The disease had not spread far; Freddy’s information was that there was one case, a Swedish pilgrim, in the convent where Barbara had stayed. Barbara was now lying on a sofa in a small room in Alexandros’s living-quarters.
At first she had said she didn’t care what happened. She had murmured that nothing worse could happen, and closed her eyes. After taking two aspirins and a glass of water, she opened them. She had partially recovered her senses and had become talkative by fits and starts. She had insisted on writing out a large cheque on her English bank which Alexandros said he could cash.
A doctor, Freddy had insisted. He said it was probably some local bug she had caught, a temporary thing, but still one must have a doctor.
Alexandros knew of three English doctors in Jerusalem. Freddy had met one of them at the Cartwrights. He hesitated. Alexandros said, ‘Would these English doctors make an official report of it?’
‘Yes, I’m afraid they would have to. Especially if she’s got something infectious. They’d have to put her in hospital of course, and, of course, inform the British consulate and the Jordanian authorities.’
‘Suzi!’ called Alexandros, and went to fetch her before she answered his call. She had been with Mine Alexandros explaining things in such a way that the woman could not possibly understand yet could not decently admit to being puzzled. Alexandros had brought Suzi into the little room, conferring with her in Arabic. He then threw wide his arms and announced, ‘We have Russeifa. Dr Russeifa is the doctor for the Joe Ramdez Insurance Company. You give him quite a little cash and he will attend to Barbara very quiet.’
‘A mild case of the scarlet fever,’ Dr Russeifa said. ‘The temperature is not too high, one hundred degrees is nothing.’
‘Well really,’ Freddy had said, ‘ought you not to report all cases of the disease?’
‘I shall report the case. You must assure me she will be kept in isolation two weeks. The treatment is simple. Only tell me she will be kept in isolation and looked after in bed. Then I report that the case is all right and has left the country. I give all the instructions necessary to the young woman Ramdez, who will, in turn, give them —’ Alexandros’s hand was in the doctor’s and they were suddenly exchanging profuse smiling words in Arabic while the doctor was being propelled by Alexandros to the door. Alexandros escorted Russeifa heavily downstairs, he could be heard decisively locking the shop door and marching up again. He rubbed his hands together once and said, ‘Now we know what to do. Goodbye to Dr Russeifa.’
Barbara, on the sofa, said. ‘There’s a woman in Jerusalem who’s chasing me. The headmistress—’
‘Just lie quiet, my dear,’ Freddy said, thinking her delirious.
‘We leave for Jericho as soon as we are ready,’ Suzi said.
‘Jericho?’ Freddy said. Everything had been out of his hands since Suzi and Alexandros had conferred together. ‘My father’s first wife lives there,’ Suzi said. ‘She is in seclusion, and if we pay her a little she will keep Barbara, as she has kept other friends so often.’
‘Do you know,’ Freddy said. ‘I think Barbara ought to go to hospital.’
Alexandros went to a table beside the sofa on which lay a heavily gilt leather-bound book. ‘The Koran,’ he remarked, as he took from between its pages a folded half-sheet of newspaper. He said, ‘I received the newspaper of Israel early today. I get it on all Sundays and burn when it is read. But this piece I have kept.’ He handed it to Freddy, who saw the photograph of a bespectacled man under a heading: ‘London Consultant for Eichmann Trial.’ Under the photograph was the title ‘Mr Michael Aaronson’. And beneath that again he read, while Suzi came and looked at it too: Mr Michael Aaronson of London, an international law expert who took part in the Nuremberg trials, has been in Israel on a short visit for consultation on the Eichmann trial. Mr Aaronson, who declined to reveal the precise legal points of the discussions with the authorities, said he was greatly impressed by the conduct of the trial from the point of view of International Law. He said he was not in agreement with that section of the British press which continues to question the right of Israel to hold such a trial on her own territory.
Mr Aaronson, who is in general law practice in London, also said that what little he had seen of the country had proved a strong incentive to return at leisure, which he hopes to do one day with his wife and three children.
While in Jerusalem, Mr Aaronson was able to spend some time with his cousin, Miss Barbara Vaughan, who has been spending a vacation in Israel. Miss Vaughan, who teaches school in England, is a Roman Catholic convert. She claims that her new religion is not in conflict with her Jewish blood and background, and is enthusiastic about Israel and the Israelis. Miss Vaughan left on Friday for a tour of Jordan.
‘Does this paper get round, here?’ Freddy said.
‘It comes to the authorities, of course, and you may be sure the Army Intelligence.’ Alexandros said. ‘By now they are on the watch for her. You know, this rumour will reach the people that there is a Jew from Israel in Jordan, and there could be a hue and cry among the people. The government has made the people think in a certain way of a Jew, and so whatever is the law for a British subject is neither here nor there when they have to contend with their own people’s voices. Many Arabs here have voices that they will use to their own advantage. So now you take her away to Jericho where she can remain till she is able to leave the country.’ Alexandros sat down, so dejected that Suzi said, ‘I would come over to console you in my arms, Alexandros, but I might carry to you the scarlet fever.’
Alexandros got up and went to the silver-framed icon in the wall, from behind which he produced a bulky envelope. He then unscrewed the base of the mosaic lampstand, from which he took a small cardboard box. ‘I give you the rest of the money,’ he said.
‘Are you sure you can cash a large English cheque?’
‘Oh yes, I can cash through London. It is illegal.’
Alexandros opened the envelope and brought out a batch of English five-pound notes, which he counted. Then he opened the small box and extracted four fifty-dollar notes. Suzi said, ‘What a lot of money, but Barbara says she couldn’t care less. I hold her travellers’ cheques also.’
‘If it comes to the point where she does need money, then money will be the answer,’ Freddy observed. ‘Travellers’ cheques are less useful in certain cases.’
Alexandros thought this funny, and began to throw off the weight of the affair. He said, ‘She may yet finish the pilgrimage. What is two, three weeks in bed? Then,’ he said, his voice rising in a chant of triumph and hope, ‘the police are no longer looking for her, and we see she will go to Bethlehem, she will go to see the Shepherd’s Field and the Milk Grotto perhaps; she will go to the Mount of Olives, the Garden of Gethsemane, and the Basilica of the Agony; she will visit the palace of the High Priest Calaphas and the church of St Peter in Gallicantu, also Absalom’s Pillar, also the Tombs of Zacharias and James, along the Kidron Valley and the Valley of Jehosophat, by the Tombs of Kings, and she will go to Bethany and the Tomb of Lazarus.’ Now Alexandros was standing large, seeming to occupy most of the room, like an Arab lord of ancient times calling over the sites of past victories, or a prophet the titles of the Lord’s decreed grounds of abode: ‘She will see the house of Martha and Mary, also Jericho and the River Jordan at the spot where Christ was baptized by John the Baptist, the dove descending; and the Dead Sea and the Wilderness of Temptation.’
Suzi Ramdez always said that the main thing about herself was that she was ambitious. Her strength lay in her vagueness about the limitations of her life; and her weakness derived from its actual limitations which she stood ready to demolish at any time. Beyond any rational expectation she enjoyed the respect of her father, Joe Ramdez. His character twisted around him, spreading and clinging like a vine, while hers was a solitary palm-tree outlined sharp against the sky. Her acceptance of him was total. She knew he was in business for political purposes, that he was in political things to enable
him to score off personal vendettas; she knew he was also in business for business purposes, and was a political informer for the Jordanian Secret Service, that he passed intelligence to the United Arab Republic concerning the Jordanian Government; and that these activities were all balanced to a fine point which so depended on instinct that he could no more have put them down on paper than he could actually see his own face. They all revolved around blackmail of sorts, the arranging for forged visas and other papers, and, when dealing with foreigners, a plausible technique of feigned misunderstandings. Suzi did not think of her father as a crook or a traitor, but she knew that he was. He thought of himself as a patriot, an Arab, and overwhelmingly as a man who, in all his actions, did justice to himself. In a world of officials and businessmen who continually and piously did themselves justice he was at home. His indulgence towards Suzi was a secret weakness. He put her in charge of the travel agency over the heads of her mother and her elder sister Lia, who was married to a poor hotel clerk. Suzi was the manager of the Joe Ramdez Company, travel agents. Joe had put her at the top because she never asked the sort of questions that betrayed civic fear, as did his wife. He tolerated her outspoken ways because she took the place of his son Abdul, and he felt he might eventually lean on her, as on a son, in his old age. When she had refused to marry any of the men he had procured for her, he had not insisted. When she had turned twenty-eight he had given up urging her to marry. She was now thirty-three. Privately, she bossed her mother and sister as if she were a man, but with everyone else Suzi was at pains to be accommodating. When she went out with the family she was the most demure of them all, so that it was difficult for their friends to place an actual finger on Suzi’s difference from other daughters. Alexandros told her he knew of a rich Lebanese, a widower, who would want her for a wife even though she was not a virgin. She said, ‘I don’t need to marry an old widower. I could marry a young man, and if he was looking for a virgin, that’s all right, because Abdul has told me of a clever surgeon in Cairo who could stitch me up. But I don’t want to marry a man who wants a virgin; maybe I’ll go to Tangiers and marry a European or an American who looks for a woman, not a virgin.’ Alexandros had been her lover for more than four years. She made him laugh and feel strong like no other woman. He respected the women of Islam generally, and Christian Arab women, like his wife, were good women. But they did not have the power of provoking laughter as Suzi did; and they made a man feel strong only because they were weak, not because they were free. The nearest thing to Suzi he had ever seen had been a lovely Indian princess who had done business with him in Beirut. She had been educated abroad, was freely-spoken, and had made her husband laugh as he stood, in turbaned elegance, watching business being done.
Suzi had told her father that morning that she was taking Freddy on a sightseeing tour. She did not mention Barbara, having been warned by Alexandros not to mention Barbara. Joe Ramdez had been excited to hear of Freddy’s tour of the country-side. He told Suzi to remember Freddy’s position, by which he meant her to see what she could get out of him by way of information.
‘Naturally I am keeping his position in mind. Otherwise, why do you think I am doing this job myself rather than give him a hired guide?’ He was proud of Suzi. He said, ‘No matter if it does not appear to be secret, or if it is not secret, any information is valuable.’ It was difficult for the government officials, all of whom were spies of some sort, to know what was secret or not, in any case. They would frequently be dazzled by a report already available in publications which had not reached them, or which lay forgotten in their files. He said to Suzi, ‘Don’t be too friendly with him. Remember you are an Arab. He will communicate more if you make him feel an intruder in our land; that’s always the way of the British.’ When she left the house he said, ‘Take a proposal form for the life insurance.’ She said she already had a proposal form, and bounced off.
The life-insurance agency served many purposes, as did the travel agency. Mainly, it gave basic information about visiting and resident foreigners, from which could be traced, through the Ramdez network of Arabs who had fled for politics or crime to other parts of the world, even more personal and professional information. Information was always good. It could be turned into money more often than not. Every government bureau throughout the world prized information; however irrelevant it might seem today, it might be relevant one day. To know of a Foreign Service man’s private habits, for instance, his friends, his parents and his blood-pressure, could be very rewarding, very useful.
Suzi had driven off to the Potter’s Field in independent spirits. She was the manager and fairly rich. She had met Alexandros in the night, which was good. She liked to do something for Alexandros. She remembered meeting Mr Hamilton and Miss Vaughan before, on the day the family had visited the Cartwrights. They had drunk fruit juice in the garden. Mr Hamilton was called Freddy and had a lovely smile.
Barbara said from the back of the car, ‘If you’re going to catch it, I’ll feel awful.’ At present she felt less awful than she had felt earlier in the day. Suzi at the wheel was making a cheerful tumble of talk. She said, ‘It will be the blame of your religious high principles.’
‘I’ll try to live them down.’
‘I think I’ve already had the scarlet fever. I know I had a rash and was to be kept in bed with aspirins one time when I was seven. Latifa, my father’s first wife, will know.’
Freddy said, ‘I haven’t had it.’
‘Oh dear!’ Barbara said.
‘But I don’t feel I’m going to catch it, somehow or other,’ he said.
‘It would be the penultimate straw,’ Suzi said. ‘The worst straw would be for Barbara to be captured.’ She had made Barbara curl up with her head down when she passed the first sentry post on the road to Jericho. Her conversation was like the turning wheels of a fast car. Freddy began to sing ‘The Eton Boating Song’ in a tuneful, unpractised voice.
‘What is this?’ Suzi said.
‘“The Eton Boating Song.”‘
‘You went to Eton when a little boy?’
‘No, Lancing. But I sang in the choir.’ Freddy looked round at Barbara and inquired with only his facial expression how she was getting on. Barbara raised her veil and winked back. Freddy sat up straight again and was silent for a while, staring at the desert hills. Then he said, ‘The last time I sang it was in my cabin with a few fellow officers one night outside Montevideo harbour. We sang others songs as well, my dear. We were celebrating the scuttling of the Graf Spee on 18 December 1939.’ This had to be explained in detail to Suzi, who was, Barbara thought, as splendid a listener as Freddy was a waffler. She was feverishly delighted with them. ‘We refer to it as the Battle of the River Plate,’ Freddy was saying, ‘but there was very little battle, really. We just made it too hot for her, so she couldn’t stay in and she couldn’t come out.’ Suzi said, ‘Who was she?’
‘The Admiral Graf Spee, my dear,’ Freddy said.
And it was plain to Barbara that he hadn’t lost his carefree mood on account of her scarlet fever. She felt weak and hot, but was no longer in misery. She kept realizing, with a shudder of gladness, the fact that she had a real sickness; it was a respite from responsibility for herself, and that felt good.
‘We come to another police post,’ Suzi said. Barbara curled up, with her head down, an old sleeping bundle.
‘Now look up,’ said Suzi at last, ‘they are all gone by. I raise my brown arm and wave at these police. We are coming now to the terrible plains, the pressure is terrible, they are the lowest spot on earth, thirteen hundred feet below sea level where were the wicked cities of Sodom and Gomorrah which God destroyed.’
Within a few minutes they were in the desert plains. For some reason never explained, in the middle of the wilderness by the roadside, an advertisement board was set up, stating ‘Boutay for Pianos’ and nothing else. ‘Whether or not this is the plain of Sodom and Gomorrah,’ Freddy said, ‘by God, it feels like it. Are you all right, Barba
ra?’
‘I feel drowsy and heavy. I may expire,’ she murmured. She closed her eyes and felt she could just about cope.
‘We stop to get a drink at the Dead Sea Hotel,’ Suzi said. ‘We shall buy drinks and take them to the car.’
Freddy was rustling something, the road-map, muttering something. Barbara opened her eyes. Freddy said, ‘We don’t need to go all this way to Jericho. The road —’
‘A police truck is coming. Keep down, Barbara,’ she said, and when the rattle of the motor had passed into the distance behind them, Suzi said, ‘I need to be seen on this route with my tourist in case they check up already for Barbara. We need to drink something from the Dead Sea Hotel, but we buy it quick.’
Freddy said to Barbara, ‘Did Alexandros show you that piece in the Israeli newspaper?’
‘No. I don’t think so. What piece?’
‘About your meeting your cousin in Israel; and it published the fact that you were coming to Jordan.’
‘I knew it,’ said Barbara. ‘I just knew that would happen. A frightfully resentful woman came to interview my cousin Michael, and I got mixed up with her. What did she say?’
‘This piece said you were a Jewish convert Catholic very keen on Israel — something like that; anyhow, enough to set off an alarm over here. I thought it was as well to tell you, so you’ll know where you stand just now. But don’t worry. I’ll get something else put in the Israeli paper tomorrow when I get back — something about you deciding not to go to Jordan after all, but spending the rest of your time in Israel instead. We’ll have to cook up some story to hang it on, but don’t worry. I know the editor of one of the papers. A very decent old chap, we’re on good terms with them at the office. I’ll see to it the moment I get back. I’ll be there before the next bag goes. Don’t worry.’