Rebbecah said her prayers and performed the Shabbat ritual over the candles while her dinner microwaved itself. Not the most traditional Shabbat feast, in fact there was aschool of thought that said using a microwave after sundown on a Friday counted as work and was thus breaking Shabbat. But Rebbecah really had no choice. She was hungry, she had to eat and the box proclaimed itself to be the very latest thing for the Jew living alone.<br/><br/>She tucked in hungrily. As microwave TV dinners went, it wasn't half bad.<br/><br/>She turned on the TV, and then, totally unaware that she was being watched from across the street, took off her blouse and skirt that she wore to the office. She pulled on a light silken robe - imitation, there was no way she could afford the real thing on her salary, and went over to the balcony, opening the double doors and stepping out. The noise of down-town Tel-Aviv carried up to her, the lights of a cargo ship out to sea caught her eye.<br/><br/>Her job was an intelligence analyst. She gathered data, stored it and processed it. The fact that an apartment in the block across the street had no lights on registered in her mind. Empty apartment. The associations were automatic... Possible terrorist hide-out, possible drug smuggling hide-out, possible police safe-house... She slapped her forehead, in a gesture that was almost a caricature of itself.<em>Shut up, brain. It's just an empty apartment. Vey!</em><br/><br/>She turned and went back inside, leaving the balcony doors open to let the cool evening air in, relying on her bug-zapper to deal with any pests that might choose to enter that way.