Taking Fire
“The question seemed as surreal as the conversation about the son whose existence he hadn’t known about.
“Find Jonathan. He had to have heard the news about the bombing. He’d have taken Meir someplace safe.”
“And that would be?”
“I . . . I hadn’t been here long enough to set up a safe house for us. My best guess is his apartment.”
“They’ll be looking for your car. We could lead Hamas straight to him.”
“What choice do I have?” Desperation overrode caution.
Unfortunately, he didn’t have any other ideas. Just another hundred questions. “Tell me everything. Everything,” he repeated, unable to look at her.
He’d lay odds that the bodyguard wasn’t at his apartment. And if he was, he was probably dead. A chance still existed, however, that the boy—his son—might be alive. He needed every piece of information she had if they were going to find him.
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