"Well, I'll admit that we thought it strange that Rabbi Small hadn't written to us," said Mrs. Deutch.
"That's good enough for me!" exclaimed Marty. "As far as I'm concerned. Rabbi Small is definitely out of the picture."
"Now. Marty..." Raymond temporized.
"Look. Bert, that's not just my attitude. I’ve sounded out the guys on the board, and a clear majority of them say that if they have to pick between Rabbi Small and Rabbi Deutch, they're going to pick Rabbi Deutch. even if it means a fight. He's our kind of man. He's what the temple needs. And I'll tell you something, Mrs. Deutch. Bert here feels the same way, but he's a lawyer, so he can't say anything without putting in a lot of wherefores and whereases. But I'll lay it on the line to you, Mrs. Deutch, the job is open, and your husband can have it if he wants it; but he can't sit back and let it drop on him. He's got to reach for it."
"I'm afraid I don't understand."
"Sure you do. He's got to show he wants it. There never was a job or a deal that was all clear sailing. There's always some little bind. That's life. You got to expect that. And in this case. I don't see it as any big problem. But Rabbi Deutch got to show that he wants the job. Otherwise, when Rabbi Small comes back, there are going to be people who will say that even though they prefer to have Rabbi Deutch, still and all. Rabbi Small is a young man with a family and all that kind of thing. And the first thing you know, we’ve got a fight on our hands, and things kind of sour, and some of the mud hits your husband."
Mrs. Deutch nodded. "Yes, I think I see your point."
"So is it a deal Mrs. Deutch?"
"Well, as I said, the decision is up to Hugo, but I'll undertake to talk to him."
"That's all we ask." said Marty. He rose, as did his colleague. "If I happened to run in to Rabbi Deutch, I wasn't planning to mention that I'd been here."
"Yes, I think that's good strategy," she said. "I won't mention your visit."
"That way he'll think it all comes from you." She smiled. "Yes, I think that might be better."
When they were back in the car. Bert asked. "Do you think she can bring it off?"
"It's in the bag." Marty chuckled. "I'm no philosopher or psychologist or anything, but in my business I’ve had a lot of experience sizing up couples— you know, they come in together for a loan— and I can usually tell who wears the pants. Believe me. in that household, she does."
Chapter Forty-Nine
Uri had left to go to his girl's house; Jonathan had already changed from his "good" clothes he wore to the synagogue into his regular shorts and jersey and was playing in the yard with Shaouli; and the Smalls and Gittel were dawdling over wine and cake and nuts at the kiddush table when Dan Stedman arrived. He had the copy of Haolam with him and thrust it into the rabbi's hand.
"You see, the propaganda machinery has already been set in motion. There will be more in the days to come, and when the trial comes, the verdict will already have been decided in the press." He looked haggard, and there were dark circles under his eyes.
The rabbi glanced at the cover picture and then flipped through the magazine. "This is a monthly.," he said, "and must have gone to press some time ago. Besides, it's a picture magazine like our own Life. They're apt to print any picture that's interesting. Did you notice that one on page thirty-two? That aerial photograph must have been taken right after the Six-Day War. Now this one of Memavet is interesting just as a piece of photography."
"I suppose so." Stedman agreed wearily. "I've been so involved that I'm probably not thinking straight. I imagine I’ve become paranoid on the subject. And there was no one I could discuss it with—"
"What happened?" asked Miriam.
"I—" He paused, uncertain, and looked from one woman to the other.
"If you don't want to talk in front of me." Gittel offered. "I can go into the kitchen."
"No. it's all right. In a few days at the most everyone will know." He giggled hysterically. "You might as well get my side of the story first." As he began to talk, his voice grew calmer, and soon he was speaking matter-of-factly and objectively as though he was recounting to a rewrite man. He kept interrupting the flow of his narrative with editorial comments—"I can see where the police might come to this conclusion" or "It was terribly stupid of Rov." The eves of both women were fixed on him while the rabbi stared at the magazine cover on the table in front of him. Dan finished with. "I can't believe that Roy did this terrible thing." and then weakened it somewhat by adding. "I'm sure they don't have the evidence that would be needed in a regular trial."
Gittel's feelings as she listened were ambivalent: On the one hand, the government seemed to think that the young man was tied up with the terrorists and had actually perpetrated an outrage in which a man had lost his life, and on the other hand, she was sorry for this very nice man opposite her. so it was hard to imagine a son of his being guilty of a criminal act.
"Why don't you get a lawyer?" she asked. "At least, he'd be able to arrange for you to see your son."
Stedman shook his head and gave his reasons just as he had explained them to Donahue. "Besides, according to my friend at the embassy, this is a Shin Bet affair and it's not being handled according to the regular routine."
"So what are you planning to do?"
"He managed to get the name of the man in charge, a certain Adoumi, and I’ve been trying to see him, but he's been dodging me."
"Avner Adoumi?" asked Gittel.
"That's right. You know him?"
"I know him well."
"If you could perhaps arrange an appointment." he pleaded.
Her face grew stern. "This is a terrible crime against the state of which your son is suspected. Mr. Stedman. The Shin Bet. I'm sure, does not act capriciously. But Avner Adoumi is a public servant, and you have a right to see him. He must not be permitted to dodge his responsibilities. I will take you to see him— right now, if you like. He's likely to be home."
Dan couldn't contain his gratitude. "But I can't ask you to put yourself out. If you'll just give me his address—"
"And what would you do if he slammed the door in your face? Believe me. Avner is quite capable of it. No. I'll take you there and I'll see to it that he at least listens to you."
"Do you mind if I come, too?" asked the rabbi.
"Not at all." said Stedman. Now in high spirits. "The bigger our gang, the better. He'll see that he can't bottle this thing up."
The Renault started without trouble. Gittel drove, of course, and Stedman sat beside her while the rabbi sat in back. They were curiously silent during the short trip, each engrossed in his own thoughts. Gittel drove up to the house on Kol Tov Street and. with the two men trailing, marched up to the door and rang the bell.
Adoumi came to the door. "What are you doing here. Gittel?" he asked. "Who are these men?"
"This is my friend Daniel Stedman, and this is my nephew, David Small."
He smiled. "Oh, the rabbi from America, the one who doesn't keep the Sabbath. What do you want?"
"We want to talk to you." said Stedman. "/want to."
Adoumi hesitated for a moment and then shrugged. "Well, come in then." and stood aside for them to enter. He made a vague, apologetic gesture at the newspapers on the floor and the general disarray of the room. "My wife is in the hospital."
"So you have to make a regular pigpen here for your wife to clean up the first day she gets back?" stormed Gittel.
"You're afraid she won't have enough work to keep her occupied?"
"I was planning to clean up the place before she got back." he said meekly.
"I'll clean up. You talk to Mr. Stedman." She began to pick up the newspapers. Adourai motioned the two men to chairs.