The Final Judgement [antikvár]

CHAPTER ONE Arzachena Costa Smeralda. Sardinia 5 December The first thing that told Aryeh Levin something was wrong was the silence. It was the middle of the night, surely there was nothing out of the ordinary? But the silence worried him the moment he woke. He had known similar silences in the old days with the army in Lebanon, silences that came just before a burst of shelling or the dull thump of an explosion. He knew there was something not right about this one, too. To begin with, what had woken him? Had there been a noise? He normally slept straight through unless Yoel wakened and called him, which was rare these days. Chaya was fast asleep in the bed next to him. He sat up and looked down at her, at her soft profile, her bare shoulders. She always slept on her stomach, had done so since childhood, or so she said. Moonlight fell across her face. He reached out his hand to remove a strand of hair from her eyes. They had been married eleven years, but still he could not get over the pleasure of being in bed with her each night. What was wrong? What had woken him? He strained his ears, but could hear nothing, and he knew that was wrong, that a sound was missing that should have been there. He should get out of bed, go downstairs and investigate. But what should he look for?