Wings of Refuge

  “I was never given that information,” he said stiffly. “I can only guess that if it was, they were searching for evidence of your involvement . . . or else they wanted to apply pressure to see if you contacted someone.”

  “Have you been reading my email?” When he didn’t answer, Abby’s temper flared. “If you’ve done anything to put my children in danger, I’ll—!”

  She would . . . what? Retaliate? That’s what Ari was doing. That’s why he had become an agent. If Abby felt this much hatred toward the people who merely threatened her family, what must Ari feel to lose his wife and unborn child? She could understand why he would want revenge. But then Hannah had lost everyone she loved, too, and Hannah had found a force stronger than hatred and vengeance. She had found the strength to forgive.

  “It was my job,” Ari said quietly. “I was simply doing my job.”

  Abby drew a deep breath to calm herself. “I know you don’t believe me, but I had nothing to do with Ben’s death.”

  He shrugged slightly. His arm was draped on his desk as he sat back in his chair, and he toyed with the keys on his laptop computer as he talked. “It doesn’t matter if I believe you or not. I was assigned to follow you, so I did.”

  “I’m trying to find the strength to forgive you for invading my privacy . . . for using me that day you held me when I cried—”

  “You’re wrong,” he said sharply. He sat up straight and his eyes met hers, refusing to release them. “If I used you that day, it was not in the way you think. I was sent as a professional—to do a job. I was supposed to crack down on you, pressure you, scare you if I had to. I wasn’t supposed to let personal feelings get in the way. But for the first time in my career, I slipped. Ben’s death hit me hard. I needed comfort just as badly as you did that day.” His gaze finally broke its hold on her, and he looked away. “Ben was my mentor and a good friend—as well as Rachel’s uncle. I can’t imagine why Shur even assigned me to the case, under the circumstances. I guess he needed a convincing archaeologist.”

  “Wait a minute . . . You work for Agent Shur? You mean that whole little scene where he was questioning me and you arrived in time to rescue me from him . . . was an act?”

  “Dov Shur is my boss. He was also Ben’s boss.”

  “Do you know why Ben was killed?”

  “I can guess.” Ari paused, playing with the computer keys again. “Ben was one of the middlemen in the peace process. From what I gather, he secretly shuttled back and forth between the Israelis and the Palestinians, relaying the terms each side was willing to offer for peace and what concessions each was willing to make. Lately, there have been a lot of setbacks—inside information was being leaked to some of the militant groups opposed to peace. There was even some sabotage. Ben was trying to find the source of those leaks. He must have gotten too close.”

  “Listen, Ari, I would like to find Ben’s killer, too. But it’s a stupid waste of your time to follow me. Why don’t you look for the real killer? Ben said he’d found the traitor, remember? Why aren’t you looking for him?”

  Ari grew very still. “What do you mean?”

  “Those were Ben’s last words before he died. He said he was sure there was a traitor.”

  “I was told that he hadn’t said anything before he died.”

  “But he did! I told your boss and that other agent who questioned me at the airport what Ben said.”

  “Told them what?”

  “Ben’s last words. He mumbled something that sounded like tore or torn . . . and he said there was a traitor. He was sure there was a traitor.”

  “Any information Ben carried was never found. We assume his killer took it. But I know Ben. If he had evidence of a traitor—and especially after the bomb threat in Amsterdam—he would have made a backup copy of that information and hidden it somewhere. One of the reasons I was following you was on the odd chance that if you had that information, you would try to pass it to someone.”

  “But Ben didn’t give me anything.”

  “You could have it and not know it,” he said quietly. “But I assume they thoroughly searched your things, right? I know they searched the airplane.”

  “You mean he might have planted it on me?” The thought terrified Abby. “What would this information look like? Microfilm? A computer disk?”

  “Nothing technological. Ben didn’t have time. If he gave you something, it would have been while you were on the airplane.”

  “He was right beside me all that time except for when he—” Abby stopped, too shocked and frightened to finish her sentence. She was involved in this. She had been all along.

  Ari grabbed her shoulders, his grip almost painful. “Except for what? Tell me!”

  “My Bible . . . I’ve been finding strange markings in it . . . and Ben borrowed my Bible when we were on the airplane.”

  “Show me!” Ari hauled her to her feet by one arm and they hurried next door to her room. Her hands were shaking as she pulled her Bible from her knapsack.

  “The Torah,” Ari breathed. “You said he mumbled tore or torn . . . could he have been saying Torah?”

  Abby realized that what she had mistaken for a sigh or a moan at the end of the word was actually the second syllable. “Yes. That’s exactly what he said.”

  “Show me these markings.”

  Abby had found most of them scattered throughout the Psalms. She opened to that book and paged through it, tilting the Bible to the light until she found some of the underlined letters.

  “Here . . .” she said, handing the Bible to Ari. He put on his eyeglasses to examine it closely.

  “This looks like a very old-fashioned code I’ve heard about that uses the chapters and verses of Scripture,” he said.

  “Can you decode it?”

  “Not unless I know Ben’s starting verse. Otherwise, they are just random markings, some of them decoys to make computerized unscrambling long and difficult. The chapter and verse of the key Scripture tell how to decode it.”

  “I’m not sure I understand. How do we find out the key verse?”

  “Ben probably told it to you in the course of your conversation. Do you recall him reciting any verses to you?”

  Abby struggled to remember, but anxiety wiped her mind blank. “He was reciting psalms when we took off because I was so scared and—”

  “No.” Ari shook his head, impatient with her. “Later in the flight. After he talked to you. After he was sure you weren’t involved in the bomb threat. After he decided to put the code in your Bible. When did he borrow it?”

  “He took it to the rear of the plane when he went back there to pray with the other men.”

  “Did he quote any verses after that?”

  Abby closed her eyes, trying to put herself back in the airplane, trying to imagine Benjamin Rosen seated beside her, trying desperately to recall his words. Nearly a month had passed. She had read many verses of Scripture since then. “I’m sorry . . . I can’t remember.”

  His anger and frustration showed on his scowling face. “I will take this, please,” he said, holding up her Bible. “Shur will want to try unscrambling it on the computer. This is my pager number. Call and leave me a message if you remember anything else.”

  It was only after Ari gave Abby his card and left that she began to wonder if she had done the right thing. Whoever had killed Ben had wanted to sabotage the peace process. Ari hated the Palestinians for killing his wife and child. He’d said he would never believe they wanted peace.

  Why hadn’t Ari’s boss told him about Ben’s last words? Was it because he also suspected that Ari Bazak was the traitor?

  TEL DEGANIA EXCAVATION—1999

  Abby was very surprised when Ari arrived with everyone else at the dig site the next morning. He proceeded to direct the work at the villa as if he was nothing more than an archaeologist. These would be their last few days of work. Abby was sorry to see them end. Hannah gathered the group together at the close of the morning to give one of her
final lectures.

  “We’ve seen how Israel was a land in crisis in Jesus’ day,” she began. “The people who lived here suffered under their enemies. We’ve talked about the Pharisees, the Sadducees, and the Zealots, and their responses to this crisis—withdrawal, compromise, fighting back. When the promised Messiah arrived, all three groups missed His coming because they had false expectations.

  “You see, all of them expected to be set free from their enemies, the Romans,” she continued. “But Jesus knew that the real enemy who keeps us in bondage is not ‘out there’—it’s within us, our own sinful nature. Jesus extended God’s grace to mankind. It was the key to freeing us from that bondage, the key to His Kingdom.”

  From where Abby stood, she could see both Ari and Marwan standing on opposite sides of the gathered volunteers. Marwan had his hands in his pockets, Ari stood with his arms folded across his chest—but they wore nearly identical expressions on their faces. Neither was willing to forgive. Both wanted to strike back at their enemies to avenge their loved ones. For them, the score would never be settled. She recalled Ahmed’s words—the strategy of an eye for an eye blinded everyone.

  “Peace with our fellow man isn’t won by military victories,” Hannah told them. “It’s won when we extend God’s grace to each other. Peace with God doesn’t come through our good works or by following a set of rules and rituals—nor is there any need for sacrifices. The sacrifice that brings peace has already been made through Jesus Christ; the price of our redemption has been paid. Jesus’ followers have received grace—undeserved, freely given. We in turn are to be dispensers of that grace, demonstrating His redemption to the world.

  “We’ve uncovered two very different houses here; one very lavish, the other very poor. Most rulers, like the Romans, build their kingdoms on the backs of the people. But Jesus’ Kingdom is upside down from all earthly kingdoms. His rulers don’t lord over their subjects but are their servants. They don’t grow rich and powerful at other people’s expense, but like a shepherd, they willingly lay down their own lives for their sheep. His Kingdom comes, His peace comes as we forgive each other’s debts, even as our own debts have been forgiven. We’ve been taught to pray, ‘Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done on earth.’ That means according to God’s design and pattern.

  “I want to end by reading you this verse from Psalms,” Hannah said. “May it be a reminder to you that we can all become one in Christ: ‘How good and pleasant it is when brothers live together in unity. . . ’”

  The Scripture verse jolted Abby as if someone had grabbed her by the shoulders and shaken her. That was it! As soon as the words were out of Hannah’s mouth, Abby recognized them as Benjamin Rosen’s key verse. He had read it to her before returning her Bible. She must tell Ari right away.

  But when she glanced at him again, a prickle of suspicion crawled up her spine. The verse wouldn’t help solve Ben’s murder if Ari was the murderer.

  Abby didn’t know what to do.

  She pondered her dilemma as she rode back to the hotel, as she showered, as she listened to the other volunteers talking to each other at lunch. When she passed Hannah’s bungalow on her way back to her own, she realized that more than anyone else, Hannah would want to capture Ben’s killer. She knocked on Hannah’s door.

  “Please forgive me for asking such an insensitive question,” Abby said as Hannah invited her inside, “but I need to hear the answer from you. I think I might have the key to solving Ben’s murder—I’ve had it all along and didn’t know it. But now I don’t know who to trust with it. The last thing Ben said was that there was a traitor.” Abby took a deep breath, then exhaled. “With Ari feeling the way he does about making peace with the Palestinians, is it possible . . . could he have had anything to do with Ben’s death?”

  Hannah didn’t react with anger or shock. She sat on the arm of the chair as she stared at the carpet, deep in thought. It took her a long time to answer, but when she did, her words were spoken with quiet certainty. “No. It isn’t possible. Art’s love for Ben was stronger than his hatred for his enemies.”

  “Thank you,” Abby breathed as she hugged Hannah in relief. “Then Ari is going to find the person who killed Ben.”

  Abby hurried back to her own bungalow and pounded on Ari’s door. There was no answer, so she tried the knob and found it locked. His curtains were closed. She decided to write him a note, asking him to come and see her as soon as he got back, and wedged it into his doorjamb. Then she returned to her own room to wait.

  She tried reading her devotional but didn’t get very far before remembering that she no longer had a Bible. She stood, nervously pacing the narrow room, peering through the window each time she passed it, watching for Ari. Suddenly she remembered the card he had given her with his pager number. Abby dug in the pocket of the pants she had worn last night, then quickly dialed the number. The recording told her to leave a message after the beep.

  “Ari, this is Abby. I remembered Ben’s verse! Call me as soon as you can!”

  Shortly before suppertime, someone knocked on her door. She opened it, expecting to see Ari, and faced Dov Shur, the agent from the airport with the curly white hair and milk-commercial mustache. He was dressed in casual clothes-slacks and a sport coat without a tie—and wore his identification badge clipped to his pocket. He was smiling and waving the note she had written to Ari, acting much friendlier than he had the last time she’d met him.

  “Hi, I’m Dov Shur, Ari’s boss. He won’t be back, I’m afraid. There’s really no point in having him follow you any longer, since you know who he is. May I come in?”

  Abby moved aside to allow him to enter. He closed the door behind him, stuffed the note into his pocket, then pulled out the desk chair and sat down. “Whatever you needed to tell Ari, you can tell me. I know all about the code Ben wrote in your Bible.”

  Abby couldn’t speak. She didn’t know this man, and his sudden appearance made her uneasy. She had been suspicious of Ari being a traitor just a few hours ago . . . how much more so this stranger. Until she knew for certain, she decided to trust no one. The information had cost Ben Rosen his life.

  “It . . . it was . . . nothing important,” she stammered as she sat on the bed. “Just a question about the mosaic floor we found.”

  He leaned forward in his chair, his expression sincere, remorseful. “I came to apologize on behalf of our government for keeping you under surveillance. You had a right to privacy, and we violated that.”

  Abby exhaled. “I was angriest about the break-in of my home in Indiana.”

  “But we had nothing to do with that.”

  He looked her directly in the eye when he said it. Abby was so relieved that she could only nod.

  “It’s my sincere hope, Mrs. MacLeod, that Agent Bazak explained everything to you, that you now understand why we had to follow you, and that you will forgive us.”

  Abby swallowed. “Of course. I already told Ari that I forgive him.”

  “Thank you.” He leaned back in his chair and seemed to relax slightly. “Benjamin Rosen was one of my best men . . . and a good friend. I would do anything to find his killer. Am I correct in assuming that you would be willing to help find his killer, too?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Good. Then I would like to ask you to do something for us. I would like you to call your Palestinian friend, Marwan Ashrawi, and invite him to come here.”

  “But why?”

  “So I can talk to him. He knew, somehow, that Ari was an agent. I need to know where he got that information.”

  Abby hesitated, unwilling to come between the Palestinians and the Israelis. Marwan trusted her. He said it was a sign of that trust that they had eaten together.

  “I don’t think I can do that,” she said.

  Shur sighed. “Don’t get me wrong—we could come down hard on Ashrawi without your help if that’s what we intended. We could have already picked him up for questioning. He was at the work site today, wasn’t
he? I’m afraid that if we did corner him, he would deny that he ever told you such a thing. But if you were present as a witness . . . well, he could hardly deny it, could he?”

  Abby felt confused. She couldn’t think. Something about this didn’t feel right.

  “Please, Abby,” Agent Shur begged. “I want to talk to him in a nonthreatening environment. I would rather not have to drag him into a police station.”

  Abby recalled Marwan’s story about his son being detained and questioned for no reason. She didn’t want Marwan to be put through a humiliating scene like that, but she was still reluctant to agree.

  “I don’t know his phone number,” she said.

  Agent Shur reached into the pocket of his sport coat and produced a piece of paper with a number written on it. Then he slid Abby’s telephone over to the edge of the desk where she could reach it.

  “If he wants to know why you’re calling, you may tell him it concerns Ari Bazak, which is the truth. You don’t need to mention my presence.”

  Abby didn’t feel right about what he was asking her to do, but she also felt as though she had no choice. She would feel worse if they arrested Marwan and forcibly interrogated him. Drawing a deep breath, she dialed his number.

  “Marwan, this is Abby,” she said when he answered the telephone. “Could you please come over to the hotel right away? I need to ask you something.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I’d rather not say over the phone. It’s about what we discussed the other night. I’m in bungalow twelve.” Marwan took a long time to reply. Abby almost hoped he would refuse.

  “All right,” he said at last. “Give me twenty minutes.”

  “You don’t feel right about this, do you?” Shur said after she hung up. His tone was sympathetic. “I understand. But I assure you, if Ashrawi has a logical explanation for his inside knowledge, then everything will be all right.”

  “Marwan told me that he has been working on digs every summer for several years. Maybe he heard about Ari quitting. I know there were rumors about it, because Dr. Voss heard them, too.”