“I never want us to become far away from each other again.”
“You know,” he said, “everyone at the Dome is certain we’re shacked up.”
“Good!” Kitty said. “I’ll put a sign on my door tonight in big red letters to read, ‘I love Mark Parker madly.’”
They sat for another hour, then reluctantly began working their way down from the summit to descend before it turned dark.
After Mark and Kitty had returned to the hotel, Mandria drove his car into Kyrenia to the harbor and stopped on the quay. He stepped outside with Ari and they walked to the docks. Ari looked across the harbor to the tower of the Virgin Castle which stood on the sea’s edge. They crossed over and climbed up inside the tower and from this vantage point could see the entire area perfectly. Ari studied in his usual silence.
The harbor had two sea walls. One ran out from the Virgin Castle and the tower where he now stood. Opposite him were the houses on the quay, and from that side the wall ran out to the sea so that the right and left arms of the sea wall formed a new circle, almost touching each other. There was a small break which was the entrance to the harbor. The inside of the harbor was tiny, not more than a few hundred yards in diameter. It was filled with small boats.
“Do you think we can get the Aphrodite inside the harbor here?” Ari asked.
“Getting it in won’t be a problem,” Mandria answered, “but turning it around and getting it out again will be.”
Ari was silent in thought as the two men walked back toward the car. His eye was on the little harbor. It was beginning to turn dark as they reached the car.
“You might as well drive on back to Famagusta by yourself. I have to see someone at the Dome Hotel,” Ari said, “and I don’t know how long it’s going to take. I’ll find my own way back to Famagusta.”
Mandria would have resented being dismissed like a taxi driver, but he was getting used to taking orders from Ben Canaan. He turned the ignition key and pressed the starter.
“Mandria. You have been a big help. Thanks.”
Mandria beamed as Ari walked away. These were the first words of kindness he had heard from Ben Canaan. He was surprised and touched.
The dining room of the Dome Hotel was filled with the strains of a Strauss waltz playing softly over the drone of British voices, the clink of glasses, and the whisper of the sea outside. Mark sipped his coffee, wiped his lips with his napkin, and then stared over Kitty’s shoulder intently at the figure who had entered the doorway. A tall man was whispering into the ear of the headwaiter, and the waiter pointed to Mark’s table. Mark’s eyes widened as he recognized Ari Ben Canaan.
“Mark, you look as though you’ve seen a ghost,” Kitty said.
“I have and he’s just about here. We are going to have a very interesting evening.”
Kitty turned around to see Ari Ben Canaan towering over their table. “I see that you remember me, Parker,” he said, taking a seat without invitation and turning to Kitty. “You must be Mrs. Katherine Fremont.”
Ari’s and Kitty’s eyes met and held. Several awkward seconds of silence followed, then Ari looked around for a waiter and called him over. He ordered sandwiches.
“This is Ari Ben Canaan,” Mark was saying, “he is a very old acquaintance of mine. I see that you seem to know Mrs. Fremont.”
“Ari Ben Canaan,” Kitty said. “What an odd name.”
“It is Hebrew, Mrs. Fremont. It means, ‘Lion, Son of Canaan.’”
“That’s quite confusing.”
“On the contrary, Hebrew is a very logical language.”
“Funny, it didn’t strike me that way,” Kitty said, with an edge of sarcasm.
Mark looked from one to the other. They had only met, and yet they were already engaged in the verbal fencing and maneuvering he himself so often played. Obviously Ben Canaan had struck either a sweet or a sour chord in Kitty, Mark thought, because she had her claws bared. ‘ “Strange that it wouldn’t strike you as logical,” Ari was answering. “God thought Hebrew was so logical He had the Bible written in that language.”
Kitty smiled and nodded. The orchestra changed to a fox trot. “Dance, Mrs. Fremont?”
Mark leaned back and watched Ben Canaan walk Kitty onto the floor, hold her, and lead her about with smooth gliding grace. For the moment Mark didn’t like the spark that had obviously struck the second they met: it was hard to think of Kitty as a mere mortal playing mortals’ games. They danced close to his table. There seemed to be a dazed look on Kitty’s face and it was unnatural.
Then Mark began thinking of himself. He had had the feeling that something was brewing on Cyprus from the moment he landed. Now it was confirmed by Ben Canaan’s appearance. He knew enough of the Palestinian to realize he was one of the top Mossad Aliyah Bet agents. He also knew that he was going to be approached for something, because Ben Canaan had sought him out. What about Kitty? Did he know of her only because she was with him or was there another reason?
Kitty was a tall girl but she felt lost in Ari Ben Canaan’s arms. A strange sensation swept over her. The appearance of this strapping, handsome man had thrown her oil guard. Now, in his arms only a moment after their meeting, she felt unraveled. The sensation was attractive-it had been many, many years. But she felt rather foolish at the same time.
The music stopped and they returned to the table.
“I didn’t think you Palestinians danced anything but a hora,” Mark said.
“I’ve been exposed to too much of your culture,” Ari answered.
His sandwiches arrived and he ate hungrily. Mark waited patiently for him to reveal the nature of his visit. He looked at Kitty carefully. She seemed to be regaining her composure, although she glanced at Ari from the corner of her eye as though she were wary and ready to strike.
At last Ari finished eating and said casually, “I have something I want to talk over with both of you.”
“Here, in the middle of the British Army?”
Ari smiled. He turned to Kitty. “Parker didn’t have a chance to tell you, Mrs. Fremont, that my employment is considered sub rosa in some quarters. Every so often the British even glorify us by calling us ‘underground.’ One of the first things I try to impress a new member of our organization with is the danger of making secret midnight rendezvous. I’d say there isn’t a better place in the world to discuss this.”
“Let’s move the party up to my room,” Mark said.
As soon as they had closed the door behind them Ari got right to the point. “Parker, you and I are in a position to do each other a good turn.”
“Go on.”
“Are you familiar with the detention camps at Caraolos?”
Both Mark and Kitty nodded.
“I have just completed plans for three hundred children to make an escape. We are going to bring them over here and load them aboard a ship in the Kyrenia harbor.”
“You boys have been smuggling refugees into Palestine for years. That isn’t news any more, Ben Canaan.”
“It will be news if you help make it news. You remember
the commotion over our illegal ship, the Promised Land?’
“Sure.”
“The British looked pretty bad then. We feel that if we can create another incident as important as the Promised Land we stand a chance of breaking their immigration policy on Palestine.”
“You just lost me,” Mark said. “If you can pull a mass escape from Caraolos how are you going to get them to Palestine? If they do escape then where is the story?”
“That’s the point,” Ari said. “They aren’t going any farther than boarding ship in Kyrenia. I have no intention of making a run for Palestine.”
Mark leaned forward. He was interested, and there was obviously more to Ben Canaan’s plan than first appeared.
“Let’s say,” Ari said, “that I get three hundred orphans out of Caraolos and on a ship in Kyrenia. Let’s say the British find out and stop the ship from sailing. Now-let’s say you have already written a story and it is sitting in Paris or New York. The minute those children board ship your story hits the headlines.”