The change in air pressure inside the descending plane caused Jakob’s ears to pop, and he woke up from a dream in which he was trying to swim laps in a pool but found himself stuck in the same spot, not making progress. He slipped off his headphones and turned to Hana, who was typing on her laptop.
“How long until we land?” he asked.
“The last announcement from the pilot said twenty minutes, but that was at least ten minutes ago. I’d better shut this down.”
“What are you working on?” Jakob asked, rubbing his eyes for a moment.
“Our case. That’s my entire focus for the next seven days.”
They had a layover of two and a half hours in the Newark International Airport before leaving for Israel. Jakob had flown in and out of Newark many times, and to his relief, he felt physically and mentally normal as they joined the bustling throng of people always present in New York—area airports.
“I’m hungry,” he said as they passed a cluster of fast-food restaurants. “Would you like to eat dinner?”
“Yes.”
“I need a steak,” he said.
“We don’t have time to leave the airport,” Hana replied.
“Turn right up ahead,” Jakob said.
He led the way to a New York restaurant that sold aged steaks in the airport. Racks of red meat were on display inside huge refrigerated glass cases.
“This will prepare you for Israel,” Hana said as they stopped to look at the steaks before entering the restaurant. “But there you have to be careful about buying meat that’s been on public display without refrigeration. An aged steak isn’t necessarily a good thing.”
“That’s why I’m going to load up on red meat now.”
A young hostess took them to a table overlooking the tarmac. Hana ordered water, Jakob a glass of red wine. He held up his glass for a toast.
“To a successful trip.”
“L’chaim,” Hana responded.
“At least I know that much Hebrew,” Jakob replied. “To life.”
They touched glasses. The waiter came. Jakob ordered a large rib eye, and Hana selected a filet mignon. Several minutes later, their waiter arrived with the meals. The steaks had a perfect char on the outside. Jakob picked up his fork and knife.
“Do you mind if I pray over the meal?” Hana asked.
Jakob paused, his knife in midair. “So long as it’s quick.”
Hana closed her eyes. Jakob kept his eyes open and glanced around the restaurant. No one seemed to notice them.
“Lord, I ask you to direct our steps every moment of this trip,” she said in an earnest voice. “We ask you to expose the deeds of darkness that caused Gloria Neumann’s death and lead us to the truth about everything connected to her murder. Direct Daud Hasan in his investigation and show us who to talk to and where to go so that we can uncover the information and evidence we need. Make this a special trip in every way for Jakob and keep us safe from evil. In Jesus’ name, amen.”
Hana opened her eyes. Jakob stared at her. She immediately closed her eyes again.
“And bless this food,” she added.
Hana picked up her fork and knife and cut into her steak. Past the char it was a deep red in the middle.
“Is that cooked enough for you?” Jakob asked. “We can send it back.”
“No, it’s delicious.”
Jakob cut into his steak. It, too, was good. Several times, Hana checked her phone.
“Is there a problem?” Jakob asked.
“No,” Hana said, shaking her head sheepishly. “I’m checking on my new puppy.”
She handed Jakob her phone. A furry black-and-white animal was curled up asleep.
“What’s his name?”
“Leon.”
“As in Leon Lowenstein?” Jakob asked, raising his eyebrows.
Hana nodded slightly.
“Now I have information I can use against you,” Jakob said with a confident grin.
Hana smiled in return. “I’m not worried,” she said. “Mr. Lowenstein would be honored.”
They finished the meal and made their way to the departure gate for the overseas flight. Hana spoke in Hebrew to a woman sitting next to them on a long row of seats. The conversation continued for several minutes.
“What was that about?” Jakob asked when Hana finished.
“Mostly her children and grandchildren. Her daughter lives in Portland, Oregon, and her son is located in Herzliya on the Mediterranean. Do you want to know more?”
“No, I just don’t want to miss any important conversations.”
“Daud knows we’re going to have to speak a lot in English. If he struggles, I’ll translate from Arabic or Hebrew.”
“Okay.”
Jakob started reading a newspaper.
Hana felt like a radar antenna picking up multiple signals as she listened to conversations in English, Hebrew, and Arabic. She loved the sounds of diversity. The gate attendant gave preliminary boarding instructions in English and Hebrew. The woman’s Hebrew accent revealed that she came from the Tiberias region. Jakob closed the newspaper.
“Will you be able to fall sleep again?” Hana asked.
“Not until they turn off the cabin lights.”
An older white-haired man with a cane in his hand and a name tag stuck to his shirt sat down next to Jakob.
“This is my first trip to Israel,” the man said.
“Me too.”
“I’m going on a tour with my church,” the man continued. “Are you excited to visit the Holy Land? I’ve been saving five years for this trip.”
“What’s your itinerary?” Hana asked.
While they waited for their boarding group to be called, the old man took out a brochure and showed it to her. It was a typical ten-day excursion that began in Galilee, dropped down to the Dead Sea, and ended up in Jerusalem. Hana gave him several tidbits of information.
“And you’ll love Jerusalem,” she said with a smile.
“It almost makes me cry thinking about being where the Lord was crucified, buried, and rose from the dead,” the man said, his voice cracking with emotion.
The gate attendant called out a boarding zone, and the older man shakily got to his feet to join his group members.
“Nice talking to you,” he said. “Maybe I’ll see you there.”
After the man left, Jakob turned to Hana. “He seems like a nice guy, but he should be flying to a retirement home in Florida, not running all over Israel.”
“He’s a pilgrim,” Hana replied simply. “And people like him have been visiting the Holy Land for two thousand years.”
Hana and Jakob sat on the left side of the aircraft. A petite older woman from Netanya sat beside the window.
“If I bother you or crowd your space, punch me,” Jakob said to Hana. “Don’t put up with it.”
They settled in. As the plane taxied away from the gate, Jakob slipped on his earphones, closed his eyes, and didn’t open them during takeoff. Hana checked the movie selections for the flight and tried to get comfortable without getting too close to Jakob. The crew darkened the plane shortly after they were airborne for the nine-hour flight.
Jakob felt a nudge on his left arm and opened his eyes. Hana was pushing her dark hair behind her ears.
“If you want to take a bathroom break, you’d better do it now,” she said. “Breakfast is coming in a few minutes.”
Rubbing his eyes, Jakob made his way to the rear of the plane where he encountered a group of Orthodox and ultra-Orthodox men saying their morning prayers. He had to navigate his way through the bobbing heads and leather-wrapped arms to the lavatory. Returning to his seat, he could tell from Hana’s eyes that she’d not rested very much.
“Did you sleep?”
“A couple of hours at the most. I don’t think you woke up when I slipped past you to go to the restroom or stretch my legs.”
“If I did, I don’t remember it. Maybe the concussion is sending me into deeper realms of sleep.”
“Seriously?”
“No,” Jakob said and shook his head. “I’ve always been able to sleep at the drop of a hat. I had to chew gum to stay awake during civil procedure class in law school.”
A male flight attendant was pushing a cart down the aisle offering kosher and nonkosher meals.
“Maybe I’ll go kosher since I’m on my way to Israel and I’m surrounded by all these holy men,” Jakob said to Hana. “I’ve not seen the kind of religious action going on at the rear of the plane since the last time I took the train into Brooklyn.”
The kosher breakfast was bland, even by airplane standards, and Jakob glanced enviously at the tiny link sausages on Hana’s tray.
“Would you like one?” she asked.
Jakob speared a sausage with his fork and popped it into his mouth.
“It tastes better when it’s forbidden, doesn’t it?” Hana asked. “That’s the way it was for Adam and Eve and the forbidden fruit.”
“I’d have a tougher time turning down link sausage than a red apple,” Jakob answered.
Now that he was awake, Jakob fidgeted as they completed the final leg of the flight. The plane descended over the Mediterranean, and in the light of early afternoon, he could clearly see the coastline south of Tel Aviv. Hana leaned back so Jakob had a clearer view.
“How does that make you feel?” Hana asked.
To his surprise, Jakob felt a touch of emotion. Even as a secular Jew, he couldn’t deny the uniqueness associated with the reestablishment of a Jewish homeland after so long in exile. “A little more than I would have guessed,” he said.
“You’re not the first or last person to say that,” she replied.
“How about you?”
“Like anyone who is coming home.”
The plane landed at Ben Gurion Airport.
“Where did you work?” Jakob asked as they approached a security checkpoint.
“At the second level,” Hana replied. “If there were questions about an individual, he or she was brought to us for more detailed interrogation.”
“And tortured?”
“This is one of the worst places in Israel to joke,” Hana answered, her face serious. “No one who works here has a sense of humor until they’re in the parking lot to go home.”
They separated at the security check because Hana was an Israeli citizen.
“Hope I see you on the other side,” Hana said.
“I thought you said no joking allowed.”
“It’s not a joke,” Hana answered with a smile.
Jakob selected a line with an attractive female officer and vowed, as Hana suggested, to keep his answers to a minimum.
“I’m an American lawyer working with an Israeli attorney on a case,” he said when he stood in front of the glass-enclosed cubicle.
“What kind of case?” the woman officer asked.
“Personal injury. I’m a tort lawyer.”
The woman gave him a puzzled look.
“Tort isn’t a dessert,” Jakob said. “That’s spelled with an ‘e’ and is a French word.”
The young woman smiled slightly. “Where are you staying?” she asked.
Jakob gave the name of the hotel in Jerusalem.
“Who else will you see while you’re here?” the woman asked, keeping her head down.
“That will be determined by my Israeli cocounsel. We want to talk to witnesses and other people who may know something about our case.”
“What is the name of the Israeli lawyer?”
“Hana Abboud.”
The young woman looked up. “She’s Arab?”
“Yes, from Reineh, but now working in Atlanta, Georgia, with an international law firm for the past eighteen months. She went to law school at Hebrew University. She also—”
“That’s enough,” the woman said, stamping Jakob’s passport. “Have a good stay.”
Jakob moved to the luggage area and saw Hana, who already had her bag.
“You made it,” Hana said when Jakob approached.
“As soon as I mentioned your name, everything went smoothly. You’re famous.”
Hana raised her eyebrows. After retrieving their luggage, they stepped out into the sunny glare of a cloudless Middle Eastern sky. There was a line of taxis and minivans alongside the curb. Jakob heard someone call out and turned. About fifty feet away a muscular Arab man with closely cut black hair and wearing dark sunglasses started walking toward them. He was wearing a white, short-sleeved shirt and dark slacks. As he came closer, Jakob could see from the size of the man’s arms that he spent a lot of time in the gym. The investigator took off his glasses and said something to Hana that Jakob didn’t understand. She beamed in response. He turned to Jakob.
“Daud Hasan,” he said in accented but precise English. “It is a pleasure to meet you.”
“Jakob Brodsky.”
“Come with me,” Daud said. “My vehicle is in the airport security lot.”