Dancing Bear
The Minister was in Washington at the time - his fourth visit that year - but I had no way of getting to him without going through the usual channels. All the people around him would do whatever they must to keep me away from him. Allie, on the other hand, had a much better chance.
"Come on, David," she ordered. "And be careful getting up. Is it very painful?"
She held out her arm and I leaned on her gratefully. "You'll have to come to Washington with me," she said. "Certainly not what the doctor would order. But we have no choice. Without you, the whole story will sound like a crazy fantasy of mine."
We walked together to the pay phone in the House of Pancakes and started dialing. First she called Al Garnik, the current chairman of the Conference of Presidents of Jewish Organizations. It only took a few short sentences for Al to agree to come to Washington with her the next day. Then I gave her the private number of the Embassy's security officer and he put her through urgently to the minister's aide who arranged a meeting for us the next morning at ten, right after his breakfast with the press and before his meetings on Capitol Hill.
*
Washington gave the impression of being busy and distinguished. Even from the air it looked like a small town - too clean and subdued to be a real city. The day was overcast, and we hurried to the Mayflower Hotel, not too far from the official guest house. Once inside, Allie presented her cheek to Al Garnik, who had been waiting for us in the lobby for more than an hour. He was a paternal, "leave-it-to-me" attorney. I knew the type. His practiced civility toward his clients and colleagues had become a permanent fixture, not absent from his voice even now, when he was obviously worried.
"A pleasure to meet you."He gave me his warm handshake, his weary eyes surveying me warily.
We all went up to the minister's suite. Four bodyguards were seated in the hall - two locals and two Israelis that I recognized. They looked through me, straining to hide the discomfort they felt at seeing me there. The silence was broken by Allie's loud, friendly voice. In a superior tone she dropped several names that got us in the door of the conference room. As usual, her self-assurance paid off.
The Defense Minister seemed calm and pleased. He'd just come back from a very successful press conference where he had again removed any doubts as to the sympathies of the administration. He greeted Allie warmly, awkwardly kissing her on the cheek.
We sat down, all five of us - Al, Allie, me, the minister, and his aide - and I had the strange feeling that someone was missing. Everyone knew what we were there for, but the responsible party, Gadi or his superior, should have been there to explain. I had the feeling they still weren't taking the matter seriously, and we were going to leave there empty-handed again.
"As I understand it," the minister began in a measured tone and low voice, unhurriedly looking for just the right word, "you're concerned about an Israeli spy ring allegedly operating in the US."
No response. He went on. "Al, I'm sure you remember we dealt with the same issue back in the early '50s. We have an agreement - a good one - with the Americans regarding the exchange of intelligence. Sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn't." He let out a sigh. "But even when it doesn't, we have a very good understanding and channels to settle it."
Allie cut in. "Yitzhak," she asked, "is there a Jew spying for you in the Pentagon?"
There was silence in the room for what seemed like an eternity. For the second time that day I felt a great sense of relief. It appeared that this endless nightmare had finally fallen into the capable hands of reliable people.
"We try very hard to avoid such mistakes," the minister eventually answered, and the room reverted to silence again.
"Tell him!" Allie commanded me.
I began at the beginning, relating everything that had happened since I first saw Kate from the consulate control room. I told him about the consul's reaction, the station wagons that had chased us, and our flight to Cape Cod. I mentioned the calls we made from there and then described our return to Boston and how Kate had vanished and I had started to look for her everywhere I could think of. I said a few words about the photocopier and the papers that ought to be returned to the Americans, concluding with John being beaten up, and then me.
"That's it," I said. "And now we're here, looking for Kate Beaver, who you might be holding. And our gut feeling is that something very bad is going to happen." I fell silent. I didn't have the nerve to put the rest of my thoughts into words.
The minister listened intently, his aide taking copious notes. When I was through, he stared at me, his lips tight and his brows turned down in a scowl. I couldn't read his emotions. "Thank you, David," he finally said, "you can wait outside."
I glanced at Allie. She nodded.
I went back out into the hall. There were only two bodyguards now, but they had been joined by someone new.
"Miller?" I exclaimed, shocked and appalled.
"Let's go downstairs," he suggested.
I didn't resist.
"If Yitzhak wants me, I'll be in the bar," he informed the guards. He was sweating, his eyes blinking repeatedly behind his gold-framed glasses.
It was eleven in the morning, but Miller ordered a brandy and a dish of olives. I ordered coffee and a Danish.
"This whole affair's gotten out of hand," he began. "It was a mistake to use Benjamin, but he had us all fooled with his story of an alternate channel of information." He glanced at his watch, and then again a minute later.
"Why did you keep it going once you found out it was all a figment of his imagination, a road that wasn't leading anywhere? And who was in charge?"
Miller stared at me in surprise. "I was in charge. I thought you'd figured that out."
So the person missing from the meeting upstairs was here after all. Miller again looked at his watch nervously. "I'm late for an appointment," he said. "Look, they'll be a while yet upstairs. Why don't you take a quick ride around town with me? They'll let us know when they're through." Without waiting for an answer, he went over to the in-house telephone in the bar. From where I was sitting, I could hear him dictating a beeper number.
A parking attendant quickly brought a fancy Lincoln Continental up from the garage.
"Not mine," Miller offered apologetically. "Rented. It comes with the job."
I sat beside him as we headed toward the Potomac. The trees were splendid in late golden autumn hues. We followed the river to the Washington Monument and from there down the Mall to Capitol Hill. The strongholds of the greatest democracy in the world were strangely silent, but nevertheless solid and threatening.
"At this point, it's all a matter of cost and benefit," Miller explained, sucking on an olive he'd pinched from the Mayflower bar. "Your girlfriend was a reasonable price to pay in exchange for a larger profit - an American working for a foreign country and betraying her own country's interests would have been a very nice and sufficient catch for the feds. But it's not over yet. And I don't think it's going to end the way we planned."
"A reasonable price?" I shouted, thrown back in my seat by a piercing pain in my ribs."She's a human being..."The picture became much clearer. For the first time I was glad for damaging that plan.
"I wish that had put an end to all our troubles," he said. "I could sleep very well at night if I knew that the only price this mess had cost us was the loss of one not very bright, and not very stable, woman. But it's not over yet and it's not going to end the way we planned," he repeated.
"What's that supposed to mean, `the loss of one woman'? You can't be serious?"
"Take it easy. I'll explain exactly what I mean," Miller said, glancing in the rear view mirror. We were on the main street of Georgetown near the university. Low red-brick buildings and small coffee houses lined the sidewalk. It resembled some of the nicer parts of Boston. Miller parked the car not far from a coffee house trying to look like a Parisian café - La Couple.
"Go into La Coupole and sit at the bar." He handed me a small leather wallet, the kind you use fo
r business cards.
"What?" I asked, stunned.
"Trust me! You've got to help. As soon as you get in, the phone will ring. The guy who answers will sit down next to you. Buy him a drink, and when you pay, leave the wallet..."
"You're out of your mind."
"I think you owe me a small favor. Who introduced you to Rammy Rachamim? Remember?"
Before I had a chance to reply, he went on hurriedly, "But that's not the point. Just do a favor for a friend. Come on! Get a move on! The guy's been waiting for half an hour."
"What guy?"
Miller wiped the sweat from his face and blinked. "Benjamin Benson," he stated reluctantly. "He'll want to know what's happening. Just keep him calm. Tell him we still have time as long as he doesn't screw up. Four more days and it's over."
On my way to La Coupole I caught a glimpse of Miller heading for a phone booth. A few minutes later I was sitting by the bar when the barman called Benjamin to the phone.
He was gaunt and very pale. I saw his brown eyes glaze over as he listened to Miller, his eyes glued to the barman's tie. He looked burnt out. There was no trace of the vitality that had impressed Kate.
"Yeah," he said into the phone resentfully. "I got it, okay." He handed the receiver back to the barman.
"Scotch on the rocks," he ordered, sitting down next to me and showing no interest in striking up a conversation, as I had expected. He paid no attention to the barman either.
"All’s well?" I asked.
No response.
"Can I ask you something?" I tried again.
"What?" he snapped at me furiously. "Who are you talking to? Me? Why? What happened? It's all going up in flames and you want to ask something. As if you didn't know. Go outside and find a Dodge Aries out front with two agents sitting in it. Ask them. They're not even trying to keep under cover. Just sticking to my tail. I'm blown, and you're crazy for even talking to me."
Was Miller trying to drag me into this mess too? Even if he was, he couldn't get me in any deeper than I already was. "Don't lose it," I said softly. "Four more days and they'll get you out. Can I pay for the scotch?"
"Sure!" he said, sounding singularly unconvinced. He grabbed the wallet I left on the bar and quickly slipped it into his coat pocket. His eyes glazed over again.
I hurried out of La Coupole. A dark red Dodge Aries was parked out front with two men inside who could hardly be mistaken for anything but agents. One raised his eyes from a newspaper, glanced at me, and went back to his reading. Miller had already pulled the car away from the curb. As soon as I got in he headed back to the Mayflower. Traffic on Pennsylvania Ave. was heavy and we made slow progress.
"If the only thing that's eating you is your girlfriend, then relax. She'll be free soon. The Americans have hooked a much bigger fish now. I'm sure they'll agree to let Kate go if somebody high enough up makes the request."
That made me feel a little better, until I suddenly realized what Miller was saying.
"You're not planning to get Benjamin out of the States in the next four days." That was really a shocker.
"No. Not anymore. The money you gave him was just a tranquilizer." All at once he shriveled up behind the wheel, like a balloon when the air is let out. Bags appeared under his eyes and the phony joviality in his voice was gone. "Now you understand the problems we had with the administration," he sighed. "The idea of keeping vital information from us didn't start at the lower levels of the American Defense Department. It came straight from the top. Of course, we always had our ways to get around it. We could always recruit agents and develop sources. But the constant opposition of the Defense Department can be a real threat to our survival in an emergency. Its cumulative effect is no less damaging. So we figured we'd expose the highest echelon, the Secretary of Defense himself, and prove he was working against us."
"So you're going to throw Benjamin to the wolves..."
"The whole thing’s on a crash course anyway. So we decided to let go. At first, it'll blow up in our faces," he coughed, spat something out, and fell silent.
"And then?"
"Then..." he sighed again, "at some point the defense secretary will lose his cool and start a large-scale crusade to get back at us. And ultimately it'll cost him his job."
"What if he gets the support of the president?"
"That won't happen. The president's on our side. But even if something goes wrong, we won't have anything left to lose."
"What about us, all of us?"
"For a good profit, you have to pay a high price," Miller recited. "Me, Gadi, Avihu, and all the rest - we'll be making a run for it any day now. Even little fish like you and your girlfriend. We won't be able to show our faces in the States again for a good many years."
"And Benjamin?"
"He still believes we'll get him out in time, but in a day or so he'll fall into the hands of the feds. No one can keep that from happening, and no one will stand up for him after he's caught, not even your Allie, or Al Garnik, at least not for the next year or two. They'll be paralyzed by shock and rage. He'll be the only one the defense secretary can take his revenge on. Unfortunately for Benjamin, it will be a very cruel revenge. We Israelis will look on helplessly. We've matured; today we can leave soldiers behind on the battlefield and learn to live with it."
He was pulling into the Mayflower's underground garage when he added, back again with his typical joy, "But guess what- after all that, they can't really do much. We left no evidence. No real fingerprint. Thank God you were smart enough to destroy the documents. No proof, no evidence. It won't be that bad after all"
The beeper in his pocket went off. He read the message with raised eyebrows. "Right on time," he muttered, pleased. "They're waiting for us."
"What about you?" I asked. "Where do you go from here?"
As if a fairy godmother had waved a magic wand, he resumed the guise of the character from Motti Pizza. "Skills like mine are always in demand. Next week I'm off to Mexico. They say you can get this year's avocado crop for a good price. Want to come along?"
"No," I said, "I'm going back to Boston. I'm going to get Kate."
*
The meeting with the Defense Minister was over and we found everyone about to enter the bar. Allie was escorted by the minister's aide, who was looking around for a quiet corner where he could sit down with us for a minute. When Miller moved to join us, he was dismissed with a quick gesture, the sort you use to shoo away a stray dog.
"Listen, David," the aide said, "and listen carefully. As a matter of principle, the Minister can't tolerate disobedience of any kind."
I felt the blood rush to my head. I lowered my eyes to my broken finger.
"However," he went on, "your case is a different matter. He asked me to express his sincere gratitude for the keenness you displayed. As you already know, the whole business of Benjamin is very a serious, complex and unfortunate affair. The fact that a rogue operation was going on here for a long time without any approval or authorization is extremely grave and could be disastrous. We'll have to put out the fires and control the damage somehow, but you've already done your part.
"As for your motivation for it all - the woman - as you can understand, she's an American citizen and we have no authority or influence over her. Nevertheless, the Minister has asked me to try and intervene and I have. I'm waiting for a reply from the State Department, and I have good reason to believe it will be positive."
Painstakingly, he polished the thick lenses of his glasses. "Sometime during the night I'll inform Allie in Boston where she will be released. But I must make it clear to you," he said, staring straight at me over his glasses, "that it will only happen on one condition. Both you and she have got to remove yourselves from the scene. What I mean is, you have to leave the United States within twenty-four hours. Understood?"
He didn't wait for an answer. Decisively, he stood up, gave me a firm handshake that sent a sharp pain through my ribs, kissed Allie on both cheeks, and hurried back to
the Minister.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Allie was unusually quiet on the way back to Boston. She greeted several acquaintances who were on the flight with us, but had no comment to make about the lousy food, the tiny portions, or the awful service. Something was bothering her.
"Is she Jewish?" she asked.
"You already asked her that," I reminded her. "Don't you remember? Her father was Jewish, but her mother isn't."
Allied leaned back in her seat and I soon heard a delicate snoring coming from my right. The envelope was still burning a hole in my pocket. Throughout the night, my fingers had itched to make a grab for it, but I hadn't had the courage. I stole a glance at Allie. Yes, she was asleep. I took out the envelope and stared at it. "Animal is Family" was stamped on it, and beside the name of this philanthropic organization, there was a small picture of a man, a woman, and a dog, posed like in a family snapshot. It was cute. The letter itself didn't seem so frightening anymore either. I had a long hard road ahead of me, but there was an unfamiliar sensation at the base of my throat, something like the sweet taste of victory. After all, I had gone against all odds, ignored all the well-intentioned advice meant to make me toe the line, and I had won. Very soon, I would have Kate back. I opened the envelope.
Dear David,
My son. It's hard for me to believe I'm actually writing these words. My son, my one and only son. Have no fear. That's more or less all the sentimentality I'm going to inflict on you.
Eight days ago I thought about you. I got a call from Kfar-Vitkin, from my brother Nahum, telling me that my father, your grandfather, had passed away. It didn't come as a surprise. Two years ago, he moved to a care home in Ramat Aviv. Nahum, as I'm sure you remember, is a lecturer at Tel Aviv University. Computer Science. He visited your grandfather every single day, even though grandpa's Alzheimer's took him farther and farther away.