Ish-Kosher looked quizzically at his assistant when he returned from escorting the two out. "I told you." said Aaron, "that I didn't think there was much there, but—"
"But we have nothing else." said his chief. "And yet, when you come to think about it a little, it is curious. Eleven o'clock— that's pretty late to be going visiting, just as late as the few minutes later when he decided it was too late. It might be worthwhile making a few inquiries. I don't expect much, you understand, and probably Adoumi's way of rounding up a bunch of Arabs and questioning them in the hope that one will get nervous and admit something is the correct one. Still, a man was killed in my area. That he was killed by a bomb is beside the point. It was murder. and I am charged to investigate murders. So. it might be worthwhile going to Victoria, number Five, and inquiring if any of the residents were expecting a visitor that night, quite late."
Chapter Seventeen
Sunday the Smalls set out to see the city. They were free for the morning at least, since Jonathan would be kept in school until two, and the school would give him his lunch at noon.
"And don't worry about hurrying back exactly on time." said Mrs. Rosen, their neighbor. "He can play with Shaouli until you get home."
"We want to go to the Old City and the Wall" said Miriam. "Will we be able to get back in time?"
"Of course." And she gave them directions on what bus to take to get to the Jaffa Gate. "You'll see signs directing you to the Wall. It's not far. You could even walk it. But this first time, better take a bus."
So they took a bus. No sooner had they paid their fares than the driver swung his vehicle away from the curb and they lurched to their seats. But a car zoomed ahead of the bus, and their driver had to put on his brakes in a hurry. He poked his head out the window and shouted at the driver of the car. "May no harm befall you, but you are a great fool." Then filming and red-faced with indignation, he put his bus in gear again, and they zoomed forward.
They rode for some minutes, the rabbi and Miriam, eagerly watching the scene as it fled past their window. One of the passengers, a middle-aged woman with a couple of string bags full of groceries on the vacant seat beside her and parcels on her capacious lap, pulled the signal cord and then, for fear that the driver had not heard, pulled it again.
He looked up in his rearview mirror and shouted. "It's all right. I heard you, I heard you. Or do you think you're playing a musical instrument?" He pulled over to the curb and came to a stop.
The woman gathered up her bags and her parcels and headed for the door. "He acts like his father built the road." she complained. "And how many times do you pull the cord and he doesn't stop? And how many times when it's raining and you're waiting at the stop, they ride right by?"
"Lady, lady, we've all got places to go, and if you don't hurry, you won't have time to cook your husband's dinner before he comes home. You'll finish the story the next trip."
"Bus drivers are all the same." said Miriam.
Her husband smiled. "This one is the same, but with a difference."
The bus deposited them in front of the Jaffa Gate, and before entering, they turned back to look at the portion of the new city that they had left.
"It's all so white, David." Miriam exclaimed.
"It's built of Jerusalem stone. If I remember rightly, during the British Mandate there was a law requiring it. Maybe there still is. But it's quite an effect, isn't it?"
They passed through the gate, crossed a wide-open plaza and. following the other visitors, entered a narrow corridor less than ten feet wide, the main street of the Old City. It was covered over like a tunnel, and on either side were stalls and shops with their Arab proprietors sitting outside on low stools, gesturing the passersby inside.
The street sloped precipitously; every few feet there were two or three steps so that they seemed to be descending constantly deeper and deeper into the bowels of the earth. The street was crowded with Arabs, tourists, clerics of various orders, and everywhere children. Side streets led off the main street and. like it. were covered over and lined with shops. Here and there, however, they caught glimpses of squares or courtyards that were obviously residential. As they paused at one corner, a small boy of eleven or twelve approached them. The lad was clean and dressed in Western jacket and trousers.
"Do you need a guide, lady and gentleman? I can direct you anywhere. Do you wish to go to the Western Wall? Are you from America?"
"Yes, we are from America." said Miriam.
"Perhaps from Chicago? Or Pennsylvania? I have many friends in Chicago and Pennsylvania. Perhaps you know some of them. Dr. Goldstein of Pennsylvania is a very good friend of mine."
"No. I don't know Dr. Goldstein of Pennsylvania." said Miriam, amused in spite of herself.
"Perhaps it is the Via Doloroso you wish to see? I can show it to you and arrange for you to go inside the monastery. Father Benedict is a very good friend of mine." Miriam shook her head.
"Perhaps you are interested in buying rugs or jewelry? I can direct you to the best shops. As my friend you will be given the best prices. Or Persian enamels— I know a shop where the proprietor is planning to give up his business and everything is being sold very cheap."
"We don't want to buy anything," said Miriam.
"My brother can get you leather goods at wholesale—"
Miriam shook her head and hurried after her husband, who had marched straight ahead, refusing to be drawn. As they turned a corner, they saw the young man approach someone else.
"You mustn't encourage them," said the rabbi, "or you'll never get rid of them."
"That one must be rather special. He'll probably be mayor of the city someday."
The rabbi grinned. "Not he. He'll be a merchant, the proprietor of a small store like one of these, and sit on a stool in front of his shop smoking his water pipe and drinking cups of coffee all day long. He'll own half the city, and the mayor will be on his payroll."
As they penetrated deeper into the ancient city, always descending, they noticed a change in the character of the street. The stores were no longer intended for the tourist trade, but rather for residents of the town. There were shops where radios and clocks were being repaired and others where pots and pans were being mended. There were butcher shops with whole carcasses of sheep hanging by their heels and stores where strange foods were sold. There were shoe repair shops and barbershops. There were small cafes in which radios were turned up so that the eerie, piercing Arab music to which they were tuned could be heard yards away. And the proprietors who sat in front of their shops were no longer smiling and ingratiating; they gazed at the passersby indifferently, knowing it unlikely that they would be interested in their wares.
Once Miriam and David had to flatten themselves against the wall as two donkeys, each loaded with a huge arch of empty wooden fruit boxes, came mincing down the street, urged along by the shouting of a small boy. On another occasion, they had to retreat into a convenient doorway to avoid being jostled by a flock of sheep that were being herded through the narrow corridorlike street.
At one point the street widened unaccountably into a kind of square where some little girls of five or six were playing a street game similar to hopscotch. As soon as they saw the Smalls, they came running up, their grimy little hands held out in supplication, crying. "Money, money."
"Pay no attention to them." said the rabbi and shook his head sternly at them. One little girl clutched her belly to indicate hunger, and when even this brought no response, she staggered and fell to the ground. Miriam was tempted to stop; but her husband was striding right along, and she was afraid she might lose sight of him. When she looked back a minute later, she was glad to see that the little girl had picked herself up and was once again playing with the other children.