6
Jerusalem, Israel. 9.16am
Morgan wound down the window and breathed the familiar air as the taxi skirted the city of Jerusalem and headed for the hill where the Ezra Institute overlooked the Kidron Valley.
Olive groves on the hills were a dusty green, like army fatigues laid down on the earth. Morgan remembered how she had been so idealistic once, so willing to believe there could be a lasting peace in Israel. After all, people are people. They love their children, they just want to work and be happy. But over that layer of simplicity was a web of politics, religious fervor and a desire for revenge that built up two sides of a dispute that surely would never be settled.
She had spent years arguing with colleagues over the inherent goodness of people, the importance of the freedom to
