Zayn took another swipe of hummus. I sipped my Coke. Matty waited for a reply. “If we get caught, they’ll probably just take the ID cards and turn us back around.” Again, he held up his hand, the one not holding a slice of pita. “They could, in theory, arrest us, but, like I said, they’re expecting us. We’re on a list. The IDs are for show. We get in, we check out the site, we leave. Also, we’ll be entering from the Egyptian side, and the Egyptians aren’t the Israelis.”
I inhaled, exhaled, looked at Matty. I shrugged his way. “Well?”
“We need to see that shrine,” he said, without giving away any details of our actual need. “That’s why we’re here.” He nodded his head toward Zayn, to Abe. “Seems relatively safe. And, even if we get caught, I’m guessing the Palestinians are never too eager
