The Plan

Chapter 59.

KAZ SLUNG THE UZI OVER HIS SHOULDER AND PUT THE nine-millimeter Beretta he had selected into his belt, but Cole elected to leave his Uzi in the room. Ryan felt like one of his TV characters with the ridiculously heavy Desert Eagle strapped under his arm in an upside-down holster. He wore his loose-fitting silk jacket over it, but the bulge was still obvious. Kaz stuffed the extra boxes of ammo into Lucinda's purse.

They stepped out into the late afternoon heat and hailed a cab.

The Old City of Jerusalem was only one hundred kilometers from Tel Aviv, but the traffic was miserable and it took two hours. They got out of the taxi at Ben Yehuda Street and didn't notice the blue Mitsubishi that pulled up a block behind. The Ghost, wearing an unmarked red baseball cap and dark glasses, got out of the car with Akmad and followed them on foot.

Ben Yehuda Street had been turned into a pedestrian mall. It was about fifty feet wide and intersected by several streets that were closed to traffic. The yellow stone that paved it matched in size and color the old stone used almost two thousand years ago on the ancient buildings. Th e s hops lining the streets had colorful awnings that hung down like fringed eyelids at half-mast. The mall was teeming with people of all nationalities. They walked downhill, then through the Jaffa Gate, which marked the entrance to the Old City.

The first thing that Ryan noticed was the feeling of holiness about the place. There was a sense of spiritual history all around him… Jewish, Christian, and Muslim. They passed the Wailing Wall; above it sat the Dome of the Rock.

"This is amazing… like being in church," Lucinda said, picking up Ryan's thought.

"Only two cities in the world feel this way," Cole announced, "Jerusalem and the Vatican."

They moved on along the narrow, winding street and finally found the apartment number.

The building was three stories high, the front door was oiled wood, aged to a rich golden brown by heat and time.

Cole knocked on the door and after a minute, an old woman with a babushka around her head leaned over the balcony and screamed something at them in Hebrew.

"Sorry, ma'am," Kaz shouted. "Don't speak Jewish."

"Hebrew, you dickhead," Cole corrected him.

The woman disappeared, and a girl about twelve came to the balcony.

"Yes? What do you want?"

"We're looking for Mishama Bach. We're friends of her late husband."

The girl spoke to someone behind her, then turned and looked down at them again.

"Just a minute," she said and was gone.

A few moments later, the door opened and they were looking at Misha. She was tall and raw-boned, dressed in loose-fitting clothes. Her steel-gray hair was pulled back and knotted in a bun behind her head. Good bone structure saved a face crushed by disappointment and time. Her best feature was her dark brown eyes. In her youth, Cole imagined, she was probably quite beautiful.

"I'm Misha Bach." Her English was flavored by a slight British accent.

"I'm Cole Harris. I knew and admired your husband. Could we come in for a minute? We've come a long way."

She turned her gaze expectantly to the others. Cole made the introductions and, after they shook her hand, she invited them in. They entered the house and followed her up the narrow wooden staircase to an apartment on the second floor.

"This is my sister-in-law's house. She's been very sick and so I've been staying here the last few months taking care of her."

The apartment was small but neat. Framed prints of Zionist heroes looked down stoically from white plaster walls-David Ben-Gurion, the Israeli flag furled behind him; Menachem Begin in front of the Knesset. In a position of honor was a portrait of Gavriel Bach in the robes of a Supreme Court justice.

"My sister-in-law was very proud of her brother. He became a Supreme Court justice before he died," Misha said as she saw Ryan looking at the portrait. "She's asleep in the bedroom. Let me close the door." She moved across the room and pulled the bedroom door closed as Cole smiled broadly. He was in his news-gathering mode, which, after four months, Kaz had come to loathe.

"Mrs. Bach, your husband was one of the most distinguished legal minds I've ever encountered. I covered the trial of Meyer Lansky in 1971. Gavriel did the State of Israel an outstanding service at that trial, a service that was, perhaps, pivotal to its survival."

"Thank you. I don't believe he ever mentioned you, Mr. Harris."

"Well, I was just one of many admirers. We spoke several times and my respect for him was overwhelming because never once did he sacrifice his ideals for a result. He was a man we could all learn from. A man with such depth of soul and feeling, such commitment to the highest moral standard that I personally was compelled to reevaluate my own career goals and motives after coming in contact with him." Cole was vibrating bullshit.

Kaz, Ryan, and Lucinda shifted their weight awkwardly in the small room.

"You must have known him very well to have understood that."

"Not well enough. And that's why I came all the way here to talk to you, Mrs. Bach. I'm doing a major series of articles for Time magazine called 'Silent Heroes.' I'm picking one unsung hero from each of five countries… men who changed the course of their country… maybe even the flow of history… men who served mankind without any special recognition or applause. And because of the absolutely therapeutic effect Gav had on my life, I've picked him as my Israeli." Cole was in hyperspace, orbiting freely over this complex ball of nonsense.

Misha Bach had her hands clasped in her lap and was leaning forward toward Cole, almost as if she was afraid she might miss a word.

"How can I help?"

"Did you know he made a deal with the U. S. Justice Department before the trial and, as a result of that deal, twenty-five F-4 Phantom jets were delivered to the Israeli Air Force?"

She shook her head. "I know. He went to Washington before the trial, but he never told me much about his cases."

"I need proof of that historic arrangement or my editor won't publish that part of the story."

"I don't know how I could help you…"

"There was a metal Haliburton suitcase and I think inside that case was physical corroboration of the deal. It was left in Gavriel's possession after the trial…"

"What does the suitcase look like?"

"It's metal, about twice the size of a briefcase." He demonstrated with his hands. "Silver-colored, silver handle…"

"Why, that's in the storage room over the carport at my house in Herzelia Pituah. It's been there foryears."

"It is?" Kaz said, astonished by the revelation. With grudging respect, he thought The slimy little fuck is gonna pull this of Cole was elated. "I know this is a lot to ask, but could we get in there and have a look?"

"Oh, no problem. The garage key is under the third flowerpot on the left side of the house."

"You don't mind if we just walk in?"

"Well, there's nothing to take. Just old suitcases and boxes up there, some sports equipment." She smiled at Cole.

"Mrs. Bach, you're gonna be so proud when you read this story. I'm gonna tell the world what a hero Gavriel Bach was. In my opinion, he may have saved the very State of Israel." He gushed insincerity like a broken sewer line.

Ryan thought he saw the Ghost as they were leaving the apartment on Ben Yehuda Street. He glimpsed a man, with dark glasses and a red baseball cap, duck into a souvenir shop. He was about the same size and shape as Jerry Paradise and there was something about his quick movements that reminded Ryan of the fight on the dock in Avalon. Ryan grabbed Lucinda's hand and pulled her close to him.

"What is it?" Kaz said.

"Across the street. I think I saw the guy who came aboard my boat."

Kaz saw nothing but said, "Okay, the three of you get moving. I'll check it out."

"Bad idea," Ryan said. "You don't even know what he looks like." Ryan was reaching under his arm for the Desert Eagle. He yanked it out of the quick-draw holster and held it by his leg.

"Okay," Kaz muttered. "Cole, you take Lucinda and wait for us at the Jaffa Gate. Get a car; make it one of those Mercedes taxis. There's thousands of 'em and they're hard to follow. Get rid of the driver and have the motor running."

"How 'm I gonna do that?"

"I don't know. Lay some of your more pathetic bullshit on him. Move it! And watch out, there may be more than one guy on us."

Finally, Cole moved away with Lucinda.

Ryan and Kaz watched to make sure nobody followed, then looked across the street.

"Which shop?" Kaz asked.

`Third one down."

"Put the cannon away. This ain't Dodge City. Pull it just before we move in. I'll go in first and head left. Once I'm inside, you come in behind me. Move fast, go to the opposite wall of the store. Stay low; he'll shoot for your kill zone, around your chest, so don't move at a normal height… The lower the better. If he hits you, you want the slug to go through your lung or shoulder and miss the important stuff."

"Shit, what about my head?"

"It's a small target."

A shot of adrenaline hit Ryan's heart like cold piss. They crossed the street to the shop. Kaz was still wearing the Uzi on a sling on his back, but he had one hand on the stock so he could rotate it up. and let a stream of lead fly in seconds.

Kaz moved through the door, fast, low, and sideways. He hit the wall inside on the left. The Uzi was up and trained on the shop.

With his heart pounding and his mouth dry, Ryan went in after him, staying low and moving sideways fast. Before he made the right wall, his bad leg buckled. He went down split seconds before two shots exploded, blowing holes in the wall where his head would have been. Kaz fired the Uzi in an arc across the small shop. Hasidic souvenirs turned to dust. The spent brass spewed out of the eject port and chimed as they bounced on the tile floor. The smell of cordite filled the air. They heard the back door sla m s hut, footsteps pounding in the alley. Ryan struggled to his feet and started in pursuit, but Kaz yelled, "No! Clear the fire zone first. Could be another one in here."

They raced through the cluttered shop, carefully checking aisles. They found the bearded shopkeeper cowering behind the counter. When they were sure there was no second shooter, they moved out the back door and looked down the deserted alley.

"Let's get outta here. We don't need this guy, we need what's in the suitcase," Kaz said, and they headed toward the Jaffa Gate. Ryan was limping badly and his back felt big and unprotected.

At the gate, they found Cole in a loud argument with an Israeli cabdriver. They were yelling at one another in two different languages. Lucinda was standing nearby, watching the commotion in disbelief.

Kaz moved up and pointed the Uzi at the cabbie. "Get the fuck outta here, shithead."

The man moved back glaring at them, as Cole got behind the wheel. Ryan and Lucinda sat in the back. Kaz piled in the passenger seat and laid the still-hot barrel of the Uzi on the dash.

"Go, man! Boil some eggs!'" Kaz yelled.

Cole put the taxi in gear and squealed out of the ancient gate, scattering chickens, Arab shopkeepers, and IDF soldiers as Cole leaned on the horn. Finally, they hit a two-lane road and sped back toward Tel Aviv.