Solomon's Gold

CHAPTER 22

The Sikorsky Blackhawk had large windows on the side, giving Nick a good view of the terrain passing below. The pilot angled toward the Dead Sea and the coast, then headed north toward Ein Gedi. They passed over a flat topped mountain with ruins on it.

"That's Masada down there," Rivka said.

"Masada?" Ronnie said. "The fortress?"

"That's right."

"I've heard of Masada," Lamont said.

"It's famous," Rivka said. "Nine hundred and sixty rebels held off fifteen thousand Roman soldiers for three years, during the first Roman war. No one had ever stopped the Roman legions like that before."

Looking down at the mountain, Nick could see why the Romans might have had trouble. Masada resembled a ship, a flat topped aircraft carrier made out of solid rock. Sheer cliff walls rose hundreds of feet straight up from the desert floor. A narrow path barely wide enough for one person snaked its way to the top.

A long siege ramp built by the Romans was still in place on one side. The remains of a palace built by King Herod covered the top. More ruins were visible on two step-like projections jutting out on one end.

"Must've been a hell of a battle," Lamont said.

"In the end it wasn't," Rivka said. "When the Romans finally got to the top they found everyone dead. The defenders killed themselves rather than risk capture and surrender, at least that's the story. No one's quite sure what happened. Jewish teaching doesn't condone suicide. One story is that they picked lots and killed each other until there was only one man left, who then killed himself."

"Tough men," Selena said.

"It's controversial now," Rivka said.

"Why?" Nick asked.

"Many Israelis see it as a symbol of courage and resistance, like I do. But others see it as a symbol of stubbornness and a refusal to compromise."

Lamont shook his head.

"How the hell do you compromise with people who are trying to conquer your country? It was two thousand years ago. What's the point of trying to change history? You can't judge the past by the present."

"That's what historical revisionists want to do," Nick said. "They can't change what happened, but they can try to change the way people think about it. It's a classic propaganda tool. They manipulate history to advance their agenda, whatever it is. After a while they only tell people the interpretation they want them to know and nobody knows the difference. They don't care about the truth. What matters is changing the interpretation to influence the present."

"That's really cynical," Selena said.

"I think it's realistic. You can see it happening at home. Look what Rivka just said about Masada. It's a national symbol, but what it means is being changed from a story of heroism to a story of misguided resistance to authority. It's subtle, but revisionism is a way to undermine belief in a strong nation. No country gets it right all the time. If you start condemning your history, you can't believe in your country. If you don't believe in it, you won't fight for it."

"I hadn't thought of it that way," Rivka said.

They continued north to Ein Gedi and turned inland, settling a few minutes later on a concrete heliport in the safe house compound.

The house was a sprawling, ranch-style home located on the edge of the desert, away from the crowded tourist areas. They were met by two Shin Bet agents who introduced themselves as Falk and Alitza.

Falk was a small man, shorter than Ronnie's five foot ten. He wore a blue short sleeved shirt and tan trousers. He didn't look large, but he looked tough. Corded muscles stood out on his arms. He carried a large pistol at his waist.

Alitza was big boned and muscled, about Selena's height. Her hair was jet black and cut short. She was dressed in jeans and a tan shirt and had the kind of face that could disappear in a crowd. She didn't seem happy to see them. Falk's expression was studiously neutral.

After the introductions, Falk said, "Follow me. It's a big house with a lot of rooms."

"I'm going to talk with Alitza," Rivka said. "I'll join you in a few minutes."

Falk led everyone else into the house. It was furnished comfortably. A few nondescript pictures hung on the walls. A large living room featured a TV, a long couch and several chairs. A gas fireplace stood in one corner to take the chill off winter nights in the desert.

"Your rooms are this way," Falk said.

They went down a hall leading to the back of the house. Falk pointed down a hallway that ended in a T.

"Your rooms are on either side of that T. The kitchen is that way. There's food and water if you want something. Please do not leave the immediate area around the house."

Nick looked at him. "You mind telling me what's going on?"

"What do you mean?"

"It's pretty obvious you and Alitza don't approve of us."

Falk shrugged. "It's not personal. Gideon was a friend of ours."

"We didn't kill him."

"No, but if he hadn't been with you he'd still be alive."

"How long do you intend to restrict us to the house?"

"I understand that vehicles will be brought to you, but until then I must ask you to limit your movements."

After he left, they picked out bedrooms. Selena and Nick took one that looked out over a patch of lawn and a garden filled with flowers.

Selena said, "I think we're wearing out our welcome around here."

"You can't blame them," Nick said. "They're not in charge and we're foreigners, except for Rivka."

"I'm sorry Gideon's dead, but he was a trained agent. He knew what could happen. Alan was a different story. I got him into this, and now he's gone."

"He should've listened to me. If he had, he'd still be alive."

"Who do you think came after us?"

"I don't know. Someone from the Middle East, judging from the way they looked."

"Miriam sounded like she came from Brooklyn," Selena said.

"She fooled me," Nick said.

"She fooled everyone. Why do you think she was working at the Museum?"

"That's something we're going to have to find out."