The Mahdi by Robert Cook

Author:Robert Cook [Cook, Robert]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: River Grove Books

HAARETZ ONLINE, TEL AVIV

SATURDAY

KUFDANI PAID HIS TAXI DRIVER AND GAVE HIM A NICE TIP AFTER THE ride toward the setting sun, from the prime minister’s office to the offices of Haaretz Online in Tel Aviv, where Caitlin had arranged an exclusive television interview. Liberating his wallet from storage in Ktzi’ot had made him feel flush. He tried not to think about the items they had stolen from him: his dive watch and the knife and sheath that always hung at the back of his neck.

Two old friends probably sitting in a pawn shop in Jerusalem.

Stepping out of the elevator, he introduced himself to a receptionist who directed him through a set of large glass doors and down a long hallway to the outer room of a small recording studio. A young, attractive woman sat typing on her computer, wearing a simple blue suit with a single strand of good pearls—or great fakes. It was a good look for a reporter. Her hair and makeup seemed excessive, even for TV, but Kufdani thought she looked bright enough. Several other staff members scurried around her, preparing the studio, and she never broke concentration.

“Ms. Sachs, I presume.”

The young woman’s head snapped to attention, and he saw her face brighten with focus. “Holy shit, you’re him. You came. This is the biggest fucking story ever.”

“Indeed, I came, and it may well be a great story,” Kufdani said. “It’s been a busy day. There was a prison break around me, so I had to call a friend to get me safely out of Ktzi’ot and back up here for this interview.” He reached out a hand and held hers briefly in greeting. “You’ll want to continue planning your approach. I would try to keep the stories separate and then later blend them into the bigger story. It will evolve, so don’t get ahead of it.”

Her face flushed. “You’re working me. Trying to get me to build your story the way you want it told.”

“Of course I’m working you.” Kufdani grinned. “That’s why I’m here. I have a story to tell. You work me for the best of it. It should be great fun—or newsworthy, if nothing else.”

Sachs shrugged and smiled faintly, as if to say, At least he knows the game. “Let’s get you made up.”

Sitting in a chair with a big towel wrapped around his neck and something thick being smeared on his face, Kufdani said, “I’ve just heard, from someone very high up, that the Israelis have moved the Bedouin tribes from the West Bank to another location. Herded them like sheep. No facilities, no public transportation, no nothing.”

Sachs nodded. “Basically the same news as yesterday and the day before that, but yes, still outrageous. And nothing new.”

The makeup woman was blotting concealer at the scar beside his eye, which was taking far longer than her work with all the little scars on his forehead.

“Well, today’s news,” Kufdani emphasized, “is that the appropriate response to displacing thousands of Israeli citizens to an area

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