Well, later for all that. He rolled over and called the concierge to make arrangements about keeping his room while he was gone. He had considered checking out, but the concierge told him that a room might not be available when he came back if he did that. He called the desk clerk to put in a wake-up call and then undressed and prepared to go to bed. What did the marines call it? D minus one. The whole thing might be a bust, he knew, but he really didn’t think so. He thought again about room service but then drifted off. He wished Adrian could be here, and still frowned at the way she’d broken up with him.
6
It was almost fully dark when Professor Ellerstein parked his ancient Renault sedan at the curb about a block away from the restaurant and trudged back up the hill. It was a tiny place, with only six booths inside, but the owner-chef was a Christian Arab, and the food was an excellent blend of French and Middle Eastern cookery. Ellerstein, who lived in Rehovot, frequently took his evening meals there. He pushed through the single glass door and saw Gulder sitting in the last booth at the back of the restaurant in what Americans would call the gunfighter’s seat, his back against the wall. Ellerstein walked over and pushed in between the booth partition and the table. The owner was busy speaking on the phone but waved to him anyway.
“An informative day, Yossi?” Gulder asked as Ellerstein sat down. Israel Gulder was the prime minister’s executive assistant. He was a heavyset, late-middle-aged man who looked totally undistinguished, with a broad plain face, glasses, and the beginnings of a double chin. His sleepy eyes implied a dullard, a feature that had fooled many political enemies into gravely underestimating him, often to their ultimate dismay. There were rumors that he had occasionally undertaken certain duties that went well beyond the usual scope of being the PM’s EA. He had a glass of mineral water and a bowl of pistachios in front of him, both of which looked untouched.
“Very much so, Gulder. I must say, this American can be pretty smooth when he wants to be.”
A fat waiter trundled over, and Ellerstein indicated that he would have a glass of Carmel red. When the waiter had gone, Gulder raised his eyebrows in an unspoken question.
“Well,” Ellerstein began, “he took the assignment of a minder very much in stride when I broke the news to him. In fact, when the chairman, Armin Strauss, you know him I think, broached it at the meeting, Hall not only agreed but said he had been planning to ask for one.”
“Clever, if true.”
“Actually, I don’t think he had been planning any such thing, but, yes, it was glib. Just saying it defused things. He was fully amenable to the time offered on-site. Apologetic for being an intrusion. Deferential to the academics, self-deprecating when the discussion came around to his own interests in the site, and, I think, generally candid about why he was really here.”
“Ah. And that is?”
Ellerstein related the story Hall had told, including the tantalizing what-if question underlying his research. Gulder nodded slowly at the end.
“A fascinating question indeed. Except that we know the answer: There would have been no hope of escape. There was a circumvallation. Those thousand Jews would have been stinking carrion bait by the middle of the afternoon. They had kept the Romans at bay down on those delightful salt marshes for what, nearly three years? Even Josephus says that General Silva didn’t even bother going up the ramp on the final morning once the walls had been burned through. Most likely didn’t want to spoil his breakfast.”
“Well, that’s very probably true, Gulder. Still, my conclusion is that this young man is sincere, if, as he is the first to admit, somewhat uninformed. Anyway, three and a half days, and Yehudit Ressner will bring him back to Tel Aviv, and then we’ll be through with it.”
“Very well, Yossi. We, of course, appreciate your help in steering this matter.”
Ellerstein noted the royal “we.” He accepted the glass of wine from the waiter and ordered his usual evening fare, salad and a broiled fish. The waiter glanced over at Gulder, who shook his head. Once the waiter left, Ellerstein decided to take a small chance.
“I don’t suppose you can tell me why you have taken such an interest in this man?”
Gulder didn’t look at him for a long moment, and then finally reached for his glass and took a small sip of water. A couple of tourists peered into the windows. Gulder gave them his best terroristic stare. They recoiled and kept moving.
“Tell me, Yossi,” he said. “How did Dr. Ressner react to her assignment?”
Ellerstein gave a mental shrug: So much for sharing, he thought. “Well, I went to see her while Mr. Hall was getting his afternoon briefings. She was less than overjoyed. She had been in the back of the room when the American was explaining why he was there, and she thought he was, what was her word, silly, yes. She has a low regard for men who are her inferior intellectually, and this poor fellow, nuclear engineer that he is, probably qualifies. He’s in for an unpleasant journey.”
Ellerstein had earlier decided to omit his more personal discussion with Ressner. He thought he saw the hint of a smile cross Gulder’s face, but what he said next removed it.
“I may have made an error, though.”
“What was that?” asked Gulder, his eyes alert now.
“Well, she didn’t say anything while we were talking, but I told her it was the ministry who wanted the minder.”
“Yes, so?”
“She may wonder, once she’s had time to think about it, how I became involved. How I knew about the ministry’s requirement for a minder.”
“Ah. She made a connection?”
“Not then, as I said, but she was raising hell with me more than with her department head. She probably hasn’t thought it through yet, but she may wonder: What’s Yossi have to do with the ministry?”
“She doesn’t know?”
“No. I dissembled.”
“You are a competent dissembler, Yossi,” Gulder replied, “and ignorance occasionally has its uses. If she asks, remind her that you’re on the advisory board of the IAA. The IAA works for the ministry. Like so.”
The waiter brought Ellerstein’s salad, and he dug in, waiting to see if Gulder would amplify this remark. Instead, Gulder had another question.
“What is your opinion of Ressner’s psychological state since her husband died?” Gulder asked, seemingly out of nowhere.
Ellerstein paused with his dinner, took a sip of wine, and thought for a moment. Given his own previous secret association with Dov Ressner and LaBaG, the anti-nuclear-weapons splinter group at Dimona, he wondered where Gulder was going with this, and whether or not Gulder knew what Ellerstein’s role in LaBaG had really been. It was always wheels within wheels with Gulder, he thought, not for the first time.
“As I mentioned when we first met on this, I think she is declining,” he said at last. “Spiritually, emotionally, I mean. She has never been an extrovert, but now she is almost a recluse. I actually think she is capable of suicide, except—”
“Yes? Except?” Gulder was focusing very carefully. Be careful, Ellerstein told himself.
“Except for a reservoir of anger,” he said. “She never did find out exactly what happened to her husband, you know. No one did, actually, according to her.”
“With whom is she angry?” Gulder asked, toying with a lone pistachio nut.