Avraham Azrieli - The Masada Complex

“Not a million.” He looked at his computer screen. “We’re up seven-”

“Whatever. You’re my publisher. I need help.”

“It’s out of our hands.” Drexel slid a bunch of stapled papers across the desk. “Your legal troubles are spilling over into our lap.”

It was a lien, issued by the court, ordering Jab Magazine and all its affiliated entities to deposit all money coming to Masada El-Tal into a trust account set up by the court to await resolution of the litigation in the case known as The Estate of Alfred Zonshine v. Masada El-Tal.

Rabbi Josh washed his face and put on a clean shirt. Professor Silver picked him up outside the house. As they were driving, Silver spoke of meeting Masada earlier and of how pale and sickly she had seemed.

At Target, they found the luggage display in the back of the store.

“This one looks sturdy.” Silver removed a black suitcase from the rack, pulled out the handle, and walked up and down the aisle, the suitcase trailing behind. “You want to try it?”

“It’s fine.” Rabbi Josh didn’t care. He would use it only once for the trip to Israel, where he would stay until the end of his days. He grabbed an identical suitcase. “I faxed the letter to the Israeli consulate. They called back to confirm.”

“Do you think they’ll approve me?”

Rabbi Josh loaded the suitcases into a cart. “If you don’t qualify as a Jew, who does?”

As they were waiting in line to pay, the rabbi said, “I keep thinking how random it was, how so many things could have happened differently, little coincidences that followed each other until that bullet found Raul.”

“It’s written,” Silver said. “ By God’s word the skies were formed, by His breath the earth was created. ”

The rabbi nodded. It took a good friend to remind him. “I must accept His judgment, as incomprehensible as it is.”

“I know your pain from when my own son died. But, may the Lord forgive me, I have to cause you even more pain.” He blinked behind the thick glasses and bit his lips, his gray goatee trembling. “I think Masada is involved.”

“Involved?”

“I think she’s part of that Judah group.”

Rabbi Josh’s chest constricted, as if a hand had reached inside and put a vise on his heart. “What are you talking about?”

“She controlled Al. She gave him the money to deliver to the senator. Then he faked attacks on her because she told him to.”

“What?”

“I heard them.”

“It can’t be!” Rabbi Josh lifted the suitcases and landed them on the cashier’s counter. “The bribe was paid by Judah’s Fist!”

“But Rabbi, that’s what I’m telling you! Masada is Judah’s Fist!”

Masada used a computer in Drexel’s office to check her e-mails as the FBI had not returned her laptop or Blackberry. She had hundreds of e-mails from readers, mostly hateful. There was a recent one from the rabbi. Dear members of Temple Zion,

In a perfect world, I would wait until you found a new spiritual leader to step into my humble shoes. But obviously this isn’t a perfect world, and I’m leaving you to bury my son in Israel, where I shall remain. My only request is that you fight against the Fair Aid Act. Write, call, and send e-mails to your congressmen, the newspapers, and Internet blogs to protest against this attack on our Jewish state. Next year in Jerusalem.

Rabbi Joshua Frank.

Whatever doubts Masada had, his e-mail was as good as a confession. The bribe had been exposed, the senator had committed suicide, and Raul had died in her stead. Colonel Ness was pulling his failed agent back to the nest.

Following the rabbi into his house, Professor Silver was determined to bring the conversation back to Masada’s purported involvement with Al. Having failed to kill Masada, his next best option was to isolate her. Rabbi Josh’s infatuation with her had to be snuffed out to ensure that he wouldn’t try to interfere when Elizabeth threw the legal net over her.

“Here is a copy of the letter I sent on your behalf.” Rabbi Josh picked up a sheet from the kitchen counter and gave it to Silver.

“Thank you.” Silver folded the letter. “I’m sorry for upsetting you with my discovery of Masada’s involvement.”

The rabbi drank a glass of water, placed it on the counter and stared at it, as if he forgot Silver was there.

He sighed, “I wish I didn’t go to her house. Better I didn’t know.”

The rabbi looked up.

“I was worried sick about her that night.” Silver kept eye contact with the rabbi to bolster his credibility. “I had a premonition that Al was so meshugge that he would go to her house to try again. Masada is like a daughter to me.” He nodded sadly. “I’m a foolish old Yid .”

“Go on.”

“They were doing it. Like animals. Yelling and laughing.”

“Who?”

“She and Al.”

Rabbi Josh’s face paled.

“I just stood there, afraid to move, until they finished. Then Masada said to Al: Wait, big guy-”

“Big guy?”

“That’s what she said. Wait, big guy, come back and give me a kiss. ”

The rabbi leaned on the counter.

“I was shocked and made a noise, like this.” Silver groaned. “And Al heard me. What could I do? He rushed to the door, and that bucket fell on his head. He must have forgotten it was there, or maybe she had planned to get rid of him by then. I don’t know.”

“Why didn’t you tell the police?”

Silver looked at him incredulously. “I didn’t believe it myself! Why would the police believe me?”

“True. It makes no sense. You must have misheard them.”

He shook his head sadly. “I understand it now. She seduced Al from the beginning, got him under her spell, used him to bribe Mahoney, and then she exposed it.”

“Why would she do that?”

“Because she hates Israel. First, her parents and little brother died-what happened to them, I don’t know, but she blames Israel. Then the Israelis put her in jail for something she didn’t do. The bribe was her revenge!”

“Where did she get the money?”

“Ah!” Silver had an answer prepared. “Is Israel short on enemies?”

“True.” Rabbi Josh redid the rubber band on his ponytail. “If that’s the case, why did Al try to hurt her-the snake, the poisoned brownies, the explosion?”

“Was she ever really hurt?” He chuckled. “It’s textbook diversion. Who would ever suspect the victim?”

The rabbi rubbed his cheeks with both hands. “And the temple shooting?”

Silver hesitated. Putting a spin on the event that killed the rabbi’s son required a delicate touch. “I believe Al was supposed to shoot over Masada’s head and run off, disappear into the desert, while the public, having witnessed the assassination attempt, would be even angrier with the Israelis. Think of the headlines: Writer Escapes Zionist Assassin’s Bullet! Think how her books would fly off the shelves.” He paused, sighing again. “Tragically, Hilda jumped on him and the headlines said: Writer’s Spurned Lover Misses, Shoots Boy Instead. ”

The rabbi looked away. “That’s a tall house of cards built on something you thought you heard in the middle of the night.”

Silver adjusted his glasses. “I heard her clearly. Wait, big guy -”

“I heard it the first time.” Rabbi Josh led him to the door. “You should confront her. There must be another explanation.”