The Abditory

By Sara Gherasim

Being a highly trained assassin for a special unit of Mossad should have prepared Rivka David for anything. But when she discovers a mysterious object, she is transported through time and needs to find her way home — if only to invoke her revenge. But will her path also find that of forgiveness? Or will her old habits win?

• Language: English
• Publisher: LifeRich Publishing
• Release date: May 8, 2022
• ISBN: 9781489741813

Sara Gherasim

Sara Gherasim grew up in the suburbs of Detroit, Michigan with her family. She is an avid reader, history lover, and adventure seeker. Her goals are to bring God the glory in all she does, including her expression through writing. For more information, please visit saragherasim.com.

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Copyright © 2022 Sara Gherasim.

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in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

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The Holy Bible, English Standard Version. ESV® Text Edition: 2016. Copyright

© 2001 by Crossway Bibles, a publishing ministry of Good News Publishers.

ISBN: 978-1-4897-4183-7 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4897-4182-0 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4897-4181-3 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2022908595

LifeRich Publishing rev. date:  05/05/2022

CONTENTS

Acknowledgments

Prologue

I. Rivka

II. The Knife

III. The Desert

IV. Jerusalem

V. The Rebel

VI. Family

VII. Thief

VIII. The Tribune

IX. The Palace

X. Roots

XI. Purim

XII. The Head

XIII. Him

XIV. The Plan

XV. The Cross

XVI. The Tavern

XVII. The Tablet

XVIII. The Beginning

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

First, I’d like to extend my many thanks to

LifeRich Publishing and its team.

Also, to my editor, Carol, for making the book come to life.

To my phenomenal family who cultivated me into the person I am today.

For my mother and sister, for their shared love of reading

and history. Their help and the time we spent together along

this literary journey are something I will always cherish.

To my father and brother, for their creativity and great

sense of adventure. Without them, many of my ideas

would never have had a place to take root.

Most of all, to my remarkable husband, Daniel, for pushing me to reach

for my dreams. Without him, none of this would have been possible.

PROLOGUE

T he dagger whirled past my face so fast that I barely had a moment to think. I tried to regain my balance, but the assassin was too quick. Falling to the sand, my limited options were not presenting themselves. Only one thought was clear—I was trapped…

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I

RIVKA

S weat slid down my brow, the sun beating hard on my neck, as I walked toward the adversary before me on the sandy ground. She twisted her wrist, curling the long jagged blade in the air. Staring at one another as I circled her, we contemplated the next move of our challenger, waiting for the right moment to pounce. Taking a deep, quick breath, I went on the offensive.

Flipping my dagger in my hand, I ran toward her, bringing my blade close to her face. Immediately, I was blocked with the forearm that held her blade. She slid her other hand underneath mine, dropping the steel into her grasp. While still holding her forearm, I stopped her other hand as she attempted to slice my neck. In one quick motion, I twisted her arms down, managing to take her knife in the process and raising my own to her throat. I suddenly felt something sharp embracing my stomach. Another blade.

Enough.

We breathed heavily as we stared at each other. I held the cold steel of her blade as I handed it back to her.

You nearly cut me, Rivka! Take it easy, said my opponent, reaching for my hand.

They call this training for a reason. You need to go on the offensive more, Thana; if not, your enemies will always have the upper hand, I replied.

It’s better to lie in wait; that way, your enemy will expose their weaknesses. Yours, for example, is that you trusted I would fight fair.

I scoffed, reaching for a water bottle to quench my thirst.

Who’s right, Commander? Thana asked.

The old, gray teacher remained in his chair as he looked us over. You’re both right… and you’re both wrong.

Thana and I glanced at each other in surprise.

Thana, he continued, if you wish to be victorious, you must always assume your rival will be more skilled than you. They will never ‘take it easy’ on you; thus, you must never do so to them.

Thana bowed her head low in respect, hands folded around her weapon.

He turned his gaze to me. Rivka, don’t ever be so naive as to think that your enemy won’t do whatever it takes to be victorious, no matter the means. Not everyone holds to the same rules and standards as you. Never trust anyone, even those who you do now. Everyone has a price they can be bought for. If you think as such, you will live a much longer life—just like me.

Yes, Commander, I said, bowing my head low as well.

The old leader rose from his chair, straightening his back with a long sigh. Onto more important matters. Rav Aluf needs to speak with you both.

Thana and I shared a look, knowing this probably meant that we were getting assigned another mission. We nodded to our aged Commander before turning to make our way out.

As we walked through the port city, the warm sun of Caesarea shined brightly on our noses, the gentle breeze of the coast accompanying it. Being stationed in a sea-based town during the hot months of summer was always a blessing, the warm wind bringing a solace that the rest of Israel lacked. When given a chance, I would take time to relish its beauty by walking along the sand. But those days were few and far between, now having bigger and more pressing matters on my shoulders. Most having to do with Rav Aluf.

Reaching our destination in record time, we walked inside the building masked as a phone company’s headquarters, located next to various other shops. The building was small, only a single story, and once inside, not much larger than an apartment. Ordinary people came in to buy new phones, posing as the perfect cover, not drawing unwanted attention. Passing through the doorway, Thana and I put on the gray janitor jumpsuits hanging on a hook nearby. We made our way back into the storage room that disguised the unusual contents inside. Closing the door tightly behind us, we came face to face with an elevator that was only activated through badge number, fingerprint scan, eye scan, and DNA test.

Taking only seconds to complete the tasks, Thana and I slid into the metal box, pressing the button to take us to the lowest level, some forty feet down. The ride was swift, but we still managed to relieve ourselves of the jumpsuits, our cargo pants hiding underneath. Once the elevator doors opened, we were greeted by soldiers, guns leaning against their chests.

Rav Aluf wishes to see us, Thana stated, handing our disguises into one of their hands.

They turned without saying a word, guiding the way to one of the secure conference rooms, where only the most confidential cases were discussed. Rav Aluf was our commander and chief at the Kidon; they knew that if they kept him waiting for even a moment, things would not bode well for them. As we reached the end of the long, curved hallway, a metal door blocked our way from moving forward. A similar entry process as the elevator was issued, and once complete, we entered yet another metal room, only this one was considerably larger. When constructed, the walls were carefully designed so that nothing was heard inside or outside of the room, no electronics in sight. Being in one of the top groups in the organization, Thana and I had been in this room more times than we could count. The guards shut the door behind us, leaving us with the dark-haired man standing on the other side of the room—Rav Aluf.

Thana, Rivka, Rav Aluf nodded toward us as he flipped through the file he had in his hand.

Standing across from him along the long, metal table, we saluted him and placed our hands firmly at our sides.

Let’s get right to business, he continued, looking up from the folder. I’m sure you’re up to date on the six men who escaped from one of our maximum-security prisons.

Yes, they caught four last I heard near Nazareth, I confirmed.

Among them was Zakaria Zubeidi, a prominent military leader loosely affiliated with the Fatah, he continued.

Spare me; anyone ‘loosely’ connected with them is already more involved than they should be. The name alone is a bold proclamation of their Islamic ties and wishes against Israel, and quite literally, one of our greatest enemies, I scoffed, lifting my chin.

Indeed, he agreed, but he is not the largest target. It was reported that six men escaped, but in truth, there were seven.

Who was the seventh? Thana inquired, scrunching her eyebrows.

He threw the file he held across the table, a couple of the contents spilling out. Thana retrieved it, fingering a picture of a curly-haired man with a long scar across the left cheek.

That is Ahmad Hassan, leader of an underground terrorist group working out of Jerusalem. He and his men have been responsible for most of the terrorist attacks over the years, hitting over two hundred and fifty in September alone, Rav Aluf informed us.

Wait, I thought those attacks weren’t accredited to any one terrorist organization, I asked, watching as Thana took a seat in one of the chairs as she read through the file.

Come now, Rivka, after all your years of service, you should know better than that, Rav Aluf chided.

Then why haven’t we been informed of this sooner if it was such an important target, Thana challenged, eyeing him.

For one, it was on a need-to-know basis as all things. I myself had strict orders not to engage. You know that they would begin to speculate about us if we had we taken him out so soon. We needed to form a secure base in the IDF to not to blow our cover.

I disagree, I interrupted, had we taken him out sooner, we could’ve avoided the hell that our nation has endured over the years. They don’t call it ‘The Wave of Terror’ for nothing.

Rav Aluf leaned across the table, laying his hands firmly down for support. That may be true, but moreover, we need him alive so we can get more information about his group.

And what group is that? Thana asked.

He hesitated. He’s part of the Islamic Jihad Movement.

I looked at Thana; she didn’t break her gaze from our commander, but her teeth were clenched. They were the group responsible for the death of her parents.

I don’t understand, I began, they are one of the largest terrorist organizations against Israel. We have several of their members already in our prisons, and they have been keeping more to themselves the past few years. What makes this man so special?

Yes, they have been. But we have come across Intel that they, as in many cases, are not focused on the now but rather on the future. They are beginning with their youth, opening special camps and schools for them, teaching them to hate us, our people.

Again, with all due respect, what makes this man unique? I pressed.

Hassan is the director of that program. Because he is charged with the indoctrination of the children, we believe that he will know much more than the common soldier. He colludes with the very leaders of the organization.

I nodded, grasping the gravity of the situation. It was as if we had captured Sadam Hussein or Osama bin Laden and they slipped through our fingers.

Thana straightened, her eyes firm. Our orders, sir?

Find him, get whatever information you can out of him, and… well, you know the rest, he ordered, scratching his hair, walking toward the metal door.

Deadline? I asked.

Yesterday.

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The burden of this new mission laid on our shoulders as we went to one of our secure locations to discuss the next steps. It was a beautiful spot along the sea that the Kidon had managed to secure and claim. There were no electronics on site, only the sea, the sand, and a couple of Kidon-issued tables and chairs. It was one of Thana’s and my favorite places to brainstorm and occasionally reminisce.

It seems so long ago since we came to the Kidon, I paused, reliving the day. The Kidon is a very special unit of Mossad, or as some know it, the FBI of Israel. It’s a highly covert unit that the only way to know of it or get in is to be chosen. To be selected, there were some obvious basic requirements: stealth, intelligence, excellent shots, and no family ties of any kind. After all, assassination is nothing like how it is portrayed in the films. They don’t want the risk of capture; they could use our families as a bargaining chip. While the Mossad headquarters were in Tel-Aviv, the Kidon had their own branch hidden in Caesarea.

Both Thana and I had come into the service when we were nineteen once our families were gone. Thana’s story was a little more tragic than my own. Her Palestinian father fell in love with her Jewish mother and converted to Judaism so that he could marry her. But when Thana was just five, they were killed in a bus explosion, leaving Thana in the care of her aging grandmother. Growing up, Thana kept to herself, never mentioning her parents or much of anything for that matter. After that fateful day, adults just seemed to fawn over her; the teachers, feeling pity, always gave her special treatment. Surprisingly, the children seemed to all want to be her friend as well, all fighting for her attention and approval, even though they considered her a half-breed.

I was still popular, but nothing compared to her—she was the golden child. How we became the best of friends, I’ll never know, but we always shared similar likes and interests. My mother had died a year before I met her, giving us something to bond over—the loss of our parents. It was an unspoken connection, never talked about between us. All through school, training, and service to the IDF, we were inseparable, and I always had her back, no matter what. Even though we had no siblings, we are as close to sisters as two people could be.

More tragedy visited Thana when her grandmother passed during our first year in the IDF—the Israeli military. Soon after, my father also passed, giving us a single, golden opportunity. We were chosen by Rav Aluf to be a part of the Kidon and rose through the ranks for our thorough and precise completion of every mission. And because he found us together, he usually had us put on the same missions. Whether it was mercy, compassion, or just coincidence, I’m not sure.

So, what’s our first step? I asked, gripping a water bottle in my hands.

Taking a big sigh, she handed the file to me. As per usual, minimize the target. According to the file, Hassan has some allies here in Israel, one being Yosef Kohen.

I smirked. Ah, our old friend is still playing two sides, I see.

Yosef Kohen was an Israeli-born Jew who had no allegiance to God or country, only money. We had encountered him on several previous missions, and each time, I always wondered why we hadn’t eradicated him on the spot. What worked in our favor was that he always seemed to have valuable information and would give it to the highest bidder. How our enemies hadn’t discovered his character and destroyed him themselves, I’d never know.

I’m sure that he will be the best place to start, Thana said, folding her hands on the table.

Agreed. You contact him, find out what you can.

Rivka, she suddenly stammered, is it all right if I take the lead on this mission?

Her request was of no surprise to me. I could imagine all the years of sleepless nights she endured as she imagined the various ways to act her revenge on the poor souls.

Of course, my friend. I gave her wrist a quick squeeze.

She gave me a half-smile.

Then let’s get to work, she ruled.

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As the sun rose the next day, we readied ourselves for the hour and a half trip from Caesarea to Jerusalem. Thana didn’t get in contact with Yosef, ultimately surmising that the effect of an in-person encounter would be more effective than any other way, leading us to his home city of Jerusalem. During the trip, we discussed the plan, deciding which tactic would work best on a man of Yosef’s character.

To be straightforward, Yosef was a man willing to do anything to make some money. As long as he was in for a payday, that man would probably sell his own mother. Not only that, he lacked bravery, so our two best options would be either fear or money. I guess it would just depend on how the day would go.

Finally reaching our destination, we parked our car near the center of town, knowing we wouldn’t want it to be secluded if we needed to make a getaway for any reason. Thana informed me in the car that Yosef had now put up a front of being a salesman in the Arab Souk, the outdoor marketplace. This would work out perfectly for our cover, meeting in a place of business, just two women looking to do some shopping.

Wearing hats and sunglasses in a simple way to cover our identity, we walked through the market, making our way to Yosef’s shop among the horde of people. A group of tourists wearing shirts with I Love Jerusalem written across their chest walked past us, giggling with delight at the small trinkets they purchased. I didn’t have to see Thana to know that she was rolling her eyes. When it came to other cultures, Thana was the type who didn’t like to see them mingle. She believed that every culture should stay to its own; that way, there was no chance of an identity crisis, which I believe was brought on by both her parents being of different races, ironically.

We continued our march through the tight corridor, glancing around at the various products. The shops all along the streets were diverse and similar at the same time. Different variations of scarves, jewelry, backpacks, postcards, and a plethora of other things were on display. We kept a careful eye on all the men sitting on chairs next to their shops, ensuring that we would apprehend any pickpockets that may come our way. We stopped at a shop here and there, trying to seem interested in purchasing something so as not to blow our cover.

His shop is near the courtyard of the Western Wall, Thana said softly to me as we made our way there.

Adjusting my braid, I nodded, smiling at the tourists we passed by. The people in general filling the streets of the market were just as diverse as the products—Orthodox Jews, Arabs, European women in long skirts, people from all over the Orient, loud Americans, and the list goes on. At times, it made you even question if you were still in Jerusalem. The air was rich with the smell of the food shops that we passed as well, fresh bread and pastries taking the lead. Had we not been on a mission, I’d probably stop myself for some Challah bread.

We passed some guards along the way, as well, each keeping their eyes on the multitude of people. I could see the tourists a little uncomfortable at the batons on their backs and the guns strapped to their hips. I casually itched my side underneath my jacket to ensure my weapon was still secure in the holster.

The walk overall from one end of the market to the other only took about ten minutes, twenty if you stopped to dottle around different shops. Arriving at the portion of the market with the high arched ceiling, Thana motioned with her head toward one of the openings that was filled with scarves and hats. The shorter, rounded, white ceiling was covered with colorful scarves. Jewelry hung from both sides of the wall; each piece was different from the last. Baskets and trinkets made from wood carpeted the tile flooring. From the looks of it, there didn’t seem to be anyone in the shop, which was odd. We walked in, feigning to casually look around at the goods instead of looking for Yosef. Stopping in front of the wall of necklaces, Thana picked one up and inspected the blue beads.

A pretty necklace for a pretty lady, a voice said from behind.

Pretty shop for a conniving devil, I responded, not turning around.

Rivka, you hurt me, he rolled sarcastically.

Turning to face him, I crossed my hands together, giving the clear impression that I was in no mood to mess around. The months haven’t been kind to you, I see, Yosef.

His short curly hair was partially disappearing, clear by the bald spot on the back of his head. His dark beady eyes matched those of a rat with the slinky body to go with it.

Au contraire, he said smoothly, ever since our last encounter, I’ve been put on the path of the straight and narrow. It’s the inner beauty that counts, does it not?

Maybe, I continued, but you seem to have gained neither.

He clenched his jaw, taking in a deep breath. You always knew how to push my buttons, Rivka, didn’t you?

I gave him a sarcastic smile, walking around him, pretending to admire the goods.

He turned his attention to Thana. Thana, then, our relations have always been good. That necklace is normally sixty shekels, but for a friend, I’ll give it to you for thirty. You’re practically robbing me, Yosef bargained.

There’s something else I actually want from you, Thana pointed out, not moving her eyes from the necklaces.