A pain around her shoulder blade pulled Nicole back to the present. She was so deep into her thoughts that she had completely missed the tapotement phase and was on to friction. Part of her hoped she hadn’t dozed or, worse, snored.
“You do a remarkable job, Burhan.”
“Thank you, Miss Nicole.”
She was still trying to get a good feel for Yariv Rabin. Tall, thin, with a dark beard that reached the top of his chest, he was a good-looking guy who had been brought in as a replacement for Yossi. But he was different. She didn’t know much about Orthodox or ultra-Orthodox or Hasidic Judaism or any of that stuff, but somewhere on that spectrum you could find Yariv.
In some ways, he fit in. He was definitely brilliant, and he had been on the verge of being tossed from the Mossad for puncturing all four tires of an assistant deputy in the cryptography department. No one was quite sure why he had done it, but, as usual, it was suspected that a girl was involved. Efraim had saved him from being tossed into the dustbin of Israeli intelligence history, assigning him to the analysts in CARL.
Still, Yariv was also very different. He was the only one around that firepit wearing a yarmulke on his head, tassels at his waist, and who had brought his own food because Yaron insisted that a good burger could not be achieved without the addition of cheese. He didn’t swear, which she appreciated. And the man knew his Scripture.
“It’s a brilliant name for the operation,” Yariv said, answering Nir’s question. He spoke with a rich baritone voice that sounded like it belonged to a man decades older than his 27 years. “When Moses led the people out of Egypt, the Amalekites came up against them. That was the battle when Aaron and Hur had to hold Moses’ arms up as he directed God’s power to the army below. Later, when the Hebrews were about to enter the land, God reminded them that they had a score to settle with that people.” Closing his eyes, he quoted, “Remember what Amalek did to you on your journey, after you left Egypt—how, undeterred by fear of God, he surprised you on the march, when you were famished and weary, and cut down all the stragglers in your rear. Therefore, when the LORD your God grants you safety from all your enemies around you, in the land that the LORD your God is giving you as a hereditary portion, you shall blot out the memory of Amalek from under heaven. Do not forget!”
“Wow, you must have gotten beat up a lot as a kid,” Lahav snorted.
“It’s actually pretty impressive,” said Nir. “Do not forget what they did to you. We are not going to forget, and we are going to blot out the memory of Hamas from under heaven.”
Again, there were cheers around the fire.
“But don’t get me wrong. Operation Amalek is not the whole plan. In fact, Shin Bet has tasked NILI to do the exact thing we’re doing, only with different targets.”
“NILI. Man, that’s a throwback,” said Imri.
“It is. For you who don’t know, NILI stands for Netzah Yisrael Lo Yeshaker.” Turning to Nicole, Nir said, “That means ‘The Eternal One of Israel will not lie.’”
“From the writings of Samuel,” added Yariv.
“Exactly. NILI operated against the Ottoman Empire way back during World War I. Eventually, they were discovered, tortured, and most were either hanged or committed suicide. This reconstituted NILI is the tip of Shin Bet’s assassination spear against Hamas. Caesarea continues to be the Mossad’s. And we continue to be Caesarea’s. Operation Amalek is just one part of our plans against Hamas. In fact, Amalek is just one day. One twenty-four-hour period during which Kidon is going to take out four of Hamas’s leaders in four different locations in a simultaneous action.”
Operation Amalek was what had sent Nir to Azerbaijan and eventually down into Tehran. It was also what led Nicole to this hotel room with this masseuse.
I think I got the better of the deal.
“Tell me about yourself, Burhan,” she said. He was on to the vibration part, thumping on her back.
“There is not much to tell, Miss Nicole.”
“Well, you don’t sound like you’re from Turkey. You sound more Egyptian or Saudi or someplace less European.”
Burhan’s pace on her back slowed just a touch, then picked up again. “I am Syrian. Most people don’t know, but a great majority of migrant workers here in Turkey are from my country.”
“Fascinating! Up on my right shoulder, please. That’s where the strap was. Yes, perfect! Do you have family here or in Syria?”
Again, a brief slowing as Burhan thought. “I have no family here. Back home, only a mother, a sister, and two young brothers.”
“A sister? Interesting. What is her name?”
The masseuse paused longer than he should have before replying, “Rabia.”
Nicole let out a long sigh. “Burhan, just when we were establishing such a great rapport. Suddenly, you lie to me about your beautiful sister, Sabra.”
The hands left her back. Behind her, nothing but silence.
Nicole knew she was completely vulnerable. But she pressed on, her face pushed into the tiny pillows. “My darling Burhan, the decisions you make in the next few minutes will make all the difference for you, your mother, your brothers, and especially for sweet Sabra. I know how she suffers, and it breaks my heart.”
Quiet filled the room while Nicole waited Burhan out. Finally, after a couple minutes, he asked, “And what would you require from me?”
Another voice answered this question. It was deep, with a heavy Russian accent. “Please sit, my friend, and I will tell you all about it.”