I had no idea how long I'd need to wait, but I didn't think it would be hours. Soon, the person in Moria's apartment would conclude I wasn't coming that night and leave. With how cold the apartment got, they must have been freezing like I was. The thought made me grin.

The minutes trailed by. I kept my eyes on the doorway of Moria's building. My hand was on the gun, fingers caressing the grip. I wiggled my toes inside my shoes, a trick I'd learned back in Hungary, a way to improve circulation and pump some warmth into my feet. It had served me well in Auschwitz, and it was much colder there than in Jerusalem.

Less than an hour after the start of my vigil, a figure exited Moria's building. At first, I couldn't make out who it was; the figure was merely a moving lump of blackness. But I could tell by its shape that it wasn't Leitner.

As the figure came closer, even before light from the streetlamp hit his face, I knew who it was.

My nemesis. Inspector Kulaski. There was no mistaking that bearing and gait.

Fear struck deep in my chest. My ribs began aching. How had he found me? Was he here alone? The street seemed deserted. I'd seen no one during my wait.

Kulaski was in dark civilian clothes. His expression was tight, like he had indigestion. I guessed he hadn't enjoyed waiting for a quarry that failed to show. It was about to get worse for him. He didn't know it yet, but he was the quarry now.

Him being there, and in civilian clothes, eliminated all vestige of doubt. He had come here to settle matters with me, and he knew that a witness would remember a police uniform. He probably had something to cover his face with as well, like when he and his cronies had jumped me in the street. Once he had finished me off in Moria's apartment, he would have concealed his face as he made his getaway. It was still a risky move, especially since Moria's apartment was on the third floor, but Kulaski was beyond reason when it came to me.

A wave of unalloyed hatred engulfed me. This man had tried to lock me up for a crime I didn't commit. Later he had me beaten half to death. And then he had come to my hospital bed and punched me where I hurt most. Tonight, he had come to kill me. All because of what had happened to his sister, something I had nothing to do with.

If I let him go, he would simply try again another time. There was no escaping it: it was either him or me.

I pulled out the gun, held it pointed down by my thigh. I didn't want to confront him just yet, fearing that Lillian's inquisitiveness had overwhelmed her fatigue and she was right then peering through her window at the street.

I let him come and then pass me by; he was staring rigidly forward and didn't see me hunching in the shadows.

As he passed, I crept up behind him, pointed the gun at his back, and said, "Stop right there, Kulaski."

The inspector whipped around. His face registered surprise, but it was subsumed by fury: his eyes didn't widen in fear but tightened to slits, and his entire face bunched up. Rage came off him like steam off a boiling cauldron.

"Get your hands up," I said, moving slowly toward him and stopping five feet away.

He didn't obey. "You shouldn't have come back to Jerusalem."

"I said, 'Get your hands up.' Don't make me repeat myself."

Still he didn't comply. "But you can't keep from causing trouble, can you? Like the rest of you Herutniks. You're just a common criminal."

"You're one to talk. First you assault me in the street, and then you break into an apartment to ambush me. Not exactly following police procedure, are you? Now raise your hands, damn you. If I have to ask you again, I'll shoot you."

He sneered. "No. You won't." And then I felt it. The hard jab of metal at my back. Even through my shirt and coat, I sensed the small hard circle of a gun's muzzle.

Then a familiar voice in my ear. "Drop the gun, Lapid. It's over."

Before I could overcome my shock, Kulaski stepped forward and wrenched the gun from my hand. He shoved it painfully under my chin, his face so close I could not escape his hot, sour breath.

"You're not just a troublemaker; you're also stupid," Kulaski said. His lips were stretched back, his teeth like sharp stones in the moonlight. He pushed the muzzle harder into my throat, and I tried pulling my head away, but there wasn't anywhere to go with a second gun pressed into my back.

Kulaski grabbed my hair, yanking it hard. "I told you not to come back, you idiot. I guess what I did in the hospital wasn't enough to make that sink in." His face was taut, and I was sure he was going to shoot me then and there.

The man behind me had the same thought. "Easy, Inspector. Let's stick to the plan."

Sergeant Rapfogel. He was the man who'd come up behind me without my noticing. I'd been so careless, I could have killed myself. But I didn't think I'd get that chance. Kulaski would take care of that first.

Kulaski nodded. "All right. Cuff him."

Rapfogel took his gun away, and I was about to try something desperate, but Kulaski read the intention and grinned. "Do it and your brains will litter this sidewalk."

I didn't resist as Rapfogel jerked my hands back and closed the cuffs around my wrists. Then his gun returned to the small of my back.

"Let's go," he said. "And don't try anything."

They led me to a car a few buildings up the street. I'd noticed it before but had seen no one inside. Rapfogel opened the rear door, and Kulaski pushed me inside. He slid in beside me, gun pointed at my midsection. Rapfogel got behind the wheel.

Kulaski said, "How did you know I was waiting in Moria Gafni's apartment?"

"I could smell you," I said, my insides like water swirling down a drain—all weightless and dwindling. I was cuffed and powerless in a car with two armed men with murderous intent. I was done for, hopeless, impotent. All I could do was hurl insults.

Kulaski smiled, his eyes bright. "You're funny. Isn't he funny, Sergeant?"

"Hilarious," Rapfogel muttered. He lifted a bottle of wine off the passenger seat and took a long swig. I noticed the bottle was less than half full. Just like last time, Rapfogel needed the alcohol for what came next. He started the car, put it in gear, and eased away from the curb, going at a moderate speed.

"Who told you I was sleeping there?" I asked.

"Dr. Leitner." Kulaski laughed. "You didn't expect that, did you? The look on your face... it's priceless. The same day I visited you at the hospital, I asked him to let me know if you ever returned. He called me a few hours ago and told me where I could find you. He sounded quite angry with you."

"Did he tell you why?"

"I didn't ask."

"It's because I found out he was blackmailing Moria Gafni."

Kulaski's expression didn't shift. "Cut it out with your lies. I'm not going to fall for them."

"Did you stop to wonder how he knew where I was sleeping? It's because he hired a private detective to follow me. This is my third night back in Jerusalem. There's a reason why Leitner didn't call you yesterday."

"I don't care. What's important is that I have you now."

Did Leitner know what Kulaski intended to do to me? He must have because it wouldn't do him any good to have me arrested. He needed me out of the way permanently. He needed me dead. His knowing Kulaski's mind suggested a deep acquaintance between him and the inspector. Perhaps even friendship.

"How do you know Dr. Leitner?" I asked.

"He treated a relative of mine a few years ago."

"Your sister?"

Kulaski grabbed the front of my coat, his austere face all harsh angles and rigid lines. "What do you know about my sister?"

"That she died before her time. I'm sorry for your loss."

"Right, I'm sure you are. She died because of you and your Herutnik buddies, you Irgun terrorists. It was your bomb that killed her."