“I’ll handle it. I’m sure you have enough on your mind right now.” Rina stood. “You finish packing and look after Hannah while I find the passports.”

“You made arrangements for Hannah?”

“Yes. I thought I was going to New York. I had it all worked out. Nora, the baby nurse, agreed to look after her-”

“I liked Nora. You got her back?”

“For three days. But I don’t think she’d mind staying a week. My parents also agreed to stay in and look after the boys.”

Decker swooped up Hannah and threw her up in the air. The baby howled with delight. He held the baby to his breast and nodded to his wife. “Thank you, Rina.”

“You’re welcome, honey. And by the way, the ties go perfectly with the suits.”

After twenty-six hours of flight, they were greeted by quite a welcoming committee. Unfortunately, none of the crowd was for them. Decker was amazed by the number of people stuffed into the miserly allotment of outdoor space, making it that much harder for him to move their luggage cart. He knew Lod was an international airport but it had more of the feel of an airstrip. Someone bumped hard into his cart, almost toppled it over. But Decker was quick and prevented the spill. In fairness to the woman, she did help him upright the cart, but then she left without a word of explanation.

“Excuse me!” Decker muttered under his breath.

Rina smiled, “Reminds me of the classic joke.”

“Which is?”

“It’s long. I’ll tell you another time when we’re not so tired. Suffice it to say we’re in a Levantine country. Remember that. It’ll take you a long way.”

Sleep-deprived with a monster-sized headache, Decker was cranky. And still wobbly on his legs, having been compressed for over a day in an airplane filled to capacity. Lots of families and lots of howling babies. Plus, there had been a troop of Jewish Argentinian teenagers with beat-up guitars, who had never heard that hootenannies had gone out of style along with Nehru jackets and beaded headbands. The music never stopped. When he finally did manage to fall into a restless, sweaty sleep, some unknown Chasid woke him up and asked him if he would please make a minyan-a quorum of ten men needed to recite public prayer. It took all his control not to deck the guy. Rina had said it was because he’d been wearing a kippah-a yarmulke.

Decker’s response to that? Why hadn’t she warned him. She had known the ropes. He was a stranger in a strange land. Not that he hadn’t been in exotic locales around the world, but it had always been with the army, with other men-rather boys-who had been as confused as he.

But at this moment-at five P.M. Israeli time, as he lugged a cart through foreign-tongued people, he felt truly the ger. Ger had come to mean convert, but it also meant stranger. Never had he felt more gerish in his life.

The rental-car signs were in English as well as Hebrew. It made him feel a little more comfortable. He pushed the recalcitrant cart toward the brightly lit cubicles. At least the weather was accommodating-slightly overcast skies, but mild. They had landed in daylight. Just a half hour later it was dusk approaching dark with a vengeance.

He said, “They don’t have much of a twilight, do they?”

Rina said, “We’re in a different part of the world. But rental cars are the same throughout.” She pulled out a paper contract from her oversized purse. “Wait here. I’ll get us our car.”

Decker followed her into the tiny office anyway. He needn’t have bothered. He couldn’t understand a word she was saying. The man behind the desk was short, squat, bald, and very dark. He nodded as Rina spoke. Then he screamed “Yossi” into an intercom.

Decker said, “Everything okay, Rina?”

“Hunky-dory. He’s calling Yossi. Yossi’s going to take us to the car lot.”

“Where’s Yossi?”

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out.”

Decker said, “By the way, do you know where I could get a gun?”

At the mention of the word gun, the rental-car man jerked his head up and stared at Decker with suspicious eyes. Rina quickly said some mollifying words. Decker caught one of them-mishtarah. Rina turned to him.

“Will you please be careful? Most people understand English-at least enough to know what a gun is.”

“I thought there was a peace process going on.”

“There’s a process going on. Peace is a relative term. What is the significance of arming yourself? Are you anticipating something you haven’t communicated to me?”

“Are you deliberately using obtuse words to obfuscate our receptionist?”

“Exactly.”

“Then we shall converse on the said subject later. What does mishtarah mean?”

“Police. Why?”

“Someone in LA has been going around impersonating a police officer,” Decker said. “He calls himself Detective Mishtarah.”

“An Israeli,” Rina said.

“Gold,” Decker answered.

And Rina remembered why they were there. Two boys were missing and Shaul Gold was looking for them. At the moment, Peter didn’t know if Gold was a redeemer or a murderer. She suddenly realized what it meant to Peter to be without his Beretta.

“I’ll find you some armament.”

“Something so I don’t feel so vulnerable.”

“Ah,” Rina said. “It looks like Yossi has arrived.”

“Mazel tov,” Decker said. “Let’s get out of here.”

The car was a Subaru and Decker was the sardine. He drove, knees to the wheel, while Rina navigated. The night was moonless, the expressway poorly lit, and Decker had to strain his eyes to make sure he was in the correct lane. At least the roads were in good shape-better infrastructure than LA. The airport was a hop from the city of Tel Aviv.

“Which exit do I take?”

“I’m not sure. Take any of them and I’ll ask directions. The hotel’s on the main drag near the ocean-HaYarkon. We’ll find it eventually.”

Decker complied, took the first exit into the city, and drove a few blocks only to find himself smack in the middle of a slum. Streetlights were few, garbage was plentiful, and the neighborhood obviously didn’t believe in street signs.

He looked around. Old tenement houses were zigzagged by thin fire-escape staircases. The construction was cheap, stucco buildings with tiny windows. No longer exhausted, he realized his system had turned into its fight-or-flight mode.

“I don’t like this.”

Rina said, “Why don’t you pull over and I’ll ask directions from those guys over there.”

“Are you nuts?”

“What’s the problem?”

“Do you know where we are?”

“No, Peter,” Rina said, testily. “If I knew where I was, I’d get us to the hotel.” She rolled down the window and yelled out a s’lichah-an “excuse me.” Punks began approaching the car. They wore tight jeans, open-necked shirts under leather jackets, and gold glimmered around their necks. Decker pressed metal to the floor of the car, flattening Rina against the back of the passenger seat as he peeled out.

“Are you crazy?” she screamed.

Decker drove a few blocks, then pulled the car over. “Why in God’s good green earth are you asking assholes for directions? You might as well put a sign around your neck, saying, ‘I’m a stupid tourist. Mug me.’”

“What are you talking about?”

Decker looked at his wife. She was confused, making him confused by her lack of understanding. Up to this point, Decker had never thought of his wife as that naive. Now he realized how trusting she was and it scared him. He took a deep breath.

“Sweetheart, we’re in the middle of a slum. And those boys whom you were about to ask for directions? They are what we call in the business scumbags-”

“Peter-”

“Honey, they’d sooner rape you than help you.”

“This isn’t a slum. It’s the heart of Tel Aviv.” Rina looked around. “Probably a working-class area. Those kids were just your average Israelis out for a good time-”