Lemmy sat alone in the large hall, his book of Talmud open before him. Unable to concentrate, he closed it and left.

On the way to Tanya's house he saw the group of secular teenagers playing in the parking lot. One of the boys noticed him and waved. Lemmy waved back. A girl in shorts and a ponytail beckoned him to join. He shook his head and kept walking.

A young woman in khaki uniform opened Tanya's door. She looked at the black coat and hat and said, "We don't give donations to yes.h.i.+vas."

He felt his face flush. "I'm here to see Tanya."

Her blue eyes examined him as if she suspected he was lying. Unlike Tanya's delicate const.i.tution, she was attractive in a strong, robust way. Her light hair was cropped at shoulder length, and her nose was small and straight.

"You must be Bira."

"Guilty as charged." She offered him a hand. "And you are?"

"Lemmy." He hesitated, and shook her hand.

Bira yelled, "Mom!"

Tanya hugged him and took his coat and hat. Bira disappeared into another room They sat down, and Lemmy told her what had happened since he had left her house the previous week-the mysterious box, his father's slap, and the anxiety in the sect.

"But I don't understand. Why did he hit you? It makes no sense."

"My father demands complete obedience."

"He must be under enormous pressure," Tanya said. "To lead a fundamentalist sect in these tumultuous times. A great deal rests on his shoulders. I'm sure he regrets. .h.i.tting you."

"I doubt it."

"So you never actually told him about the objects in the box?"

"No."

"Then I must pa.s.s the word to the appropriate people." Tanya kissed him. "You should go home now."

Bira appeared, carrying a duffel bag and an Uzi machine gun. "Time to head back to Tel Aviv," she said.

Tanya hugged her daughter. "You two can walk together."

Lemmy took her duffel bag. It was heavier than he had expected.

For a while they pretended to be occupied by the scenery. He pressed his hat down as the wind grew stronger. On the left, across the border, a Jordanian soldier shouted a slur in Arabic.

Bira said, "Soon we'll kick them out and reunite Jerusalem."

She had an air of physical strength and confidence that befitted carrying an Uzi and kicking Jordanians.

"G.o.d will give it back to us," Lemmy said, "like He gave it to King David. Then we'll build a new temple."

"How about a new university? Or factories? That's what we need."

"Not in Jerusalem," Lemmy said. "Factories need water, materials, natural resources, but there's nothing here except proximity to G.o.d. That's the only reason every ruler in the history of the Middle East wanted to possess Jerusalem-Nebuchadnezzar the Babylonian, Cyrus of Persia, Alexander of Macedon, Antiochus the Syrian, and the Roman emperors Silvocuses, Pompey, Hadrian, and evil t.i.tus."

"Because it was the capital city of the Jewish kingdom."

"And why was that? Because kings saw Jerusalem as proof that G.o.d was on their side. But G.o.d chose us, not them." He pointed at the golden Dome of the Rock, s.h.i.+ning in the sun's midday rays.

"But they think G.o.d chose them." Bira grabbed the duffel gab, stopping Lemmy. She searched inside, found a crumpled magazine, and showed him a page with black-and-white photos of pieces of clay and primitive utensils. "This was found in Beit Zait, a two-hour mule ride from here." She pointed to one of the slivers of clay. "Star of David. And the piece was dated to King David's era as described in the Book of Samuel. That proves our owners.h.i.+p."

Lemmy examined the photo closely. "How can they date a piece of clay?"

"A chemical process. It's pretty accurate, and it proves Jews were here long before the Arabs, who are temporary squatters on our land, just like the Greeks, Romans, Crusaders, Caliphates, Ottomans, and the British." She folded the archeological magazine and stuffed it back in the duffel bag. "The Arabs can eat their headdresses until they choke. This piece of real estate is ours!"

A muezzin wailed from a tiny terrace atop a pointed minaret across the border. Bira pointed. "We lasted two thousand years in exile, including ma.s.sacres, expulsions, forced conversions, and genocide. But now we're back!"

"You're nothing like Tanya."

Bira's intense expression broke into a grin. "I adore my mom, but the whole generation of Holocaust survivors is a little weird." Bira drew circles on her temple.

Lemmy had meant the two were different physically, but he didn't correct Bira, afraid she would notice the all-consuming l.u.s.t that he felt for her mother.

They reached the corner of s.h.i.+vtay Israel Street. Lemmy put down the duffel bag. He glanced at the gate to Meah Shearim. "You should keep going. Our people aren't very tolerant of women in Zionist uniforms."

Bira picked up the bag. "I read about your leader in the newspaper. He said that abortion is like murder." She twisted her face. "There was a picture of him. He looks like some crazy prophet."

"He's my father."

"Oops."

He laughed.

"My big mouth. I always do that." Bira pecked him on the cheek. "See you soon."

He touched his face where she had kissed him and watched her walk away, her Uzi dangling from her shoulder. As she reached the next street corner, Bira looked back and waved. Lemmy waved back, and then she was gone.

Chapter 22.

Tanya left a message for Elie Weiss with the SOD desk at the prime minister's office to meet her at a small cafe on Ben Yehuda Street. He pulled two of his agents from a surveillance a.s.signment nearby and placed them at a table near the door, where they played backgammon. He sat at a corner table with his back to the wall.

When Tanya entered, he took off his wool cap and stood. It was Friday afternoon, and only a dozen other customers were in the cafe. He watched her cross the room and his breath quickened. What she radiated went beyond beauty. Perhaps it was the contrast between her black hair and the white skin, or between her physical smallness and the fierce posture. Or maybe the feline fluidity of her body's movements.

She sat down and removed the oversized sungla.s.ses, revealing her turquoise-green eyes.

Elie swallowed with difficulty. "You make an unlikely spy," he said. "No one in this room will ever forget you."

"You'll be surprised."

"I'm serious. How do you survive in this line of work?"

"Ill-fitting clothes, out-of-fas.h.i.+on hats, and never meeting their eyes." Tanya shrugged. "I don't bother with it in Israel, but in Europe no one gives me a second look."

"I find it hard to believe." Elie flagged down the waitress. "Bring us tea with lemon."

"I have terrible news." She kept her voice low. "Abraham's son saw a box delivered to the most extreme guy in the sect, someone called Redhead Dan. The description fits hand grenades. Abraham hit the boy before he could tell him what he'd seen. Hit him! I don't understand it-why would Abraham hit his son?"

Elie was more concerned with why Redhead Dan had shown him the grenades. "Hand grenades in Neturay Karta?"

"Yes!"

"Impossible. The kid is confused."

"His description fits perfectly. And there's talk of violence. An eye for an eye. You must contact Abraham immediately. Only he can prevent disaster."

"Well, better safe than sorry." Elie rubbed his scalp with his hand. "I'll inform Abraham right away. Did his son tell you anything else?"

"No."

Elie was relieved, but he had to make sure. "Did he hear of any plans to actually use the grenades?"

"No."

"Does he know where they're hidden? Anything?"

"It was a coincidence. He ran into them-"

"Lucky for us, but what was he doing out there in the middle of the night?"

Tanya blushed and looked away.

"I see." Elie lit a cigarette. "He's a bit young for you, isn't he?"

"He's almost eighteen." She parted her hair with both hands, throwing it over her shoulders. "You have a problem with that?"

"On the contrary. How else would you suck information from him?"

"You disgust me." She glared at him, the blus.h.i.+ng skin of her face as smooth as that of the seventeen-year-old girl he remembered.

"You are fortunate, Tanya. Few women get to go back in time, so to speak, do it over, save a lover from the wrong path."

She leaned on the table, her face close to his. "Abraham was on the wrong path because you manipulated him to keep hunting down Germans, and I was too naive-"

"I manipulated Abraham?" Elie sneered. "He was obsessed with revenge after he saw the n.a.z.is butcher our families. He wanted to keep killing n.a.z.is, terminate them in the most painful way, every one of them, including n.a.z.is like your sweetheart, Obergruppenfuhrer Klaus von Koenig."

"Klaus was an accountant. He didn't butcher anyone."

"Himmler's deputy, the protegee who facilitated SS operations with his financial genius, was just an accountant?"

"He didn't kill Jews."

"Your dear Klaus was no less a ma.s.s murderer than the rest of the n.a.z.i high command!"

"I thought we were talking about Abraham."

"Right. That's what drove him-avenge the Holocaust and prevent the next one. It still drives him today. Drives us!"

Tanya smiled bitterly. "How could I compete with that?"

Elie didn't answer. What could he say? The truth? That Abraham had changed his mind and wanted to quit his secret work to be with her? No. Telling her the truth would ruin everything.

"I don't have to atone for failing to save Abraham or for losing him," she said. "Abraham lost me then, and he lost me again a few months ago. He'd rather stay with those misguided Talmudic souls than live with me in happiness. But Lemmy is a different story. Him I can save!"

Elie clapped. "Bravo!"

For a moment he thought Tanya would hit him, but she turned and left. His agents put down the dice and started to rise, but Elie shook his head, and they sat back and watched her leave.

He took his seat and slurped cautiously from his tea. The waitress brought the check, and he dropped a few bills on the table. He had no intention of informing Abraham. The risk was small that Lemmy would approach his father again about the grenades before tomorrow morning. The boy was still smarting from a good fatherly beating.

Tanya left the cafe on the verge of tears, determined not to give Elie the satisfaction. She walked down the street, s.h.i.+elding her face from the wind. He was doing it again, the same as twenty years ago, during those few months in the forest with Abraham, when Elie's dark eyes had cast a constant shadow over their pa.s.sion, his thin lips lopsided in a humorless grin. Now he was doing the same thing, mocking her relations.h.i.+p with Lemmy. But why was she so upset? Was there a grain of truth in it? Was she a pathetic middle-aged woman trying to relive the lost pa.s.sion of her distant youth?

She reached a bus stop and huddled in the small canopy with a few other people. Lemmy would be preparing for the Sabbath now, changing into his best clothes. Earlier, when she had seen him stand next to Bira at the door, Tanya could hardly breathe. She had loved their fathers, one a n.a.z.i general, the other a scion of a rabbinical line, two men who could not be more different. Yet Bira and Lemmy looked like siblings, with blue eyes, blond hair, and strong build. Even their different outfits-Lemmy's ultra-Orthodox black garb and Bira's IDF uniform-barely camouflaged their resemblance.

The bus approached, and the pa.s.sengers lined up to board it. She glanced up the street at the cafe. Elie had not yet left, and his two goons were still bent over their game board. Why wasn't he rus.h.i.+ng off to warn Abraham? Why was he unconcerned with the warning she had delivered with such urgency?

"Young lady?" The bus driver tapped the steering wheel. "I don't have all day!"

The realization hit her suddenly. She hurried back to the cafe.

"How did you know?"

Elie put down the tea cup. "Back already?"

"How did you know it was the middle of the night?"

He lit a cigarette. "When else would anyone deliver contraband?"

"It was you!" She pointed a finger in his face. "You delivered the grenades!"

"Nonsense."

"You're an evil man!" Her voice rose.

He signaled his agents, who shooed out the few patrons.