The Masada Complex

numbered.

“We’ll take good care of your eye.” The doctor’s lips curled into a smile, which didn’t look real under the protruding goggles.

A terrible thought came to Silver. What if he muttered in Arabic while asleep?

“After the procedure you might have minor discomfort in the eye or a slight headache. That’s normal while the macular area begins improving.”

He felt sleepy. Don’t speak Arabic!

Dr. Asaf’s goggles buzzed as the tiny lenses changed focus. “Good night, Professor.”

A spider with steel legs descended toward Silver’s eye.

“Eyelids spread starting at sixteen millimeter.” Dr. Asaf’s voice grew distant.

The spider landed on Silver’s eye.

“Widen the spread to thirty-two.”

The room darkened.

Coming out of the Ramban Hostel to meet Tara, Masada found a small crowd waiting at the front stairs. A bearded man in a yellow T-shirt and a colorful skullcap raised his hand in a mock salute. “Shalom!”

She scanned the street for Tara’s car.

“Senator Mitchum moved up the vote to tomorrow morning.” The bearded man showed her a printed page from Yahoo News. The U.S. Senate was going to begin the debate at 10:00 a.m. Washington time, which would be 5:00 p.m. Jerusalem time. Masada read the rest of the news report: Senator Mitchum intends to force a continuous debate on the Fair Aid Act. With most of the senators signing up to speak, Senate vote is expected to take place late into the night. The White House confirmed that the president will sign the bill promptly.

The crowd at the foot of the steps grew as pedestrians stopped to watch. A bus roared by, spewing blue fumes.

Masada handed back the paper. “What do you want from me?”

“We’re moving up the big rally. Lots of people are coming from all over. The central stage will be at the Jaffa Gate and we’d like you to speak.”

“Me?”

“You started it all. People want to hear what you have to say.”

Masada noticed Tara’s Subaru. She tried to go around the delegation.

The bearded man moved into her path. “By betraying Israel, America will bring its own downfall. The rise of Islam will swallow it. America will be gone like the Greeks, Romans, Babylonians, the Spanish and British empires.”

She pushed through and got into Tara’s car. As they drove off, she said, “I’m getting tired of this harassment. We need to expose Ness as soon as possible.”

Tara took the next left turn without slowing down. “What if he’s just trying to find out the truth, like you and me?”

“What if life was a box of chocolates?” Masada hit the dashboard. “Don’t you realize? Ness is the root evil of all this!”

“I think you have a Ness complex.”

“He’s a snake and a snake charmer combined, and I’m immune to both his venom and his charm.”

“Charming he is,” Tara agreed. “And you’re looking pretty good yourself. Glowing. What’s going on? Are you sleeping with someone?”

Masada sneered.

“It’s Brad Pitt, right?”

“You can have Rabbi Josh. I’m sleeping with myself, really sleeping for a change.” She lowered the window and breathed in the morning air. “I haven’t felt this good in a long time. The welling is gone, the bleeding stopped, even my knee’s painless.”

“Maybe Israel is good for you. Home sweet home.”

The idea made Masada uncomfortable. “How was last night’s candlelight dinner?”

“Romantic.” Tara shook her hair in mock seduction. “His wife is a great cook.”

“He took you home?”

“We ate with his wife, and while she washed the dishes-”

“He slipped his hand in your cleavage.”

“No, he only used his tongue.”

“Gross!”

“To tell me about you.” Tara slowed the car, glanced left and right, and passed through a red light, speeding up again. “He’s not your enemy. He deeply cares about you.”

“Do you realize who you’re dealing with?” Masada was getting angry. “If you’re going to confide in Colonel Ness, maybe we shouldn’t work together. I have too much at stake.”

“Don’t worry.” Tara passed two cars over a solid white line, forcing her way back into traffic. “I dispense information only in front of a TV camera.” She pointed ahead at a large building. “Isn’t this the defense ministry?”

When the morning service at the small neighborhood synagogue ended, Rabbi Josh recited the Kaddish and sat on a low stool near the door. The men folded their prayer shawls and stuffed them in storage compartments under their seats. Each paused on his way out and recited, “May God comfort you among the mourners of Zion and Jerusalem.”

Rabbi Josh nodded at the unfamiliar faces. He wished they knew Raul.

The synagogue emptied quickly. An old man turned off the lights and locked the doors.

On the street outside, the rabbi was surprised at the bustling traffic, but he realized Sunday was a workday in Israel. The sight of men hurrying to their jobs made him think of his own future. He was alone here, unable to even sit shiva for Raul properly, as no one would pay him a visit. What would he do with his life here? He could teach, but who would hire him with his heavily accented Hebrew? There was one place he could go for guidance.

Tired of waiting by the phone, Elizabeth had decided to visit the camp, break the ice with Father, and meet the old neighbors. The taxi dropped her off at the checkpoint. An Israeli soldier approached her while three others stood at a distance watching. A concrete wall extended in both directions, gray and ugly.

She gave her U.S. passport to a soldier, and a moment later an officer appeared. “Sorry. Tourists must first obtain a travel permit.”

“My name is Elizabeth McPherson. I’m senior counsel for the United States Immigration Service. We’re now part of the Homeland Security Department, so you can rest assured-”

“Sorry.” He handed her the passport. “Even if you were senior counsel to God, I don’t have the authority to let you through.”

His English was good and his tone was friendly, so she decided to take a different tack. “But I’m here to visit relatives.”

“Who?”

“The Mahfizie family.” She motioned at the camp, a short distance behind the wall.

“You’re related to Hajj Mahfizie?”

“He’s my father.”

“Wait.” He disappeared into a tent.

Elizabeth climbed the embankment to get a better look over the wall. Camp Kalandria had swelled since she had left, its block houses covering most of the hillside east of the separation wall the Israelis had built along the 1967 border. She tried to breathe only through her mouth, as the air stank of sewage and smoke. Not for long, she