“Well, it fits. The Arab guy had spread the word that he would pay good money for information the IRGC might find interesting. The father and son told the Arab they just might know where six Mossad operatives could be found. The Arab told the IRGC, and there you go.”

“Amazing. Two betrayals, two different actors. Everybody and everything is for sale in the Middle East. Any idea what happened to the Kurds?”

“This part is just rumor from the Kurd community right now, but word is the IRGC wasn’t too thrilled about one of their squads being wiped out by a mysterious helicopter incursion. They needed scapegoats, and the driver and son fit the bill, as did the Arab guy. Sounds like they may not still be among the living.”

Nicole stood and lifted both mugs. “Hang on,” she said, then walked to the counter. A few minutes later, she came back with just one mug and placed it in front of Nir.

“Thanks.”

Sitting, she reached across the table, took his hand, and looked right into his eyes. “Now, in all honesty, how close was it?”

“Honestly? If that CIA chopper hadn’t come in all Apocalypse Now, I wouldn’t be here.”

She held his eyes, then leaned back in her chair and looked down at her lap.

“I know what you’re thinking, Nicole. What would have happened to me if I hadn’t made it out of there alive? Well, you might be interested to know I actually had a talk with your God when I was in the midst of it.”

Nicole looked up and raised her eyebrows. “I did.

I don’t know if it had anything to do with how the battle turned out. But if so, then I owe Him one—a big one.”

Nicole smiled and shook her head. “You still don’t get it, Nir. It doesn’t work that way.”

“What do you mean?” He’d thought Nicole would be excited that he’d prayed, but as usual, she liked to zag when he thought she’d zig.

“Think about it. What do you have that God needs?”

Nir started to answer her question several times, but each time he stopped before the words came out. Everything that came to mind seemed silly or petty.

She continued. “People think God works on some kind of barter system. You scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours. But it doesn’t work like that. It can’t work like that. It’s like a three-year-old offering you something for your BMW. What could he possibly have for a fair trade?”

Nir laughed. “Remember, I’m a Jew. There’s always a deal to be made.”