Free The Masada Complex by Avraham Azrieli Page B

of its engine.
    He tugged on the seatbelt, which hurt his shoulder. “The Fair Aid Act would cause suspension of military aid and a full-scale Senate investigation. One committee might spawn seven subcommittees, and so on. To discredit your accusations, the Israelis must discredit you. I’m sad to see them lie—”
    “Who said they’re lying?”
    The rabbi was stunned. “Did you really go to prison? ”
    She hit the brakes, stopping with a screech at the side of the road. “You have a problem with that?”
    The hurt in her eyes shocked him more than the revelation of her past imprisonment. “I’m sorry that you suffered.”
    She touched his face. “You’re too good.”
    Facing her so closely, he saw specks of gold in the dark green of her eyes. He leaned closer, craving to taste her moist lips.
    Masada retreated a bit, and in that sliver of time he glimpsed Linda’s face between them and turned away, coughing to hide a groan.

     
    Elizabeth McPherson sat at the prosecution table. The arguments had been intense, but her meticulous preparations had paid off again. Judge Tolstoy Rashinski pounded his gavel. “This court hereby accepts Miss McPherson’s position that the Immigration Service proved that this couple’s marriage was a scheme to obtain a green card for the husband.”
    Defense counsel stood up. “Your Honor, the evidence points that way, but now they are in love. Really!” He motioned at the dyed-blonde, skeletal woman and her Mexican husband. “It would be a crime to separate them just because of a technicality.”
    “The law,” Elizabeth stood, “is not a technicality, and this case is not a romance novel. Immigration fraud requires deportation.”
    The young woman suddenly spoke up. “But I’m pregnant.”
    “The child’s welfare,” defense counsel declared, “takes precedent!”
    “I object!” Elizabeth could not believe her ears. This pitiful flat-chested woman was pregnant ?
    But the judge had no choice. He sent the two lawyers, the court reporter, and the young woman to the ladies’ room, where she proved her condition by urinating on a store-bought pregnancy test.
    Back in the courtroom, the judge glanced at the proof without touching it and brokered a compromise, which Elizabeth had to accept. Instead of deportation, which would make the Mexican ineligible forever, he would leave the United States voluntarily and apply again.
    Judge Rashinski ordered him handed to the Border Patrol to be escorted across the border. While Elizabeth was packing up her papers, she saw the Mexican kneel before his purported wife and bury his face in her tummy.

     
    Professor Levy Silver crossed Encanto Park in a measured stroll, the beret pulled down to his brow. He stopped to let an open train with squealing kids rumble across the path. Passing the pedal-boat rental dock, he approached the service shed by the shore of the lake. The combination of extreme heat and standing water made it hard to breathe, but he knew there was no risk of running into any acquaintances from Temple Zion.
    The service shed sat on a concrete pad that jutted into the brown water. Silver stood at the edge, hands behind his back. He wondered whether fish survived in the thick broth that licked his shoes.
    “Professor!”
    Silver waved at the approaching pedal boat.
    Rajid helped him into the boat and pedaled away from shore. His tanned legs moved smoothly, his muscles bulging under the white shorts. As always, the handler from Ramallah wore enough cologne to ward off the stench of the lake.
    “Let me help you.” Silver’s shoes rested on the rubber pedals and joined the turning motion. He adjusted his beret and wiped the sweat off his forehead.
    “A fantastic day,” Rajid declared, “isn’t it?”
    The handler was always cheerful, but the years had taught Silver to be wary of his temper. They met regularly on the first Tuesday of each month, though it was unclear how he was able to travel so freely. “Did you have