So he was surprised, to say the least, when he saw on his security camera what looked like a police cruiser pull into his driveway. Except that instead of the Las Vegas Metropolitan Police’s logo on the door—which included an unmistakable silver seven-pointed star—it said TEMPLE BETH ISRAEL SECURITY across the door, the A in Israel a Star of David.
Classy.
David’s home phone rang.
“Rabbi? This is Officer Cecil Kiraly; I’m out front in a cruiser.”
“I see you,” David said. “May I ask what you’re doing here?”
“Mr. Savone asked me to come get you,” he said. “He’s under the weather.”
“I’m sorry,” David said, “do I know you?”
“No, sir, I’m pretty new.”
“Give me just one moment,” David said.
When did the Temple get its own cruisers? David zoomed the security camera in, made sure there weren’t U.S. Marshals in the backseat. Panned over to Officer Kiraly. He wore the standard uniform all the off-duty cops in his employ wore, which is to say he looked just like a cop, except he also had Kevlar on over his uniform, which seemed excessive for limousine service.
The phone rang again.
“David,” Rachel Savone said, “you don’t have a cell phone?”
“I guess I don’t anymore,” David said.
“You need a cell phone,” she said. “Here’s Bennie, hold on.”
Bennie said, “The man out front. He’s fine. Don’t fucking shoot him.”
“He’s a cop.”
“You hired him,” Bennie said. His voice sounded scratchy.
“You sick?”
“Got something going on in my throat.” Bennie Savone had thyroid cancer a decade earlier. Whenever he got a cold, he started working on his will. “Probably something Sophie brought home. Woke up with a fever. Anyway. Cecil, he’s going to drive you today. He’s fine. I went to school with his father. Works Metro. One of the good ones. We doubled security today regardless.”
“Why?”
“Do you not watch the news?”
“No,” David said.
“Jesus,” he said. “When you get to the Temple, read The New York Times online, okay?”
“Is there a problem?”
“There’s a siege at the Church of the Nativity,” he said. “Palestinians took it over. You’re supposed to be on high alert.”
“Church of the Nativity. Is that on the west side?”
“In Bethlehem, Rabbi.”
“Oh,” David said. “Got it. I’ll be on the lookout.”
“Jesus, Rabbi,” Bennie said. “Pretend, okay? Rachel will be by later this afternoon.” And then he was gone.
David watched Cecil Kiraly for a few more seconds. It was true: David had hired a passel of off-duty cops to provide security for Temple Beth Israel and the other synagogues in town. He hadn’t approved the purchasing of Temple cruisers, however. Four months he was gone and now the Temple had its own armored rides.
Cecil was probably thirty. Buzz cut. Tan. Biceps. Big gold watch. Any other city, he’d probably be a bouncer; in Las Vegas, he was a cop. That’s just how it was.
David checked his watch: 7:02 a.m. He had meetings all day at the Temple, plus two funerals. Shit to sign. Things to keep Temple Beth Israel running. All this time pretending to be a straight guy ended with him having a straight guy’s job, in addition to everything else. He’d woken up early not because he was worried he’d have to kill whoever showed up at his house that morning, but because he knew he had Excel spreadsheets piled on his desk at the Temple and the mere idea of it all was making him sweaty.
Plus, it was already over 80 degrees. David would never get used to the heat of Las Vegas. This time of year in Chicago, it was still fucking freezing. And then a thought came to him. Four years ago, to the day, he’d wager, he walked into this house for the first time. Back then, he was still Sal Cupertine, didn’t know a word of Hebrew, and had the foolish notion that by now, he’d be back in Chicago with Jennifer and William and out of this mess. Was he any closer today than he was then? Still in the desert, staring through a wormhole into his own past.
David grabbed his butterfly knife, slid it into his breast pocket, along with his kippah. This time, he’d be the decision maker. Things went south, he wouldn’t wait for someone to do the right thing.
“You can get into the front,” Cecil said when David opened the back door of the cruiser.
“I prefer the backseat,” David said.
Cecil shrugged, so David slid in behind him and they took off.
“What’s with the vest?” David said after a while.
“Heard you’ve got enemies,” Cecil said.
“What are you gonna do if they aim for your face?”
