Avraham Azrieli - The Masada Complex

Masada’s mind was already running down the list of Temple Zion members. Who was close to Al? She sat on the edge of the desk, taking the weight off her aching leg. “Al threatened him implicitly: Take the bribe and pass the legislation for Israel, or I’ll tell what really happened in Vietnam. But who is Al’s friend from Temple Zion? Who is the man of faith?”

Tara said, “The hot rabbi. Who else?”

“Impossible,” Masada said, but the idea took hold. Who else knew Al’s secrets? Who else was a devout Zionist willing to serve Israel? Who else felt such guilt about not making aliyah ?

They stepped outside Priest’s lab, and Masada told Tara how a lawyer had waited in front of the hospital this morning to serve her with a civil lawsuit, filed by Hilda Zonshine. The court had already placed preliminary liens on all her assets to secure any judgment.

Tara asked, “What are you going to do?”

“My publisher’s lawyer is handling it.”

Professor Silver was waiting for Elizabeth McPherson when she left the office. She got into his Cadillac and placed her briefcase on the floor between her legs. He gave her a piece of paper. “This is Masada El-Tal’s old conviction. The Israelis released it.”

“What do you want me to do with this?”

“Can you find a way to lock her up for a couple of weeks?”

“But this is old stuff that happened in another country. No one will prosecute her for this in the United States.”

“Have you ever considered what it would feel like to be blind?”

She shook her head.

“I do. All the time. A world of darkness. Can you imagine?”

Her eyes glistened with tears.

“They’re closing the clinic at Hadassah next week to build a new facility. You know how much vision I’ll have left in six months?” He formed a circle with his finger and thumb. “Zero.”

“What if the Israelis found out who you are? They’ll stick another dagger in your eye.”

“They think I died in the desert in eighty-two. For them I’ll be a new citizen-they roll out the red carpet for Jewish immigrants.”

“They’re not easily fooled.”

“Neither am I,” he said. “You must find a way to lock her up.”

Elizabeth looked away. “Maybe it’s better to cancel my award ceremony.”

“Absolutely not. You’ve earned it.” Silver knew he must keep the carrot dangling in front of her. “Reuniting with family is Allah’s blessing.”

“I have an idea.” Elizabeth took the paper, got out of the car, and walked back to the building.

Masada’s head pounded with a dull ache, and a burning sensation followed every bathroom visit. She had declined taking painkillers from the hospital, and now she regretted it. The lukewarm shower calmed her.

Professor Silver was waiting outside the house. She had asked him to give her a ride, not feeling well enough to drive the Corvette.

He kissed her. “Praise the Lord for healing the sick.”

She gave him the address. “You’re not going to fly into another ravine, are you?”

He laughed. “You didn’t like it the first time?”

“I found out who paid the senator.”

“You mean Sheen’s real name?”

“Still working on that, but the actual bagman was Al Zonshine.”

He hit the brakes, rocking the car. “That’s crazy!”

“The video clip shows the hand of a man in a green polyester suit.”

He started driving again. “Is he the only American who owns one?”

“We figured out what Mahoney was saying on the video.”

“How did you do that?” Silver glanced at her, his foot pressing the gas too hard.

“Lip reading. And Al was working with someone at Temple Zion. I made a list of suspects, including you.”

“Me? I hardly knew Zonshine!”

“I’m sure it’s not you, but I have to consider everyone systematically.” She pointed. “Red light.”

The car came to an abrupt stop.

She took a deep breath. “I think it’s the rabbi.”

“Rabbi Josh?” Silver exhaled, shaking his head. Cars honked behind them. He hit the gas, and the car lurched forward.

“The trick,” Masada said, “is to see beyond his good looks and charitable manner. He’s a fanatic Zionist.”

“True, but there are many others.”

“I look for inconsistencies. For example, he can get any woman he wants, so why did he pursue a bitter, aging troublemaker like me? Unless he was ordered to find out what I’m up to!”

Silver laughed. “Don’t you realize how alluring you are?”

“You’re biased. Look around at this town. It’s full of model-quality babes out of Vogue , but this Brad Pit look-alike rabbi kept showing up at my doorstep, offering support, feigning romantic interest, asking repeatedly about my investigation of Judah’s Fist. Why?”

Professor Silver rubbed his goatee with one hand, steering with the other. “He is extreme about Israel, that’s true. But if Al was working with Rabbi Josh, how come the rabbi didn’t know about the poisoned brownies?”

“Maybe it was Al alone, trying to harass me. Or maybe they receive their orders separately.”

“From Sheen, the Canadian?”

“He must be an intermediary for the Israelis. Watch it! ”

Silver corrected sharply, the wheels jumping the edge of the median. The Cadillac swayed from side to side like a boat.

She pressed her temples to ease the headache. “Do you want me to drive?”

“I’m fine.” He looked sideways at the road ahead. “Got some dust in my eyes. Nothing to worry about.”

“There’s a lot to worry about if our dashing rabbi is an Israeli agent.”

“Life’s full of surprises.” Silver took advantage of a stop sign and put a few drops in his eyes.

“Every Jewish state in history ended up with Jews killing each other while their enemies rammed the gates. With the Senate preparing to vote on the Fair Aid Act, the Israelis must be desperate.”

“Joshua Frank! Judah’s Fist! Same initials: JF ”

“That’s right. And I had such a crush on him!”

Silver chortled. “Love is blind, but the heart isn’t. Your heart saw through the facade of a provincial rabbi in Arizona and fell for a handsome Israeli agent.”

“You should be on Dr. Phil.” Masada laughed. “What would I do without you, Levy?”

“Pay for a taxi?” He stopped at the curb. “I’ll wait for you here.”

Jab Magazine emerged weekly from a downtown Phoenix building that looked like a finger jabbing a human ear. Masada entered the lobby, which was tiled with past covers of the magazine. She took the elevator up to Drexel’s third-floor office. A slab of concrete served as his desk. The red-tinted window behind him was the fingernail on the ear-jabbing finger.

“Hello, sweetheart!” He checked himself in a framed mirror that stood on his desk in lieu of a family photo and smoothed his hair back. “What a nice surprise!”

“Do you have a check for me?”

“Manslaughter in Israel? Deadly trap in your house? This whole thing is embarrassing!”

“I thought Jab likes sensational stories.”

He pulled a nail file from his drawer. “We’d rather report the news than make the news. Are you any closer to Judah’s Fist?”

“I’m closer to bankruptcy. I need an advance. The house is all I have, and I can’t sell it or mortgage it because of the damages and the liens.”

“What a mess you made.”

“I wrote the truth, which you were happy to publish and sell a million new subscriptions.”