The Spear of Tyranny Page 9

  “Well,” she finally said, spreading her hands. “I do not know what to say. I respect your opinions, Mr. Levison, but I see no danger in the identification chip. What harm can an invisible microchip possibly do?”

  “Sarah,” her father’s voice was faintly reproving, “you are thinking of physical harm. Consider for a moment that spiritual harm may be inflicted by such a mark. Those who take the identification chip must also sign a statement of cooperation, no? And we are to be loyal to God first and foremost. Besides, the prohibition against the cutting of the flesh did not originate with the sages, it came from the Almighty himself, blessed be he. In Leviticus 21:5, HaShem told our fathers, ‘They shall not shave their heads, neither shall they shave off the corners of their beards, nor make any cuttings in their flesh.’”

  Sarah stared at her father, not knowing how to respond. She had never been able to debate Torah with him, for in his eyes common sense could not refute anything God had commanded.

  With a long, exhausted sigh, she pressed her hand to the table. “What would you have me do, Father?”

  He leaned toward her, covering her hand with his own. “Do not take the identification chip, Daughter. No matter what happens, do not let Isaac take it, either. My soul trembles to think of how easily this system could fall into the hands of a future Hitler.”

  She closed her eyes, resigning herself to the foolish promise, then looked at her father and nodded gravely. “Thank you for your concern. I promise—no identification chip.”

  There was a short silence and her words seemed to hang there as if for inspection, then her father and Yusef Levison smiled in approval.

  “Al-hámdu li-llá,” murmured the old man.

  “Thanks be to God,” her father echoed, his eyes soft with concern. “Thank you, my Sarah.”

  A week later, Sarah stepped back from the bureau and studied her face in the mirror. How pale her skin looked! Her eyes were too dark in her face, and, despite her careful makeup application, dark pockets lay beneath her eyes. Would Isaac notice? Would he guess that she had not been sleeping well?

  She ran a brush through her hair, then reached for her lipstick and swiped another stroke across her lips. The color seemed to help, so she gave the mirror a practice smile, then backed away again, a little surprised by her own behavior. She was behaving like a sixteen-year-old on her first date with a new boyfriend, not a thirty-year-old who’d been married over four years. Even though an entire month had passed since she’d seen Isaac, in the early years of their marriage work separated them for longer periods. When they came together again, it always seemed as if no time at all had passed . . .

  So why were her hands trembling?

  It wasn’t like they hadn’t spoken since he left for Paris. Isaac called at least twice a week and asked about the neighbors and her work. Then, after she assured him that all was well, he spoke in guarded tones about Romulus and the progress of the Universal Network. She knew the information he shared was public knowledge and freely available on the Internet, but he seemed to take pleasure in telling her about the Universal Network’s success in Africa, Mexico, and South America. The European Union Army had been completely reoutfitted as the Universal Force, he told her, and in a spirit of ecumenicalism, the World Council of Churches had recently changed its name to the Universal Faith Movement, with Adrian Romulus named as its titular head. In an effort to purge the world of old-fashioned intolerance and what Romulus called “religious apartheid,” this religious movement had united all faiths into one belief system. Religious Jews, however, had been exempted according to terms in the recent peace accord.

  The United States had joined the Universal Network, Isaac told Sarah, and Canada had followed almost immediately. China remained a problem, as did several African countries, but Romulus was working on the problem of compliance . . .

  As she listened to Isaac share details that revealed not one shred of new information, Sarah wryly thought that Shabak had mishandled a golden opportunity when they arranged to have her husband appointed to this liaison position. They had hoped that his loyalty to his wife might be useful in gleaning useful details about Romulus’s intentions for Israel, but they hadn’t known that Isaac’s spousal loyalty had faded months ago.

  After sharing the obvious, Isaac always dutifully inquired about her health and her work. She gave him obvious facts, too. Lily was well, the Arnans were fine, the weather was turning cool, and the tourists were out in force.

  She did not mention the break-in. She didn’t want to worry him, and she didn’t want him to come galloping home when his presence wouldn’t change a single aspect of the situation. The intruder had not returned, and, if the truth were known, Sarah reasoned that she was as well equipped to handle an intruder as Isaac. She carried a gun and knew how to use it, and she was nobody’s fool.

  That’s why she couldn’t explain her anxiety about this dinner. In an effort to keep the situation calm and pleasant, she had invited Isaac’s father to dinner as well, on the pretext of giving him a chance to visit with his long-absent son. The men would talk archeology at dinner, and their banter would cover the awkward silences that routinely fell between Sarah and Isaac these days.

  She went to the kitchen and peeked at the roast lamb in the oven, then swiped at the counter with a wet cloth. Her father would frown at her nonkosher kitchen, but he had never tried to balance a busy military career with the demands of marriage and . . . motherhood.

  The word ambushed her consciousness before she could prepare, but she pressed her lips together and slammed the palm of her hand against the refrigerator, beating back the attack with a barrage of pain against her own flesh. As she pulled away, she turned her thoughts toward the fresh agony and refused to consider the old.

  Motherhood no longer mattered. Her days of nurturing and tenderness had passed away with Binyamin. She felt no maternal urges now; she felt little other than a dogged determination to do her job and do it well. All she wanted was to earn respect from her peers and do her part to help guide Israel into a new and strangely different era.

  She flinched as the front door buzzer set Lily to barking. Of course Isaac would have to use the buzzer—she’d changed all the locks. He was probably standing on the porch with his suitcase, wondering if the cab had dropped him at the wrong house.

  She hurried forward, smoothing her stinging palm on her slacks, then opened the front door. Her careful smile cracked in relief when she saw Danny Melman standing on the porch.

  “Director Melman?”

  He flashed a smile, then waved a folder before her startled eyes. “I hate to bother you, Sarah, but I thought you ought to have this information. It came over the wires about ten minutes ago.”

  “You were at the office on Shabbat?” She cringed inwardly when surprise echoed in her voice.

  The tip of Melman’s nose went pink, but she couldn’t tell if he was embarrassed because he’d been working on a religious holiday or because he had nothing better to do than go to the office on his day off. “I had some important work to do,” he told her, still looking somewhat abashed. “And I like working on Saturday. It’s quiet.”

  “I’m sorry—I didn’t mean anything by the comment.”

  Sarah wavered, not certain whether she should just take the file or invite him in, but he settled the question for her. “As long as I was coming over here, I thought I’d take a look to make sure your locks are tight,” he added. “I still shudder when I think about what might have happened if you had surprised the intruders who broke into your house.”

  How could she refuse that kind of gallantry? “That’s very kind.” She stepped aside and welcomed him with a smile as she held Lily’s collar. Melman was a tall man and seemed suddenly taller when he filled the small space that served as her foyer. His brow lifted when he spied her dining room table set for three.

  He looked at her, his eyes direct and questioning. “I’m sorry. Are you expecting guests?”

  “Isaac’s comin
g home.” Her words came out hoarse, forced through a constricted throat. “I expect him and his father any time now.”

  “Then I’ll just have a quick look at the locks and be on my way.” With the efficient air of a law enforcement officer, Melman walked through the kitchen, inspected the back door’s deadbolt, then moved into the living room. Driven by curiosity and a desperate need for attention, Lily followed him.

  He paused by the sliding doors that opened to the courtyard. “These doors are a disaster waiting to happen, you know,” he said, jiggling the sliders on their track. “Any determined thief could take these things down in a flash.”

  “I’m hoping no one will be that determined.” Sarah leaned against the wall and smiled. “Since they found nothing of value here last time, I’m hoping all the street punks know I’m broke. I don’t think they’ll be back.”

  Melman grunted, then turned to face her. “I’ll be honest— there’s another reason for my visit. I’ve noticed that lately you seem . . . a little distracted. Are you really all right? If the break-in is bothering you, I could arrange to have a guard posted outside—”

  Sarah lifted her hand and managed a laugh. “There’s no need for anything so drastic. Break-ins are common these days, so I don’t expect special treatment. And I can take care of myself.”

  “Then”—his gaze dropped like a stone—“is something else troubling you?”

  Sarah closed her eyes. She would love to confide in someone safe, but she wasn’t sure the deputy director was an appropriate choice. Yet she had no women friends outside the office, she refused to burden her friends within the office, and she couldn’t tell her father without breaking his heart. No one in her life would want to know about the cold wasteland her marriage had become.

  “There is something,” she began, staring at her hands, “but it’s personal, and I’m trying to come to terms with it.” She drew a deep breath and forbade her voice to tremble. “I just need a little time . . . and something to keep me busy. I get lonely if I sit around and think too much.”

  “I understand loneliness.”

  “You do?” She caught his gaze for a moment, then broke eye contact, her gaze drifting off to safer territory. Danny Melman seemed the epitome of confident competence, and he was all she had ever wanted in a boss. Could he be all she needed in a friend?

  He coughed slightly and extended the file. “Well, this is what I wanted to give you—the computer guru’s report. No files on your hard drive were tampered with, but the registry log did record a start-up at 10:43 A.M. that day. I’m assuming you were at work by that time.”

  Sarah opened the file and stared at the report, her mind working. “Yes, I’m always at work by nine. So if they turned the computer on at 10:43—”

  “The log says the machine shut down at 10:48. So apparently they booted the machine up, took a quick look around, and decided you didn’t have anything worth taking.”

  Looking up, Sarah saw something moving behind his eyes. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  Melman shifted his weight, obviously uncomfortable. “Well, if we’re talking someone more sophisticated than street thugs, there are things they could do even in so short a time. In five minutes they could download the entire contents of your hard drive if they wanted to. So, just in case, the computer guys are going to install a new fire wall on our proxy server. They’re thinking that all the damage in your home could have been intended to distract us and cover up their primary target—your computer.”

  Sarah’s thoughts raced. “Why would anyone want to access my computer? If they wanted access to Shin Bet, there are a thousand easier targets.”

  “But only one Shin Bet agent is closely associated with the Universal Force.” Melman leaned back against the wall and folded his arms, a watchful fixity in his face. “Don’t forget about your husband’s new position. He may have been the target. They may have wanted to pull his files off the machine. We just don’t know.”

  Sarah turned the thought over in her mind. Isaac? His work in Paris seemed miles away, but Melman had made a good point. The invasion had occurred after he left for Paris, so someone might have hoped to steal his files, his passwords, or even his e-mails to his wife . . . if he had been thoughtful enough to send any.

  Sarah dismissed that chafing thought and looked up at her boss. “I encrypt everything that has to do with my work,” she said, thinking hard. “So if they did copy my hard drive, they won’t be able to break the code.”

  “Never say never.” Smiling, Melman straightened and came toward her, then lifted his hand and trailed his fingers along her cheek. “Nothing’s impossible anymore, Sarah. Never forget that.”

  She stiffened at his touch. He never touched her in the office, never came this close. She stood without moving, locked in a paralysis of disbelief while his gaze traveled over her face and searched her eyes.

  The front door buzzed again. Lily sprang toward the foyer, her tail wagging.

  With a sigh of gratitude, Sarah looked away. “That must be Isaac or his father.”

  “Say no more. I’ll be going.”

  He spoke gently, as if assuring her that he did not want to cause trouble or put her in an awkward situation, yet she heard no trace of uncertainty in his voice. Danny Melman excelled and succeeded in everything he did, and with that one touch, Sarah intuited that he intended to succeed with her, too. He was an expert at reading people, and he had read her like a book. He knew her marriage was dead, and he knew her husband hadn’t been home in over a month . . .

  She lowered her eyes as she moved toward the door, praying that Isaac wouldn’t notice the blush that burned her cheeks. But it wasn’t Isaac—Ephraim Ben-David and another man Sarah had never met stood on the porch in an awkward silence. Director Melman stood behind Sarah as she made hurried introductions, then Ephraim introduced his companion as Dr. Thomas Parker, an archeologist from America.

  “A pleasure to meet you,” Melman said, stepping through the doorway. “Aleichem shalom to you both.”

  As Melman moved down the sidewalk to his car, her father-in-law turned to her. “A friend, Sarah?”

  “My boss,” she answered. She tapped the folder in her hand. “He had to bring me an important report.”

  “Ah,” Ephraim said, moving into the house, “that explains it.”

  But it didn’t. With crystal clarity, Sarah realized that Melman didn’t have to bring the report. He had come to her home, on his own and on his day off, to check on her welfare . . . and to tell her, however subtly, that her marriage was so obviously dead that he felt at liberty to advance.

  Something clenched in her stomach. As Ephraim and the American struggled to move past Lily’s enthusiastic greeting, Sarah turned toward the door to hide the look of pain that surely filled her eyes.

  “Sarah,” Ephraim called, his voice seeming to come from miles away. “I hope an extra guest will not inconvenience you. You are such a gracious hostess, and Thomas and Isaac have met before—”

  She forced an answer through her thick throat. “It’s no trouble. I’ll just set another place.” Leaving the dog to entertain her guests, she hurried toward the kitchen, grateful to have something to do with her hands.

  ELEVEN

  ISAAC SLIPPED HIS KEY INTO THE LOCK AND TURNED, BUT the mechanism did not give. Perplexed, he dropped his suitcase and pulled the key from the door, then noticed that the shiny brass lock did not match the dull color of the key in his hand.

  A new lock. Why?

  He pressed the buzzer, and in a moment heard the muffled sound of a male voice. Stiffening in surprise, he glanced around to be certain he had approached the right house, then the door opened.

  Isaac gaped at his father.

  “My son!” Careful not to spill the drink in his hand, Ephraim Ben-David held out one arm in greeting. “Welcome home!”

  Isaac stepped into his father’s embrace, patted him quickly, then picked up his suitcase and moved inside the foyer. The house seemed
smaller than he remembered, but after the spacious rooms of Romulus’s chateau, he suspected anything would seem small and cramped.

  Lily stood at his feet, her front paws clicking the wooden floor in a tap dance of canine delight. Isaac stooped to rub her silky ears. “Has Sarah, um—”

  “Sarah’s in the kitchen, polishing up a leg of lamb or something. Whatever it is, it smells heavenly, and we are so hungry we were about to start without you.”

  We? Isaac shoved his suitcase into a corner and peered into the living room. A tall, familiar man sat on the sofa, and he stood as Isaac approached. Lost for a moment as he mentally shifted between Paris and Israel, Isaac searched his memory for the man’s name and came up with it just as the fellow thrust out his hand. “Thomas Parker. It’s good to see you again, Major.”

  “Call me Isaac. And the pleasure’s mine.”

  Isaac felt his mouth twist in bitter amusement as he looked from Thomas to his father. He had been looking forward to time alone with Sarah, but obviously someone had made other plans. “So, Father,” he said, gesturing to the sofa so the men would sit, “what’s the occasion? I would imagine that nothing short of a miracle could tear you away from that dig.”

  “Sarah insisted.” His father paused to sip at his wine glass. “She wanted to throw a little surprise dinner for you. A nice idea, if you ask me.”

  Isaac smiled. “Very nice.”

  “She’s a lovely girl,” Thomas Parker offered, crossing his long legs. “And so bright! Your father tells me she works for the Shin Bet.”

  “That’s right.” Isaac glanced over his shoulder toward the kitchen, where he heard the creak and slam of cupboards. “And if you gentlemen would excuse me, I’d like to say hello to her.”