Adam Palmer - The Boudicca Parchments

Sarit’s duties also included checking out the numerous anti-Semitic videos on YouTube to familiarize herself with the faces and warning signs of such people. Some YouTube anti-Semites had even taken to hiding their faces and using voice changers to cover their tracks. She would not of course be assigned to kill them. But it was important to be able to identify them and know how to distinguish the talkers from those who would actually be ready to take hostile action against Israel itself or Jews — whom the State of Israel had a duty to protect from violence.

It was while she was doing this research that she got an internal call from Dovi Shamir, her ex-lover and the man who had trained her and turned her into a lethal killing machine.

“Sarit come to my office please.”

“Now.”

“Yes now!”

It was on a different floor and at the far end of a corridor. But she was there in less than a minute.

“Don’t sit down,” said Dovi as she reached for a fold-up chair.

“What’s the emergency?”

“We’ve had a call from SHaBaK. Apparently Urim intercepted calls that gave them a fix on Shalom and Baruch Tikva.”

“So why don’t they arrest them?”

“They tried to get them in a dawn raid, except that they swooped in a bit after dawn.”

“And I assume the birds had flown?”

“Exactly.”

“Where were they staying?”

“A friend’s flat in the Ma’alot Dafna neighbourhood.”

“Did the friend also fly the coop?”

“No, he was still there. They took him in and hauled him over the coals.”

“Did he sing?”

“Eventually.”

“And?”

“They’re going to Masada.”

“Why?”

“Because they think Daniel and Ted are going there.”

“And why are you telling me this?”

“Well last time you thought Daniel Klein was in danger, you went rushing off to protect him… against my express orders.”

Sarit remembered the incident all too well.

“If I remember rightly you said it was SHaBaK’s business.”

“Which didn’t cut any ice with you, if I remember rightly.”

“Well they had been kidnapped and taken across the border to Jordan. So technically it was Mossad business.”

Dovi smiled at Sarit’s response.

Feisty as ever .

“Look I’m not here to rake over embers of the past.”

“Then I return to my question. Why did you summon me.”

“Well I thought you might like to get down there and give him some protection.”

“Now that really is the job of SHaBaK… and the police.”

“Yes but you know what Baruch Tikva looks like.”

“Oh come off it. SHaBaK have pictures of both of them — and probably half their members. They know what both of them look like.”

“You’ve seen him recently. You know what he looks like now .”

“Unless he’s shaved off his beard.”

“Actually he has — according to CCTV footage from the airport.”

“How did he manage to get back into the country undetected?”

“Well it appears that he used an American passport and his mother’s maiden name.”

“And that’s all it took to give border control the slip?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“Jesus Christ!”

“Anyway, it’s up to you. I don’t want you to take any risks, but according to your reports, when you confronted him in England you were dressed in leathers and a helmet and he didn’t realize that you were a woman. So if you go there now, dressed like a tourist, he won’t recognize you. And that should give you an advantage.”

“And what if Daniel or Ted greet me and let the cat out of the bag?”

Dovi thought for a moment.

“That could be a problem.”

“And why don’t we just warn them?”

“We haven’t got a contact number. They both lost their phones in the explosion.”

“Knowing Daniel, he would have got a new one at the first opportunity and given the number to all his contacts.”

“Maybe he did, but we’re not on his contact list.”

“And he hasn’t contacted me either.”

“There is something else Sarit.”

“What?”

“We had a call from his father.”

“Whose father?”

“Daniel’s. He was acting on his son’s instructions. It seems that Daniel and Ted were at Solomon’s Stables last night.”

“Solomon’s Stables?”

“Yes. Or rather the mosque that was built there ten years ago.”

“What were they doing there?”

“Exploring the water cisterns and tunnels. Apparently they thought they might find some relics or artefacts there.”

“And did they?”

“No. But an attempt was made to kill them. Instead an Arab who was helping them was killed. And now we’ve got to enter into some delicate diplomacy with the Waqf to handle the situation.”

“And we know all this because…”

“He told his father.”

“And did he tell his father something that might actually help us, like where he was going now?”

“We think so.”

“ Think so?”

“His father claimed that he didn’t know. But we think that’s because Daniel requested it. He presumably doesn’t want anyone to know that he’s looking for artefacts without permission of the Antiquities Authority. But we know that’s where HaTzadik and Bar Tikva are going… and we know they think that Daniel is going there too. So I think it’s a pretty safe bet.”

“And you want me to go there to cover his ass?”

“It would be nice to have some one there who has his interests at heart… and the skill to protect them. But it’s up to you.”

Sarit had already been thinking about it and her mind was already made up.

“I’ll go.”

“It’s magnificent,” said Ted as the cable car carried them up toward the top of Masada. Through the glass, Ted saw the plateau draw ever closer while in the other direction the ground receded and the panorama of the desert and the dead sea unfolded before his eyes. They had eschewed walking up the snake path, favouring the practicality of saving their strength for the exploration they had yet to undertake, over the experience of treading that ancient path cut into the pinkish grey rock.

When the cable car arrived at the top and its doors opened, they stepped out onto wooden walkway, that led to an entrance: the snake path gate. The entrance was an archway and inside it they found temporary shelter from the intense sunlight. Sitting down on the stucco benches, they tried to get their bearings and work out a strategy.

“There’s a tourist shop,” said Daniel, pointing to the side.

“Do you need it?” asked Ted.

“Not for myself. But you can get a guidebook there — or even a headset to listen to the commentary.”

“That’ll only slow us down,” said Ted. “I’ll listen to your commentary. And if I’ve got any questions I’ll ask.”

And with that, they walked through the arch on the other side that led them across paving stones and onto the ruins of a mountain fortress that had become the stuff of legend. As they walked across the open surface, they felt the morning sun beating down upon them. Even at this early hour the solar rays were harsh. By mid-day they would be oppressive. But at least there were few people about at this time. They almost had the site to themselves.

Ted looked around to take in the view. Masada was essentially a giant table in the Judean Desert — a rock plateau with walls that were cliffs rising 1300 feet above the surrounding ground to the east and 300 feet to the west, the difference being due to the relative heights of the surrounding bedrock. Although less than 200 feet above sea level, it’s positioning in the Dead Sea Rift valley meant that its plateau stood 1500 feet above the surface of the Dead Sea.