CHAPTER 3

Sam and Tobias had just crossed the street and were right outside the inn when a panic-stricken Al appeared on the front steps and ran up to them. Right away, Sam could tell that things had just gone from bad to worse. As for what exactly the problem was, he wasn't so sure he wanted to find out.

"Sam, we got big trouble!" he cried frantically.

"I'm almost afraid to ask," Sam sighed.

"Ziggy says Tobias' girlfriend—what was her name again?"

"Dalia?"

"Dalia? What about her?" Tobias asked. Once again, Sam silently kicked himself for letting his teammate overhear his conversation.

"Dalia! Right!" Al said as he shook the handlink.

"I just remembered something," Sam said, trying his hardest to keep his cool. "If there's some postcards in the lobby, why don't you send her one after we check in?"

"Ooh, nice save," Al whispered.

"Good idea," Tobias grinned. "It's a good thing I'm right-handed, or writing it would take me forever."

As serious as the situation was, even Sam had to laugh at that.

After they checked into their room (with the help of a very convincing story of their room at the Village being sprayed for bedbugs), Sam slipped out into the hall as Tobias started writing his postcard. "Okay, Al, what's wrong?" he demanded.

"After you guys left, Ziggy started going wacko. She says one of the terrorists who survived the shootout caught the first plane to Tel Aviv and killed Dalia and her parents in their apartment."

"What!" Sam gasped in horror. "Al, you have got to be kidding me!"

"I wish I was, Sam. And that bastard made it look like an accident. I'm tellin' ya, these guys are smart."

"When?"

"Lemme check—September 7. That's just one day after the memorial service."

"Al, you gotta go to her."

"And do what, exactly? I'm a hologram, in case you haven't noticed! She'd never hear me!"

"Remember how you got Melny Trafford's attention when she wasn't supposed to be driving?" Sam reminded Al. "She thought it was the spirit of her late husband who saved her life."

"Yeah, she did, didn't she?" Al remembered with a proud smile. "Boy, I wish you could've been there to see that."

"Well, does Dalia have any deceased relatives? You know, like a grandparent or great-aunt or uncle?"

"Hold on, I'll check...Yes! Her great-aunt Adina. She died when Dalia was 12, and they keep a picture of her on their living room wall. Ziggy says she believes her spirit is always watching over her."

"Perfect. Okay, Al, I need you to get over there, and make it look like this kid's great-aunt is sending her a sign that she needs to get out of Tel Aviv. I don't care how you do it."

"I dunno how I'll pull it off, Sam, but I'll try," Al promised. "In the meantime, don't let Tobias out of your sight."

"I won't."

After Sam went back into the room, Al rubbed his right temple. "I sure hope Sam knows what the hell he's doing, Ziggy," he said worriedly. "Okay, Gooshie, looks like we're going to Tel Aviv."

And in an instant, Al was on his way.

The next thing Al knew, he was in Tel Aviv, standing in an average-sized living room, modestly furnished and decorated for what you'd expect to see in the early '70s. A middle-aged couple was sitting on the couch with a young teenage girl between them, and they were watching the Games on TV. Al knew immediately that this girl was Dalia, and yes, he thought she was beautiful, but there wasn't time to think about that now.

"Okay, let's think here," Al said to himself as he scanned the walls. "Where's that picture?"

Maybe if there were only a few framed photos on the wall, finding the one he was looking for would've been a lot easier. Unfortunately, the walls were covered in them: all shapes and sizes, some in black-and-white, some in color, some square and some round.

"Son of a bitch!" he growled in frustration. "This is why I never kept any pictures of any of my wives. Trudy, that's another thing. Okay, Ziggy, which one is Great-aunt Adina?"

He pressed a button that was right in the middle of the handlink, and a whitish-blue light shot out from the front of it. Then, all of a sudden, his arm shot straight out and started making herky-jerky movements to the left. It was like his arm wasn't even his arm. To put it bluntly, his arm was possessed.

Then, just as quickly as it started, his arm stopped moving, and the light shone on a sepia-toned photo of a heavy-set woman with rimless glasses and a kerchief tied around her head. She looked like an extra in Fiddler on the Roof.

"I suppose that's her, right?" Al guessed, and the handlink gave an affirmative squeak. "You didn't have to pull my arm out of the socket, you know. Okay, so how do I make it look like this lady's ghost is trying to tell them to get the hell out of Dodge?"

To answer Al's question, a green-and-white button in the bottom left corner started glowing with an eerie, low-pitched hum.

"I hope you're right about this, Ziggy," Al murmured uncertainly. Putting the cigar between his teeth, Al took a deep breath and pressed the button. There was a loud whooshing sound as the picture, still in the white light, flew off the wall and hit the floor, shattering the glass on impact.

The noise made Dalia jump off the couch with a gasp. "Mamen!" she cried.

"What's wrong, Dalia?" her mother asked as she and her husband got up. And that's when she saw the broken frame on the floor. "Oh, dear Lord."

"What is it, love?"her father asked anxiously.

"It's a sign from above," Al answered. "Well, that's what I'm trying to make it look like."

"It's Mume Adina!" the mother exclaimed, pointing to the picture. "I think she's trying to tell us something!"

The father walked over to the wall and knelt in front of the remains of the frame. "It's time," he informed his family. "I've had a feeling for a long time that someday, we'd have to leave Israel. And now, it looks like that day has finally come."

"Heshel..." the mother started to say, but her husband held up his hand.

"I'm sorry, Frayda," he said as he got up. "I know it will be hard, but after what just happened, and with the way things are getting worse around here, this has to be done."

"Where will we go?" Dalia asked her father, forcing herself not to cry.

"We'll worry about that when the time comes," he told her. "Right now, we need to pack."

As soon as Al heard those words, a wave of relief and sadness came over him. He was glad that this girl and her family would be spared, but at the same time, he knew there was nothing he could do for those athletes who would lose their lives in just a matter of hours. "Gooshie," he murmured, "take me back to Sam."

And as Dalia and her parents hurried to start packing, Al disappeared to deliver the news.

When he reappeared back in Munich, he whispered urgently, "Sam, get out here!"

The door opened, and Sam came out. Al could tell by the look on his face that he was hoping he had good news. "Well?" he asked.

"They're packing right now, Sam," Al answered.

"Good," Sam sighed with relief. "But where will they go?"

Al looked at the handlink and gave it a gentle smack. "Ziggy says they'll catch the first train to Bonn in 39 minutes—make that 38," he reported. "So the good news is, when that terrorist breaks into their apartment, it'll be empty."

"I just wish we could help those poor athletes. How long until they're taken hostage?"

Al pressed a few buttons, then answered forlornly, "Four hours. Maybe less. You know, I still remember where I was when it happened. I'd just sat down at breakfast with—oh, what was it, my second wife? No, I was with Ruth at the time. Anyway, the first thing we saw when I turned on the TV was that masked terrorist on the balcony, and that's when we knew something was wrong."

"I remember that, too," Sam agreed. "I'd just graduated from college three months before, and I was listening to the radio on the way to my job at the campus library. That's one of several reasons why I always have a bad feeling whenever I hear an announcer say 'We interrupt this program for such-and-such'."

"You and me both. Say, where's Tobias?"

"Asleep."

"At least he and Moishe will be safe."

"Yup."

After a brief pause, Sam asked, "So, uh—I know this isn't the right time to ask, but, uh—when do I leap?"

"No, it's okay, Sam," Al reassured him. "I'd wanna know, too, if I were you. Let's see here—Ziggy says as soon as Tobias gets a phone call from Dalia, which should be sometime tomorrow."

"So they made it to Bonn?"

"Yup. And they're damn lucky, too."

For a few moments, Sam and Al stood there, not really looking at each other or saying a word. They knew that Tobias was safe, as were the love of his life and her parents, but they also knew that one of the most horrifying acts of terrorism the world had ever known was just hours away, and there was nothing they could do about it.