A frying pan?”
“Flush on the back of my dome. I literally saw stars spinning around my head.” Nir reached for his glass of pale Duvel ale and took a sip. Nicole continued slowly rotating her Diet Coke on a cocktail napkin. Both were laughing.
They sat next to a floor-to-ceiling window, beyond which was the city of Antwerp. Even though the Lindner Hotel was only 12 stories tall, it sat in a city with few skyscrapers. So the Skybar at the top of the hotel gave a beautiful view of the chilly Belgian city below. On their side of the window, though, the temperature was warm, and the company was great. Nir loved to see Nicole laugh. The flash in her green eyes lit up the room.
He continued to speak softly, knowing this conversation might raise the eyebrows of anyone listening in. “Before I could neutralize the cooking elements, the husband came back at me. I dodged him and put him back down as gently as I could. Then I somehow managed to communicate to the wife that I just wanted to get away. She pointed to a back room, where I dove out a window.”
Through the rest of the beer, Nir told her about the motorcycle chase, then getting in the car with the Raisi-hating man.
“How’d you decide on him?”
“He was the oldest guy I could see and he wasn’t wearing any religious kind of outfit. I figured he’d remember the old days before the regime and not be too happy about what his country had become. Folks like that are not hard to find in Iran. Even though I kept my gun on him, I think we had kind of an understanding. He knew that I was there to deal with the same people he wanted dealt with.”
“So, you used your spidey senses to find a grumpy old curmudgeon and you bonded on some unspoken grumpy old curmudgeonly level. And he drove you to safety. You are truly the master.” Nicole sipped her soda, which had gotten watery by that time.
Nir got the attention of the server and ordered refreshers on both their drinks.
Shaking her head, Nicole continued. “I don’t know, Nir. I don’t like the decisions you have to make. They’re so spur of the moment. Too life and death.”
Nir drained the last of his beer, setting the glass aside to make room for when the new one came. “I don’t like it either. But quite honestly, I don’t really think about it until I go back over it when it’s all said and done. I go in with three goals in mind. One, deal with the target. Two, minimize collaterals. Three, get out alive.”
“Most people would put your number three up at number one. How do you think you did with your goals on the mission?”
“Well, I know that numbers one and three worked out. Number one, al-Natsheh was very definitely dead. Yaron took him out with one shot to the chest and another to the head.”
Nicole waved her hand. “Yeah, I don’t need details.”
“Understood. As for number three, I’m here talking to the most beautiful woman in the world. So that worked out well.” Nir reached across and took her hand for a moment before drawing it back. “As for number two, I think I did okay. I’m not sure all the policemen made it, but I tried to be careful.”
“Wouldn’t be a bad thing if a few of those Iranian cops met their Maker,” Nicole said, looking down at her heavily condensated glass.
The change in Nicole’s mood was sudden, but it wasn’t surprising. A number of years back, she had run afoul of some Iranian cops, which had led to a pretty rough interrogation. Thankfully, Israel was able to call in some favors from international diplomats that eventually set her free. But the wound still remained, and it didn’t take much to pull the scab from it.
“Sorry, motek, I should have been more careful with my words,” Nir said.
Nicole began to say something, probably to try to blow the whole thing off, but she was saved by the server. He cleared their old glasses from the table and replaced them with new ones on fresh cocktail napkins.
When the server left, Nir said, “Listen, I made sure that those who didn’t deserve to die were okay. But those who did? I didn’t give them a second thought.” He lowered his voice to just above a whisper. “Like those Hamas guys we’re going after or all the terrorists in Gaza. Let them die and die with a vengeance.”
Nicole had been raising her glass to her lips, but she set it back down as Nir spoke. “I don’t know, Nir. I know that Mousa got what he deserved. But I still couldn’t watch him as the poison was destroying his body. I had to turn away.”
Nir saw how watery Nicole’s eyes had become, and he reached to take her hands. “Listen, I understand. Watching people die is not for everyone. In fact, it’s not really for anyone, except for some freaks. But you…you weren’t created for this. You were brought in through no fault of your own.” But then he paused. “Okay, maybe through a little fault of your own.”
Nicole affirmed his words with a raise of her eyebrows and a tilt of her head. It had been her hacking into the Mossad system all those years ago that had first caught the attention of the Israeli spy agency. They had given her a choice—join us, or…well, they had never fully defined the “or,” but she knew it would not have been pleasant.
Nir continued, still leaning forward, but with his hands now wrapped around his glass. “But you have to realize my perspective and that of most Israelis. Every cry I hear from a Mousa or an al-Natsheh or an al-Arouri or a Zaaroub—any of those guys we took out with Operation Amalek—I hear in those cries the suffering of the innocents. I hear the fathers weeping as their wives and daughters are being raped in front of them. I hear the helplessness of the children as they watch their parents killed and of the parents as they watch their children killed. The horror of the torture and the mutilations and the beheadings. Then the hostages—men and women—who were taken to Gaza and raped day after day after day before being slaughtered. And who’s to say that those hostages killed weren’t the lucky ones? Can you imagine trying to survive day after day after what so many of them went through?”
Nir lifted his glass and took a long draw. Nicole waited him out.
Nir looked out the window at the city below. “There is not enough suffering in this life for those who planned and who carried out October 7. I only wish they all suffered like Mousa. Al-Natsheh and al-Arouri and Zaaroub, they died too quickly. Just like that. Snuffed out. No anguish. No lingering pain.”
“You know their suffering doesn’t end there,” said Nicole.
Nir turned back. “So you’ve said. And I want to believe it. But how do I know they aren’t just eliminated from all sentience? You know, cease to exist. Back to the dirt.”
“In the book of Hebrews it says, ‘Just as man is destined to die once, and after that comes judgment.’”
“Yeah, but what does that even mean? Is it eternal suffering? Is it purgatory? Again, is it just extinction? There’s no way to know.”
Nicole lifted the maraschino cherry out of her Diet Coke and used her teeth to pull it from the stem. “But we do know, Nir. The Bible talks tons about the eternal state of those who follow God and those who don’t.”
Now Nir sat back. This was turning into one of “those” conversations. “Listen, Nicole, I understand what you’re saying. But I’ve told you before, I’m a Jew. I’m not one of your New Testament acolytes.”
Nir saw a little glint in Nicole’s eyes. “Did you just say New Testament? I’m sorry, my surly, frying-pan-dazed friend, but I’m also talking from the Old Testament. Daniel 12:2 says, ‘Many of those whose bodies lie dead and buried will rise up, some to everlasting life and some to shame and everlasting disgrace.’ And Malachi 4:1 talks about the coming day when the wicked will be burned like stubble. And Isaiah, one of the greatest of the Old Testament prophets, ends his book talking about new heavens and a new earth and how those who sin against God will go to ‘where the worm does not die and the fire is not quenched.’ So, what do you think about that, Jack?”
She finished by flicking the bright red stem of the maraschino at Nir, hitting him in the cheek.
Nir couldn’t help but laugh. Nicole had an amazing way of taking the most depressing of conversations and making them not only interesting but entertaining. “Walla! Someone’s done a little studying.” Spotting the offending stem on the table, he flicked it back her direction.
Leaning forward with a big smile, she said, “Yeah, I’m not just some Bible noob anymore that you can push around with your grumpiness and snotty attitude.”
“Color me impressed.”
Nicole leaned back. As she did, she lowered her head and her voice turned serious. “This is why I keep bringing this up, Nir. You have done so much good in this life. I want you to be rewarded when it’s over.”
She’s truly a master. She can make the most depressing conversation enjoyable, and in the next moment make the most enjoyable conversation miserable.
“Listen, motek, I’ve tried to reconcile what you believe with who I am as a Jew, and it just doesn’t work. And what kind of hurts in the whole thing is that not only are you sending me to hell because I don’t believe in your New Testament, but you’re saying I’m going there because I believe something different than your newfangled interpretation of the Old Testament.”
“Nir, nobody is sending anyone anywhere, and two thousand years is long enough to shed the newfangled label. Listen, it’s not your belief in anything that determines what happens after your life is over, but your lack of belief in the Messiah.”
Nir turned back to the window. The view of the city was spectacular. Off to the left, he could see the building in the diamond district that held his office.
Don’t let this turn into an argument. This has been too good of a day, and we have too much left to do. Please, give me a way out without having to hurt Nicole’s feelings.
His quiet prayer was answered by a vibration in his pocket.