Dark Waters Read Free

forgotten his friend was beside him. The two of them had been close, like brothers, since grade school, yet he lacked the courage to tell Mansoor the truth. “I was wondering how Israel will survive when the wall is finished and the border sealed.”
    Mansoor threw back his head and laughed, his white teeth flashing against the deep brown of his skin. “Not to worry, Haddid. If they finish the wall, there will be a gate. Besides, once our mission is complete, Israel will have more to worry about than building a barrier to keep us out.”
    The mission . Haddid stared at the ground.
    His friend had worked hard to bring him onboard, but in the end, it had been the unspoken threat to his family that had pushed him to join. Although Mansoor believed in Abdul Aleem Zuabi, the head of the Palestine Liberation Committee, or PLC, Haddid considered Zuabi just a well-spoken, middle-aged man who came from somewhere outside of Palestine. As a leader, he emerged after the latest intifada and wanted the eradication of the State of Israel for no better reason than hate.
    His was an untenable position, thought Haddid. Israel was too strong. There were already too many dead.
    Mansoor clutched Haddid’s arm at the elbow, dipped his head, and spoke quietly into his ear. “We are to meet Najm and Muatab in Yaffa this afternoon. By now, they should have the information that Zuabi requires.”
    A wave of nausea tightened Haddid’s stomach. He battled the urge to knock away Mansoor’s bony hand. The chatter of the workers around them filled his ears, then the crossing appeared in front of them and all conversation ceased, as though tiptoeing silently across the border made them invisible.
    The legal crossing into Israel was fewer than one hundred meters to the north, but few of the workers ever crossed there—only those with blue cards. At the official checkpoint, Israeli guards stopped and questioned all people entering or leaving the West Bank—mostly curious tourists, reporters, or Israeli occupiers. Most workers slipped across the invisible line under the watchful eye of the enemy. They were the illegal workers, happy to sweat in the jobs undesired by a group of people who, by virtue of religion, viewed themselves as superior. The Palestinians built Israeli houses, cleaned, cooked, and tended the gardens, and the Israelis paid them under the table. It was an arrangement that had existed for years. Usually they dispersed into the bowels of Israel without confrontation, yet, occasionally, like a pack of wolves, the soldiers would move in and scatter the workers like frightened gazelles. Separating the weakest, the soldiers would terrorize some poor soul who could not run so fast. The only difference between the soldiers and wolves were that the soldiers were not hungry, just bored. Today, they were simply too busy.
    In Netanya, Haddid and Mansoor climbed aboard a bus bound for Tel Aviv. It was crowded and hot, and Haddid sat alone near the back. The windows were open, and he could smell the flowers of Ramat HaSharon, a city of wealthy Israelis who employed many illegal workers. The bus stopped there and emptied out. Mansoor moved back, sitting beside Haddid. Mansoor marveled at how modern the city was, but Haddid barely listened. All he wanted was to smell the sea.

Chapter 4
    R aisa Jordan drank in the view from her office window. To the west, the blue waters of the Mediterranean stretched as far as her eye could see. Closer in, the waves lapped the expanse of sandy beach bordering the new high-rises, the Dolphinarium, and the ancient golden city of Yafo. She’d only been in her new post as assistant regional security officer, or ARSO, for two weeks, and already she loved Tel Aviv.
    “Jordan.” The RSO’s voice crackled over the intercom. “My office. Now!”
    From his tone, Jordan knew something was wrong. She headed for his office, her heels clacking on the black-and-white tiles of the hall. She entered without knocking.
    “Check