The Masada Complex (35 page)

“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.”

Elizabeth McPherson looked at the insignia of the Israeli army on the document. It sent a shiver down her spine, even now, decades after the Israelis no longer controlled her fate. The bottom of the page provided an English summary of Masada El-Tal’s conviction and sentencing for manslaughter.

Elizabeth stepped outside her office and told her secretary, “Get me a copy of the decision in the
Schellong
case. It’s a Seventh Circuit appeal by a Nazi guard in eighty-five or eighty-six.”

Back in her office, she reviewed the writer’s immigration file, which had come up from the basement archive earlier. It was all here: An applications for student visa in 1983, for permanent resident in 1985 and for naturalization in 1988. She checked the responses to the standard questions on the forms and sat back, satisfied. The professor would be pleased.

Professor Silver’s hands shook as he carried a bundle of mail into the house and dumped it on the dining room table. For the first time since his childhood, he was observing the fast of Ramadan, and the supermarket coupons whetted his appetite with photos of meats and desserts. He glanced at his watch. Another hour to sunset.

There was a letter from Hadassah, sent by Express Mail, asking him to bring all medical records to the pre-op checkup at the Michener Eye Center on Friday. He looked through the dining room at the framed photo on the living room wall. The blotch covered part of the Dome of the Rock, but when he shifted his head slightly, the blotch descended to hide what the Jews called The Wailing Wall at the bottom of the photo. “That’s better,” he said.

The phone rang. He went to the kitchen to pick it up.

“Let’s assume you’re right.” Masada’s voice was edgy. “But if Rabbi Josh is Ness’s agent, why did Sheen stay with you and not the rabbi?”

Silver tried to think of a reason. “What does an old
Yid
like me know about these things? Maybe they were ordered to stay away from each other?” He held his breath, waiting.

“It’s called
compartmentalization
.”

“No matter what you think of him,” Silver said, changing the focus of discussion, “the rabbi lost the most precious thing in his life. I know how it feels to lose your only son. It’s worse than dying.”

After a brief silence, she asked, “What happened to your son?”

“An accident.” He choked, thinking of Faddah. “A terrible, needless accident. I can’t talk about it.”

“I understand. I can’t talk about my family either. I’m too angry, even after so many years.” She cleared her throat. “Maybe one day we’ll compare notes.”

“I’d like that,” Silver lied. “You know how I feel about you.”

“The daughter you never had?” Masada laughed, but there was a quiver in her voice.

“You read me like an open book.”

Wednesday, August 13

I
t hurt as if a welder took a torch to her private parts. Cold sweat sprouted all over her body. Masada lowered herself to the floor, lying flat on the cold tiles.