The Lance

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

The rhythmic tramp of Nick's military escort echoed on the tiled floors of the hospital ward. The ward supervisor looked up from her station by the elevators. She was stout and dark haired. She reminded Nick of his old drill instructor at Pendleton.

"Could you tell me where Rivka Stern is?"

The nurse was pretty in a hard way, around thirty, which meant she'd done her time in the army. She gave the soldiers a once-over and studied the tall American. She ignored the weapons. Everyone in Israel saw weapons all the time. It was part of daily life, along with the random, lethal explosions marking the reality of terror. By contrast, the drive-by violence of America's inner cities looked almost peaceful.

"She's in 1438, down the hall on the right. Please have your escort wait outside the room."

"Yes, Ma'am," Nick said. "Thank you."

Ari Herzog was there. He put his phone away, ready to leave. Rivka sat propped up in bed in a blue hospital robe, her left arm strapped across her chest. She sipped something red from a clear plastic glass held in her good hand. There were dark circles under her eyes. An IV was taped to her good arm.

Ari looked haggard and tense.

"Your call saved the President, Ari."

"No, Nick, you saved him. I only gave the warning. Anyway, he's safe. But Ascher is dead. In hours Israel will be at war."

"It can't be stopped?"

"No. I just got a call. A Jewish group has claimed credit for the bombing. They've been a problem for years, calling for the demolition of the Dome of the Rock and construction of a new Temple on the Mount. They released an announcement to all the major networks, starting with Al-Jazeera."

"Is it authentic?"

"Maybe. I don't know, yet. We've already detained the leaders of the group. They deny any knowledge or participation. Even if the announcement is a phony, the damage is done. The entire Muslim world now believes a group of fanatical right-wing Jews desecrated one of the holiest sites in Islam. We're on full alert. The reserves are being called up as we speak."

"That's bad news."

"A masterpiece of understatement."

"I'm leaving with the President," Nick said. He thought for a moment. This man was a friend. "How can I help?"

"Keep an open channel for me. I'd like to know what's going on. I don't expect you to betray confidences, but…"

"I'll do what I can."

"Good enough." Ari took out a card, scribbled on it. "This number will reach me any time of the day or night." Nick took it.

Ari bent over Rivka. He gave her a light kiss on the cheek.

"Shalom. Get well."

The door closed behind him.

"How are you?"

"Messed up. I'll be in rehab for a few months."

"Rivka, I'm sorry."

"For what, Nick? You know better. I should have been more careful."

"Yes, but…"

"No 'buts'. There is no 'but'. I should have ducked or shot sooner, that's all."

"At least we got the son of a bitch."

She smiled, looked away, back again. "You are with somebody."

"Yes. But I haven't figured it out yet."

Rivka laughed. "Figured it out? Oh, Nick." She laughed again. "Ow, that hurts," she said, still laughing.

"Why are you laughing?"

She laughed harder. After a minute she stopped, wiping tears off her face. Nick wasn't sure what was funny. He'd never understand women, how they thought.

"Rivka, I have to go."

"Nick, when you figure it out, make sure you let her know, will you?"

"Goodbye, Rivka."

"Come over here."

He walked over to her bedside. She reached up with her good arm and pulled him down to her. Her kiss tasted like strawberries.

"Shalom, Nick. Keep safe."

He hoped Rivka would be safe. He hoped they all would.