Jet

Chapter 19

At dusk the next day, Rani stopped by again and gave David a full examination, murmuring to himself as he did so. Eventually he pulled off his stethoscope and placed it into his bag before turning to Jet.

“What’s the prognosis?” she asked.

“He’s healing remarkably quickly. I’d say it’s about time to get his lazy ass out of bed and walking.”

“I’m right here, you know. I can hear both of you. I’m three feet away,” David commented.

“Is there anything he needs to be careful about?”

“He’ll have to take it easy. No running, no lifting anything heavy. But he should be able to handle moderate activity. Everything looks good — no doubt because of the skill of his physician,” Rani said with a grin. “I’ll need to pull the stitches in the next few days, but as long as it’s nothing strenuous he should be up for it.”

“Hello. Am I invisible? Can you hear me out there?” David waved his arms over his head.

Rani turned to him. “Well, my friend, you made it. Try to avoid getting shot in the stomach any more. It’s really cramped my social schedule this week.”

David got serious. “Thanks for everything, Rani. I wouldn’t have survived if you hadn’t taken me in and done this. I know that. I owe you bigger than I can ever say.”

Rani smiled. “Nothing says thank you like pizza. Double cheese, extra sauce. Just as a hint. There’s a good place around the corner from my office. In case you’re wondering, I usually take lunch around one. Tomorrow, maybe a little earlier…”

“Speaking of which, can I eat solid food?” David asked.

“Sure, but stick to fruits and vegetables for another day or so just to give the healing a little more time. I wouldn’t recommend a big filet or a bag of nuts quite yet,” Rani said.

He turned to Jet.

“When will we see you again?” she asked.

“In a couple of days, to pull the stitches. Other than that, there’s no reason for me to intrude on your vacation together.” Rani gave them a knowing look — Jet felt herself blushing.

After Rani had said his goodbyes, she locked the door behind him and moved to the sofa in the living room. David walked into the kitchen, poured a glass of milk, and then joined her.

“So where do you want to go tonight? Dancing?” he asked.

“I was thinking of maybe a nice slow half-hour walk around the neighborhood to get you back on your sea legs.”

“Not as exciting as hitting the discos, but I’ve learned never to argue with a woman.”

“Who has your gun.” She picked it up and peered down the sights at the window. “I think the first order of business tomorrow should be to get ourselves something with more stopping power than this. Don’t get me wrong, I like Glocks, but it’s only one pistol between two people, and I don’t like to share.”

David thought about it.

“I know a guy in Jerusalem. He’s not Mossad. A freelancer. I’ve used him to procure weapons when I needed a deniable source. He specializes in Russian and Israeli military stuff. I’ll give him a call. He has no idea who I am, although I’m sure he suspects I’m not running a candy store. I’ll see what he can get us.”

“That would be a start. And I’ve been thinking about our options. I have an idea. Several ideas, actually. But they’re going to be very risky, and will require luck and money,” Jet said.

David nodded. “I’ve got a few thoughts myself. As to the money, I have just shy of a half million euros in a blind account I use for operational budgets. I can transfer that to another bank, and it will disappear — not that anyone would ever be able to trace it in the first place. That’s the whole point of an off-the-books team. Invisibility.”

“Can you do it online?”

“Absolutely.”

She gestured to the laptop on the dining room table.

“All right. Give me a few minutes, and then I’ll get dressed, and we can go for an evening constitutional.”

Jet went to the bathroom, and on her way back heard laughter from the bedroom.

“What’s so funny?” she asked as she approached from down the hall.

“We should add shopping to our list of things to do tomorrow. Or maybe this evening, if we can find a store around here. I’m afraid Rani’s not quite the same size as me.” David was holding up a shirt that was twice as big as he was.

“That’s the fashion these days. Just wear your baseball hat sideways.”

“At least the blood washed out of my pants. Mostly.” He slipped the shirt on and swiveled, modeling his ensemble.

“I’m not sure I want to be seen with you,” she said, eyeing him skeptically.

“I completely understand why.”

“Do you have any cash? The sooner we can get you some adult clothing, the better. That’s just embarrassing…”

“About a grand. We’ll need to access the bank tomorrow to get money for any weapons we buy.”

“What have you got for ID?”

“We’ll stop by my safety deposit box — I keep a kit there. It uses a hand scanner for access. I have three passports and about thirty grand in dollars. Some credit cards. The usual.”

She nodded. “Is it too late to call your arms dealer tonight? Or does he keep business hours?”

“Let’s go get a burner cell phone. I’d rather not make that call from the house. You have a car? I had to ditch mine after the attack.”

“I rented one for a week. I have it for three more days.”

“Let’s go get it and find me a clothing store, then get a phone. Walking around between stops should be adequate exercise for my first big outing.”

Jet left the house first, scanning the street for anything amiss. It was quiet. She walked to the corner, and soon David joined her. She led him to the car and noticed he winced when he got in.

“You sure you’re up for this?”

“Just a twinge. I’ll be fine. It’s still going to hurt now and then. That’s expected.” He grimaced and gingerly probed his abdomen. “I wouldn’t recommend it as a way to lose weight.”

Within an hour, they had acquired several shirts, a pair of jeans and a cell phone. When they were back in the car, he closed his eyes to focus on the arms dealer’s contact info, then called a number from memory.

“Moshe — it’s Ari. Long time,” David said, using the alias Moshe knew him by. He paused for a few seconds, listening to the response. “Yeah, yeah. So listen, I need some stuff. Are you around tomorrow?” Another pause. “Where? The shop?”

He hung up after another ten seconds.

“Eleven o’clock tomorrow. In Jerusalem,” he informed her.

“Sounds like a date. Now, how courageous are you feeling? You want to hear my idea, or wait till tomorrow. You may not sleep very well once you know what I’m thinking.”

His eyes narrowed. “Is it that bad?”

“Worse.”

“I can always take a sleeping pill.”

“You’ll probably need to take two.”

The drive into Jerusalem the next morning was difficult, the highway clogged with commuters heading into the capital for another day at work. It took longer than they had hoped, but once they were within the city limits, the stream of cars thinned out.

The bank had been open since eight-thirty, and David disappeared inside. Jet watched the pedestrians hurrying down the streets, engrossed in their ordinary lives, and felt a stab of envy. She wondered for the thousandth time what it felt like to be normal, to have never killed anyone or seen the horrors that had been a routine part of her existence.

And yet many of the people traversing the street looked worried or anxious, immersed in whatever made up their day — maybe a cheating spouse, or money problems, or a mean boss, or news of a sick relative. Had they spent just one hour by her side during one of her workdays their entire universes would have changed forever, and yet they were completely absorbed with their own perception of reality and believed themselves safe as they went about their prosaic business.

It must be nice to not be afraid of bullets tearing you apart with every step you take, she thought absently — then mentally shook herself. There was no point dwelling on things she couldn’t change. She was walking her own path, which is all anyone could do. Everyone had their own problems no matter what their circumstances.

David walked out of the bank after seven minutes and glanced in her direction. She watched him make his way down the busy sidewalk to the car, a messenger bag over one shoulder, and decided he looked pretty good, all things considered. No limping or other obvious signs of an injury, his color back to normal. If she hadn’t seen him at death’s door only a few days ago, she never would have believed it.

He swung the door open and slid into the passenger seat.

“Mission accomplished.”

“You clean it out?” she asked.

“Seemed prudent. I have no idea when I can get back here again, so…”

“All right. How do we get to this Moshe’s shop?”

They weaved their way through traffic and negotiated the teeming streets, horns sounding and jaywalkers darting between cars like daredevils with a death wish. Eventually they pulled to the curb a block from the arms dealer’s store, and he got out.

“How well do you know this guy?” she asked.

“Well enough. Wait here and try not to kill anyone.” He glanced at the Glock sitting next to her on the seat.

She dropped her backpack over it.

“I’ll do my best, but no promises. Remember the knives.”

“I’ve got the list.”

David took his time, ambling towards the storefront, pretending interest in the displays in the other shop windows. His senses were on full alert, wary of a trap, but he didn’t detect any surveillance.

He eased the shop door open and heard a buzz at the back. The showroom was empty except for a stunning young woman, no more than twenty, wearing skintight red pants and a top that accentuated her ample charms, chewing gum and looking bored out of her mind beside a glass case filled with military medals and insignia.

“Can I help you with something?” she asked in a voice that clearly conveyed that she had no interest in doing so.

He looked around at the walls and the displays. Every imaginable type of sword was represented — sabers, Roman short swords, katanas, ceremonial daggers, epees.

“I was hoping to find a ‘Give Peace a Chance’ bumper sticker.”

She gave him a blank stare. Her gum popped.

“Is Moshe here? I’m a friend.”

She followed up with a look that said ‘figures’ and leaned over the counter, calling into the back area.

“Moshe? Someone’s here to see you.” She returned her attention to David. “What’s your name?”

“Ari.”

“Moshe? Ari is here.”

A gruff voice rang out from the rear of the shop.

“Tell him to come into the back, Trina.”

She cocked an eyebrow and gestured with her hand at the doorway. He followed her lead and moved through it into an office. A bearded man sat staring at him through Coke-bottle glasses.

“Ari! Welcome. How have you been? Long time — forever, really.” Moshe shifted in his wheelchair, his considerable girth straining the seat.

“Moshe. I’m good. You?”

“Never better. They wanted me for the track team, but I had to decline. Makes the kids look bad.”

“Yeah.” David cleared his throat. “New helper up front?”

“Oh. Trina. Yes, a sad story. I met her dancing in a sordid place. Sort of rescued her. Gave her a glimpse of a better life on the straight and narrow.”

David didn’t know whether to believe him or not. His face remained unreadable.

“So. Come on back into the storeroom. You got a list?” Moshe asked, wheeling from behind his desk and moving towards a door at the far end of the office.

David handed him the short note Jet had drafted that morning.

“Hmmm. Okay. I have one of the MTAR-21s in 9mm with a suppressor. No problem on a Glock 23 — popular, those are. As to all the rest, in stock. You want it now?” Moshe asked as he rolled into the storeroom.

“Yes.”

“It’s not going to be cheap, my friend.”

“Is it ever?”

Moshe named a price.

David whistled.

“I presume you’ll want that in dollars, no shekels. Do you have anything that would be comparable to the MTAR?”

“Not really. It’s extremely compact and packs a wallop. But I can get another one within a couple of days with no problem. And dollars would be just fine, as always.”

David considered it, then shook his head. “I’ll get back to you on that. Let’s see the goods…”

Moshe rolled to a wooden case and lifted the lid, then pulled out an evil-looking weapon that would have been at home in a science fiction film.

“MTAR-21 — the good old X95-S. With integrated silencer, laser sight and two extra magazines. Only fired by a little old lady. Comes with a hundred rounds of ammo. For you, I will make it two hundred, no extra charge. Perfect for home defense if a platoon of Hamas is bearing down on you. Light, accurate, deadly,” Moshe recited.

“I know the weapon.”

“Nothing like it.”

Humming to himself, Moshe rolled to another box and extracted a new Glock. Within a few minutes, he had everything sitting on top of one of the crates.

“Got a bag?” David asked.

“Fifty dollars.” Moshe grinned. “Kidding.”

David counted out the crisp hundred dollar bills while Moshe ferreted around in another box. He handed the bundle of notes to Moshe, who nodded and held out a rolled up duffle.

“Call me if you need another MTAR. I gotta get one as a replacement anyway, but I can put a rush on it.”

“Will do. Pleasure doing business with you, as always, Moshe,” David said, taking the sack from him.

“Likewise. You need anything else?”

“Don’t think so. Stay away from Trina. She looks like trouble.”

“I have enough excitement in my life. Then again, she’s got a sparkling personality…”

“I got that.”

The men exchanged muted smiles.

As David packed the gear into the black nylon sack, Moshe noted that he loaded the magazines and chambered rounds in the weapons, and said nothing. David shouldered the bag and made for the storeroom door.

“I can find my own way out.”

“Don’t be a stranger.”

Trina was staring blankly at the street through the floor-to-ceiling windows when he stepped back into the showroom. She looked high. Not his problem.

“Have a nice day,” she offered in a desultory tone.

“You, too.”

He swung the glass door open and stepped out onto the sidewalk, pausing to get his bearings before returning to the car.

Jet was watching her side mirrors when he got in. He leaned over and placed the duffle on the rear seat, then sat back and fastened his seatbelt.

“Did you get everything?” she asked, starting the motor.

“Only had one MTAR. He can get another one within a couple of days.”

“We don’t have a couple of days.”

“I know.”