The Masada Complex

“He was my first love.” Masada sipped from her beer, which was better than she had expected. “He talked about divorcing his wife to marry me. I was too young to even think in terms of marriage, but I was crazy about him. He was a brilliant officer, the youngest colonel in IDF history, a sure bet for the top. Even in bed he was incredible. But I went from love to loathing in one night.”

Tara gulped from her beer. “Everyone ends up loathing their first lover. I mean, go to any big NASCAR racetrack just before they open the gates and watch who gets in first-it’s always the jerks. I should have bit off my first boyfriend’s balls. At most they would have convicted me of animal cruelty. I’d be rehabilitated convict by now.”

“Like me?”

“Exactly!” Tara laughed and punched her on the arm. “But there’re few good ones also, like your hunky rabbi-yummy!”

“Ness must have hired him years ago. Perhaps he studied in Israel while training to become a rabbi. Imagine a young, idealistic, innocent rabbinical student, completely susceptible to the Israeli heroism credo.”

“Great sentence.” Tara scribbled it down. “I love it!”

“We need to prove that Rabbi Josh was recruited to be a sleeper agent in Arizona.”

“That’s speculation.”

Masada thought for a moment. “He’s the key to the whole thing. My theory is that Rabbi Josh had learned from Al Zonshine about Mahoney’s dark secret of betrayal at Hanoi Hilton. The rabbi reported it to Ness, who realized the extortion potential. They must have been disappointed that Mahoney failed to win the U.S. presidency.”

“Imagine that!”

“Ness had the rabbi recruit Al to the imaginary Judah’s Fist, some kind of contemporary Jewish zealots saving the Chosen People, and sent him to Mahoney with the money for sponsoring the Mutual Defense Act for Israel.”

“Why did they need to pay him if they had that secret over his head?”

“Exposing the Hanoi secret was the stick. The pile of cash was the carrot. You need both to achieve something of this magnitude. I mean, Mahoney was risking everything. The cash balanced the risk.”

“Makes sense.” Tara’s blonde hair cascaded over her face as she took notes in her pad.

“Mahoney passed the Mutual Defense Act in his committee and got ready to push it through the Senate. But then I got that memory chip, and the whole thing fell apart.” Masada finished her beer and wiped her lips.

“And Sheen?”

“Another sleeper agent. Definitely not a professional.” Masada scribbled on the napkin: Sheen- Donor? Did Sheen give $$$ to rabbi, who then gave it to Zonshine?

Tara’s eyes narrowed. “If Sheen wasn’t a pro, then what is he?”

“A Jewish businessman, maybe, whom Ness convinced to donate the money.”

“But who would give away so much money?”

“To Israel?” Masada laughed. “Do you know how much money American Jews give to Israel every year? Hundreds of millions! And this donation must have been irresistible-secret, dramatic, a pivotal move to bind the United States to Israel in all matters of defense. Can you imagine the incredible boost of self-importance for such a donor? He probably insisted on delivering the cash personally. What an adventure!”

“That explains why Sheen forgot the memory stick in the car. An amateur, filled with eager pride and nervous as hell.” Tara browsed her own notes. “But what’s the evidence that Ness actually knew Rabbi Josh? Maybe he came to the funeral out of guilt about the boy’s death.”

“No evidence,” Masada admitted. She was feeling hot and slightly dizzy. “But logically, Ness had to have a senior agent in Phoenix, someone local who’s a fanatic Zionist and in a position to dominate Al. Who except Rabbi Josh fits this bill?”

Tara had no response.

“What exactly did Ness tell you at the funeral?” Masada picked up the beer glass and held it against her forehead.

“He told me the bribe was paid by Israel’s enemies to cause a crisis with the United States. He asked me to be fair in my reporting. And he invited me to fly with him tomorrow.”

“Fly?”

“Thank you, honey,” Tara said to the bartender, who put two more beers in front of them. “He said it’s an experience I won’t get standing on the ground.”

“You notice the sexual innuendo?”

Tara contorted her face. “He said I could bring a friend.”

“Forget it!” Masada slipped off the barstool, took a step toward the exit, and stumbled. The room turned dark. She heard Tara yell, and someone caught her before she hit the floor.

Rabbi Josh found a bench in the rear of the plaza. He sat down, facing the Wailing Wall, cradling his chin in his hand, and reflected on what Masada had done to him.

The night air had cooled down, clearing his mind.

Big guy. A kiss.

Levy Silver had heard them together, beautiful Masada with Al Zonshine. Hard to believe? Yes! Painful to imagine? Very! But it was a fact, and it needed an explanation. Had her hatred for Israel overcome her revulsion of Al? Had she seduced Al as part of her scheme to hurt Israel? Had she staged Al’s attacks on her in order to deflect suspicion? Including the shooting that had ended Raul’s life?

The memory of the dead boy in his arms darkened the world with pain, but the rabbi forced his mind to focus. Masada must have planned for Al to shoot at her and miss in order to bolster her credibility as a victim. The rabbi knew he should hate her, but he could not overcome an irrational affection for her, rooted in his gut-felt certainty that she was in essence a good soul. Was physical attraction sabotaging his clarity of judgment?

“What should I do?”

His loud question drew no reaction from the Orthodox men around him, as if it were every Jew’s prerogative to speak up here, with no one listening but God. Rabbi Josh shut his eyes, wishing a message would come through telling him what to do about Masada.

A book had been left on the bench beside him. The Complete Bible. He weighed the holy book in his hand. It was all here-past, present, and future-everything a Jew needed in order to live a righteous life. Shouldn’t God’s answer to this particular Jew’s quagmire be there too?

Rabbi Josh held the Bible upright in both hands, his thumbs ready to open it at random. He took a silent vow: Whatever appeared on the page would be God’s order. If God spoke of forgiveness, he would forgive. If God spoke of forgetting, he would forget. But if God spoke of revenge, he would punish Masada to the bitter end.

The rabbi’s thumbs parted the pages and his eyes sought the first verse at the top of the page. He recited aloud: “Hear thy Lord, you, who are anxious for his word.”

Cold fear clasped his throat. The book was speaking to him! His thumbs had opened the holy book on this page, where God spoke to you, who are anxious for his word.

He checked the top of the page. Isaiah 66, verse 5.

Unable to resist, Rabbi Josh continued to read: Your brothers, haters, defilers of my name, who challenge you, saying, ‘Let your God show his power to help you,’ they shall be shamed; a roaring noise bursts from my temple, the roar of God, taking revenge of his enemies.

Saturday, August 16

When Professor Silver went downstairs at 7 a.m., Ezekiel’s beige taxicab was waiting at the curb. The cabby had brought an extra cup of coffee for his passenger, but the sun was already up, and Silver could not drink it. Instead he held the rim of the plastic cup near his nose and enjoyed the aroma. Observing the daily fast during the month of Ramadan had given him renewed pride in his faith and endowed him with a sense of invincibility. Allah