I blinked. The head of the Brotherhood and man who wanted me dead lived in Jerusalem. "Huh?"
"Nava Katz," a Russian-accented voice said. A man in his mid-forties wearing a kippah, with peyot sidelocks and a curled lip stopped just inside Kane's door. "We meet at last."
It was one thing to mock Rabbi Mandelbaum with a couple of continents between us but there was no ignoring the way the air itself seemed to charge with the power he embodied.
I swallowed, pushing my rat's nest of curls out of my face. Shit.
***
Rabbi Mandelbutt ordered me to meet him in the conference room once I'd made myself presentable. I swear he used air quotes on that word. Small mercies that Kane hadn't still been asleep in the bed. The rabbi would have ordered a giant scarlet "A" to be sewn on all my clothing.
He gave Kane a hearty handshake and headed downstairs.
I hopped into the hallway, tugging off a sock, shower bound. "Holy shit, are you okay?"