CHAPTER 6
“Don’t worry, Benjamin.” A female voice spoke behind him; half-turning to see who it was, Ben saw Monica perched in the back seat. “God is with you, and He will protect you.” She brushed her hair out of her eyes.
Ben smiled. “Thank you, Monica. I’ll remember that.”
He climbed out of the car and shut the door with a soft thud. With even strides, he entered the Knesset building and took the elevator to Barak’s floor. As David had, earlier, he found Gloria on the phone in the reception area.
Gloria smiled up at him; leaning back in her leather-upholstered armchair, she raised a hand in greeting. The angel winked; Ben suppressed a laugh.
“Excuse me, sir, but you have a visitor,” the angel said into the phone. “No, it’s not David—it’s someone else…Well, he looks like an Orthodox Jew.”
She nodded, then hung up. “Hello, Benjamin,” she said, in a low voice. “Don’t worry—I won’t give you away. Just go on in—he’s expecting you. He won’t betray you either, when he knows who you are.”
“Thank you,” Ben whispered. He took a deep breath, then raised a trembling gloved hand to knock on the door.
“Come in!” a voice boomed from inside.
Ben pushed the door open and stepped into his cousin’s office. Jacob, reclining behind his desk, stared at him, a puzzled expression etched on his face. He had removed his suit jacket and hung it on a coat rack in the corner.
Ben slowly approached him, stopping by the edge of the desk facing Jacob. “You don’t recognize me, because I’m in disguise,” he whispered. “I’m your cousin, Benjamin.”
He removed the hat, the wig, then the beard. Jacob rose to his feet, gaping at the man, then circled the desk to approach him. “Shalom, Ben! I haven’t seen you in years and years.” The two embraced for a long moment.
“It’s been years since I’ve seen you!” he said in a low voice. His eyebrows furrowed. “I guess you know you’re taking an awful chance by coming here.”
“I know. I had to, though.” Ben paused, biting his lower lip. “I guess you know I’m wanted for killing Puccini, Jacob.” He slowly exhaled, staring down at the thick carpet at his feet.
“Yes, I do. What I don’t know is why.” Jacob folded his arms across his chest, leaning against his desk.
Ben’s voice hardened. “He killed my wife—or rather, had her killed. I wanted revenge for her death.” He pursed his lower lip. “She was the sweetest, most wonderful woman one could ever know—her only crime was that she turned to faith in Yeshua. Puccini didn’t like that.”
Jacob nodded, then sighed. “I don’t approve of what you did, Ben, but I understand why you did it.” He straightened his back and dropped his hands to his sides. “Puccini didn’t stay dead, so you can’t be charged with murder now, anyway—only with attempted murder. Rest assured I won’t turn you in. In fact, as prime minister, I’m authorized to offer you amnesty.”
Ben smiled, as gratitude flooded his heart. “Thank you, Jacob.” He took a deep breath. “I’ve got some sad news I need to share with you. Are you aware that Deborah is also dead?”
Jacob froze. His mouth dropped open. “What?!”
Ben sighed. “She died in the earthquake, last week. David was crazy with worry for her; he tried and tried to find her, with no success. Finally, he found out where her body was. It was badly mangled; she had been crushed by the ceiling when it fell in.”
Jacob winced. Clearly, he had not learned of her death. For a moment, he flattened the tufts of the carpet beneath the toe of his shoe. Ben gazed out the window at the moon rising above the line of office buildings across the street.
As Jacob stood trembling, taking deep breaths, making an evident effort to come to terms with the loss, sadness welled up in Ben’s eyes. “It grieves me to see the bitterness between you and David,” he said, softly. “Especially now, when our nation is so near to entering some extremely dangerous times. Had it not been for your quarrel, you would have known of Deborah’s death when it occurred.” His voice choked. “There’s going to be many more deaths in the near future if we don’t act quickly. There are events coming that are going to demand quick action if our people is to survive. Some urgent decisions will have to be made that only you are authorized to make, to save our people.” He touched Jacob’s shoulder. “Won’t you two make it up with each other?”
Jacob suppressed the urge to shove Ben’s arm off his shoulder. It’s not Ben’s fault David and I have fought, he reminded himself. Out loud, he said, “No, I can’t. Not now; not ever. As for the quick actions and the urgent decisions you speak of...I trust Antonio Puccini, Ben, and I don't believe for one minute that he would betray us, as David said.”
Ben shook his head. “I do wish you wouldn’t be so stubborn, Jacob,” he said in a pleading voice. “Your pride and your stubbornness could cost the people of Jerusalem their lives. Deborah’s already dead—I don’t want others meeting the same fate if it can be avoided. You need to work with David, not fight him.”
Jacob sighed. “I’m sorry, but I don’t want to discuss this any further. I do grieve Deborah’s death, though. I loved her, too.” He glanced at his watch. “Would you excuse me, Ben? I—I want to be alone now.”
Biting his lower lip, Ben nodded. “Certainly.”
He put the beard, the wig, and the hat back on. He turned toward the door, then paused. “I’ll be praying for you, Ben. For you and David.”
Jacob smiled wanly, in spite of himself. “Thank you. Listen, you’re welcome to come with me on tomorrow’s flight if you want; I could use some company. You’ll be safe if you wear your disguise and stay on the plane. We’ll be leaving at 8 a.m.”
Ben nodded. “I’ll think about it. Thank you for the offer. Shalom, Jacob.”
He left. Jacob shut the door behind him, then slowly approached the window. For a long moment, he gazed at the city lights on the horizon. Glittering stars dotted the velvety sky; the moon hung suspended an inch over the row of office buildings. “So clear to be so cold,” he muttered.
A knock on the door startled him. “Come in!” he called, whirling around.
The door swung open; a black woman, wearing a thick navy-blue coat over a chef’s uniform, pushed a table on wheels into the room. “Prime Minister Barak,” she said, “my name is Tess. I’m temporarily cooking for the Israeli Defense Forces while their regular cook recovers from a bout with the flu. It’s come to my attention that you haven’t had much to eat today, so I thought I’d bring you something, now that supper’s been served at the base.”
Barak smiled gratefully. “Thank you, Tess. You’re right, I’ve eaten little today, and now I’ve got a gnawing stomach.” He rubbed his belly. “But how did you come here?”
Tess dropped her hands to her sides. “Two soldiers brought me here, and are waiting downstairs to take me back. One of them is a new recruit, just out of basic training, who's made friends with your cousin David."
"Oh? And who is that?" Jacob raised his eyebrows.
"His name is Miki." She smiled. "I must go now. Bon appetite.”
With a smile, Tess backed out the door and clicked it shut. Outside the door, she paused to confer with the other angels. "Plan C comes next," she told Monica and Andrew. "Be ready to speak when the Father orders, Andrew." The angel of death acquiesced.
Meanwhile, as the scents of the food wafted toward his nose, Jacob found his appetite. He set the metal tray on the small round table near the corner and took his seat there, facing the wall.
For the next several minutes, Barak ate his dinner. As he finished the dessert, a male voice spoke behind him.
“Hello, Jacob Barak.”
END OF CHAPTER 6