Irrefutable Proof: Mars Origin "I" Series Book II (2 page)

Chapter
One

Jerusalem
, Israel

June 17, 1998

Ghazi
must die
.

She
sighed and closed her eyes, lifting up her chin and breathing in deeply through
her nostrils. There was, absolutely, positively, no other way. She was sure of
it.

She
sat at the white, metal table under the large, beige awning of the Hillel Café with
her legs crossed and her hands folded in her lap. With the aroma of rich,
freshly brewed coffee enveloping her she felt at ease. Sitting on the far end
of the outdoor seating area, she studied the café’s red sign with the black
silhouette of a man, on the move, in an overcoat and short brim hat, seemingly
as furtive as she felt. With resolve, she pondered what she was about to do.
Placing her purse from atop the table to the chair next to hers, she gazed at
her reflection in the glass that made up the front of the café. She brushed
back strands of her auburn hair that had fallen from the French twist she
always wore. She ran her finger down the side of her face, tugged at the collar
of her cream-colored knit cardigan, and pressed out her skirt. Eyeing herself,
she turned her head from side to side.
There’s still that twinkle in my eyes
,
she mused. She ran her fingers over the obstinate lines that carved their way
through her delicate skin from the corner of her cinnamon-colored eyes.
Pressing her lips together, she evened out the coral-colored lipstick that had
sunk into the crevices.
Not bad for an old woman
, she thought,
at
sixty-six, I don’t look a day over forty
.

She
watched as Ghazi rounded the corner two blocks up and headed toward her. He was
full of life as he sauntered down the street. His navy linen blazer moved with
the breeze, his arms swinging lazily with each stride. His smooth, honey
colored skin glistened in the sun. He tipped his straw panama and nodded at
passersby, greeting them, his white teeth sparkling from behind his beautiful
smile.

How
handsome,
she thought. She
could feel the excitement swell in her chest. To know that
he
was coming
to see
her
. Surely, she would be the envy of the other women that saw her.
She looked around, her face beaming.

The
waiter, in his white shirt and long black apron, bent down and set one of the
two cups of coffee that she had previously ordered in front of her. Without
standing upright, he hesitated and looked at her. “You smell lovely,” he said.
“Is that roses I smell?”

The
waiter was quite striking, she determined, with his dark hair, deep-set eyes,
and well-built frame. She lowered her head so he couldn’t see the flush in her
face. She touched her fingers to her cheek.

 “Thank
you,” she said, a hint of a red rushing up her face. Not raising her head, she
lifted her eyes, and found his gazing into hers. She shifted herself in the
chair.
Oh, now I am blushing
. Trying to slow her quickened heartbeat,
she took in a breath and replied, almost in a whisper, “It’s rosewater.”

“Rosewater?
Rosewater perfume? Lovely,” he repeated, standing upright and smiling down at
her.

The
waiter was young and well-groomed and, she was certain, completely taken in by
her.
Smitten as a kitten.
Just thinking of it made her eyes sparkle.

Well,
little Kitty cat,
she
mused,
I have no time to be bothered with you now.
She must forget that
fascination for the time being and stay focused.

“Thank
you,” she said again, taking her eyes off of him. She leaned over, picked up
her purse and placed it in her lap. Digging down in it, she pretended to look
for something. Perhaps some other time she’d have time to play with this Kitty,
but now she needed for him to go away.

 “I
see your guest hasn’t arrived yet,” he said, nodding at an empty chair. “Should
I wait to leave the other cup so it won’t get cold?”

 “No,”
she said. Waving her fingers, she gestured for him to set the cup on the table.
She nodded up toward Ghazi’s direction. “Here he comes now.”

The
waiter turned, looked in the direction she pointed, and saw a man strolling
toward the café. Turning back to the table, he nodded in acknowledgment. He
placed the cup in front of an empty chair across from her and became invisible behind
others, somewhere back inside the café.

Glancing
toward Ghazi, she gauged the time she had before he would reach the café, and
the table. Gently, she slid the cup closer to her so as not to disturb the
stillness of the liquid inside. Not straying her eyes from him as he
approached, she reached into her purse, unzipped a side pocket, and felt around
in its folds. Excitement evincing across her face as her fingernail clicked on
the small glass ampoule hidden in the corner of the purse’s side pocket. She
fondled it with her fingers before she wrapped them around it and slowly,
gently pulled out the small, dark colored vial. Hiding it under the table, she
twisted off the cap, and then brought it up and emptied the clear contents into
the cup, watching as the murky brew swallowed it up.

Ghazi
arrived at the other end of the outside seating area. Reaching across the
table, she put a spoon in the other cup of coffee.

Standing
up, she walked toward Ghazi, and stuck out her hand for him to shake.

“Ghazi,”
she said, as demurely as she could, batting her eyelashes.

“Oh,
hello,” he said.

“Hello.
So glad you could meet me, Ghazi.” She smiled.

“You
recognized me?”

“Of
course! I’ve done my homework. I have a table waiting for us.” She waved her
hand, palm up, gesturing him toward the table. Looking up at him, she said, “I
knew it might be crowded this time of day, so I got here a little early to get
us a table away from the entrance.”

He’s
so tall
, she thought.
And
yes, handsome. Very handsome.

“So
then. After you,” he said, sweeping his hand out for her to take the lead.

As
they headed toward the table, he said, “This is my first time here.”

“Really?
I come here all the time,” she said, waving her hand in the air, bending it at
the wrist.

“The
café is new,” he said, eyeing her as he made his way around the tables. “It
just opened up.”

Her
breath caught in the back of her throat. “Yes, of course, I know that,” she
said as she reached the table. “I meant since it opened. I’ve come often.”

“Is
someone else joining us?” he asked, pulling out the chair that didn’t have a
cup sitting on the table in front of it.

“No.
Sit there,” she said, in a more rushed voice than she would have liked. She
pointed to the place she had sat before he arrived. “I took the liberty of
ordering for you.” She grabbed the chair in front of the cup where she had placed
the spoon.

“Here,
let me get that for you.” Ghazi came around the table and pulled out the chair
for her.

“Thank
you,” she said.
What a gentleman.
Smiling, she pointed to the cup in
front of her. “This is mine. I had just added sugar when I saw you approach. I
didn’t even have time to take the spoon out.” She started stirring the coffee.
Her eyes followed Ghazi as he rounded the table back to his seat. Placing the
spoon on the saucer underneath the cup, she wrapped her fingers around it and
took a sip. “Yum,” she said, smiling warmly at Ghazi.

 “I
do hope you like Turkish coffee,” she said swallowing, and wiping her mouth
with the napkin. “I’ve ordered you a
botz
.” She pointed at the cup. “It
had only just arrived. It should still be nice and hot.”

“Thank
you. I would have preferred a caffè macchiato . . .” Ghazi picked up his spoon
and stirred the deep brown liquid around in the clear glass cup.

“You’re
not going to return it, are you?” She could feel a knot of panic rising in her
chest.

He
raised an eyebrow. “No. Of course not.” His brown eyes beamed at her. “This is
fine.” He pooled a small amount into the curve of the spoon and let it slide
back off. “Yes. This is fine.”

She
watched him stir, swirling the liquid around.
There is no way you could have
had a macchiato, you handsome devil,
she thought as she raised her coffee cup
to her lips,
because then, when I put that little surprise in, it would have
disturbed the stain made by the milk
.
Couldn’t have anything make you
suspicious, now could we?
She giggled at the thought. Setting the cup down,
she put her hand up to your mouth.

“Oh,
excuse me.” She giggled again. “The coffee tickled my nose.” She covered her
mouth and nose with her napkin. “Aren’t you going to drink yours?” She spread
the napkin in her lap, picked her cup up and sipped from it, as if giving him a
cue.

“Yes.
Yes, I am.” Looking down into the cup, “If you don’t mind, I think I’ll order a
chocolate
rugelach
to have with my coffee,” he said, turning
slightly to beckon for the waiter. “Would you like anything?” he asked, looking
back at her.

She
lifted her eyes from the cup. “No,” she said, slowly. “I’m fine. Thank you, for
asking.”

Ghazi
nodded and gave her a pleasant look.  She watched him as he directed his
attention to a waiter who had arrived at the table. As she watched him go
through the motions of ordering his pastry, her eyes fell on his cup.
Everything else around her faded into the background as she waited.

Pick
up the cup, and drink the damn coffee.

She
closed her eyes to try and calm herself. She rubbed her hands together, the
anticipation making them damp and clammy.

Ghazi
finished his order and poured sugar into his coffee, and then started stirring.
His spoon hitting the sides of the cup as he stirred made her more agitated.
The clanking seemed loud, overamplified. She could hardly sit still in her seat.

Finally,
he raised the cup to his lips and blew on it several times. It felt as if her
heart stopped.

Finally
, she thought.

He
tipped the cup forward, and she put her palm to her throat as he parted his
lips.

Drink
.

She
tried to push the thought into his mind as she watched the coffee move closer
and closer to the edge of the cup. She raised the top half of her body, making
herself taller in the seat, leaning forward, her mouth opened slightly. She
almost said it out loud.

Drink
.

Peering
over the rim of the cup, Ghazi looked at her and set the cup back down on the
saucer.

She
let out a breath and closed her eyes. 

Dammit.

She
lowered her body back from its perched position and pushed her hand up from her
chest to her hair, smoothing it out and fiddling with the twist in the back of
her head. Taking in a deep breath, she said, “Is something wrong with the
coffee?”

“No.
Well, I haven’t tasted it yet. But I’m sure it’s fine. I was just thinking how
rude of me. You asked me to come because you wanted to talk to me and I haven’t
yet answered any of your questions.”

“Yes.”
She coughed into a balled fist, and shifted in the chair. “But, I’m in no rush.
Drink your coffee. Enjoy it while it’s hot.”

He
wrapped his hands around the cup, and started to speak just as someone gave his
chair a jolt. Holding the cup up, he tried to steady it with both hands as to
not spill any.

“Oh,”
she said, instinctively offering her hands across the table for more support.
Certainly, she didn’t want him to spill that coffee either.

“Excuse
me. I’m sorry.” A woman had pushed her chair into the back of his as she rose
to leave.

“You’re
fine. Here let me help you.” Ghazi put his cup down and stood up and pushed in
his seat.

“I’m
okay now.” The woman blushed. Ghazi stood and pushed her chair under the table
as she left.

“I
was just going to say,” Ghazi spoke as he sat back down, “I am very happy to
speak to you about Dr. Margulies. That is what you wanted, isn’t it? You’re a
writer?”

“A
writer?”

“Yes.
You’re writing a book about Dr. Margulies? Jacob Margulies?”

“Oh.
Yes. Of course. Writer. Avid reader. Lover of books. In all languages. Do you
speak any other languages?”

“Other
than Hebrew and English, no.”

“I
was doing some research,” she said, becoming flustered. She licked her lips and
wiped them with the paper napkin. “And I found that his father was an
archaeologist and that he worked on the Dead Sea Scrolls’ translation. Quite
interesting that although they were estranged they followed the same path in
life. That was intriguing to me.”

“Yes,
it is. Isn’t it?” Ghazi seemed happy that someone wanted to write about Dr.
Margulies. “Have you spoken to Dr. Justin Dickerson?”