sounded out the word. “E-ras-mus Hall.” She looked at Maali. “This is a strange ring for an Arab woman to be wearing. Where
did you get it?”
TEN
A S THE SUN BURNED ITS WAY THROUGH LOW CLOUDS INTO THE Judean Hills, the recorded sing-song message summoning the faithful to the fourth prayer of the day echoed from the minaret
of the El Omariye Mosque in the Old City of Jerusalem. “
Allahu Akbar
,
Allahu Akbar
,” cried the
muezzin
. “Come to prayer, come to prayer. Come to prosperity, come to prosperity. God is most great, God is most great. There is
no god but Allah.” In the safe-house off Christian Quarter Road, only accessible by a maze of alleys and staircases and rooftop
passageways, the Doctor prostrated himself before the
mihrab
, the niche cut into the wall to indicate the direction of the Kaaba built by the Messenger Ibrahim at the heart of the holy
city of Mecca. Drumming his bruised forehead against the cracked Moorish floor tiles, savoring the pain, he recited the opening
verse of the Qur’an: “In the Name of God, the Merciful, the Compassionate. Praise belongs to God, Lord of all Being, the All-merciful,
the All-compassionate, the Master of the Day of Doom. Thee only we serve; to Thee alone we pray for succor. Guide us in the
straight path, the path of those whom Thou hast blessed.”
Next to the door reinforced with steel plating, the young Bedouin woman known as Petra sat before a green Israeli field radio,
monitoring military and police wavelengths through headphones. She was wearing blue jeans under her embroidered Bedouin robe.
A kerchief was thrown loosely over her short hair. Two AK-47s, along with several gas masks and a carton filled with loaded
clips and hand grenades, were within arm’s reach. Across the room, a large BritishMandate map of Palestine, with place names in Arabic, was taped to the wall over a bricked-in window. On the kitchen table
that doubled as a desk, glass paperweights with snow scenes from Switzerland weighed down stacks of newspaper clippings and
messages.
Seeing that the Doctor had almost finished his prayers, Petra, who spoke Hebrew like a native Israeli and had been disguised
as a
Haredi
when the Rabbi’s convoy was flagged down near the Zohar Reservoir, removed the headset, which pinched her ears, and set out
a pot of sweet tea and honey cakes on a low table to mark the end of the day’s Ramadan fast. Settling cross-legged onto a
Bedouin cushion before the low table, the Doctor poured himself a steaming cup of tea and blew noisily across the surface
to cool it. Leaning over the table, cupping his hand to collect the crumbs, he nibbled on one of the cakes and swallowed an
amphetamine capsule with his first gulp of tea. Across the room, in front of the
mihrab
, Yussuf Abu Saleh sank to his knees and began the evening’s recitation of the Qur’an; each night of Ramadan he read aloud
a thirtieth of the holy book in order to finish on the Feast of the Breaking of the Fast that marked the end of the holy month.
“
God knows well your enemies
,” he intoned.
Some of the Jews pervert words from their meaning … twisting with their tongues and traducing religion. If they had said,
“We have heard and obey” … it would have been better for them, and more upright; but God has cursed them for their unbelief
…
Finishing his break-fast, the Doctor walked over to the laundry sink in the corner. Letting the water run, he removed his
jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his robe and carefully scrubbed both of his hands and wrists and forearms to the elbows
with soap and a brush, then raised his hands above his head and shook them dry. Slipping back into his jacket, he nodded to
Petra, who came over and turned the faucet off for him.
Pushing open the thick reinforced door with the soft toe of his shoe, leaving the door ajar behind him, the Doctor made his
way into a rectangular room illuminated day and night by a
did you get it?”
TEN
A S THE SUN BURNED ITS WAY THROUGH LOW CLOUDS INTO THE Judean Hills, the recorded sing-song message summoning the faithful to the fourth prayer of the day echoed from the minaret
of the El Omariye Mosque in the Old City of Jerusalem. “
Allahu Akbar
,
Allahu Akbar
,” cried the
muezzin
. “Come to prayer, come to prayer. Come to prosperity, come to prosperity. God is most great, God is most great. There is
no god but Allah.” In the safe-house off Christian Quarter Road, only accessible by a maze of alleys and staircases and rooftop
passageways, the Doctor prostrated himself before the
mihrab
, the niche cut into the wall to indicate the direction of the Kaaba built by the Messenger Ibrahim at the heart of the holy
city of Mecca. Drumming his bruised forehead against the cracked Moorish floor tiles, savoring the pain, he recited the opening
verse of the Qur’an: “In the Name of God, the Merciful, the Compassionate. Praise belongs to God, Lord of all Being, the All-merciful,
the All-compassionate, the Master of the Day of Doom. Thee only we serve; to Thee alone we pray for succor. Guide us in the
straight path, the path of those whom Thou hast blessed.”
Next to the door reinforced with steel plating, the young Bedouin woman known as Petra sat before a green Israeli field radio,
monitoring military and police wavelengths through headphones. She was wearing blue jeans under her embroidered Bedouin robe.
A kerchief was thrown loosely over her short hair. Two AK-47s, along with several gas masks and a carton filled with loaded
clips and hand grenades, were within arm’s reach. Across the room, a large BritishMandate map of Palestine, with place names in Arabic, was taped to the wall over a bricked-in window. On the kitchen table
that doubled as a desk, glass paperweights with snow scenes from Switzerland weighed down stacks of newspaper clippings and
messages.
Seeing that the Doctor had almost finished his prayers, Petra, who spoke Hebrew like a native Israeli and had been disguised
as a
Haredi
when the Rabbi’s convoy was flagged down near the Zohar Reservoir, removed the headset, which pinched her ears, and set out
a pot of sweet tea and honey cakes on a low table to mark the end of the day’s Ramadan fast. Settling cross-legged onto a
Bedouin cushion before the low table, the Doctor poured himself a steaming cup of tea and blew noisily across the surface
to cool it. Leaning over the table, cupping his hand to collect the crumbs, he nibbled on one of the cakes and swallowed an
amphetamine capsule with his first gulp of tea. Across the room, in front of the
mihrab
, Yussuf Abu Saleh sank to his knees and began the evening’s recitation of the Qur’an; each night of Ramadan he read aloud
a thirtieth of the holy book in order to finish on the Feast of the Breaking of the Fast that marked the end of the holy month.
“
God knows well your enemies
,” he intoned.
Some of the Jews pervert words from their meaning … twisting with their tongues and traducing religion. If they had said,
“We have heard and obey” … it would have been better for them, and more upright; but God has cursed them for their unbelief
…
Finishing his break-fast, the Doctor walked over to the laundry sink in the corner. Letting the water run, he removed his
jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his robe and carefully scrubbed both of his hands and wrists and forearms to the elbows
with soap and a brush, then raised his hands above his head and shook them dry. Slipping back into his jacket, he nodded to
Petra, who came over and turned the faucet off for him.
Pushing open the thick reinforced door with the soft toe of his shoe, leaving the door ajar behind him, the Doctor made his
way into a rectangular room illuminated day and night by a
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