“This was the original Pool of Bethesda,” Sophie said as they peered down into the now-dusty depths. “It was originally a reservoir for the First and Second Temples, then baths were later constructed. Of course, it was better known as a healing center after it was written that Jesus cured an invalid here. There’s not much water left, I’m afraid.”
“Probably just as well,” Dirk replied. “Otherwise, it would be wall-to-wall tourists vying to take a bath.”
They found a secluded bench beneath a towering sycamore, where they sat down and attacked their lunch, passing the delicacies back and forth.
“Tell me, how is Dr. Haasis getting on?” she asked.
“Quite well, actually. I just visited him this morning before traveling to Jerusalem. He’s resting at home but eager to get back to work. The leg wound didn’t prove serious, so he should be free of his crutches in another week or two.”
“The poor fellow. I feel so sorry for him.”
“He told me he feels bad for you. He seems to think it was his fault that your agents were placed in such a dangerous situation.”
Sophie shook her head. “That is ridiculous. He had no way of knowing an armed band of terrorists would attack any more than we did.”
“He’s a man with a generous soul,” Dirk said, sampling a fresh fig from the bag of fruit. “By the way, the Israeli Security Agency grilled me pretty good over the last few days. I hope you can tell me that you’re close to catching the bad guys.”
“Shin Bet, as they are known, has taken the lead on the investigation, but I’m afraid the trail of evidence has already turned cold. The assailants’ truck was found to be a stolen vehicle. It was discovered driven into the sea near Nahariyya. Shin Bet thinks that the thieves likely crossed into Lebanon shortly after departing Caesarea. They are believed to be connected with a smuggling operation that has known ties to Hezbollah. I fear they will be difficult to identify, let alone capture.”
“Any idea who they might have been working for?”
“Not really. I’ve made plenty of inquiries and have a few suspicions, but no hard proof. Sam and I are doing everything we can,” she said, her voice drifting away as her thoughts turned to the dead agent Holder.
Dirk reached over and clasped her hand in his and squeezed tight.
“I never thought I’d have to deal with something like this,” she continued, falling teary-eyed.
She looked into Dirk’s eyes and squeezed his hand back. “I’m really glad that you are here,” she said, then leaned over and kissed him.
They sat huddled for a long while, Sophie feeling safe again in the arms of Dirk. Staring at the empty pools of Bethesda, she eventually regained the will to face her job again. Taking a deep breath, she smiled through moist eyes.
“Can you smell the jasmine in the air?” she asked. “I’ve always loved the fragrance. It reminds me of when I was a child, and all the days were filled with happiness.”
“They will be again,” Dirk promised.
“I must be getting back,” she finally whispered, though her arms retained their lock around Dirk.
“I’ll be waiting for you,” he replied.
She suddenly remembered the planned operation with Sam that night.
“We can have dinner, but I’m afraid I have to work tonight. A surveillance job. We received a tip about an artifact thief who might be connected to the Lebanese smugglers.”
“May I come along?”
Sophie started to shake her head, then relented. “We are a bit shorthanded. It’s just Sam and me, so we could use some extra support. But no heroics this time.”
“A silent observer, that’s me. I promise,” he said, smiling.
They rose together and took a final look at the dry pools. Sophie felt a sudden hesitancy to leave, though she didn’t know why. She finally gathered Dirk’s hand and led him slowly away from the pools, fighting a swirl of emotions within her heart.
44
The Ottoman Starcrept slowly into the Israeli Port of Haifa, the decrepit freighter relegated to a berth at the end of the quiet west terminal. With only a small quantity of remaining textiles to off-load, the Turkish crew could have easily emptied the ship’s holds in a few hours. But they were under strict orders to procrastinate unloading so that work would not be completed until late in the evening.
Presenting a pair of fake passports at the port’s customs office, Maria and one of the Janissaries then rented a car and made their way out of Haifa. Posing as a married couple on holiday, they could travel through most of the country with limited scrutiny. But in making their way to Jerusalem, they took no chances. Maria drove a circuitous route to avoid entering the West Bank and being subjected to additional security checkpoints, which might find the fanny pack under her seat containing a gun, cash, and a pair of night vision goggles.
Maria knew well that attempting to transport the HMX explosives into and through the country was another matter. Zakkar and his associates in the Mules could handle that risk, at a cost that was well worth the price. The Arab smuggler had carefully outlined to Maria how the explosives would be transported via truck, then on foot, even strapped to the bellies of a herd of sheep at one point, in order to reach the destination without being detected by the Israeli security forces.
But that was only half of the challenge. The Turkish woman had other equally important business to conduct in person. With the help of a tourist map, they entered the busy streets of Jerusalem, bypassing the Old City in making their way to one of the newer neighborhoods to the west. Locating the recently opened Waldorf Astoria Hotel, they parked their car on the street and walked to the next block south. Tucked into a row of trendy tourist shops, they found a tiny teahouse, with strings of beads shading the windows, and stepped inside.
At a corner table in the dimly lit café, Maria spotted a bearded man rise to his feet and smile in her direction, revealing a gold-plated front tooth. Maria approached him with her Janissary in tow.
“Al-Khatib?” she asked.
“At your service,” the Palestinian replied, bending toward her in a slight bow. “Won’t you join me?”
Maria nodded and sat down at the table with the Janissary beside her. Al-Khatib took a seat across from them and poured them each a cup of tea. Maria noticed that he had the sunbaked skin and callused hands of an old artifact plunderer, which was exactly what he was.
“Welcome to Jerusalem,” he said by way of a toast.
“Thank you,” Maria replied, gazing around the room to ensure there were no prying ears nearby.
“Have you succeeded with the task for which you were hired?” she asked in a low voice.
“Yes, with ease,” the Palestinian replied, smiling again. “The aqueduct was exactly where you indicated it would be. It is an amazing historical validation. May I ask where you obtained the research data?”
It was Maria’s turn to smile.
“As you know, the present wall around the Old City was constructed by Suleiman the Magnificent in the early fifteen hundreds. His engineers mapped the route in detail, incorporating the locations of existing obstructions. The maps, which we have acquired in Turkey, are replete with abandoned aqueducts and other features constructed back to the Age of Herod, which have since been lost or hidden.”
“A marvelous discovery, and one that I would love to examine some time,” al-Khatib said hungrily.
“I’m afraid I didn’t bring the documents with me on this trip,” she lied. “My family has an extensive collection of Ottoman artifacts, and the maps were part of a larger acquisition.” She neglected to mention that they had all been stolen from a museum in Ankara.
“Historical documents of prized value, I should think. May I ask the purpose of the excavation?”
Maria brushed aside the inquiry. “You were able to expand the opening around the aqueduct?” she countered.