Chapter 15

I returned to the Royal. Sat in my room for days, feeling as if the smallest movement would shatter me into a thousand pieces. Shin Bet guards stood around me, motionless and silent, sunrise to sunset. There was no communication from Yael.

Eventually, I sent some of them to collect my things. Found the deed to the duplex. Signed it over to her.

I wrapped things up, as best I could. Rolled up my contacts in every government department. It was their country now. They could make of it what they will.

I let my security go, one by one. Until there was only Yakob left.

“Sit, Captain.”

I was in a recliner on the Royal’s west side, facing the blue of the Mediterranean.

“I’d prefer to stand, bos.” He remained in hands-ready position, feet slightly apart, hands above his waist, eyes scanning the hotel.

“Of course.” I paused for a moment. “Our time together has come to an end, Yakob.”

“Bos?” He looked down, distracted for just a moment.

“I no longer require your services. I’ll be leaving Israel tomorrow.”

“The airport? But surely -”

I smiled thinly. “I’ll be leaving as a private citizen on a commercial flight, Yakob. My work here is done. I’m no threat to anyone anymore.” I gazed out at the ocean. “But I’ve left something for you.”

“Sir?”

“Shin Bet will be offering you an extremely generous early retirement package tomorrow, Yakob. I hope that you’ll choose to take it.”

He resumed scanning the facade of the hotel. “Wouldn’t know what to do with myself, sir.”

“You can think about that. Travel, perhaps. Visit places where there’s no-one else in a hundred miles.”

“Places like that still exist?”

“I understand that they do.” I rose from the recliner and extended my hand. “Good luck, Yakob.”

“Sir.” He seemed momentarily flustered, then altered his stance slightly to take my hand.

I dropped my voice. “You are dismissed, Captain. Go live your life.”

He blinked. “Bos.” Nodded once. And turned, walking away from the hotel without looking back.

I stood outside my mother’s home. Thick white flakes of snow fell around me, collecting in the seams of the black messenger bag over my shoulder. The snow was melting in my hair, sending trickles of icewater down the back of my neck.

I stepped forward. Knocked.

After a minute I heard someone inside the hall, saw a shadow move behind the glass. And then the door was open, and my mother was hugging me tight.

“Joshua.”

I was home.

Everything in the house seemed the wrong size, as if I had grown while I was away, or the world had diminished.

But dinner was everything I remembered. The goings-on in the village were the same stories, woven in a different yarn.

The most surprising news was that my mother was dating. A nice man, Jamaican-Canadian, working in a logistics company. Divorced, no kids. I got the impression it was quite new for her, and still faintly shameful, but exciting at the same time. She said I would meet him when the time was right.

My years in Israel were related as a blend of fact and fiction. I guided her away from asking after certain topics. Not enquiring about Yael was a command.

My feet extended over the end of the bed. I was freezing all the time, despite turning up the thermostat, tossing and turning. Finally, I sat up in bed, hours after trying to find sleep. It was 2am.

I dressed quickly, throwing on clothes I hadn’t worn in years. Pulled on a black toque and crept downstairs without turning on any lights, passing the portrait of my father. Went out the front door.

Snowflakes flared into dazzling white points as they passed though the beam of a streetlamp, fading into the darkness beyond. The night air was so cold it instantly numbed my skin.

The Fares’ house was dark. South for the winter, I’d been told.

I crossed the street and reached through the gate, found the catch on the other side. Walked alongside the house, my shoes squeaking in the fresh snow.

A security light flicked on. The Fares’ back yard was a pristine rectangle of white. Small trees wrapped in burlap sacks.

The cold made the bullet wound in my shoulder throb.

I found the iron patio chair outside the kitchen. Brushed it free of snow. Sat, feeling the cold sink into my bones. Watched the snow falling into the garden. Remained so still that the security light flicked off, forgetting that I was ever there.

I sat there for a long, long time.