it came out brutally. Her hand in his was the only indication that she
had heard him, it spasmed convulsively like a wounded thing and then lay
still, a small tense hand in the circle of his big bony fist.
She asked no questions and when he had done they sat quietly together
for a long time. He spoke first.
I will send David to you now, he said, and her response was swift and
vehement.
No. She gripped his hand hard. No, I can't meet him now. I have to
think about this first.
The Brig went back to the waiting-room and David stood up expectantly,
the pure lines of his face seemingly carved from pale polished marble,
and the dark blue of his eyes in deep contrast.
The Brig forestalled him harshly. No visitors. He took David's arm.
You will not be allowed to see her until tomorrow.
Is something wrong? What is it? David tried to pull away, but the Brig
held him and steered him towards the door.
Nothing is wrong. She will be all right, but she must have no
excitement now. You'll be able to see her tomorrow.
They buried Hannah that evening in the family plot on the Mountain of
Olives. It was a small funeral party attended by the three men and a
mere handful of relatives, many of whom had others to mourn from the
previous day's slaughter.
There was an official car waiting to take the Brig to a meeting of the
high command, where retaliatory measures would certainly be discussed,
another revolution in the relentless wheel of violence that rolled
across the troubled land.
Joe and David climbed into the Mercedes and sat silently, David making
no effort to start the engine. Joe lit cigarettes for them, and they
both felt drained of purpose and direction.
What are you going to do now? David asked him. We had two weeks, Joe
answered him. We were going down to Ashkelon, his voice trailed off. I
don't know. There isn't anything to do now, is there? Shall we go and
have a drink somewhere? Joe shook his head. I don't feel like
drinking, he said. I think I'll go back to base. They are flying night
interceptions tonight.
Yes, David agreed quickly, I'll come with you. He could not see Debra
until tomorrow, and the house on Malik Street would be lonely and cold.
Suddenly he longed for the peace of the night heavens.
The moon was a brightly curved Saracen blade against the soft darkness
of the sky, and the stars were fat and silver and gemlike in their
clarity.
They flew high above the earth, remote from its grief and sorrow,
wrapped in the isolation of flight and lost in the ritual and
concentration of night interception.
The target was a Mirage of their own squadron, and they picked it up on
the scanner far out over the Negev.
Joe locked on to it and called the track and range while David searched
for and at last spotted the moving star of the target's jet blast,
burning redly against the velvety blackness of the night.
He took them in on a clean interception creeping up under the target's
belly and then pulling steeply up past its wing-tip, the way a barracuda
goes for the lure from below and explodes out through the surface of the
sea.
They shot past so close that the target Mirage broke wildly away to
port, unaware of their presence until that moment.
Joe slept that night, exhausted with grief, but David lay in the bunk
beneath him and listened to him. In the dawn he rose and showered and
left Joe still asleep. He drove into Jerusalem and reached the hospital
just as the sun came up and lit the hills with its rays of soft gold and
pearly pink.
The night sister at the desk was brusque and preoccupied. You shouldn't
be here until visiting hours this afternoon, but David smiled at her
with all the charm he could muster.
I just wanted to know if she is doing well. I have to rejoin my
squadron this morning. The sister was not immune either to his smile or
the airforce uniform, and she went to consult her lists.
You must be mistaken, she said at last. 'The only Mordecai we have is
Mrs. Ruth Mordecai. That's her mother, David told her, and the sister
flipped the sheet on her clipboard.
No wonder I couldn't find it, she muttered irritably. She was
discharged last night Discharged? David stared at her
uncomprehendingly.
Yes, she went home last night. I remember her now.
Her father came to fetch her just as I came on duty.
Pretty girl with eye bandages - Yes, David nodded. Thank you. Thank
you very much, and he ran down the steps to the Mercedes, his feet light
with relief, freed at last from the gnawing doubt and dread.
Debra had gone home. Debra was safe and well.
The Brig opened the door to him, and let him into the silent house. He
was still in his uniform, and it was wilted and rumpled. The Brig's
face was fine-drawn, the lines crudely chiselled around his mouth, and
his eyes were swollen and bloodshot from worry and sorrow and lack of
sleep.
Where is Debra? David demanded eagerly, and the Brig sighed and stood
aside for him to enter.
Where is she? David repeated, and the Brig led him to his study and
waved him to a chair.
Why don't you answer me? David was becoming angry, and the Brig slumped
into a chair across the large bare room, with its severe monastic
furnishings of books and archaeological relics.
I couldn't tell you yesterday, David, she asked me not to. I'm sorry.
What is it? David was fully alarmed now.
She had to have time to think, to make up her mind. The Brig stood up
again and began to pace, his footsteps echoing hollowly on the bare
wooden floor, pausing every now and then to touch one of the pieces of
ancient statuary, caressing it absently as he talked, as though to draw
comfort from it.
David listened quietly, occasionally shaking his head as though to deny
that what he was hearing was the truth.
So you see it is permanent, final, without hope. She is blind, David,
totally blind. She has gone into a dark world of her own where nobody
else can follow her Where is she? I want to go to her, David whispered,
but the Brig ignored the request and went on steadily.
She wanted time to make her decision, and I gave it to her. Last night,
after the funeral, I went back to her and she was ready. She had faced
it, come to terms with it, and she had decided how it must be I want to
see her, David repeated. I want to talk to her. Now the Brig looked at
him and the bleakness in his eyes faded, his voice dropped, becoming
gruff with compassion.
No, David. That was her decision. You will not see her again. For you
she is dead. Those were her words.
Tell him I am dead, but he must only remember me when I was alive David
interrupted him, jumping to his feet. Where is she, damn you? His
voice was shaking. I want to see her now. He crossed swiftly to the
door and jerked it open, but the Brig went on. She is not here. 'Where
is she? David turned back. I cannot tell you. I swore a solemn oath
to her. 'I'll find her You might, if you search carefully, but you will
forfeit any respect or love she may have for you, the Brig went on
remorselessly. Again I will give you her exact words. "Tell him that I
charge him on our love, on all we have ever been to each other, that he
will let me be, that he will not come looking for me. " Why, but why?
David demanded desperately. Why does she reject me? She knows that she
is altered beyond all hope or promise. She knows that what was before