Selected Detective
TEL AVIV

After changing his clothes in a Police uniform, the young man stepped lightly across Independence Park towards the concrete grounds of the hilton hotel. Around him many families and young couples were chatting in the cold night air, talking and laughing. But he did not pay much attention to them, and continued to focus on the building in front of him. His forehead was soaked with sweat. His lips were muttering, chanting a prayer for himself.

He arrived at the hotel entrance and passed through the hall. A pair of security guards glanced at him curiously before noticing his uniform and then turning their eyes away. He raised his trembling hand to wipe the sweat and moisture from his brows. Then, in the same motion, he reached into his jacket and pulled the first piece of wire to make an explosion. Terror, hatred, disgust, passion he felt it all. However, beyond this, covering everything up, like the outer shell of a Russian doll, there is an excessive and unconscious euphoria, a happiness that was waiting for him right at the edge of his consciousness was like a bright white flame. Revenge, fame, heaven and immortality in the beautiful houris.

Thank you for choosing me, God. Thank you for allowing me to be a vehicle for your vengeance.

He crossed the foyer and passed through a bunch of double doors into a large, brightly lit room, where a wedding was taking place.music and laughter came to him; a little girl ran over and asked if she would dance. He brushed it off and broke through among the guests.

The world around him seemed to shrink and evaporate like a colored fog. Someone asked what he was doing there, if there was a problem. But he kept going, muttering to himself, thinking of his old grandfather and his brother who were killed at the bullet point of Israel.His own life was empty, hopeless, filled with shame and helpless wrath.

At about the same time, three facsimiles were received consecutively by the Jerusalem Office of the World Jewish Congress; another by the Ha’aretz news table, and another by the Tel Aviv police. All were sent from mobile phone networks, making their place of origin impossible to trace, and all conveyed the same message: the bomb was the work of al-Mulatham and the Palestinian Brotherhood, and this is a response to the continuous Zionist occupation of Palestinian land; throughout that occupation, all Israelis, of all ages and genders, are, it will be held responsible for the misery of the Palestinian people.

They were still in Malqata until almost 7 p.m., and at that time Anwar the virologist still did not come. Rather than waste any more time, Khalifa detailed a police group to guard the crime scene and, accompanied by Sariya, decided to visit the victim's hotel.

“Know the nature of Anwar, it could be that we stay here until midnight,” murmured. “Better we do something useful in this available time.” Menna-Ra is in a striking location in the heart of Gezira village, an area filled with dilapidated houses and shops on the west side of the Nile, opposite the Luxor Temple. A two-story white building, which can be reached through a narrow road and surrounded by mud brick walls on the surface attached to a type of chocolate mushroom. Khalifa and Sariya arrived early in the evening, accepted by a middle-aged English woman, in fluent Arabic and heavily accented, who introduced herself as Carla Shaw, the hotel's manager. He offered them tea and took them to the gravel terrace at the back of the building.