"Agreed. One thing, though."
"Yes?"
"I'd like my weapon back."
"You think you need it?"
"If you trust me, there's no reason not to return it. I'd take it as a sign of good faith on your part."
"That's a lot of faith."
"Isn't that what Jerusalem is all about?"
Herzog smiled.
"All right, Mr. Carter." Ben Ezra didn't look happy about that.
"Please. Nick."
"Nick. Tell me, what is the name of your contact?"
Now it was his turn to demonstrate faith.
"Arslanian, Arshak Arslanian. He has a shop in the Armenian Quarter." He gave Herzog the address.
Herzog took a card from his jacket, wrote on the back of it. "My number. I suggest you return to your hotel and get some sleep. A car will pick you up at 0700. We will start our joint effort then, beginning with your contact."
"Understood."
It felt good to stand up after hours of sitting. The stitches hurt. Outside the interrogation room, Herzog gave him his possessions and his pistol. Nick strapped it on and breathed easier. He was spattered with blood from the mall, his head hurt and he needed a shower and about ten hours of sleep he wasn't going to get.
A police car took him back to the hotel.
CHAPTER EIGHT
It was after two in the morning on Wednesday in Jerusalem. It was seven in the evening on Tuesday in Washington. Nick called Harker. He told her about the attack on the mall, his new alliance with Shin Bet.
"Give me a minute."
Carter heard her coughing in the background. He rubbed the back of his head where he'd hit the pavement. He had a hell of a headache and he was dizzy. Probably a mild concussion. He'd sleep it off.
After a brief pause Harker came back. "I've got a file on Herzog on my screen now."
"How far should I go with him?"
"He's a serious player. You don't get Jerusalem as your job in Shin Bet without a great track record. Wounded twice in the field, commendations from his superiors, a medal from the Prime Minister. He's a good man to have on our side."
"So, full cooperation?"
"Yes. Let Herzog run the show, but keep your ear to the ground and keep me informed."
"Roger that."
"Get some sleep. You'll need it."
Carter signed off. He thought for a moment and decided to call Selena. He wasn't sure why.
"Hey."
"Hey, yourself. How's Jerusalem?"
"Not what I expected." Her voice made him realize he missed her. It was an odd feeling, something he'd forgotten. He told her what had happened.
"Are you okay?"
"I'm fine, just tired."
Her voice was tense. "You were almost killed by a bomb, two thugs went after you with knives, you were arrested and you're just tired? That's it? How do you feel?"
"Like I said, tired. What am I supposed to feel?"
"I don't know. Upset, maybe?"
"What good would that do? What did you do today?"
Carter felt his head getting tight, like it always did when someone pushed him for feelings. After Afghanistan some shrink was always asking how he felt. It was a stupid question. He'd always answered it the same way. How would you feel, if you'd blown the head off a kid? There wasn't any point in talking about it. Probing it. He'd had to do it, that's all. He didn't want to think about it. Feelings just got in the way.
Selena took a deep breath. "I worked out with Ronnie. He's something, isn't he?"
That was better. "You bet. He'll run you under if you let him."
"I got even, though. We practiced some hand to hand combat. After that he decided we'd go to the range."
Nick laughed. Selena had a 7th degree black belt in Kuk Sool Won. Ronnie was outmatched.
"I miss you," he said. It surprised him. It was true. "I wanted to hear your voice."
"When are you coming back?"
"I don't know. After Rice's speech."
"When you get back, let's go someplace and drink too much wine."
"A date? You're on."
A few more words and Carter hung up.
On the other end, Selena set the phone down. She let out a long breath. Talking with Nick was like talking to someone who lived inside an armored car. As long as it was about anything except the way he felt, it was fine. Try to get in, and the doors were locked.
She knew something about armor. She'd been ten when her parents were killed. Armor kept the pain away. Hers was forged out of achievement. Perfection in everything. Academics, sports, it had worked like a dream. Maybe it intimidated some people, but it had worked.
At least it had worked until her uncle had been murdered.
Then she'd met Elizabeth Harker and been tossed into Nick's world. A violent, dangerous world, and she'd gotten hooked on it, hooked on Nick in spite of herself. She'd never be able to go back to the life she'd had before. It was gone. Gone like the wind.
It made her mad at herself. She was hooked on a man who kept the lid clamped down tight on his feelings. Who kept them locked up in the dark. Sometimes looking at him was like looking at a mirror. She wasn't sure she liked what she saw.
She went down to the workout room in the hotel and began stretching. She was almost ready to test for her next belt. At her level, there was no room for error. One mistake and it would be a year before she could test again.
For the next hour she practiced, watching herself in the big wall mirrors. She told herself that anyone who decided to mess with her would be making a big mistake. She told herself she was invulnerable.
She almost believed it.
CHAPTER NINE
Carter got out of his bloody clothes. His back looked like a ghoulish rainbow from where he'd hit the pavement. The disc injuries he'd gotten in the Himalayas sent warning shocks though his low back. He stepped into the shower and turned up the hot, trying to keep the stitches on his leg out of the stream.
He thought about Selena, how different they were from each other. It was hard to see how people as different as they were had come together. Take family, for instance.
His family was a mess, a textbook example of dysfunction. His father was an alcoholic bully. His sister was neurotic and angry and married to a total asshole. His mother had been a doormat for his father and now she had Alzheimer's. He'd never had much money and he'd worked his way through school.
Selena had been raised by a loving, wealthy uncle. She'd gone to the best private schools and when her uncle died he'd left her more money than anyone could ever spend. His death had brought her to the Project. Education, money, background, Carter and Selena might as well be from different planets.
Carter got out of the shower and dried off. He set the alarm and lay down. He fell asleep.
He dreamed the dream.
He's coming in over the ridge again, the rotors echoing from the valley walls, beating out a rhythm of death. The village is like it always is, a shitty, dust-blown cluster of flat-roofed buildings, baking in relentless heat, surrounded by sharp, brown hills. A wide, dirt street runs down the middle.
His team drops from the chopper and hits the street running, M4 up by his cheek, his Marines behind him. On the right, houses. On the left, more houses and the market. It's just a chaotic mix of ramshackle bins and hanging cloth walls. Clouds of flies swarm around dead things hanging in the butcher’s stall.
They make their way past the market. He keeps away from the walls, so a round fired won't burrow down a wall and right into him. He hears a baby crying. The street is deserted.
A dozen bearded figures rise up on the rooftops like ducks popping up in a carnival shooting gallery and begin firing AKs. The market stalls disintegrate in a firestorm of splinters and plaster and rock exploding from the sides of the buildings.