Hadassah Covenant, The by Tommy Tommy Tenney, Mark A Page A

negotiating, he mentally zeroed in on what might be the true source of her frustration.
    He again ran his hand over his face, then stared at her as though he was seeing her for the first time. He briefly wondered if the small bit of shrapnel that had pierced her womb had also blown apart his marriage. The physical wound was healing quickly enough—yet the question of children festered, unanswered.
    “What does Hadassah tell you about this?” he finally replied.
    She frowned, misunderstanding. “ Me ?”
    “No. The ancient one. The Hadassah who wrote in your family’s journals.”
    Her eyes flashed with quick anger. “What about her?”
    “G-d had a plan for her.”
    “Yes. She was one in a million. What I wonder, when I read those journals, is what about the young concubine to whom she wrote the letters? Leah? She’s my ancestor, remember. Not Esther. What about her ? Is it possible that her only reason for being on earth was to pass on that journal? Was that it? To spend years in some royal harem being essentially raped once every few months, year after year? Is that what a loving G-d had in mind for her life?”
    “I don’t know.” Jacob shook his head slowly, wishing he had not brought up the subject.
    “No. We don’t. But here’s what I came to ask you. See, I didn’t want you to just listen. I have a request. Not from my husband, but from my Prime Minister. I need a favor.”
    “Name it.”
    “I’m a scholar. An investigator, at least in an academic sense. Let me help find out who came after you. The one who killed my Poppa.”
    “You don’t think it’s the usual suspects? Hamas, Hezbollah, Fatah . . .”
    “No, honey. Jacob. I don’t.” She smiled wryly at the inadvertent endearment.
    “Why not?”
    “First of all, because if it had been, they’d be stumbling all over themselves to claim responsibility. And in over two weeks, there’s been complete silence. Second, because I know you would have told me if the intelligence had come back with anything. And third . . .”
    “Yes? Third?”
    “Because of Poppa’s last words.” She automatically lowered her voice. “He wanted me to hear him so badly, he just refused to die until he’d gotten the words out. He said, ‘ She did not perish. You must find her.’”
    “Why didn’t you tell me this? I didn’t know he said anything!”
    “Because I haven’t been sure if it meant anything. But I’ve been thinking about it for the last two weeks, and now I’m convinced. Besides, I think you and your people haven’t the first clue why that man attacked. And I think my father knew. Something.”
    For the first time all day, Prime Minister ben Yuda looked shocked. He stared ahead into space, searching for an answer in the thin air.
    “Do you have an answer for me?” she asked.
    Rather than speaking, he reached over to a dark green folder among the papers to his left. He pressed down on its surface and slid the cardboard toward her.
    She made no move to open it.
    “What does it say?” she asked.
    “This top-secret report concludes that the bombing was not carried out by any known Palestinian group. And that it was probably not even directed at me. Who it was actually directed at may never be known, although the investigation continues. The document was presented to me twenty minutes before you arrived.”
    They both exhaled and let a long, tense pause flow between them. “Hadassah, I suppose it makes sense for you to spend some time researching this. You might even be entitled. I’ll open some doors for you, quietly. Try to improve your access to people and documents. But I have to warn you. First, you have to be careful. No playing secret agent. And second, this cannot come out. If the world discovered that the Israeli First Lady was conducting some kind of ad hoc personal investigation, I and my intelligence cadres would be humiliated. Do you understand? With the very first media report of this, it’s over.