Free Chosen by Lisa T. Bergren

days from now. On Habad Street outside the Zion Gate.”
    “So soon after Beit Lid?”
    “We owe them many Beit Lids. This has been planned for months. It will have even greater impact coming soon after the Jihad attack.”
    “There’s certain to be civilians on that bus. Surely, Khalil al Aitam won’t endorse such a mad attack …”
    “Khalil will endorse whatever is necessary. This is a war.” The veins in Shehab’s neck stood out as his speech grew more and more passionate. “They think they can push us away … continue to build on our land … even take the Haram from us!”
    “The Haram?” Ridge asked sharply, thinking instantly of Alexana’s involvement.
    Shehab sat back, rubbing his eyes as if weary. “I will talk of that with you later. First we will see how you fare with the news you have. And how you pay for your information.”
    Ridge rose from his seat and threw another bill on the table. “How do I get ahold of you?”
    “You don’t,” Shehab said, grinning again as he studied the new hundred-dollar bill. “I will contact you.”
    Ridge left the suk and went directly to Alexana’s apartment, asking directions from people along the way. Finding her number at last, he knocked on the door and hoped that for once she would be home. To his surprise, she opened the door.
    “Ridge!” She was obviously surprised to see him.
    “Are you free for dinner? I need to talk with you about something.”
    Seeing the concern on his face, she nodded soberly and waved him inside. “Let me pull on a sweater. We can eat over on Ben Yehuda Street. I’ve been craving French, and a rich CNN correspondent with a generous expense account makes for just the right dinner companion.”
    He smiled and watched as she walked up steep stairs and disappeared into the bedroom above. “Nice apartment,” he said, loud enough for her to hear.
    “It works well for me,” she said, coming back down the steps while pulling on a deep green V-neck sweater over her T-shirt. “The dress code isn’t strict at Ben Yehuda, but it’s still cool outside in the evenings.”
    Ridge smiled. “Let’s go.”
    They hailed a cab outside Jaffa Gate, and the driver pulled into the chaotic one-way street traffic of West Jerusalem. Around them, drivers changed lanes and honked constantly, as if each vehicle carried a mother in labor. Ridge and Alexana’s cab reached Ben Yehuda quickly, and the two found a secluded table at Chateau, Alexana’s favorite restaurant.
    “So. I assume you’ve been busy since you haven’t been leaving message after message on my machine,” Alexana teased quietly. She studied his serious expression, so different from his usual roguish,devil-may-care look. “Something’s obviously bothering you, Ridge. What is it?”
    A waiter came and Alexana—noting that Ridge was irritated by the interruption—quickly ordered for both of them. “Bottled water and veal Marsala, please. Ridge, I’m sure you’d like it, too.”
    “Fine, fine,” he said, handing his menu to the waiter. “I’ll go with the lady’s suggestion.” He tried a smile, but it came out crooked. Alexana took it as a sign of fear and frustration. “I’m sorry,” Ridge continued. “I wish I were taking you out as a date. But I’m afraid I have business to discuss.”
    “To tell you the truth, Ridge, a date would make me feel uncomfortable,” Alexana said with a relieved sigh. “I’d rather meet with you as a friend or a business contact.”
    He frowned at her easy rebuff. “Well then. Let me cut to the chase. I met with a member of Hamas today.”
    “Khalil?”
    “No. Another man. Here’s my dilemma. I need advice, and since you seem to be my most politically unbiased contact, here it is: My contact told me there is to be another bus attack. I can’t tell you when or where. If you were in my shoes, what would you do with this information?”
    Alexana was unfazed by the news. “It could be true,” she said, considering. “Of