"Keep it up, old man. I've learned some new skills," I respond back in Arabic.
"I need your help tonight, 2000 hours. You will wear this and pose as my date. No one here knows about our relationship. You will be checked, so no knives. If something happens, you will have to use your hands," he says in Yiddish. Yiddish is a language not many people know, and that’s when I figure I need more of an explanation.
"Why?" I say in German. I've been studying German lately, so I'm testing him now.
It's not that I don't trust David, it’s that I don't understand why he is being so evasive.
"We are going to the ball the Israeli consulate is hosting before they sit down to talk about the Egyptian border attack. There will be ambassadors from several consulates, along with other political faces. I need to attend as a retired operative with my much younger date to distract from the fact that I'm looking at their current security," he continues in Yiddish.
"I don't dance," I say in French.
"You will. I don't ask you for much, but I need you for this. I will have a limo pick you up at nineteen thirty." He turns and walks away. The box he handed me hangs limply in my hand and I wonder what the hell he is getting me into.
At exactly nineteen thirty I'm waiting in my living room for the call saying the limo is here. David picked a very sexy black dress with thick straps over my shoulders that also hang down onto my arms. There is a peekaboo panel between my breasts showing my cleavage, and the waist is cinched in, accentuating how small I am. The most daring part of the dress is the split up my thigh. He also threw in a pair of black pumps with a strap over the top of my foot. They’re over four inches and will bring me up to his six-foot height. I pulled my hair up into braids and a bun, showing how thick my hair is.
I can't get over the fact that I know David is up to something, but what? I won't know until we can talk privately.
The front desk rings, informing me my ride is here.
I grab my thin shawl and handbag, then check myself in the mirror one more time before I walk out.
I haven't heard from Duncan at all today, and with David's visit, I'm on edge. I know Duncan would call me if he could, but I'm at a loss as to why he hasn't when we've spoken every day. Yesterday he mentioned there might be a chance that he would be in New York next month, and I'm planning to take the time to go see him.
"Ah, my darling, you look amazing. I knew that dress would flatter you," David says in English as I step up to him. He kisses me on both cheeks as he takes my hand and leads me out to the stretch limo waiting at the curb.
As he holds the door for me, I feel a tingle of awareness, like I'm being watched. I scan the area, trying not to alert David.
"Get in the car. We need to talk."
I slide in and wait for him.
"We do need to talk. Tell me what’s going on. Why all the cloak-and-dagger, David?"
"About three weeks ago someone started searching your family’s background. He was American and he knew enough about you that it didn't trip anyone up until he questioned your father's background."
"What about Abba’s background alerted someone?"
What secrets did my father keep that someone from Mossad wouldn't want known?
"Don't fret, darling. Your Abba was a good man. He was a friend of Mossad, and mine most especially."
"Then what?"
"How about you tell me why a BAU team has a file on you?"
"Dammit, David, you can't just go searching my background. That is none of your business."
"Anything that does with you is my business. Your Abba,Yoseph, would never forgive me if I let something happen to you. Now spill."
"I guess I have two stalkers. One that has been sending me flowers and a couple of notes, nothing serious. The second is a little more serious."
"I would say. The BAU has him listed as the potential to become violent. I knew about the first, I've been keeping an eye on that one for years. As for the cloak-and-dagger, like I said earlier, I need to watch the operatives without them realizing I'm evaluating them. What a better way to distract them then with a beautiful woman?"
"Thanks, Uncle David," I sneer, using the nickname I've called him since I was a kid.
"No Uncle David tonight. Act like you like me."
"Fine. By the way, I love the shoes. I'm keeping them."
