Rina held back a laugh. There were six hundred thousand Jews in LA. “No, I’m afraid I don’t.” She wiped sweat off her forehead. “It’s miserable work out here. Again, I apologize for upsetting you.” Her expression was kind. “Thank you for taking me inside the Ma’arah.”

“I have to take you,” the soldier said, grumpily. “Who knows who is a terrorist anymore?”

“I’m not a terrorist.”

The soldier closed his eyes, then opened them. “I see with my own eyes that you’re a good woman. Because I followed you in the Ma’arah. I saw the tears in your eyes when you prayed, the expression on your face when you davened shemona esreh. I saw you mouth the words with clarity, with assurance, with purpose and meaning. Your posture, your sincerity. It shows through as if you have a window to your heart. You pray to a God of mercy, not to a God of revenge. Many pray here—Arab and Jew. I don’t think you’re a crazy fanatic. And I don’t think you are an Arab spy, either. Many try to pretend to be us to infiltrate. They speak our language, eat kosher food, drink our wine, and love our women. But they cannot love our God. They may know the motions of prayer, but they don’t have the emotions.”

The soldier paused.

“Here there has been too much bloodshed caused by small minds. I talk to the settlers, try to tell them that bloodshed and revenge is their way, their customs, their laws. It is not our way.” He shook his head. “I talk too much.”

“You feel deeply.”

“You would too if you did this job. It stinks. I think they’re leaving for Jerusalem. I’ll introduce you to the group. I don’t want you to get hurt. Too many people have already gotten hurt.”

After an hour of walking proved fruitless, Decker returned to the phone calls. First, Menkovitz’s office. He had called so many times, the secretary recognized his voice.

“No, your wife has not come back here, Mr. Decker. I call you if she comes.”

“She hasn’t phoned, maybe left a message?”

“No, sir.”

“Thank you.”

“Thank you.”

Click!

Decker slammed the receiver and cursed out loud.

He tried the police. He tried to explain the situation, but there was a language barrier. In the end, all he could do was wait.

Three hours! Where the hell could she have gone?

Time for the Mideast geography lesson.

Once again, Decker quit pacing long enough to study the road map of the region. It was a big mama thing he’d bought at the overpriced bookstore downstairs. He couldn’t believe the prices! They had wanted eleven bucks for a paperback!