about him.’
Isabel stood with me.
And then the policewoman reappeared. She’d only been gone a few minutes. She handed me back my passport.
‘Be careful in Israel, Dr Ryan,’ she said. ‘The situation here is difficult these days. We have to double-check everything. I am sorry for delaying you.’
I passed her by quickly. What she meant was clear. I’d been warned.
I watched as Isabel gave over her passport. The policewoman examined it carefully, asked a few questions then gave it back.
I wondered why she hadn’t asked us where we were staying. Maybe she didn’t need to. Our hotel had copied our passports in front of us when we’d checked in. They’d probably used the copies to register us with the police. And with the number of security cameras around, they probably knew more about our movements than if we had a stalker.
We walked back towards the Jaffa Gate.
‘What’s Simon’s phone number?’ I asked Talli.
‘He told you everything he knows. I’m sure of it,’ she said, after she gave it to me. ‘We have a good reputation for helping academics from other universities.’ She held her hand out to bid me goodbye.
‘Thanks, Talli. I appreciate all your help. It means a lot to me. Send me an email in a week or two about what
you’re working on. Maybe you can come and do a talk for us too.’
She beamed. Then she was gone, and Isabel and I were heading for a taxi that had pulled up. It was disgorging a family of American tourists.
I checked my phone again. Susan hadn’t called back. I tapped her number. I must have dialled it ten times since she’d rung me. The number still wasn’t available.
It was looking increasingly like the call had been an accident of some sort. Maybe her phone had been stolen. Maybe someone had turned it on briefly, pressed the redial button, before taking its SIM out.
‘Can you take us to Jabotinski?’ I said to the driver. He looked at me as if I was a piece of bait drifting on the top of a pool. Then he grinned. He was young, had a few days’ growth of beard and a t-shirt with swirling red and green paint stains on it.
‘You’re tourists, right? Where on Jabotinsky are you going? It’s a long stretch, my friend.’
‘Near the middle,’ I said. He moved off. Isabel traded pleasantries with him for a few minutes. I was trying to work out the significance of everything we’d heard from Simon. Was it relevant that he was involved in a red heifer project? Probably not. They were just another bunch of end-timers, weren’t they?
Still, I felt uneasy.
The taxi pulled up a few minutes later on a long street heading up a hill with three-storey white apartment buildings on either side. The buildings were set back from the road. Palm trees, carob trees, eucalyptus and other shrubs separated the buildings from the street. There was a small roundabout at the top of the hill.
‘This is the centre of Jabotinsky. You can walk either way from here, but there’s not a lot to see.’
I was deflated. This wasn’t going to be easy. I’d hoped for a busy street with shops, cafes maybe, people we could talk to, ask if they’d seen an American of Kaiser’s description. He hadn’t been a quiet guy who could escape attention. But this was a long street full of anonymous apartment buildings.
‘What’s your plan?’ said Isabel.
‘I thought we might have dinner? Look at all the restaurants,’ I gestured around us.
She put her hands on her hips, turning on her heel. ‘Yes, what a big choice.’
A pizza delivery motorbike went past. ‘There is pizza somewhere,’ I said.
‘Wonderful, are you going to run after him?’ The noise of the disappearing motorbike faded into the distance.
‘Let’s walk that way.’ I pointed back down towards the Old City. ‘He has to have stayed one side of this roundabout. That gives us a fifty percent chance of being right.’ We walked onto the pavement.
The weather was getting even more gloomy. It was 3.30 p.m. and colder
Isabel stood with me.
And then the policewoman reappeared. She’d only been gone a few minutes. She handed me back my passport.
‘Be careful in Israel, Dr Ryan,’ she said. ‘The situation here is difficult these days. We have to double-check everything. I am sorry for delaying you.’
I passed her by quickly. What she meant was clear. I’d been warned.
I watched as Isabel gave over her passport. The policewoman examined it carefully, asked a few questions then gave it back.
I wondered why she hadn’t asked us where we were staying. Maybe she didn’t need to. Our hotel had copied our passports in front of us when we’d checked in. They’d probably used the copies to register us with the police. And with the number of security cameras around, they probably knew more about our movements than if we had a stalker.
We walked back towards the Jaffa Gate.
‘What’s Simon’s phone number?’ I asked Talli.
‘He told you everything he knows. I’m sure of it,’ she said, after she gave it to me. ‘We have a good reputation for helping academics from other universities.’ She held her hand out to bid me goodbye.
‘Thanks, Talli. I appreciate all your help. It means a lot to me. Send me an email in a week or two about what
you’re working on. Maybe you can come and do a talk for us too.’
She beamed. Then she was gone, and Isabel and I were heading for a taxi that had pulled up. It was disgorging a family of American tourists.
I checked my phone again. Susan hadn’t called back. I tapped her number. I must have dialled it ten times since she’d rung me. The number still wasn’t available.
It was looking increasingly like the call had been an accident of some sort. Maybe her phone had been stolen. Maybe someone had turned it on briefly, pressed the redial button, before taking its SIM out.
‘Can you take us to Jabotinski?’ I said to the driver. He looked at me as if I was a piece of bait drifting on the top of a pool. Then he grinned. He was young, had a few days’ growth of beard and a t-shirt with swirling red and green paint stains on it.
‘You’re tourists, right? Where on Jabotinsky are you going? It’s a long stretch, my friend.’
‘Near the middle,’ I said. He moved off. Isabel traded pleasantries with him for a few minutes. I was trying to work out the significance of everything we’d heard from Simon. Was it relevant that he was involved in a red heifer project? Probably not. They were just another bunch of end-timers, weren’t they?
Still, I felt uneasy.
The taxi pulled up a few minutes later on a long street heading up a hill with three-storey white apartment buildings on either side. The buildings were set back from the road. Palm trees, carob trees, eucalyptus and other shrubs separated the buildings from the street. There was a small roundabout at the top of the hill.
‘This is the centre of Jabotinsky. You can walk either way from here, but there’s not a lot to see.’
I was deflated. This wasn’t going to be easy. I’d hoped for a busy street with shops, cafes maybe, people we could talk to, ask if they’d seen an American of Kaiser’s description. He hadn’t been a quiet guy who could escape attention. But this was a long street full of anonymous apartment buildings.
‘What’s your plan?’ said Isabel.
‘I thought we might have dinner? Look at all the restaurants,’ I gestured around us.
She put her hands on her hips, turning on her heel. ‘Yes, what a big choice.’
A pizza delivery motorbike went past. ‘There is pizza somewhere,’ I said.
‘Wonderful, are you going to run after him?’ The noise of the disappearing motorbike faded into the distance.
‘Let’s walk that way.’ I pointed back down towards the Old City. ‘He has to have stayed one side of this roundabout. That gives us a fifty percent chance of being right.’ We walked onto the pavement.
The weather was getting even more gloomy. It was 3.30 p.m. and colder
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