“We should avoid both complacency and hysteria,” General Rabin said. “If the Egyptians blockade the Straits of Tiran, our oil supplies from Iran will be cut. Our factories will stop. Buses and trains too. And our reservists won’t be able to reach their units.”
“We could,” Eshkol said, “ask the Iranians to ship the oil around Africa to Haifa.”
“The real wild card is Jordan,” said Moshe Dayan. “King Hussein doesn’t want to risk losing East Jerusalem and the West Bank, but he can’t appear disloyal to his Arab brothers.”
“Which is fine,” General Weitzman said. “We’ll capture Temple Mount and reunite Jerusalem!”
“We don’t want the West Bank, though,” Rabin said.
“Why not?” Weitzman asked. “The hills of Judea and Samaria are filled with the biblical sites where Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob lived. Imagine the Cave of the Patriarchs in Hebron, the first piece of land Abraham bought in the Promised Land. Jericho, which Joshua captured upon returning from Egyptian slavery-”
“And imagine,” Rabin said, “ruling over a half-million Arabs.”
“They’ll run away,” Weitzman said, waving his hand, “like they did in ’forty-eight.”
“I don’t think so,” Rabin said. “The IDF is a defense force. The military occupation of a large Arab population will be morally problematic.”
Prime Minister Eshkol pointed at Elie. “Weiss, tell us about the Jewish fundamentalists. Will they be grateful to the government if we capture the holy places?”
“They’ll be grateful to God.” Elie stood up. “I estimate that capturing the biblical sites will cause a rise in religious nationalism centered on old ruins and ancient tombs. Thousands of observant families will pick up and move to Hebron, Jericho, and Bethlehem. Depending on your political leaning, this could be viewed as a wonderful new wave of laudable Zionist pioneering or as a power grab of territories needed for a future bargain with the Arabs. I believe that if Israel conquers the West Bank and East Jerusalem, future governments will face a political fait accompli — no withdrawals and no peace with the Arabs.”
There was a long silence, broken by Ezer Weitzman. “That’s a bunch of nonsense. Who is this guy?”
The chief of Mossad, Meir Amit, cleared his throat. “Until recently, our assessment was that the Arabs would not be ready for war before 1970. However, six months ago the Soviet Union began shipping massive amounts of arms, accompanied by thousands of military personnel, including field commanders, tank officers, and fighter pilots. They’re acting as advisors, but they’ll fight, just like in Vietnam.”
“Why?” The question came from Rabin.
“Dimona,” the Mossad chief responded without hesitation. “The Kremlin considers our nuclear program to be a direct challenge to Soviet influence in the Middle East. By early summer, June or July, they’ll have Egypt, Jordan, and the Syrians, as well as supporting brigades from Iraq, Saudi Arabia, and Lebanon, ready to attack Israel.”
“They won’t!” Prime Minister Eshkol sat back, removed his glasses. “The UN will stop them!”
The Mossad chief glanced at Tanya. “A very telling conversation took place when the General Bull called King Hussein to wish him a happy birthday.”
“Some neutrality,” Prime Minister Eshkol said. “He didn’t call on my birthday!”
Amit smiled. “They’re friends. The young king is a flying enthusiast, so Bull treats him as sort of a protege. He invited Hussein to tour the new UN radar station at Government House. We’re still gathering intel on it. But when Bull told King Hussein that his family will be visiting Jerusalem in the spring, the king offered his villa in the south of France instead.”
Tanya had her notes ready. “The king responded that it’s going to be a very hot spring in the Middle East, but by summer they’ll be able to vacation together in Tel Aviv.”
The prime minster swiveled his chair to face Tanya. “What was Bull’s reply?”
She quoted from her notes. “ It’s a date! ”
L emmy woke up to an explosion of banging and knocking that made him sit up in his bed fighting for air. The room was completely dark, and it took him a moment to realize the noise was coming from his alarm clock. He hit it, and the noise died.
The apartment was not heated during the night, and the sweat on his forehead was icy. The wind rattled the window. He turned on his reading light and sat for a moment. His body ached. He wished he could stay in bed. He had slept for less than two hours, having finished a novel about young Italian lovers whose passion led to tragedy.
Lowering his feet to the cold floor, Lemmy resisted an overwhelming desire to slip back under the warm blanket. In a moment, he would be late for morning prayers. He dressed quickly, grabbed the black hat from the hook, and rushed out of his room.
The small sink by the bathroom had a single iron faucet. He used the copper cup to rinse his hands three times as prescribed by Talmud. He splashed cold water on his face and dried his hands and face on a towel while reciting the blessing: “ Grateful I am before you, Master of the Universe, for giving my soul back to me in your mercy. I believe in your grace. ”
His father had already gone to the synagogue for an hour of predawn studying. Lemmy passed by the kitchen without stopping, crossed the foyer, and reached for the door handle.
“Jerusalem?” His mother’s quick footsteps sounded, and she appeared in the foyer. “Here. Drink it.”
He took the mug and filled his mouth with sweet, hot chocolate. It was always at the right temperature, soothing away the bitter residue of a restless night without burning his palate. He gulped it, looking at his mother over the mug. The vapor between them softened her untimely wrinkles.
“Thanks.” He handed her the empty mug.
“May God bless your day,” she said while he headed down the stairs.
He knew she was watching from the window as he ran through the rain, holding his hat, his shoes splashing through puddles.
He entered the synagogue foyer and brushed the drops off his coat. Monotonous chanting came through the open doors of the main sanctuary. In the far corner of the foyer, Benjamin stood with Redhead Dan and his study companion, Yoram.
Lemmy approached them. “What nasty weather!”
“It’s better than famine,” Benjamin said. “You want us to starve?”
“Why starve?” Lemmy waved his hand. “Couldn’t God create a better irrigation system? This rain gets everything wet-buildings, roads, dogs, roaches. Even the sea gets wet! It’s stupid, isn’t it?”
Redhead Dan said, “God isn’t stupid!”
“He didn’t say it about God.” Benjamin said. “Just about getting wet in the rain. Surely our merciful God knows best how to run the world He created, right?”
“That’s a given,” Lemmy said. “But God should deliver water where it’s needed-olive groves in the Galilee, orange trees near Jaffa, and so on. The current system-”
“Are you questioning God’s wisdom?” Redhead Dan folded his arms on his chest. He was in his early twenties, burly and freckle-faced. His red hair, spiraling payos, and bushy beard created a blaze that kept his head constantly boiling. His young wife had given birth a few days earlier to a baby boy-their first child. “God will punish the sinners! The filthy Zionists will pay for their abortion law.” His voice grew louder. “We’ll destroy their Knesset, flush their law books down the toilet, and drown their heresy in a bath of blood!”
“You mean a river,” Lemmy said, “not a bath.”
“What?”
“A river of blood. It’s hard to drown in a bath.”
“Whatever!” Redhead Dan made a cutting gesture with his hand.
“And whose blood will it be,” Lemmy inquired, “in which they’ll drown?”
“Zionist blood! What else?”