Adam Palmer - The Boudicca Parchments

“Well whoever it was, was pretty ruthless. I mean he took out those two gunmen without a moment’s hesitation.”

“Yes, but that’s the thing sergeant, he only killed what might be called the guilty. He didn’t touch the innocent.”

“Maybe he was trying to silence them?”

“That makes no sense.”

“Why not? Maybe he set the whole thing up. He was using them to spring Klein and then when they’d done their work, he silenced them.”

“But if the plan was to spring Klein , then why did the man dressed like a Hassidic Jew aim his gun at Klein, like he was trying to kill him?”

“Maybe he wasn’t aiming it at Klein sir. Maybe he was trying to kill the third guard .”

“Then why didn’t the man on the bike let him ?”

Connor thought about this for a few seconds.

“Cause he panicked?”

“And why did the man on the motorbike let the big man live if he was trying to silence him? Why not shoot him too, if the aim was to silence him and not merely stop him?”

“That’s a good question. But he did send him flying when he rammed him with his motorbike. And his principle aim by that stage did seem to be to get Klein out of there.”

“Exactly. Whereas the others looked like they were trying to kill Klein.”

Connor backed down, deflated.

“So you don’t think they were on the same team sir?”

“No sergeant. I think we’re dealing with two separate forces here: one trying to kill Daniel Klein and the other trying to keep him alive.”

At that moment, a member of the team manning the phones waved to get the DCI’s attention.

“What is it?” asked Vincent.

“It’s a call from the Met. There’s been an attack on a woman called Julia Sasson and her children… by a man dressed as a Hassidic Jew.”

“And?” the DCI murmured, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“Well it was also foiled by a man on a motorbike… who then drove off.”

“Let me speak.”

He strode across the room and grabbed the phone.

“DCI Vincent.”

“Hallo, this is DI Wilson, Met Area 2, Colindale. I suppose you got all that?”

“Yes, but what sort of attack was it And who was the victim?”

“Well we’re still gathering evidence and getting down the details, but it may have been an abduction attempt on the daughter of a woman called Julia Sasson.”

“And what do we know about this Julia Sasson?”

“Well that’s the interesting thing. She’s the sister of Daniel Klein.”

“Are you incapable of getting anything right!”

Shalom Tikva was unable to contain the rage inside him that was prompting him to pour out his scorn on his own flesh and blood. His son had let him down once again and he well knew why: arrogance! Baruch had tried to do what was beyond him. How could he kidnap the girl all on his own with no back up and without even being fully qualified to drive? The operation was doomed from the start.

Maybe, Shalom Tikva could console himself, by accepting that it was the will of Hashem . But would it have failed had his son not been so arrogant?

And yet, what choice had their been? He knew that Baruch couldn’t go back to Chienmer Lefou after the previous fiasco. It had taken a long time to win her trust and to learn to trust her. And now she would probably never trust either of them again. His son had burnt a bridge there. And yet…

There was another thought nagging at Shalom Tikva’s mind.

How far can we trust her?

This was what lie at the heart of the problem. For it was becoming increasingly clear that some one was trying to stop them. But it was some one who knew what they were up to. Could it be that Chienmer Lefou was playing a double game? Had she arranged to help Baruch kill Daniel Klein and then betrayed him? That didn’t make sense. It was her own men that she sent along, or at least criminals whom she had hired.

Maybe she considered them expendable? She had that quiet aura of a ruthless matriarch.

But why did she help them in the first place? Why not refuse? And what, in that case, would she be trying to do? What was her game? If she wanted merely to kill Baruch, there were simpler ways.

Maybe she wanted to discredit Shomrei Ha’ir . After all, they believed in Judaism — a religion she hated. They believed in the Talmud — a document that she despised. And they believed that the Seven Laws of Noah were obligatory upon the Gentiles — a concept that she found abhorrent, not because she necessarily wanted to commit murder or theft or adultery or incest — nor even because she was against the creation of law courts — but simply on principle. Was it possible that a woman in such a mental state could really be trusted to help them, just because she hated the Zionists even more?

The more he thought about it, the more convinced Shalom Tikva became that it was Chienmer Lefou who had betrayed them.

But there was just one problem. Chienmer Lefou had known nothing of this last operation. Baruch hadn’t told her about his plan to kidnap Daniel Klein’s niece. That put her in the clear. And yet it was too much of a coincidence that this man on the motorbike had been able to turn up twice and foil both the assassination attempt and the kidnapping. There had to be a spy in the camp.

But who?

It was inconceivable that any one of his own people could have betrayed them. Indeed, with the exception of two other rabbis in the movement, no one knew what they had been planning. He had conferred with the two other rabbis, because although he was recognized as the most learned scholar among them in the finer points of Jewish Law, he considered himself to be first among equals and he wanted to be sure that he stood on halachically safe ground when he authorized the kidnapping. This wasn’t even the abduction of a goy, but rather of a Jewish girl. So he had to tread carefully.

But the other rabbis agreed that it was permitted if it was in the service of Hashem . And so he authorized it. But evidently, HaKadosh Baruch Hu was displeased with them, for he reached out and smote them, foiling their endeavours. Only there must have been some human agent involved. For when Hashem sends down the Angel of Death, even against the Jews, it is through the hand of man that he works.

And then HaTzadik realized that there was one man who was not of their people who knew at least part of what they were planning. That man supposedly did not speak Hebrew, but maybe he understood more than he let on. And that man was standing only a few feet away from him now.

Shalom Tikva put the phone down and turned to Sam Morgan with a look of anger in his eyes.

“It was you wasn’t it?”

“What do you mean?” asked Morgan, the apprehension rising in his voice.

“It was you who betrayed us! You warned them what we were planning!”

“Planning? I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“Klein’s niece! You knew we were planning to kidnap her!”

“What!”

“You warned them.”

“Warned who?”

“The police! Or some one!”

“I didn’t! I swear!”

The fear in his voice was palpable. But that meant nothing to HaTzadik.

“You were the only one who knew! The only one who could have told them.”

“I didn’t know. And I can’t believe you would do such a thing. But I… I…”

“Ata medaber Ivrit? Yiddish?”

“I… I don’t understand”

Shalom Tikva was testing him to see if he understood either Hebrew or Yiddish. Because they hadn’t actually told him the plan. So the only way that Morgan could have told anyone was if he had overheard them talking and understood.