The Sacred Blood

“Still haven’t given up on those things?” Amit said, pointing to the cigarette. “Why kill yourself? You’ve got a family now.”

Enoch raised his eyebrows, took a final drag, and tossed the butt to the ground. As he stubbed it out with his foot, he replied, “Living in Jerusalem and working for Israeli intelligence?” He smirked. “Cigarettes are the least of my worries.”

“Good point. Were you able to call ahead to anyone?” Amit asked. He could sense an apology coming.

“I tried,” he said. “But I was told that the area is already under heavy supervision. The IDF is working triple- time in there.” His eyes motioned ahead to the Western Wall Plaza.

“You didn’t mention the abduction?”

“Of course I did. But according to those guards over there”—he pointed to the service gate left of the tourist depot—“Cohen just went inside and there was no woman, no crate.”

What?

“So unless we have proof, suffice it to say that the rabbi is untouchable. Your word against his. And I shouldn’t even be here with you, because there’s an ex-IDF man with a bullet in his neck who was just scooped off the pavement at the Israel Museum.”

Amit’s expression turned sour.

“Lots of witnesses there said a big guy with a cargo vest and a goatee downed him. Way to keep a low profile,” he lightly jabbed. “Bottom line is, you’re wanted for questioning. Didn’t exactly help me to escalate matters, if you know what I’m saying. You could’ve told me, you know.”

Now Amit was the apologetic one. “Sorry about that.”

“No worries. Good shooting, though,” he said. “You got the guy right in the spine.”

“I was aiming for the chest, but thanks anyway.”

“You still armed?”

Amit flashed David’s Beretta, then dropped it back in his deep vest pocket.

Enoch’s left eyebrow tipped up. “It’ll have to do. Let’s get in there.” He set a brisk pace along the drive leading to the security barrier and turnstiles that cordoned off the plaza.

“You’re sure about all this, Amit?” Enoch asked.

“Was I ever wrong in Gaza?”

“No, sir,” he replied with assurance. It still amazed him that Amit hadn’t pursued a career with the military. He was a natural leader with a brand of cunning born from instinct, not training. Rumor had it, however, that Amit’s proficiency in archaeology was even more impressive. “So it’s just like old times, eh?”

“That’s right. Now work your magic with these guys and get us down into that tunnel.”

They slowed when the guards at the main gate saw them coming and stood.

Enoch dipped unthreateningly into his pants pocket for his Mossad ID badge.

68

******

Charlotte Hennesey felt like she’d been buried alive. The oxygen inside the pitch-black wooden box she had been folded into was getting thinner by the moment, not to mention that the stale air was a keen reminder that she was in desperate need of a shower. With knees pulled close to her chest, hands bound tight behind her back, and an excessive gag triple-wrapped over her mouth, the muscle cramping had quickly set in again. Though she’d never been claustrophobic before, this could unnerve Houdini himself, she thought.

The rabbi had promised a short drive. That much seemed to be true, because the bouncy truck had come to a stop within minutes. Then she’d heard the muted groaning sounds of a loud engine followed shortly thereafter by a sensation of movement, first up, then down.

But now, things seemed to be getting louder. There was banging and thudding on the crate’s front face. Without warning, the wood violently cracked. She jerked her head sideways as splinters showered in on her. The box’s entire front face snapped away.

A rush of cool air swept in.

Crystalline voices.

When she looked up again, a dark figure was silhouetted against bright

white light—hands reaching in for her, clasping her bound ankles and pulling.

69

******

Enoch was trying his best to be patient with the two rookie night-shift police officers posted at the security gate. They’d already confirmed what they’d relayed in an earlier phone inquiry—no sign of a woman, definitely no crate.

“And you inspected the trucks?”

“As best we could,” the taller one confirmed. “The van came in empty.” He pointed a bony finger to where it sat outside the cordons. “Just a driver and the rabbi up front. Nothing suspicious about that. Take a look inside it if you don’t believe me.”

Ignoring the exchange, Amit’s gaze was transfixed on the bright lights under the archway on the plaza’s north side. He could see soldiers calmly standing there, but little more. What the hell was happening inside?

“And the truck?”

The guard rolled his eyes and huffed. “That truck’s been in and out of here at least two dozen times over the past month.”

“But you did inspect it?” he dug in.