Nasat shot him a venomous look and said nothing.
Feigning indifference, Mor started to fiddle with the digital lock. For the first time, Anise saw fear in Nasat’s hate-filled eyes. His forehead broke into a sweat and, squirming, he tried unsuccessfully to move back.
Mor took the gag out of Nasat’s mouth. “Talk,” he commanded.
But Nasat, who only glared at him resentfully, maintained his silence.
“No worries. We’ll continue tomorrow,” Mor smiled coolly. “Are you comfortable?” he continued in a friendly tone. “I promise you, next time I ask, I won’t be so nice.” With that, he dragged the briefcase back to its place and, exhausted, stretched out on one of the shelves. “He’ll talk tomorrow,” Mor added with confidence.
“Will you come with me or what?” Anise asked.
“The truth is that there are a couple of things I’d like to tell God too, so, yeah, I’ll come with you,” a sleepy Mor retorted.
“I’m not even sure God exists,” Yam argued.
“He exists,” said Anise, her eyes heavy with fatigue.
“But I’ll come with you,” Yam added quietly. Anise didn’t hear him: her weariness had won out and she was already fast asleep.
The next morning, Mor showed Yam and Anise how to use the weapons. Each of them took a rifle and several magazines. Mor opted to continue using Nasat’s submachine gun.
He then made sure Nasat was securely tied. “A few days alone may refresh your memory,” he said with a humorless smile. Nasat tried to mumble something in response through the gag, but Mor ignored him. The three left and the rock slid silently back into place.
It was obvious that the tunnel they were using was recent. Widely dug, its walls were concrete and electrical cables stretched all along them. The place seemed deserted, and the three were able to progress relatively quickly. After walking for a few minutes, Yam thought he heard a steady drip of water. He moved closer to the sound. Water was, in fact, trickling down the wall to be caught by a narrow channel hewn out of the rock below.
Anise smiled for the first time that morning. She kneeled down next to the stream and dipped her hands in it. The water was so cool and refreshing. Grateful, she rinsed her face, scraping away at the layers of dirt and mud that had stuck to her over the past few days, finally wetting her hair. Yam, too, washed his face. Only Mor remained alert, his finger on the trigger.
“Hey – you’ve still got grime over there,” said Anise, tossing handfuls of water at Yam.
“You need a shower, girl,” Yam smiled mischievously, and before she had a chance resist, Yam pushed her into the water. Anise grabbed Yam and wouldn’t let go, leading both to tumble into the stream.
“Oh my God, it’s freezing!” she laughed.
“Guys – have you forgotten where we are?” Mor was angry. Watching Anise and Yam giggling together was driving him mad.
“Come on in,” Anise called while, at the same time, trying to hold Yam’s head under the water.
Mor looked at her. The wet clothes clung to her body, outlining her tall frame and strong muscles. He felt the blood drain from his face. “Someone might walk in and shoot you dead while you’re busy fooling around,” he said hotly and continued walking without waiting for his friends.
He’s right, Anise thought, this isn’t the time to be goofing around. She got out of the water and hurried after Mor, who kept up a stubborn, angry silence, refusing to engage with either her or Yam for the rest of the way.
Several minutes later, they arrived at the end of the tunnel. To their relief, they saw a set of stairs leading to the upper level and from there out. A few solitary sunrays made their way into the gloom.
Suddenly, Mor heard a noise. He grasped his gun harder. He started to turn. It was too late. The blow that landed on him from behind knocked him unconscious.
Chapter 13
Theo was beginning to recover. He could now walk a little without any help, and the doctors were planning on removing his stitches the next day. The swelling on Sual’s face was going down and just her arm was still giving her trouble and remained in a sling.
Yoav was out of the ICU. He now lay in the ward near them and Amalia, elated that he was alive and out of danger, didn’t move from his side. She avoided mentioning any of the harsh words said in their quarrel and willed herself not to mention the prayer book on the nightstand next to Yoav’s bed.
Yoav looked at her and closed his eyes. If they emerged from these events in one piece, he would have to find a way to make up for all the pain he’d caused for so many years to this brave, beautiful woman. Everything will be different, he promised himself. This time, family will come first.
Just then, a police officer walked into the room. Superintendent Azoulai, he said, sent his apologies. “He asked me to tell you that the city is full of terrorists, both Arab and Jewish, and that one attack is happening after another,” he reported. “Just a few hours ago, we lucked out and caught a cell going to blow up the Tower of David.”
It was worse than that. In Jaffa, Haifa, and Beer Sheva, there had also been mass-casualty attacks. The news was saying it was a global wave of terrorism that was also spreading to Europe. The police officer reiterated that headquarters had received instructions from the Italian Foreign Ministry: Theo, as the serving consul, must return to Italy. They’re bringing back all the diplomats, he added. And, tomorrow, after being released from the hospital, a car would be waiting outside to drive him to the airport.
Theo waited until the policeman left. “There is no way I’m going back to Italy,” he said.
“I imagined you’d say that,” Amalia smiled.
