Operation Bethlehem, page 26
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Yariv Inbar
Copyright
Operation Bethlehem is a work of fiction. The names, characters, and incidents portrayed in the story are the product of the author’s imagination or have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental, yet the core of the story is rooted in reality.
Copyright (Hebrew) © 2018 by Miskal - Yedioth Ahronoth Books and Chemed Books.
English language translation Copyright © 2023 by Genera Ventures Ltd.
Originally published in Israel in the Hebrew language in 2018 by Miskal - Yedioth Ahronoth Books and Chemed Books.
All rights reserved under International and Israel Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of Genera Ventures Ltd.
FIRST EDITION
ISBN: 978-965-93106-2-3 (Hardcover)
ISBN: 978-965-93106-1-6 (Paperback)
Epub Edition © JULY 2023 ISBN: 978-965-93106-0-9
Credits
Cover design by Gerzon branding agency
Proofreading by Ally Mitchell
The quote in the author’s note is from Yeftah Getz, "Excerpts from the diary of Rabbi Getz on his search for the Ark of the Covenant and the Temple's vessels,” 7/10/2013, http://rotter.net/forum/scoops1/53378.shtml
Acknowledgments
First and foremost, I would like to dedicate this book to the brave secret heroes of Israel. These are the men and women who serve beyond the lines, often lonely and unknown, but always humble and, most importantly, brave. They are armed only with civilian clothes, sharp senses, wise words, and rare courage. This book is for you.
I would like to express my deep appreciation to my editor, Amnon Jackont, who once again, with rare modesty, guided me through the writing process without deviating from my path. I am also grateful to Bella and Avery A, Zion N, Daniel S, and Jonathan D for their insightful comments and feedback during the writing process. I must also thank Amichai A, who always goes out of his way to help me when I ask. I owe a great debt of gratitude to two dear friends: Moshiko, for the persistent debates, long conversations, scientific arguments, and relentlessness that helped shape this book, and to Udi, for the trust and willingness to share with me the most personal experiences, heart to heart talks, comments, and unique angles that make all the difference. I would like to thank Avishy N, who told me about the “Warren’s Gate” events that inspired a crucial part of the story, and to Shaked, who threw a sentence into the air that unexpectedly resolved a significant issue. I also want to acknowledge Dov Eichenwald and the professionals at Yediot Books who helped bring this book to life in Hebrew, including Navit Bar-El and, of course, Hila Shafir. If I have forgotten anyone, I apologize.
The soul of this book is Israeli, and it was initially written in Hebrew, a language with thousands of years of history, heritage, and memory. This language has a distinctive tone and sounds that are as much a part of the landscape of the Holy Land as its physical features. Translating into English without losing the uniqueness of the original language was a complex and challenging task. I am incredibly grateful to the translator, Dalit Shmueli, who created a version that remained faithful to the original with great sensitivity and professionalism, and to Ally Mitchell, who edited the translation in such a meticulous manner. Thanks to Yaniv O and Gadi N, who read the manuscript translation and shared their insights.
Finally, I want to express my heartfelt appreciation to my wife and children for their patience, love, and support throughout this journey. I am grateful for the many hours they allowed me to work on this novel, and I apologize for any time I took away from them.
About The Author
Yariv Inbar is the pseudonym of an Israeli novelist whose real identity has been banned from publication by the Israeli authorities. With a wealth of experience serving in sensitive positions within the Israeli intelligence community for many years, Yariv brings a unique authenticity to his writing. He is a devoted family man, married with three children, and still serves as a lieutenant colonel Reserve. In 2016, Yariv burst onto the spy fiction scene with the publication of his novels in Hebrew, which quickly earned bestseller status in Israel and received high praise from critics and readers.
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Author’s Note
Operation Bethlehem is a work of fiction. The names, characters, and incidents portrayed in the story are the product of the author’s imagination or have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental, yet the core of the story is rooted in reality.
In 2007, while serving as an intelligence officer, I watched a documentary called “God’s Gold.” The documentary followed British archaeologist Dr. Sean Kingsley as he searched the world for lost temple treasures. Kingsley claimed that Mar Theodosius, a Greek Orthodox monastery located east of Bethlehem, is the last known hiding place of one of the greatest treasures of antiquity: the gold and silver vessels of the Temple in Jerusalem. Unfortunately, the Palestinian police and the monastery nuns refused to let the documentary team in, which sparked my imagination. I wondered how it could be possible to covertly investigate the location. Over the years, many others shared similar thoughts, inspiring the novel I have written.
All the places mentioned in the book are real and accurately described. I replaced the original monastery with an existing psychiatric hospital located in the heart of Bethlehem. The “Warren’s Gate” events mentioned in the story really happened, and it is perhaps important to expand on them.
On July 22, 1981, as part of the archaeological excavations in the Western Wall Tunnels, an arch blocked with stones was discovered at the northern part of the Wall, an ancient gate from the Second Temple period. It is called Warren’s Gate after the British archaeologist who worked in Israel in the latter part of the nineteenth century. Charles Warren identified its location at Cistern 30 in a survey he conducted around the Temple Mount.
During the excavations, workers broke through the wall that blocked the gate, which is believed to be the closest to the historic location of the Holy of Holies. Behind it they discovered an enormous space. Peeling back the plaster, they discovered hewn stone similar to the stones of the Western Wall – attesting to its history.
Government authorities and other official entities were informed on the finding by Rabbi Meir Yehuda Getz, the Rabbi of the Western Wall and the holy places, and the driving force behind the Western Wall Tunnel excavations. Rabbi Getz believed that finding the lost Temple treasures was of national importance and got permission to continue secretly digging to expose the rest of the tunnel that led from Warren’s Gate east to the space under the Dome of the Rock.
The work to clear out the mud and water was conducted secretly for a month, until it was leaked to the media and broadcast on August 27 that year, sending shock waves around the world. The Arab world was quick to accuse Israel of an attempt to weaken the foundations of the mosques at the Temple Mount to build the Third Temple. The political storm brought about a temporary blockade of wooden boards over the opening.
In the early morning of September 1, 1981, on the order of the Waqf, a group of young Muslims used ropes to descend into the tunnel from the Temple Mount carrying tools. They started building a wall with bricks and mortar to seal the gate. Israeli police officers who were at the site saw them but didn’t stop them. Only the next morning did officials from the Ministry of Religion, led by Rabbi Getz, discover what had happened. They went to the police who allowed the Muslims to complete their work.
The afternoon of that same day, a violent clash broke out between a group of young Jewish men and the Muslims who were building the wall. It quickly escalated into an underground riot and drove hundreds of Muslim believers to the Temple Mount, where they clashed with the Jewish men inside and outside the tunnel. Border Police who were stationed at the Temple plateau took control of the event and arrested a few of the Jews, and the Muslims were allowed to continue.
Rabbi Getz wrote in his diary:
I saw the government in all its weakness and disgrace, total capitulation and I pin no hopes on them. My entire support is our Father in heaven. Even the British put on a proper face, but our government has always caved in throughout, to our shame and humiliation.
Today, a synagogue named after Rabbi Getz is located at the site inside the Western Wall Tunnels and is open to visitors. What remains hidden behind the blocked gate, or on the grounds of the Temple Mount? For now, that is left up to the imagination.
In Memory of Nitzan Liebstein
These words are dedicated to the memory of Nitzan Liebstein, who was brutally murdered in Kibbutz Kfar Aza on October 7, 2023. That same morning, his father, Ofir Liebstein, his grandmother, Belha Epstein, and his cousin, the hero Neta Epstein, were also murdered.
In February 2024, a dear friend, Dikla Stanger, sent me three WhatsApp messages. Each message contained a photo. In the last one, she wrote a short line of text:
“I was in Kfar Aza, in the apartment of the late Nitzan Liebstein – this is the book that was lying on his bed.”
It is hard to describe what I felt when I realized what I was seeing in those pictures. HASEDEK, the Hebrew original of Operation Bethlehem, was found in Nitzan’s burnt room. It had probably been thrown aside among other books and objects, or left on the floor. Someone, I guess, with simple human decency, picked it up and placed it neatly beside the red sheet on his bed. Without that small act, I might never have known that Nitzan had been one of my readers. I do not believe such things happen by chance.
Two days after receiving Dikla’s message, I was notified that the book had received the National Jewish Book Award. All the emotions I was already struggling with suddenly intensified. A novel about Jewish national identity was, quite possibly, the last book Nitzan read in the hours before he was murdered for being a Jew, in a country that is supposed to be the one place on earth where that identity is simply a given. And now that same book was being honored as a distinguished “Jewish book” precisely because of that theme.
After seeing those photos, I went online to learn more about Nitzan and his family. I was horrified by the scale of the tragedy that had struck them, and by the long, cruel days they had to endure before receiving the final, devastating news. I wanted to meet Vered, Nitzan’s mother, but I hesitated. I was in the middle of intensive reserve duty, and I was also unsure whether my visit would bring her any comfort or only deepen her pain. I did not know what I could offer.
Eventually, we met. Any attempt to describe this extraordinary woman, Vered Liebstein, will fall short of reality. I asked her to tell me about Nitzan and about his life, not just about his death. I wanted to know who he had been, far beyond what I could find online.
In the days that followed, I kept asking myself how I could help ensure that Nitzan would not be forgotten – that his name would not disappear into the countless stories of innocent victims. Should I tell you about his determination? About the lasting impact of growing up under constant threat? About the turning point he experienced at the Nirim Youth Village? Or that he was about to enlist in IDF Intelligence Unit 8153? Every part of his short life seems worthy of being remembered.
One detail, however, has stayed with me more than any other. Nitzan’s father, Ofir, was the head of the Sha’ar HaNegev Regional Council – a respected and beloved public figure. “Nitzan,” Vered told me proudly, “was an improved version of Ofir.”
In September 2025, Nitzan and Ofir finally came home. They were reburied together in the soil of Kibbutz Kfar Aza. Even that simple act of bringing them to rest side by side felt like a small, fragile answer in a world that still has no real answer for what was done to them.
If there is one thing I would like you to carry with you, it is this: among all the victims, the Jewish people also lost a young man of extraordinary potential. Had he lived, his father would one day have introduced himself not as “Ofir Liebstein,” but simply as “Nitzan’s father.”
It is a profound honor to me that you were one of my readers, Nitzan. I regret that I never had the chance to know you in life. Your memory will stay with me always. May your memory be a blessing.
Bonus: Read the First Chapter of Yariv's NEW novel
If you enjoyed Operation Bethlehem, don’t miss Yariv's psychological spy novel: Behind the Trigger.
Set deep within the world of contemporary Israeli espionage, Behind the Trigger is a psychological spy thriller where covert operations collide with buried trauma, and the cost of trust is life or death.
Irit is no cliché female protagonist. She’s a Mossad field agent, mother, and wife - trained to complete missions, not confront her past. But when a thrilling assignment sparks an unexpected connection with Noor - the wife of a Syrian weapons engineer - everything changes.
Two strong heroines, both bound by secrets, face off not just as adversaries, but as mirrors. Their growing bond becomes both a strategic intelligence asset and a raw, psychological reckoning neither of them saw coming. In a world built on lies, mysteries, and drama, the most dangerous truth is the one you tell yourself.
Prefer to jump right into the full novel? Get it on Amazon here
Turn the page to read Chapter One now — free
CHAPTER ONE
from
BEHIND THE TRIGGER
***
2019
Minsk, Belarus
The mechanical click of the lock was barely audible. A small, fleeting sound that blended into the surroundings, one she wouldn’t normally notice. But right now, it made her heart pound. She gripped the door handle with a gloved hand, took one last look down the hallway, and slipped inside.
The pendulum of an ornate wall clock ticked with steady precision, while a pleasant warmth from the radiator chased away the chill seeping through the white lace curtains. The décor of the hotel suite seemed haphazard; a mix of modern furniture alongside pieces that might be considered vintage if they had been placed there intentionally. Some of the Soviet-era furnishings that used to be in every home were familiar to her from her childhood in Russia. To the right of the door stood a mirror. Irit glanced at it, her blue eyes peering through oversized glasses. The reflection staring back at her was a stranger. The wig, a brown bob, concealed her naturally wavy black hair, and emphasized her round cheeks. They were her most prominent feature, but she had once despaired, as a teenager, that they made her look babyish.
There was a narrow window of opportunity, and no time to waste. Irit went straight to the center of the sitting room. Floral sofas with a coffee table between them, a dining table for six, a simple desk, and a flat-screen TV. She scanned the area, looking for the closet with the safe. It was on the other side of the room, doors half open, revealing a glimpse of clothing on hangers. Irit walked over, memorizing the angle of the open door before getting started. But there was no need. The safe was open and empty. She rummaged through the piles of folded clothing, opened and closed drawers, checked coat pockets, but found nothing of interest.
The bedroom revealed wrinkled sheets, a nightgown on the floor, and a few magazines on one of the nightstands. Another full-length mirror showing a stranger’s reflection. There was nothing in the adjoining bathroom or the small kitchenette, either.
Irit noticed a charging cable plugged into the wall near the desk, and based on its length, calculated where “Dumbo” might place his laptop while working. Then she carefully removed an acrylic painting of a Russian forest landscape from the nearby wall and examined it from all sides before setting it down on the desk. Adjusting her fake glasses, she pulled out a compact from the crossbody bag she wore, and retrieved a miniature wireless camera concealed beneath the pressed powder.
A spot of color at the top of the painting looked perfect for concealing the camera. Irit made a small hole in the canvas with an awl retrieved from her bag and secured the camera’s adjustment arm to the inner edge of the frame with a tiny screw. She pressed the switch to activate it, then hung the painting back on the wall and leveled it on the hanging wire. Taking a few paces back, she nodded in satisfaction, then launched an app on her cell phone and viewed the live feed on the screen. She removed the painting from the wall again and adjusted the camera angle to align with the pinhole. She repeated the process until the image satisfactorily covered the estimated work area on the desk.
She took the signal booster she’d brought with her, designed to capture the weak signal from the camera and amplify it beyond the room, and knelt by the armchair, feeling its underside. Perfect, she decided.
“They just left the café,” she heard through her earpiece, “‘Rona’ is on her way back.”
Irit glanced at her watch. She had only a few minutes to finish her task. “Got it. I’m wrapping up,” she responded, quickly flipping the armchair onto its back. She pulled out a small utility knife, slit the bottom upholstery, and slipped the signal booster inside. She set the armchair back on its legs, checked her cell phone, and noticed the camera angle had shifted again. Removing the painting from the wall, she adjusted the lens and tightened the screw with a small screwdriver. The broadcast image was perfect this time, but she noticed her handling had wiped dust from the frame, leaving clear marks.
