Moshe ran into the villa, shouting and gesturing like a crazy man as he ran up the stairs and heaved himself into Lev’s room.
Standing in front of his bathroom mirror wearing only khaki shorts, Lev was busy trimming his beard with a pair of scissors. In the mirror, he saw the reflection of Moshe standing in the doorway, tears streaming down his face.
“We just got a call from Nava,” Moshe blurted. “She heard over her radio that the jet just crashed into the Mediterranean.”
Lev dropped the scissors in the sink and stared into the mirror before turning to face Moshe. In his mind, he could still see Ariella’s face as she waved goodbye to him from the ground as the helicopter lifted into the air. His daughter, his beautiful Ariella. Anyone but her!
One of the female staff members came running into the room behind Moshe. “Oh, no, God. It can’t be!” She pulled her short black hair back with her hands, stretching the skin on her face and making her eyes look cat-like as she stared at Lev and Moshe, the tears flowing down her face.
As news of the crash sent a wave of sadness over the villa, some gathered downstairs, not knowing where to go or what to do, while others walked out to the beach to stare at the sea, hoping for a sign. Somewhere out there, God had just decided the fate of their friends.
Many wept and prayed for a miracle, but most knew that a high-speed jet crash was usually not survivable, even in water. Only a few hours before, they had all been together, safe at the villa, watching a tragedy unfold on the other side of the world. Now tragedy had visited their world.
Lev sat on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands while Moshe stood by silently, his hand resting on his old friend’s shoulder. Lev choked. He raised his head and looked up at Moshe through tear-filled eyes. “Call the chopper. We’re going out there to look for them. There might be survivors.”