Chapter 14
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
MAYA
"Use the momentum of your opponent to send them past you. Deflect the punch and give them a little push. They'll end up on their ass and wonder what they did."
I demonstrate the move for the class, sending a student gently to the ground. I smile and help the student up as a shadow falls across the doorframe. I turn to see who it is and my smile widens. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen my father’s old friend.
"Hello, child, can you talk for a moment?" he says in Hebrew.
"Give me a minute," I reply back. My Hebrew flows off my tongue as though I've spoken it every day when I haven't in months.
I set up another student who knows the moves I want to teach next, then I walk out into the hall with my towel and water bottle.
"Hey, stranger. What are you doing here?" I greet him in English.
"I am good. I need a favor," he continues in Hebrew and I begin to worry.
I look around us and not seeing anyone, I raise an eyebrow at him in question.
"I'm teaching this class until four, then we can practice." Again, I reply in English. I want to see if he will cave and tell me what's going on.
I've known David Harel most of my life. He served in the Israeli Army with my father, before David went on to be Mossad and my father to become a lawyer. David helped teach me my knife fighting skills, as well as fine-tune my Krav Maga training. After my parents’ deaths I very rarely saw him, although he was always like an uncle to me.
Him showing up here doesn't surprise me because of what James said over a month ago, but him only speaking in Hebrew tells me that he is hiding something.
"Why practice? I'll win every time. I might have taught you a lot but not everything I know," he says in Arabic and I become more confused.
"Keep it up, old man. I've learned some new skills," I respond back in Arabic.
"I need your help tonight, 2000 hours. You will wear this and pose as my date.
No one here knows about our relationship.
You will be checked, so no knives. If something happens, you will have to use your hands," he says in Yiddish. Yiddish is a language not many people know, and that’s when I figure I need more of an explanation.
"Why?" I say in German. I've been studying German lately, so I'm testing him now.
It's not that I don't trust David, it’s that I don't understand why he is being so evasive.
"We are going to the ball the Israeli consulate is hosting before they sit down to talk about the Egyptian border attack.
There will be ambassadors from several consulates, along with other political faces.
I need to attend as a retired operative with my much younger date to distract from the fact that I'm looking at their current security," he continues in Yiddish.
"I don't dance," I say in French.
"You will. I don't ask you for much, but I need you for this. I will have a limo pick you up at nineteen thirty." He turns and walks away. The box he handed me hangs limply in my hand and I wonder what the hell he is getting me into.
At exactly nineteen thirty I'm waiting in my living room for the call saying the limo is here. David picked a very sexy black dress with thick straps over my shoulders that also hang down onto my arms. There is a peekaboo panel between my breasts showing my cleavage, and the waist is cinched in, accentuating how small I am. The most daring part of the dress is the split up my thigh. He also threw in a pair of black pumps with a strap over the top of my foot. They’re over four inches and will bring me up to his six-foot height.
I pulled my hair up into braids and a bun, showing how thick my hair is.
I can't get over the fact that I know David is up to something, but what? I won't know until we can talk privately.
The front desk rings, informing me my ride is here.
I grab my thin shawl and handbag, then check myself in the mirror one more time before I walk out.
I haven't heard from Duncan at all today, and with David's visit, I'm on edge.
I know Duncan would call me if he could, but I'm at a loss as to why he hasn't when we've spoken every day.
Yesterday he mentioned there might be a chance that he would be in New York next month, and I'm planning to take the time to go see him.
"Ah, my darling, you look amazing. I knew that dress would flatter you," David says in English as I step up to him. He kisses me on both cheeks as he takes my hand and leads me out to the stretch limo waiting at the curb.
As he holds the door for me, I feel a tingle of awareness, like I'm being watched. I scan the area, trying not to alert David.
"Get in the car. We need to talk."
I slide in and wait for him.
"We do need to talk. Tell me what’s going on. Why all the cloak-and-dagger, David?"
"About three weeks ago someone started searching your family’s background. He was American and he knew enough about you that it didn't trip anyone up until he questioned your father's background."
"What about Abba’s background alerted someone?"
What secrets did my father keep that someone from Mossad wouldn't want known?
"Don't fret, darling. Your Abba was a good man. He was a friend of Mossad, and mine most especially."
"Then what?"
"How about you tell me why a BAU team has a file on you?"
"Dammit, David, you can't just go searching my background. That is none of your business."
"Anything that does with you is my business. Your Abba, Yoseph, would never forgive me if I let something happen to you. Now spill."
"I guess I have two stalkers. One that has been sending me flowers and a couple of notes, nothing serious. The second is a little more serious."
"I would say. The BAU has him listed as the potential to become violent.
I knew about the first, I've been keeping an eye on that one for years.
As for the cloak-and-dagger, like I said earlier, I need to watch the operatives without them realizing I'm evaluating them.
What a better way to distract them then with a beautiful woman? "
"Thanks, Uncle David," I sneer, using the nickname I've called him since I was a kid.
"No Uncle David tonight. Act like you like me."
"Fine. By the way, I love the shoes. I'm keeping them."
I hold up a foot, displaying the high heels. He smiles.
"That's fine, kiddo. Here we go."
The limo comes to a stop outside the hotel where the event is being held.
David's door opens and he gets out, then holds out his hand for me. I take his hand and put myself into the role of being his date. His large six-foot frame is still muscular at age sixty, and I could see young women being attracted to him. He’s completely bald with no facial hair and a few wrinkles that make him look like he’s fifty.
His dark brown eyes are always looking for danger.
He puts his arm out and I take it, thinking of Duncan.
At the coat check, I give them my shawl but keep my little black handbag as we walk into the ballroom.
There are more than just a couple consulates here, it looks like every political figure in DC and other major countries is here.
I scope out the area, looking for Greg but don't see him.
He or some of his team should be here with the number of bigwigs in attendance.
We make our way to where the Israeli ambassador is standing.
"Sir, the lovely Maya Aaron," David says in Hebrew.
"Sir, it’s nice to meet you," I say in Hebrew, shocking him. He proceeds to ask me where I learned Hebrew and about myself.
"I live here in DC. My father was from Tel Aviv."
The music starts up with a waltz.
"Come, Maya, let’s take a turn."
David leads me to the dance floor and holds me close so we can talk.
"Okay, what do you think?" he asks on our first turn.
I'm looking around the room; the only person who keeps catching my eye is a tall Hispanic man who appears to be part of the French dignitaries guard. Something about him is familiar.
"Why was it so easy for you to get close to the ambassador after what happened in June? If you're not working for them yet, you shouldn't be able to get close."
"Good eye. I trained you well. Looks like you are attracting attention like I hoped."
I smile at him and continue to scan the room.