In the Name of God. Stephen J. Gordon

came over a few minutes later, carrying a bottle of olive oil and a basket of warm bread. She filled the small saucer in the middle of our table, and I wasted no time in tearing off a piece of the warm bread, dipping it into the olive oil, and popping it into my mouth. As we knew what we wanted, we ordered: Alli had settled on Veal Parmesan, Jon went for spinach ravioli, and I was having linguine with mushrooms and sun-dried tomatoes.

      While we waited for our food, Alli turned to Jon. “So, I understand you have a life besides karate.”

      “There is no life besides karate,” he said smiling. “Okay, there is something else I do between workouts. My family has some commercial properties in the city and I help manage them.”

      “Like businesses or offices?

      “Mainly offices and apartment buildings. My dad got started when he was relatively young — probably in his early twenties. I guess I’m the heir apparent, though I don’t know if it’s what I want to do the rest of my life.”

      “Jon’s father wants him to try the business for a while before making up his mind,” I said.

      “Sounds practical,” Alli commented. “He’s a sharp man, I bet.”

      “And very generous,” I added.

      “Sifu helped my father out a few years ago and he wanted to repay the kindness.”

      “The place I have, the dojo, is a present from him.”

      “Wow.”

      “Yeah, wow. And he won’t hear of me paying rent or anything. Incredibly magnanimous.”

      Alli didn’t ask what I did for him, and Jon didn’t volunteer any information. I was glad for that. Instead, Jon just tore a piece of bread from the basket in front of us and dipped it into the olive oil.

      “So,” Alli said after a moment went by, “did Gidon tell you about last night?”

      “A little bit.”

      Bless him. He had more of an inside track as to what happened than Alli, even though she was there, but he didn’t say anything. Jon also knew about the Shin Bet man coming to see me. That news I hadn’t shared with Alli.

      “So, what d’you think,” she looked at Jon. “Why would anyone want to assassinate the man running for Prime Minister of Israel?”

      “Someone doesn’t like his politics. Or could be a religious thing — you can never tell when it’s the Middle East. Or maybe he was just paid.”

      “I vote for that,” I said quietly.

      “That he was just hired to kill him?” Alli asked. “Why?”

      “I’m tired of young fanatics killing in the name of God.”

      “What do you mean?”

      As I looked at Alli I could see Jon looking at me, too. I just shrugged, trying to blow it off, not wanting to pursue this.

      “So, it was an exciting evening,” Jon jumped in. “Not your typical banquet.”

      Alli came back to it: “Do you think he was working alone? I mean what are the chances of that?”

      My eyes drifted to the front window, and in my mind I could picture four boys near my car across the street...the four of them...and one was on crutches. Last night when we came out of the synagogue, there was a group of boys watching the excitement. One of them was on aluminum crutches. The metal had glinted in the police lights.

      “So, how ‘bout them O’s,” I heard Jon say.

      I looked back at Jon and Alli. “What?”

      “The Orioles, boss,” Jon repeated. “Do you think they’ll do better this year?” He turned to Alli. “I have a friend who has a skybox. Anytime you want to go to the game...”

      “Thanks,” Alli responded. “Save it for your new girlfriend.”

      Our meals arrived shortly and the conversation turned from the Orioles to the Ravens, to Jon’s background, to Alli’s work. When we finished the main course, our waitress returned and presented us with the idea of dessert. We looked at each other and we all shook our heads.

      “Another time,” I said to the waitress.

      She brought the check, I paid it, and we headed outside.

      Instead of starting to walk, we just paused in front of the entrance to stretch — or at least to let our stomachs expand. By now the sun had set and the ambient light was beginning to recede. Street lights had come on and store signs had started glowing.

      “Thanks for the treat,” Jon said as we started walking up to the left.

      “Don’t worry, I’ll just raise your dues.”

      “He’s kidding, right?” Alli asked Jon.

      “I’m never sure.”

      We continued heading up the street. As we did so, I nonchalantly looked around for the group of kids I had seen before. God, I hoped they wouldn’t get in my face. As I scanned the area, there was no sign of them. The three of us ambled up the block, checking out other shop windows. The store fronts soon changed to private row houses. In front of several doorways residents were sitting on their marble steps, just taking in the neighborhood.

      As we strolled I listened to Jon and Alli talk. I looked at them, smiled from time to time as they turned to me, but basically kept to myself. I was beginning to feel tired. The early evening air was quiet, and there was an orange glow to the sky as the city’s high pressure sodium lights tinted the heavens. I watched as more than one couple walked past, arm-in-arm.

      I started thinking about Alli again. I thought about the age difference...about the life difference. I just didn’t know what to feel, or was supposed to feel, about her. Everything would be fine and then, as I spent more time with her, I’d become drained. Like now. We started upbeat back in the dojo, then the discussion about last night, put me off. I just wished she hadn’t asked me any questions. But that shouldn’t be a problem, really, if everything were all right.

      “So, Sifu,” Jon said interrupting my introspection, “it’d be good to know a physical therapist in our line of work, don’t you think? Now we just need an orthopedist. We could have them on retainers.”

      I brought myself back. “Not a great thing to advertise, though. ‘Come to Gidon’s karate class. We have a physical therapist and orthopedist on premises!’ ”

      “I see what you mean.”

      We rounded a corner and headed up toward Jon’s car.

      “I got it,” Jon said to Alli, “forget the retainer. You’ll just have to join us.”

      “I think I’ll just come after class, if I’m invited,” she looked at me.

      I turned to her to say Lord knows what, but then I saw Jon’s car. Or rather I saw a kid, perhaps seventeen, sitting on the hood of Jon’s car. He had a pair of aluminum crutches leaning against the front right fender.

      As we approached, three other kids, who were leaning on an adjacent car, joined him. The boy on Jon’s hood slid down and walked toward us. I guess the crutches were just an accessory, like sunglasses. He stood tall, probably five eleven, and was a little on the skinny side. He had curly black hair and cold, black eyes. Too cold for someone his age.

      To either side of him were two boys, also around seventeen. The one on the right wore a backwards Yankees cap — I could tell because “Yankees” was written above the adjustable strap. In this town, wearing a Yankees cap was a definite statement of defiance. The third boy — the one to crutch boy’s left — had a young Rasputin look about him with long, stringy dark hair parted in the middle. He was wiry and kept both hands wide open, fingers spread apart. Behind them was a fourth boy. This one looked younger and very uncomfortable. He was fidgeting and licked his lips nervously.