“What happens if the police are waiting for us?” asked Miriam. Looking down from clear skies at the menacing smog bank shrouding Rome’s Leonardo da Vinci Airport, she was reminded of the perils facing the two fugitives as soon as they landed. “Tel Aviv could have called by now.”

“Relax,” Ari admonished, putting a protective arm around her. “If we look nervous, they might take us for drug smugglers. Have a dog sniffing our bags and find that kosher sausage,” he added with a laugh.

“I’ll just hang on to your arm and look like I’m in love. How’s that?”

“Great. Just try to make it convincing.”

“Ari! I’m serious. Suppose the Mossad is down there waiting for this flight?”