Jerusalem
One day after Assassinations
Zeb slapped a mustache on his face, put on a prosthetic nose and added cheek pads to make his face look fleshier.
He turned his jacket inside-out again and stepped out of the door. He used a master key to lock the apartment and went down the stairs.
The steps went down in a square, and from the banister, one could peer all the way down to the ground floor.
He took a peek. No residents climbing up or going down. The building was quiet on the inside.
He bounded to the third-floor landing and went down, taking two steps at a time.
Turned a corner of the square and was proceeding at a rapid pace when he came face to face with Carmel and Dalia.
The two kidon were running up, holding the bag together, sharing the handles. No squeaks from their shoes. They were breathing easily.
Zeb kept his face composed even as he tightened on the inside. He nodded to them politely and moved to the railing to let them pass. Felt their eyes run over him swiftly, as they nodded in return.
Dalia closer to him. Her hair bouncing on her neck, the faintest sheen of sweat on her forehead.
Carmel looking away from him and upwards. It didn’t feel as if either viewed him as a threat.
And then his foot slipped. He stumbled, and Dalia’s shoulder slammed into his chest.
His breath escaped him.
His backpack clinked.
His jacket pressed hard against his chest, showing the outline of his Glock.
And his mustache fell off.
The women’s reflexes and speed of reaction amazed him. Both of them let go of the bag. It fell, its mouth gaping open, groceries rolling down the steps.
Carmel said something that didn’t register on him. Not then.
Dalia’s elbow came up swiftly, going for his throat, her eyes narrowed. Carmel was leaping back, making room for herself, her hand darting behind her back.
Zeb slapped away the incoming blow.
Don’t shoot, he wanted to yell at them. But he understood their reactions. They didn’t know who he was. They had come to a conclusion based on his disguise and his weapon.
They were kidon. A stranger was either an enemy or a noncombatant. A stranger in their building, carrying a gun, was hostile and had to be treated as such.
Zeb was still off-balance from slipping, one foot on a higher step, one on a lower. He twisted his body to take Dalia’s second blow high on his chest. The knuckles of her hand bit hard, sending lancing pain through him.
Carmel’s hand was rising. A Beretta, black and lethal, snug in her palm. He didn’t know if she would shoot to kill.
He risked a quick glance to the stairs. Still empty. Made a quick calculation even as he countered Dalia’s punches automatically, which were coming thick and fast.
Mossad was his friend. Yes, he was investigating the kidon, but he didn’t know if these two were the killers. He wasn’t going to shoot them or hurt them.
He deliberately leaned in, giving her less room, reducing the weight of her punches. He used her body as a shield from her gun-toting partner.
Rocked back on his heels when an open palm slapped him, stinging his eyes with involuntary tears.
He grabbed Dalia’s retreating hand. Got a hold on it, twisted it, wrenched it behind her back and, using momentum, shoved her against Carmel.
He got a few seconds of respite as the two kidon slammed into each other, their harsh breathing punctuated by swearing. He grabbed the fallen mustache and pocketed it. His left hand caught the railing. He checked the two operatives one last time. Carmel was pushing Dalia away, her face angry, her gun hand rising again.
And then he was vaulting over the stairs.
He fell.
His arms outstretched, his body loose.
Counting rapidly in his mind. Looking down.
One second.
Two.
NOW!
He caught hold of the railing on the first floor, gritting his teeth as his fall came to an abrupt stop, his arms feeling as though they were being yanked out of their roots.
He let go and dropped lightly to the ground floor.
Looked up and saw both women peering down at him.
He strode out of the lobby and, once outside, ran around the building, away from the cross road.
Away from the balcony’s view.
Started checking out cars on the street.
There was a van that had seen better days. Parked close to a Toyota. He looked up and down the street. No alarms had been raised. No one pointed at him.
He slipped between the two vehicles. Dropped his backpack to the ground and opened it.
Removed a long dress. Slid it over his head. Kicked away his trainers and slipped into sandals.
Removed his cheek pads and nose. Donned a greying wig and put on dark shades. Applied lipstick and checked himself out in the reflection from the van’s metallic surface.
He stepped out and held his phone to his ear, speaking softly, laughing occasionally. He now looked like an office-going woman, speaking to a co-worker.
He crossed the street and walked on the pavement on the other side. Swaying his hips a little more.
Carmel came out of the building. She stood casually, looking up and down.
Dalia emerged, flanked her, and the two women stood, bodies relaxed, eyes checking out every movement on the street.
They saw the old woman. Considered her carefully. Zeb didn’t look at them. He spoke of meetings and deals. Willed his chi to go lower.
He passed them. His back prickled as he sensed their eyes on him.
The shades on his face were custom. They projected the rear-view on the lenses. He saw the two kidon talking to each other.
They came forward to the cross street and looked to the left and right.
‘Hold on,’ he told his nonexistent caller.
He went to the ice-cream vendor and ordered a lolly. Sucked on it as he returned to his call and headed toward Mahane Yehuda Market.
The kidon disappeared from sight, and when they did, he heaved a sigh of relief.
However, he wasn’t done.
He searched for a bar, found one, entered it and headed toward the restrooms.
Went to the door labeled Ladies and occupied a stall. Removed his disguise and put on his previous one, the fleshy-faced man that the female kidon had seen.
Zeb cracked the door open and checked for traffic.
The restroom was empty.
He went out of the bar quickly and, once on the street, turned in the direction of Rehavia.
He was going back to Carmel and Dalia’s building.