Abigail – The Avenging Agent: The agent appears again Read Free

ring finger of her left hand.
    * * *

A l i a s
     
     
    Nameless people came and fussed over her
for two hours.
    The first person cut
her long hair, it fell in bunches on her knees and dropped softly to the floor.
He colored her hair almond brown and styled it in a short bob that revealed her
ears. Another pierced her ears with thin gold hoop earrings.
     
    As they colored and shampooed her hair,
and pierced her ears, Abigail understood that everything was changing, including
her profession. There was no chance of ever going back to her office or
representing clients in court.
    No mirror was placed in
front of Abigail so she could not follow the changes as they were unfolding.   Now
someone else stood before her and asked.
                “What shade
would you like your eyes to be?”
    He opened tiny boxes
and Abigail viewed the colored lenses inside them.  She selected a dark blue
shade, understanding that the intention was to blur her distinctive features,
especially her eyes, which were almost colorless.  From this moment, she would
lose the nickname “Pale Eyes”, given her at the Bedouin encampment where she grew
up.
                “What’s
your name?” a voice behind her asked and she answered right back:
                “Abigail”
and shivered as she realized that her name would also change.
                “From today, you are Rania,”
Barak announced.  Abigail Ben-Nun was assassinated yesterday and her burial
will take place tomorrow at noon.”
    Another unfamiliar man faced her, and
two flashes of his camera made her screw up her eyes that were still tearing from
the contact lenses they had just inserted.  She understood she was being
photographed to update her records with a new identity.
    One after another, the
nameless people left the apartment. A mirror was placed before her and Abigail
regarded her reflection with curiosity.  The reflection looking back at her was
a different woman.  She burst out laughing and pointed at her.  She felt a
twinge in her heart.  Tears welled up in her eyes , and she knew the blue
contact lenses she was wearing were not the reason.
    People went to the home
of the real murder victim in Jaffa, to talk to Pamela’s parents and reach a clandestine
agreement with them.  They did not reveal that her murder had been an error and
both her parents were surprised by the generous offer of compensation of one
hundred and fifty thousand shekels.
                “What for
and why?” the weeping mother asked.
                “If you
agree to a joint funeral,”
                “A joint
funeral?  But Pamela will be buried in her own grave, right?
                “Of
course.  The Ministry of Defense will arrange for the burial and take care of
the headstone bearing her name.”
                “So why are
you arranging a joint funeral?” the father pressed.
                “Firstly,
nothing will detract from your daughter Pamela’s funeral but we are asking you
to agree to her burial in the south, at a prestigious site, near a famous
Bedouin encampment in the Negev.  The parents stared at one another and turned
back to look at the spokesmen.
    “It’s the birthplace of
her employer, Adv. Abigail Ben Nun, who will also be buried there on the same
day, at the same time.”
                “Ah, I
understand” the father replied and glanced at his wife because he had only just
grasped that the attorney was apparently also murdered.
    “That’s why they want to compensate us.”
    Beyond that, nothing further was
explained to the parents, and the compensation and payment of their daughter’s
burial costs sufficed them.  They also had no problem with the presence at the
funeral of the lawyer’s numerous acquaintances and family.
    Barak and San debated whether to allow
Abigail to participate in her own and Pamela’s funeral and sought the counsel
of a professional.