The Perfect Day…

Posted on Oct 12, 2021 Topic : Fiction, Prophecy
Posted by : Amir Tsarfati and Steve Yohn

Even with a trained ear, it’s difficult to place the origin of a single gunshot. For that reason, Nir Tavor didn’t know which way to point his gun until dozens of shots joined that first volley. A glance to his left confirmed what he expected to see—Gideon Zamir, his ops supervisor, using his body as a shield over their charge.

Zamir had been a battalion commander in the 1982 Lebanon War and the First Intifada, so he had plenty of experience with bullets whizzing overhead. Nir was only 24, still fresh in public service, and he’d never fired a bullet in battle.

That was about to change.

His journey to this point flew through his mind. Only three months ago, he’d been finishing his training with the State Security System of Israel’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs. One of the reasons he’d joined the MFA was to see the world, and the available postings—London, Washington, Tokyo, Paris—all seemed so glamorous. Yet as he considered those cities, they also seemed...predictable.

Then two words on the list caught Nir’s eye, and the sense of adventure was back. South Africa sounded exotic with a little hint of danger. It certainly wouldn’t be a sleepy posting. Many in South Africa felt a kindred relationship with the Palestinians because of their perception of the refugee situation, and this had led to governmental sanctions, popular protests, and even some acts of violence. But Israel and the post-apartheid South African government under President Thabo Mbeki were just starting to thaw their frosty relationship, and despite objections, ties between the two nations continued to progress. Israel had even reopened their embassy, sending Ilan Baruch—the man Nir was here to protect—as not quite an ambassador but someone who would hopefully transition into a full-fledged holder of that position one day.

Today they were at an enormous Cape Town mansion that screamed of old apartheid money—Doric columns, a vast outdoor pool, marble everywhere, all set on a massive, lush property. Nir had even seen peacocks wandering around the garden area. Baruch was here at the invitation of the South African minister of home affairs, Nosiviwe Mapisa-Nqakula, whom he met at a diplomatic function in Johannesburg several months back. In response to her inquiry about his eye patch, he’d told her about being severely wounded in 1970 during the War of Attrition with Egypt. This event had transformed him, he told her, and he was now very much a man of peace. His views on the Palestinian situation and his criticism of his own government’s policies intrigued her, and she invited him to visit the city of her birth.

Now Nir was here on the last day of a weekend excursion that had been everything he’d hoped for when he’d written South Africa on that assignment request form. The previous two days had seen them sailing in the Atlantic, touring the Iziko Slave Lodge, and jaunting down to the Cape of Good Hope to see the penguins. Today they were wrapping up the trip with a luncheon followed by an outdoor fashion show at what was truly one of the most beautiful properties he’d ever stepped foot on.

Blue skies, a gorgeous mansion, stunningly attractive models... It was the perfect day.

Until the gunfire.