Chapter 2

The phone rang. Startled, Max turned his eyes toward the clock’s lit dial. It was 4:00 a.m. Oh, God. I hope the kids are okay…or my mother.

Max picked up the phone. The voice’s distinctive Israeli accent seemed overcome with anxiety.

“Dr. Gilbert, my name is Ben Arad.”

As there was no response from Max, the voice continued.

“I met you in London last December at a conference sponsored by the Oxford Research Group on Middle East Policy. I came up to you after your speech on Israeli security, and I gave you a note at the time, asking you to contact me on a matter of great importance. Do you remember?”

Max’s mind was still not fully functional. “Who are you? What conference?”

“You spoke about the grave state of Israel’s national security. Do you remember?” Ben insisted.

Max remembered nothing. All he could think of was why that man was calling him in the middle of the night to remind him of a speech he gave at a conference.

Max turned on the sconce. He suddenly remembered a very nervous man dressed in Haredi attire that seemed not only to belong to an entirely different function but to an entirely different century.

Max took another look at the time. “Do you know what time it is here in New York?” he asked sharply.

“I’m so sorry, but it’s important…”

“And how did you get my home number?”

“Off the Internet. White Pages dot com.”

Max fleetingly thought of the absolute lack of privacy in today’s world. “Do you know it’s four a.m. in New York?” Max insisted.

“I’m sorry, but I couldn’t call you earlier. I didn’t want anyone to know.”

“You didn’t want anyone to know? Why? How old are you?” asked Max, suddenly registering that some Israeli kid had gotten a hold of his phone number.

“Oh no, Dr. Gilbert. I’m a grownup. I’m married,” Ben said reassuringly.    “But what I need to tell you is extremely confidential.”

“You want to share something extremely confidential with a complete stranger?” asked Max, still not convinced that he wasn’t dealing with a crank call.

“I know this might seem strange, but these are extraordinary circumstances. It took me a long time to decide to call you, but now that I have, I’m convinced that you’re a man I can trust,” Ben said. “And I think once you hear what I have to say, you won’t be sorry.”

Max pushed himself up against the headboard. The man must be a lunatic. “Sure. What is it?”

“After reading and rereading the transcript of your presentation, I’ve come to question my beliefs.”

How is it that I always attract all the crazies? It’s got to be me. I must give off the “I stop for crazies” vibe.

“Listen, listen. I’m sorry to interrupt, but could we pick this up tomorrow? I can’t really do this at this hour,” Max said, exasperated.

“But it has to be now. It’s the only time I have.”

Silence followed. Max shifted his pillow farther up the headboard and prepared himself for a long, inane confession. Inaudibly, Max again began humming “The Impossible Dream,” but it could have been any of a number of songs that seemed to help Max deal with uncomfortable realities. He’d learned from past experiences that the only way to deal with awkward situations was by meeting them with complete resignation.

His voice quivering with excitement, Ben began his story.

“I belong to a group of anti-Zionist Jews. We call ourselves Charba de’ Elaha, which means ‘Sword of God’ in Aramaic. The media has compared us with the True Torah Nazis of World War Two. Our group believes that Israel must not exist until the coming of Messiah, and since the Messiah hasn’t come yet, the current political entity known as the State of Israel is delaying His coming, and therefore, it must be destroyed to allow the Messiah to usher in the true State of Israel. We have our own commune near the banks of the Dead Sea. We’ve been here for over sixty years. We were once part of a larger organization called Neturei Karta, but my grandfather, who was himself a rabbi, and a few other likeminded men felt that Neturei Karta was too soft on the Zionists. So they left Jerusalem for the Judean Desert to form their own movement, Charba de’ Elaha. This was back in nineteen forty-eight.”

Max was barely listening to Ben’s words, as he couldn’t figure out what any of it had to do with him. An unexpected yawn escaped his mouth.

“I’m sorry, Dr. Gilbert, but after reading your paper, I’ve come to share your views and think your warnings were on target,” Ben said. “I now understand that Israel is not an abstract concept but a vital piece of land full of people just like me, and if Israel is destroyed, all these people, my people, including my family and friends, will be killed. I don’t want that to happen.”

Max’s ears perked up. “Hmm,” exclaimed Max skeptically.

“What caused your conversion?”

“It hasn’t been one thing. My view of the situation here in Israel has been slowly changing over the last few years. Let’s say it’s been a growth process.”

“That’s very noble of you, Ben,” responded Max with a hint of sarcasm in his voice. “And I can understand why you felt like sharing it with someone. But why me? A stranger half way around the world, and at four o’clock in the morning?”

“Because you’re the only person I know who can help.”

“But you don’t know me,” yelled out Max.

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“I remember that in your speech, you said that national security, especially in the case of a small country like Israel, is simply a matter of money, a lot of money, which I know Israel doesn’t have. But if it did, you suggested the installation of, and here I’m reading from your paper, ‘the Skyguard laser-based air defense system, which will provide a protective bubble around Israel.’”

“Yes, I remember the paper now,” Max said, suddenly feeling completely awake. “So you’re the mystery person who they hoodwinked into buying the only copy of the transcript.”

Although he was aware that the man was too nervous to partake in his wisecracks, Max decided that amusing himself was the only way to cope with a pointless conversation, especially at such a ridiculous hour.

“But you understand—what’s your name again?—Ben, that my comments were entirely hypothetical. The amount of money needed to construct such a system is astronomical.”

“How much?” Ben asked.

“How much?” repeated Max. “Let’s say much more money than Israel or, for that matter, most countries have. The bigger the country, the costlier the system.”

“Can you, Dr. Gilbert, calculate how much money Israel would need?” Ben insisted.

“No, I can’t. It’s four o’clock in the morning.”

“But this is extremely important,” pleaded Ben, whose voice sounded like he was on the verge of tears.

“Oh, God. Okay, okay. Let me get a notepad and a pen.”

With pen and paper in hand and the phone wedged between ear and shoulder, Max resumed. “Israel’s surface area is about twenty-one thousand square kilometers, and the circumference is about one thousand kilometers. That means that it would need about a thousand Skyguard systems, and at around one billion dollars a system, we’re talking about a trillion dollars. Satisfied?”

“That is a very great deal of money, Dr. Gilbert.”

Max was on a roll. “So let’s assume, Ben, that Northrop Grumman gives Israel a volume discount. In that case, we’re looking at a paltry sum of about seven hundred and fifty billion dollars.” Max waited for the reaction, but as none came, he continued. “So, you see, it’s a pipe dream. Having said that, Ben,

I want to thank you for your call, but, as it’s too early in the morning for such discussions, I would like to say good-bye.”

“Just another moment, Dr. Gilbert. What if I told you that there was a way we could get this kind of money?”

“Oh?” asked Max, suddenly acquiring an air of seriousness.

“I know of an ancient artifact that may be worth that much,” said Ben.

Max made a face to himself. “I hate to disappoint you, Ben, but even if you owned one of the Dead Sea Scrolls and yours was in perfect condition and, let’s say, it also happened to be the authentic gospel of Jesus, you still wouldn’t get the kind of money we’re talking about. At best, it might be worth, and I’m being very generous, one hundred million. You’re still a long way off your goal.”

“This is very different. The artifact I am referring to could be worth in the many billions of dollars. But getting it won’t be easy. In fact, it will require someone with great knowledge and dedication to the cause and plenty of courage.”

“That’s all?” answered Max, sensing a typical emotional trap.

“I think you’re the man for this enterprise,” continued Ben, undeterred.

“Wow. This is one of the best sales pitches I’ve ever encountered, but I must admit I’m intrigued,” said Max, energized by the yet untested prospect that he, Max Gilbert, possessed heroic qualities.

Ben, after allowing Max a few seconds of chuckling, pressed on. “You must come to Kir Ahador. That’s the name of our commune, and together, we can do it. Look for dot. You must come quickly, Dr. Gilbert. But I must warn you. The project could be very risky. The moment I heard your speech, however, I knew you were the right man for the job.” Ben waited for a response. When he realized that none would come, he added, “What do you think?”

Max’s rational side shouted that the man was a lunatic, but a part of him, that part of him that usually ended up getting him in trouble, felt that he wanted to pursue the wild scheme.

“Ben, I can’t give you an answer right now. As you know, I have academic commitments, and I can’t very well drop everything and come to Israel. But let me find out what my options are, and I’ll call you back in about ten hours.”

“We don’t have ten hours, Dr. Gilbert,” argued Ben.

“I’m sorry, but if you insist on having my answer right now, it would have to be no.”

“This is a matter of great urgency. You realize I’m calling you in the middle of Shabbat. This was the only time I felt there wasn’t someone watching me. They’re all in shul,” Ben answered, trying desperately to arouse Max’s curiosity.

“Ben, like I said, I’ll call you back tomorrow. It’ll be around nine p.m. your time. Shabbat should be over by then. Good-bye.”

As Max was about to hang up the phone, he heard Ben’s frantic voice. “But you don’t know my phone number.”

“Yes, I do, or rather my phone does. Good-bye.”

“Dr. Gilbert,” shouted Ben, in a tone filled with despair. Please…please!”

“What?” asked Max curtly.

“Please promise me that if something happened to me, you would come to Israel and investigate.”

“Nothing’s going to happen to you. Like I said, I’ll call you tomorrow. Good-bye.” And Max quickly disconnected the call.