Eldad’s apartment – 8:30 PM - IDT
Eli stood on the balcony watching the tireless city’s nightlife on the beach. Memories of another ocean and other streets flooded his mind: Miraflores, Barranco, walking along the shore with Mila. Everything had happened so quickly. Were they really too late? The last two years had gone by like a couple of months. He shook his head, holding on to the rail. They had searched for her, even around Masae’s castle. There hadn’t been any sign of her, and bang! the attack during the Super Bowl. Eli turned his gaze inside the dimmed lit apartment. He watched the man who had raised and loved Mila as her father. It was impossible to read Kei’s face, but without a doubt Mila was in the forefront.
Kei worked on his computer at the dining room table, typing tenaciously on his keyboard. He ignored the vapor rising from his cup of green tea and the street noise that never really quieted. The others had left with the Sachapuyos to stretch their legs. Yana had said she was tired and preferred to be by herself.
“What happened to Mila?” Ifat asked Eldad in the bathroom while wiping her face with the towel he gave her. “I need you to tell me everything,” Ifat demanded, standing tall and peering into his eyes. It was normal for women of her culture to be direct.
“Come sit, I’ll get you something to eat,” Eldad offered, leading her to the kitchen. Eli saw them and left the terrace.
Kei too stopped what he was doing and followed them to the kitchen. “Hello Ifat, do you remember me? We met while Flora and Mila Ferro were living here in Israel.”
“Yes, of course, I remember you. You are Mila’s father,” Ifat replied, lowering her protective walls. “What has happened to Mila?”
“Yes. I am.” Kei smiled, his heart warmed by that truth of that phrase. “Mila must share her story with you when she comes to herself, but I must warn you, she might not remember you,” he said without shying from Ifat’s firm gaze. “She’s gone through a lot, like you, since she and her mother left Israel. Flora passed away a few months after their arrival in Peru.”
Ifat clutched the glass of water she held.
“But Mila was able to get back on her feet after some grieving months,” Kei continued.
“Now I understand. That’s when we got disconnected,” said Ifat, turning to Eli. “You must be the tutor.” She offered him a knowing smile.
“Yes.” He cleared his throat. “I’m Eli Roth.”
“Mrs. Ferro hired you so that Mila wouldn’t waste time,” Ifat said as a thin smile materialized on her lips. “Mila spoke about you often… We were as close as sisters and talked on the phone all the time—until one day there was nothing but silence.”
Both Ifat and Eli looked away, an avalanche of memories flooded their hearts.
Kei brough Ifat back to the present and shared with her the facts strangers she encountered that days and about the auction of the uncovered Sachapuyo archeological piece, Pharma-NorTech, the confrontation with Shinji, and the kidnapping.
“I understand; most likely, she won’t know who I am…” Ifat murmured as to herself, looking from one person to the other. The one person in her life left alive wouldn’t know who she was or what she went through.
“Before she fainted, she didn’t remember any of us in this room,” Kei confirmed, diverting his gaze out of the kitchen.
“Not even me,” Eli added, pained, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Gadiel, the healer, advised us to let her wake up on her own,” Kei added.
“Being optimistic isn’t my strong suit these days, but let’s just say if she doesn’t recover soon, what will the course of action be? Because we cannot wait until Masae and her bioweapons and viruses wipe the planet out, starting with this land we are standing on,” said Ifat as the sirens blasting outside alerted the people of another attack. “As you witness,” she nodded to the streets, “we know what it’s like to have no more than fifteen seconds to take cover underground before a missile blows up your home. But fifteen seconds won’t be enough if invisible gas or dust is released where and when we least expect it…And we wouldn’t even know it!”
“You are right, Ifat. This is bigger than getting my daughter back. We must stop the production and supply of these kinds of weapons ipso facto, and the only one in this group who knows where Masae’s clandestine laboratories are, is Mila.”
“Well, you don’t have to wait too long,” said Mila, standing outside the kitchen. “Don’t worry about updating me. I’ve heard most of it.”
Ifat approached Mila, for the first time worried about her haggard appearance and burns. She didn’t want her younger sister to see her like this, a weak shadow of the vivacious woman she used to be. She tried to smooth her clothes and her short raven hair. She pulled her straight hair to the side to cover the melted flesh on her neck and part of her cheek.
Mila stopped Ifat’s hands and held them between her own, turning her gaze to the burns, her heart tightening in her chest. “Please, forgive me. I don’t remember my life in Israel before coming to college. I understand that we were very close and have a burden in common.” Mila thanked Eldad, accepting the glass of water he offered her. “I have persistent nightmares about a fight with a group of men. I’ve been trying to locate the place where that happened, but I haven’t been able to find it.” Mila gazed at the others, her friends who had been looking for her for so long as well. “Ifat and I need some fresh air. I know you understand.” Mila held Ifat’s hand and led her to the door.
“But you fainted and you just woke up… Are you sure you are well enough to leave?” protested Eli, approaching her and glancing at Kei to do or say something.
“Thank you for caring. I had a very restful sleep, just what I needed before this next step.” Mila smiled at him reassuringly. “We’ll be all right.”
“Ifat, you’ll need this,” Eldad handed her a helmet at the door. He anticipated Mila would be riding her motorcycle.
The women walked to where Mila had left her other faithful friend, the Red Ducati.
“Ifat, I know that what I will ask you is selfish because it will be very painful for you,” Mila said, climbing on her bike.
“I know what you want to ask. I’ll guide you. Head to Hebron,” answered Ifat, climbing on the bike.
It was already late and dark when they got closer to the moshav where they used to live. But the sound of gunfire from across the road alerted them of their arrival to the heart of a fight. Mila stopped the bike behind a lengthy line of stuck vehicles. She looked around, all those people were potential casualties in the crossfire.
“Welcome home, Mila,” Ifat muttered under her breath. “You see? Not much has changed.” Ifat sighed. “Do we engage?” She asked, studying the woman she used to know. It had been almost three years since Mila insisted on facing the looters in their community. The memory was stored fresh in her mind.
“Do we have any other choice?” Mila glanced back and forth at the line. The night was lit by the street lights. Ahead of them, some bullets crashed on hard surfaces igniting lethal sparks. “But this time, we won’t do it by ourselves.” Mila turned her bike around and rode to a restaurant off the road where she saw the vehicles that had been trailing her team parked.
“So much for not following us…” Mila said, approaching the Cherut agents and the four Sachapuyo.
“We lost you once,” Kei answered, gripping her shoulder softly. “We won’t let it happen again.”
“Shall we get involved?” Mila tested, glancing back and nodding to the confrontation.
“That’s what we do,” Svend answered. “Eldad and Ifat, what do we need to know? Do you have any intel?”
“It’s urban guerrilla tactics,” Eldad answered, glancing at the information coming through in his government phone. “The terrorists are attacking from behind civilians in the streets and their homes. This makes it very hard for the army to go in full force against the terror. So, as you see, they are dropping these leaflets,” He picked up one of the many that had rained down earlier that day. “Aside from this, they are going door to door to warn the people of an answer fire provocation, but it’s a suicide mission for the soldiers knocking at people’s doors. The terrorists know this and use it to strike as many Israelis they can.” Eldad checked a private message vibrating on his phone through the untraceable line.
“They know your forces are commissioned to avoid harming civilians at all cost.” Added Svend who, as a Ukrainian mercenary and arm dealer in a covert operation, had helped rescue some Israeli soldiers held hostage in a desert land not far from there.
Eldad showed them the incoming images. “These are tunnels in H1 sector, through which the Iranians are delivering weapons to the terrorist group at the other side. These other images are,” he enlarged them to see in more detail, “of a hospital. You see the roof?”
“What is sector H1?” Yana asked on behalf of the team.
“Hebron is divided in 2: H1, which is the largest part of the city and 100% under Arab control and no Jew is allowed to enter.” Eldad traced with his index finger the fringe on the map. “And this narrow side is H2, the Israeli controlled part where everyone is allowed to enter, although a street is closed at the moment due to the constant violence.” Eldad signaled the route they had to take.
“They are using the hospital’s roof as their new launching pad!” Mila and Eli exclaimed at the same time.
“First a school and now the hospital!” Svend shook his head, glancing at the team. “So tell us how the team can help.”
“We must be the ghosts in the night we were called to be,” Eldad answered.