Zion by Colin Falconer Read Free Book Online

not sticky on his hands because it was still yet to happen.
    He slept: Amos Mandelbaum stood behind the counter in the pawnbroker’s shop. “What do you have for me today?” he said.
    Netanel pushed a wheelbarrow up to the counter. In the wheelbarrow was a little girl, holding a truncheon. “I could give you more if you had a pair,” Mandelbaum said.
    The door swung open and Mendelssohn burst in. He pointed his finger at Netanel. “You lied to us! You’re a Nazi!”
    “No,” Netanel said, “you don’t understand.”
    “Come on, on your feet!” Yaakov barked, shaking him awake. “You’ve had your rest. If you boys want to be Palmachniks , you have to prove to us you have the belly for it!”
    Netanel staggered to his feet in the darkness.
    There were only six of the original group left now, plus four sabras . The rest had been broken by the regimen of forced marches and lack of sleep. But they won’t break me, Netanel thought. I’m already broken.
    He followed the silhouette of Yaakov Landauer down the rocky incline, his backpack and the weight of the Sten gun cutting into his shoulder through his black jersey. Amos Mandelbaum walked beside him, his silent companion.
     
     
     
    Twelve days.
    Twelve days with little sleep, little food, only just enough water. Every muscle in his body screamed for rest. His arms and legs had been tom on rocks and desert scrub. His feet were bleeding from the endless marches. He was dizzy from fatigue and thirst.
    But he had done it. It had all been worth it. The training was over and he was a Palmachnik now.
    Yaakov Landauer squatted down next to him and handed him a rifle. He nodded towards the tin can that had been set up on a boulder a hundred yards away. “One round,” he said. “That is all the ammunition we can afford. It is your graduation present.”
    They were in a wadi ; the high walls around them would cushion the noise. A jackal patrolled the cliff top, looking for easy pickings.
    Netanel took the rifle, aimed.
    Missed.
    Yaakov grinned and slapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, we want soldiers, not snipers. Tonight we go back to the kibbutz , you can rest up for a couple of days. Then we start again.”
    Netanel looked up at the cliff. The jackal was gone. No easy pickings here, Netanel thought.
    Not anymore.
     
     
     
    Bab el-Wad
     
    Izzat sat on his haunches, the ancient Mauser cradled between his knees, watching the road that wound through the hills from Jerusalem. The wadi could not have been more perfect if Allah Himself had created it specifically for the purpose of ambushing Jews. In fact, he decided, that was probably the very reason Allah had brought it into being. Even back then, before time began, He had foreseen that there would come a time when they would try to trespass on their land.
    Perfect hiding places behind the rocks and boulders, perfect sighting for a rifle down into the gully; a perfect trap between the high walls, no hope of escape.
    He looked at his wristwatch. Almost time.
     
     
     
    Jerusalem
     
    The blue and silver bus was about to leave the station when a Jewish police sergeant climbed inside, spoke softly to the driver, and then ordered everyone off. Half the passengers were women, the rest were half. They filed out of the door without complaint.
    Their places were taken by two dozen members of the Jewish Supernumerary Police, dressed in civilian clothes. Each of them was a member of the Haganah, and each of them was armed. As the police were the only individuals among the Jewish population who were allowed by law to carry weapons, they made no attempt to conceal their armory, which included rifles, Sten guns, and Beretta 9mm pistols.
    As soon as they were inside the bus, the driver started the engine and the morning service for Tel Aviv set off for the Bab el-Wad.
     
     
     
    Bab el-Wad
    Izzat grinned. This was going to be easy.
    He waited. His men had orders to wait until he fired the first shot.
    But one of his