CHAPTER 8. I WOULDN’T WANT TO MEET THAT NANNY GOAT AGAIN

“You know,” she asked once, “you mustn’t fear those who can kill your body. The Bible says instead, fear Him who can destroy both body and soul. Only God. Those interrogating you are just people. Without your consent, they can do nothing to your soul. Often they can’t even kill you—though they won’t admit that. They can frighten, but you need not fear. You hurt now, but later you’ll feel good. Always think of good things. They say it makes life longer.”

He listened, wincing from the pain, but eventually realized: this was his new spiritual education. A new catechism.

“You’re here because you pitied yourself and your family,” she told him another time. “You were right to text your ex-wife about possible blackmail. That’s why I had to work harder. Stop pitying yourself. Tell them all to go to hell. You’ve earned that right—and so have they. I wasn’t allowed to kill you. If you hadn’t broken, I’d have released you to Israel. Negotiating with terrorists requires psychologists. You’re not one, so don’t try to negotiate. Just don’t surrender. All their words are lies. They’re trained that way, and they’re paid for it. Let them sweat.”

“You know,” she lectured again, “the only thing an agent does under interrogation is gather intelligence. It’ll be unverified. Could be fabricated. But it’s the only thing besides his own ass he can bring home when exchanged. Manipulate them. Make them, not you, bend over backwards. Demand proof—documentary proof. If they provide it, spit on it, call it fake. Then demand new proof that alone will convince you. Didn’t the Israeli shaliach play you this way? Learn to say no. Learn to say I don’t believe it.”

Once, she delivered a lecture on hand gestures. First—the fig sign: refusal. Then—the fist: strength. Then—handshakes on your terms. He memorized them, not as etiquette, but as survival techniques.

Slowly, he began turning interrogators into his own informants. Quietly, steadily, methodically.

At the next session, she handed him an annotated Bible.

“Read Acts of the Apostles,” she said. “Paul is your model. It’s all about interrogations and courage in the face of death.” She added that their analytics lessons would repeatedly draw from these examples until he absorbed them.

“Have you read Crime and Punishment?” she asked another time. “Remember: without faith—no foundation. Even he-who-cannot-be-named went to prison with the Gospel. Faith is your bedrock. Build your house on stone, not sand. Read John—with all the footnotes.”