She sat up and thought for a moment. She gripped Judith’s hand and said:
“Tomorrow morning you can go up to Yeled with Tonio when he goes to collect the beets and telephone from there. You have Liebling’s number?”
“Of course.”
“Good.”
Pete lay back and composed herself once more, hands folded over her stomach. “And now, my dear, bed. Look at the time!”
“I’m so excited.”
“Of course you are.”
“Good-night, Pete.”
“Good-night, dear Judith.”
Judith walked about in the darkened gardens for a while before she went to bed herself. She was puzzled to find herself thinking: “I wish that Aaron were here to share this sense of success, this sense of a difficult job well done. He would be pleased too.” She had a sudden and vivid picture of him smiling. But she frowned reprovingly at herself for the thought and, entering her little cabin, snapped off the light.
In the morning she struggled up in time to catch Tonio and cadge a lift to Yeled, from which she got through to Liebling after the wait of an hour or two. His voice crackled on the wire with delight.
“Marvellous!” he said, and the word was like a sip of honey. “I felt you would do it.”
She gave him a rendezvous in Jerusalem for that evening at seven o’clock. “In the old lorry,” she said. “Anna will be driving.” The little Professor was so excited that he could hardly articulate.
“I shall meet you,” he said. “I shall meet you myself. Bravo, Judith — bravo, bravo!”
Bravo, Judith! But the denouement was not exactly as planned. As they jogged along over the curving slopes of the main road beyond Nazareth, they saw a little group of soldiers and policemen manning a road barrier some way ahead.
“Now what the hell is this?” said Anna, the professional pessimist of the kibbutz. “Thank God we aren’t carrying anything illegal and that our papers are in order.”
The routine was so familiar that they had even lost a sense of ignominy in performing it. It was easy to stop the truck and get out with hands up. The soldiers and policemen examined everything with attention, but not very closely. They had the impression that they were going to escape from a mere routine check when a bulky figure emerged from a hut and pointed a finger at Judith.
“Miss Roth,” he said with a majestic self-assurance, “will you please bring your papers and come this way?”
Judith was not too surprised to recognize, in the tall figure, the person of Donner. However, though annoyed and put out of countenance, she obeyed. The barrier was removed at a signal from Donner and the puzzled Anna was waved on. The whole thing took place so suddenly that they had hardly time to think of possible explanations. Judith herself stood irresolutely on the doorstep of the shack, holding the old briefcase which she had borrowed to house her papers. Donner was in a most masterful mood. He kicked the door shut behind him and took his place at a desk, where he busied himself with some papers, not looking up. Judith began to recover her self-possession in the face of this behaviour.
“May I ask… she began; but the great man was busy. He raised his head and said:
“You may sit down.” She did so, watching him. Finally he gathered up his papers and went to the door. “Sergeant,” he called, and a voice responded. “It’s O.K. Release the roadblock. The job is done.”
“Very good, Sir.”
“What job,” wondered Judith idly. They sat in silence as the noise outside gradually diminished. The barrier was raised and the troops took off in their various cars. Donner sat absolutely still, with a faint smile on his face, listening to these sounds of departure. Presently, as the last car rumbled off down the road, he said:
“I have a warrant for you, Miss Roth. But it’s a mere formality, of course. I want you to answer a few questions.”
“What questions?”
“I have my orders,” said Donner, serious with an almost religious air. “You will be released very soon, I can promise you.”
“Am I arrested then?”
“For questioning, Miss. That is all. We have that right.”
“But I can answer any questions here!”
“No, you can’t, bless your soul.” Donner chuckled comfortably. “All in good time. Besides, we have to have a look at your papers.”
“But my papers… Just look!” She opened her briefcase with an air of despair. Donner shook his head.
“You will get them all back tomorrow, I can promise you that. On my honour.”
“But — where are we going?”
“To Jerusalem,” said Donner with exasperation. “Where else?”
Dazed, she stood irresolutely before him. “Come on,” he said. He led the way out of the hut, snapped off the light, and opened the door of a saloon car. “You have nothing to fear, Miss Roth,” he said. “It’s a pure formality. You’ll be free — perhaps even tonight.”
The car swung into the main road and headed for Jerusalem.
Anna made poor sense at the best of times, but she was so incoherent on her arrival in Jerusalem that Liebling could have knocked her down. “That’s all I know,” she kept repeating stolidly. “That’s all I know. This chap Donner comes out and takes her off.”
Liebling hopped with rage. “But where?” he cried.
“In the hut. I was waved through.”
“And her papers? Surely she had something with her?”
“A briefcase. She took it. He told her to.”
It seemed for a minute that the scientist was going to drag out his remaining silver hairs. He tugged at them with both hands.
A whole string of Yiddish expletives flowed from his innocent-looking lips. He staggered away across the cobbled street like a man in a nightmare and sat down at a café table. His mind, so competent with abstractions, found itself incapable of determining what all this might mean; but one thing was certain — the plans were compromised if they once got out of Judith’s hands. He swallowed a glass of arak and shuddered, pulling himself together. “I shall have to speak to the underground,” he said at last under his breath. “It is the only way.”
He ran with strange hopping steps along the footpath towards the centre of the town. It was quite a walk, but finally he arrived with beating heart at an old tumbledown house in a quiet side-street. It was apparently a cobbler’s shop, and it was locked. He tapped at the door and was challenged by a voice; he gave his name in a whisper and was admitted. On the third floor three men sat round an oil lamp, playing cards at a table, while a fourth in the far corner was copytaking from a small transmitter whose chattering and chirping made the only sound in the room. The three men sat quite absorbed in their game by the yellow light. Only one of them looked up and greeted the Professor as he stumbled into the doorway. He stared more closely, recognized the Professor, and got up to welcome him.
“Ben Adam,” said Liebling, “I come to ask for your help.” The second man shuffled the cards and stacked them. Then he and his companion rose and placed a chair for their visitor.
“The plans,” said Liebling incoherently, “we must not let them out of her hands.”
A gruff voice said: “Come, Professor, explain.”
Liebling took a very deep breath, fetched up from his shoes, and concentrated for a moment; then he began to explain. They listened intently, with their dark faces turned unsmilingly towards him. Only at the mention of the name Donner did their faces register any expression. They turned to one another and exchanged a glance of recognition. At the end of the recital Ben Adam turned to the second man and said:
“Aaron — this is your part of the world.”
“Yes. I know the girl.”
They all thought heavily for a moment. Then Ben Adam went to a telephone and asked for a number. “Hullo, is that the Central Prison? May I speak to Faber, please?” There was a long wait while Aaron said under his breath to the Professor: “A contact in Central.”