Damn all these secret passages, she thought, irritated. It was much more frightening than it was enchanting.
Anise again looked around to make sure she was alone, but the place seemed abandoned. It must be some ancient mechanism I operated by accident, she decided.
Approaching it carefully, she aimed her flashlight at the dark gap that had opened up. It looks like a family home, she thought and shone her light all around, taking in the small room. On one wall, six wide steps had been carved out of the rock. There were paintings here too, and one wall featured a long text written in the unfamiliar language she’d just seen in the tunnel. It must have been their way of transmitting knowledge to the next generation, she concluded, stepping into the space to take a closer look. A marble block occupied the center of the room, which Anise decided must have been the family’s table. Or, it suddenly occurred to her, maybe this is the house of prayer Ali was talking about? She remembered his words: “If you find it, you will be protected.” Abruptly, something behind her moved. Anise whirled around, but she was a second too late. The rock had slid back into place. The opening was gone and she was trapped inside.
Mor filled his bag with sticks. He couldn’t understand where they were all coming from. After all, they were below ground. But it really didn’t matter and he had no time to worry about it. He was making his way back to the meeting point when he suddenly stepped on something. He angled his flashlight down only to discover a large black yarmulke, the kind worn by religious Jewish men.
Mor picked it up, dusted it off, and shoved it into his pocket. It’s not enough that we have Muslim murderers, but there are also Jewish terrorists wandering around down here? he thought. Whatever. They were really all the same, twisting religious belief to justify murder and hate. God is probably feeling nauseous…
Mor remembered a TV news report he’d recently seen. Armed, masked Muslims in orange jumpsuits were eagerly talking about how they were about to conquer Jerusalem. To make sure no one doubted the seriousness of their intentions, they aimed their weapons at some unlucky American hostage and shot him in the head. Immediately, the TV program segued to the Jewish underground. Like the terrorists in orange, they were armed and masked and were threatening to blow up the Temple Mount.
Mor stopped. In that instant, all the pieces fell into place. He knew exactly what was going on. This is a planned war over Jerusalem, the city sacred to all the religions, he thought. So stupid – to kill millions over ownership of a bunch of old rocks.
Hearing steps behind him, he immediately turned his flashlight off.
The steps sounded near. Very near. It was too late to run now. The slightest twitch would give him away; he’d have no chance of retreating. Mor’s fist closed over his pocketknife. He would at least try to protect himself.
A light flashed in the dark. Once. Twice. Three times. With relief flooding his body, he wiped the sweat from his dripping forehead. At that moment – despite his mixed feelings toward Yam who was clearly trying to win Anise away from him – Mor was truly happy to see him
Yam seemed psyched. “Listen up! There’s a tunnel going directly under the Temple Mount. It’s pretty new, which is why it’s not on the map. I think we can use it to get out,” he said excitedly.
Mor took the torn black yarmulke he’d found out of his pocket. “Yeah, that makes sense. I figured they’d be digging there because I think the Jewish underground is planning on blowing up the al-Aqsa mosque,” he said. But Yam wasn’t listening. Instead, he was looking at his watch. What’s keeping Anise? he thought worriedly.
Chapter 12
Sual, exhausted, returned to Theo’s room in the ward. “The phones are still out. The injured are jammed into the hallways. Nobody knows what’s happening out there,” she told him.
“If we get no answers by tonight, we’re going out to look for the kids ourselves,” Theo answered.
Sual laughed bitterly. “Oh, stop it, Theo. Look at yourself. You’re not even allowed out of bed on your own. You’re most definitely not going anywhere.”
The ICU nurse gently shook Amalia who’d fallen asleep in the armchair next to Yoav. “Please, you have to take care of yourself too. Go back to your room and rest. Besides, the doctors are doing their rounds now. I promise to let you know the moment Yoav wakes up.”
Amalia had just returned to her room when Superintendent Azoulai, looking more drained than ever, stepped in.
“I have good news,” he reported. “One of the waiters wounded at the consulate is hospitalized here. He says he saw three kids fleeing out the back. Unfortunately, I still don’t have anyone who can enter the Old City to look for them.” Azoulai’s walkie-talkie squawked shrilly. He promised he’d come up with a solution the moment it was possible and left to deal with more pressing matters.
The silence in the room was heavy. Sual looked at Theo, whose unshaven cheeks were covered in tears. Since Claudia’s death fifteen years earlier, she’d never once seen him cry.
Sual dampened a towel with cold water and tried to cool his forehead. He was burning with fever.
“I have a friend from the army.
