’ll drop it in your mailbox. And don’t worry about the writer-I’ll accompany her to Canada in the morning. Have a safe trip. See you at my award ceremony.”

He ran outside. A small envelope waited in his mailbox. He tore it open and found a small card. He kissed it, laughing with joy. “Allah hu Akbar!”

Glancing at his watch, Silver realized he had about an hour and a half to finish packing, get to the airport, and catch his flight. With renewed energy, he hurried down to the basement, opened the safe, and pulled out the large, padded envelope he had marked Phase Three. It contained a thick binder, the documents divided into sections with printed tabs:

Establish Arab Government over Israel Stage fake Jewish sabotage (i.e., “Reichstag burning”) Issue public-safety directives (cleaning security forces, government, academia) Enact racial-purity laws (for “protection of Jewish religious laws”) Segregate for ‘protection’ (Jews to ‘ghettos,’ Palestinians take over cities, homes) Censure media coverage of security, trials, etc. Set up Jewish fifth-column (kapos, informers, rabbis, ‘peacemakers’) Build COCA-(Concentration Camps, designed to withstand satellite surveillance) Construct facilities for human remains (disposition, recycling) Plan cleanup and media spin re supposed ‘migration’ of the Jews)

Silver packed the documents and his toiletries into a shoulder bag, stuffed all the cash into a money belt, which he tied under his shirt, and packed a suitcase with clothes for a week.

Somewhere over Ohio, Masada finished reading Silver’s book. She closed it and looked out through the window at the vast farmland below. Last night Elizabeth McPherson had called the lockup in the federal court to tell the marshals she would be picking up Masada to escort her to Canada, via New York. Tara went to Masada’s house and packed some clothes, personal items and Silver’s book.

McPherson asked, “Good book?”

Masada gave it to her. “Nazis used laws and regulations to destroy people. Sound familiar?”

The lawyer browsed the pages at random. “You think I’m a Nazi.”

“You’re just following orders, right?”

The Fasten Your Seatbelts sign blinked with a loud ping, as if someone was warning her not to start a fight.

The lawyer contemplated a page for a while. “His theory is simplistic.”

Masada looked at her.

“A domino theory-Hitler’s race laws made life miserable. German Jews tried to emigrate, but had nowhere to go. President Roosevelt convened the Evian Conference to set quotas for Jewish refugees, but no country granted any visas, basically giving the Nazis silent permission to kill the Jews.”

Despite her anger at the woman, Masada was impressed by her quick grasp of the book’s main thrust. “That’s right. The world’s indifference was a green light for the Final Solution.”

Elizabeth accepted a cup of coffee from the flight attendant, placing it on the fold-down tray. “Jews were not the only refugees ignored by the Western world.”

“But the professor is wrong. Had FDR known Hitler was going to kill the Jews, he would have opened America’s gates.”