sweet smelling.
Debra's mother was a tall slim woman with a quiet manner, who looked
like Debra's older sister. The family resemblance was striking and, as
she greeted them, David thought with pleasure that this was how Debra
would look at the same age. Debra introduced them and announced that
David was a guest for dinner, a fact of which he had been unaware until
that moment.
Please, he protested quickly, I don't want to intrude. He knew that
Friday was a special night in the Jewish home.
You don't intrude. We will be honoured, she brushed aside his protest.
This house is home for most of the boys on Joe's squadron, we enjoy it.
Debra fetched David a Goldstar beer and they were sitting on the terrace
together when her father arrived.
He came in through the wicket gate, stooping his tall frame under the
stone lintel and taking off his uniform cap as he entered the garden.
He wore uniform casually cut, and open at the throat with cloth insignia
or rank and wings at the breast pocket. He was slightly
round-shouldered, probably from cramming his lanky body into the cramped
cockpits of fighter aircraft, and his head was brown and bald with a
monk's fringe of hair and a fierce spiky mustache through which a gold
tooth gleamed richly. His nose was big and hooked, the nose of a
biblical warrior, and his eyes were dark and snapping with the same
golden lights as Debra's. He was a man of such presence that he
commanded David's instant respect. He stood to shake the General's hand
and called him sir completely naturally.
The Brig subjected David to a rapid, raking scrutiny and reserved his
judgement, showing neither pleasure nor disdain.
Later David would learn that the nickname The Brig was a shortened
version of The Brigand, a name the British had given him before 1948
when he was smuggling warplanes and arms into Palestine for the Haganah.
Everyone, even his children called him that and only his wife used his
given name, Joshua.
David is sharing the Sabbath meal with us tonight, Debra explained to
him.
You are welcome, said the Brig, and turned to embrace his women with
love and laughter, for he had seen neither of them since the previous
Sabbath, his duties keeping him at air bases and control rooms scattered
widely across the land.
When Joe arrived, he was also in uniform, the casual open-necked khaki
of summer, and when he saw David he dropped his slow manner and hurried
to him, laughin& and enfolded him in a bear hug, speaking over his
shoulder to Debra.
Was I right?
Joe said you would come, Debra explained.
It looks like I was the only one who didn't know, David protested.
There were fifteen at dinner, and the candlelight gleamed on the
polished wood of the huge refectory table and the silver Sabbeth
goblets. The Brig said a short prayer, the satin and gold embroidered
yamulka looking slightly out of place on his wicked bald head, then he
filled the wine goblets with his own hand murmuring a greeting to each
of his guests. Hannah was with Joe, her copper hair glowing handsomely
in the candlelight, and she greeted David with reserve. There were two
of the Brig's brothers with their wives and children and grandchildren,
and the talk was loud and confusing as the children vied with their
elders for a hearing and the language changed at random from Hebrew to
English.
The food was exotic and spicy, although the wine was too sweet for
David's taste. He was content to sit quietly beside Debra and enjoy the
sense of belonging to this happy group. He was startled then when one
of Debra's cousins leaned across her to speak to him.
This must be very confusing for you, your first day in such an unusual
country as Israel, and not understanding Hebrew, you not being Jewish
The words were not meant unkindly, but all conversation stopped abruptly
and the Brig looked up, frowning swiftly, quick to sense an unkindness
to guest at his board.
David was aware of Debra staring at him intently, as if to will words
from him, and suddenly he thought how three denials finalized any issue,
in the New Testament, in Mohammedan law, and perhaps in that of Moses as
well. He did not want to be excluded from this household, from these
people. He didn't want to be alone again. It was good here.
He smiled at the cousin and shook his head. It's strange, yes, but not
as bad as you would think. I understand Hebrew, though I don't speak it
very well.
You see, I am Jewish, also.
Beside him Debra gave a soft gasp of pleasure and exchanged quick
glances with Joe.
Jewish? the Brig demanded. You don't look it, and David explained, and
when he was through the Brig nodded. It seemed that his manner had
thawed a little.
Not only that, but he is a flier also, Debra boasted, and the Brig's
mustache twitched like a living thing so that he had to soothe it with
his napkin while he reappraised David carefully.
What experience? he demanded brusquely.
Twelve hundred hours, sir, almost a thousand on jets. Jets? Mirages.
Mirages! The Brig's gold tooth gleamed secretly.
What squadron? Cobra Squadron.
Rastus Naude's bunch? The Brig stared at David as
he asked.
Do you know Rastus? David was startled.
We flew in the first Spitfires from Czechoslovakia together, back in 48.
We used to call him Butch Ben Yak, Son of a Gentile, in those days. How
is he, he must be getting on now? He was no spring chicken even then.
He's as spry as ever, sir, David answered tactfully.
Well, if Rastus taught You to fly, you might be half good, the Brig
conceded.
As a general rule the Israeli Airforce would not use foreign pilots, but
here was a Jew with all the marks of a first-class fighter pilot. The
Brig had noticed the marvelous man and thrust which that other
consummate judge of young men, Paul Morgan, had recognized also and
valued so highly. Unless he had read the signs wrongly, something he
seldom did, then here was a rare one. Once more he appraised the young
man in the candlelight and noticed that clear and steady gaze that
seemed to seek a distant horizon. It was the eye of the gunfighter, and
all his pilots were gunfighters.
To train an interceptor pilot took many years and nearly a million
dollars. Time and money were matters of survival in his country's time
of trial, and rules could be bent.
He picked up the wine bottle and carefully refilled David's goblet. I
will place a telephone call to Rastus Naude, he decided silently, and
find out a bit more about this youngster.
Debra watched her father as he began to question David searchingly on
his reasons, or lack of them, for coming to Israel, and on his future
plans.
She knew precisely how the Brig's mind was working, for she had
anticipated it. Her reasons for inviting David to dinner and for
exposing him to the Brig were devious and calculated.
She switched her attention back to David, feeling the tense warm
sensation in the pit of her stomach and the electric prickle of the skin
upon her forearms as she looked at him.
Yes, you big cocky stallion, she thought comfortably, you aren't going
to find it so easy to escape again. This time I'm playing for keeps,
and I've got the Brig on to you also. She lifted her goblet to him,