The Spy in the Shadows: A Gripping Espionage Novel by Orna Sandler Klein

Author:Orna Sandler Klein [Klein, Orna Sandler]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-12-29T00:00:00+00:00

Second Week

Sunday

It’s seven o’clock on Sunday. I’m at home in Paris and it’s nice being curled up in my comforter. I relax a bit and change positions, enjoying the soft pillows and the touch of the sheets between my toes. Sunlight flickered off the window. It was a beautiful day. Blue skies, and a deceptive sun smiling down. I roll over and lightly touch Nathan. He hugs me in his sleep. The years create behavioral patterns. His body heat feels nice, and I try not to think about the girls who, any minute now, will burst into the room, where the day will once again become another with just dad.

I’m reminded of the trip to Vittel we’re about to embark on, the Mediterranean club on the outskirts of the village known for its hot springs. The vacation was planned well in advance. Suddenly, my work phone rings. On the other line is a colleague from Israel.

“I understand you’re about to go on vacation. I just wanted to let you know that when you get back, you have to pack. It’s been decided that you’re coming to Israel for about two or three months.”

The serenity disappeared. “Wait, wait, what did you say? I’m here with my family. What do you mean two or three months? Are you out of your mind?”

“There’s no choice. Every option has been exhausted. It’s imperative.”

“Is this a request or an order?”

“It’s not a request according to what I’ve been told.”

“So send the message up the chain that it’s not an order I can follow. After everything I’ve been through here, there’s a limit. It’s not fair, I’m not able to do this, and I won’t.” My heart was about to explode.

“I’ll pass along your message and let you know,” he answered calmly.

The feeling of being on vacation vanished and was replaced by the heavy feeling of a person who feels like they’re a puppet in somebody else’s game. Even Nathan felt like all hope was lost. We decide to try and ignore it; we try mostly for the girls.

When we returned from our vacation, there was a voice message waiting for me: “Call Ya’akov as soon as you return from your vacation.”

“Miriam? What’s up? They left a message telling me to call Ya’akov.”

“Hey, how’s it going?” Ya’akov says on the other line.

“All right.” I don’t feel like elaborating.

“You’ve been saved. We found somebody else to come to Israel.”

“I see. That’s what you wanted to tell me?”

“No, I wanted to tell you that you have to come to Israel in a few days because there’s no choice. But we found a different solution. So that’s it.”

Twenty years in the system and they just move you around, as if you were an emotionless package without the need to even breathe. “Goodbye.”

I turn over onto my back and fold my hands behind my head. How many hours, days, years have I invested – with love even – to the system, to the state, from a sense of duty, and how coldly and cruelly that love is requited.

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