Judith

“It was just an informal visit,” said Donner reproachfully.

  “I have work to do.”

  “Don’t let me keep you then.”

  She banged the door so rudely that Donner’s lips twisted in a grimace of annoyance. However, he sauntered down to make his goodbyes to Pete and took himself off slowly, walking with that swelling, swaying walk which was intended to convey power.

  He started the engine of the police car, but before slipping it into gear he took out a notebook and jotted down the name of Liebling. The journey had been worth it on the whole.

  That evening at the Long Bar he accepted a fattish envelope from the hands of Ali in exchange for an account of his visit. Ali smoked very thoughtfully over what he had been told, silent as a chess-player.

  “We must not be too hasty,” he said at last. “What about Liebling? Could you manage with your official net to cover him — then, when she brought them up to Jerusalem, we might... find some way? I am only calculating.”

  Donner was pondering heavily. “Yes,” he said at last. “I could certainly arrange that. Provided I’m still here. I’ve got this posting to consider. It might come suddenly.” Then his face cleared. “But I could always go sick, couldn’t I, and delay it? And it’s worth it.”

  “If we could get a look at them...

  “You leave it to me. She said about a month.”

  “And Liebling?”

  “I think that can be looked after too.”

  They signalled the waiter for another drink, and pledged each other smilingly.

  15

  The Paper-Chase

  One night Judith woke Pete up by tapping on her door and exclaiming:

  “Pete! Please forgive my waking you! I’ve done it. I’ve finished it. All the data are complete and in the right order and the little toy is in existence.”

  Pete rubbed sleepy eyes and said:

  “Heavens, Judith, it is the middle of the night. What toy?”

  “My father’s toy — Professor Liebling’s toy.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes.”

  Pete struggled on to her elbow and said:

  “This calls for a celebration.”

  “No, not yet. Later. But I wondered if I could go up to Jerusalem tomorrow evening and deliver all the stuff to Liebling. Anna is driving up and could take me.”

  “Of course you can. You must. But you will have to ring Liebling and let him know — and you can’t do that from here.”

  She sat up and thought for a moment. She gripped Judith’s hand and said:

  “Tomorrow morning you can go up to Yeled with Tonio when he goes to collect the beets and telephone from there. You have Liebling’s number?”

  “Of course.”

  “Good.”

  Pete lay back and composed herself once more, hands folded over her stomach. “And now, my dear, bed. Look at the time!”

  “I’m so excited.”

  “Of course you are.”

  “Good-night, Pete.”

  “Good-night, dear Judith.”

  Judith walked about in the darkened gardens for a while before she went to bed herself. She was puzzled to find herself thinking: “I wish that Aaron were here to share this sense of success, this sense of a difficult job well done. He would be pleased too.” She had a sudden and vivid picture of him smiling. But she frowned reprovingly at herself for the thought and, entering her little cabin, snapped off the light.

  In the morning she struggled up in time to catch Tonio and cadge a lift to Yeled, from which she got through to Liebling after the wait of an hour or two. His voice crackled on the wire with delight.

  “Marvellous!” he said, and the word was like a sip of honey. “I felt you would do it.”

  She gave him a rendezvous in Jerusalem for that evening at seven o’clock. “In the old lorry,” she said. “Anna will be driving.” The little Professor was so excited that he could hardly articulate.

  “I shall meet you,” he said. “I shall meet you myself. Bravo, Judith — bravo, bravo!”

  Bravo, Judith! But the denouement was not exactly as planned. As they jogged along over the curving slopes of the main road beyond Nazareth, they saw a little group of soldiers and policemen manning a road barrier some way ahead.

  “Now what the hell is this?” said Anna, the professional pessimist of the kibbutz. “Thank God we aren’t carrying anything illegal and that our papers are in order.”

  The routine was so familiar that they had even lost a sense of ignominy in performing it. It was easy to stop the truck and get out with hands up. The soldiers and policemen examined everything with attention, but not very closely. They had the impression that they were going to escape from a mere routine check when a bulky figure emerged from a hut and pointed a finger at Judith.

  “Miss Roth,” he said with a majestic self-assurance, “will you please bring your papers and come this way?”

  Judith was not too surprised to recognize, in the tall figure, the person of Donner. However, though annoyed and put out of countenance, she obeyed. The barrier was removed at a signal from Donner and the puzzled Anna was waved on. The whole thing took place so suddenly that they had hardly time to think of possible explanations. Judith herself stood irresolutely on the doorstep of the shack, holding the old briefcase which she had borrowed to house her papers. Donner was in a most masterful mood. He kicked the door shut behind him and took his place at a desk, where he busied himself with some papers, not looking up. Judith began to recover her self-possession in the face of this behaviour.

  “May I ask... she began; but the great man was busy. He raised his head and said:

  “You may sit down.” She did so, watching him. Finally he gathered up his papers and went to the door. “Sergeant,” he called, and a voice responded. “It’s O.K. Release the roadblock. The job is done.”

  “Very good, Sir.”

  “What job,” wondered Judith idly. They sat in silence as the noise outside gradually diminished. The barrier was raised and the troops took off in their various cars. Donner sat absolutely still, with a faint smile on his face, listening to these sounds of departure. Presently, as the last car rumbled off down the road, he said:

  “I have a warrant for you, Miss Roth. But it’s a mere formality, of course. I want you to answer a few questions.”

  “What questions?”

  “I have my orders,” said Donner, serious with an almost religious air. “You will be released very soon, I can promise you.”

  “Am I arrested then?”

  “For questioning, Miss. That is all. We have that right.”

  “But I can answer any questions here!”

  “No, you can’t, bless your soul.” Donner chuckled comfortably. “All in good time. Besides, we have to have a look at your papers.”

  “But my papers... Just look!” She opened her briefcase with an air of despair. Donner shook his head.

  “You will get them all back tomorrow, I can promise you that. On my honour.”

  “But — where are we going?”

  “To Jerusalem,” said Donner with exasperation. “Where else?”

  Dazed, she stood irresolutely before him. “Come on,” he said. He led the way out of the hut, snapped off the light, and opened the door of a saloon car. “You have nothing to fear, Miss Roth,” he said. “It’s a pure formality. You’ll be free — perhaps even tonight.”

  The car swung into the main road and headed for Jerusalem.

  •

  Anna made poor sense at the best of times, but she was so incoherent on her arrival in Jerusalem that Liebling could have knocked her down. “That’s all I know,” she kept repeating stolidly. “That’s all I know. This chap Donner comes out and takes her off.”

  Liebling hopped with rage. “But where?” he cried.

  “In the hut. I was waved through.”

  “And her papers? Surely she had something with her?”

  “A briefcase. She took it. He told her to.”


  It seemed for a minute that the scientist was going to drag out his remaining silver hairs. He tugged at them with both hands.

  A whole string of Yiddish expletives flowed from his innocent-looking lips. He staggered away across the cobbled street like a man in a nightmare and sat down at a café table. His mind, so competent with abstractions, found itself incapable of determining what all this might mean; but one thing was certain — the plans were compromised if they once got out of Judith’s hands. He swallowed a glass of arak and shuddered, pulling himself together. “I shall have to speak to the underground,” he said at last under his breath. “It is the only way.”

  He ran with strange hopping steps along the footpath towards the centre of the town. It was quite a walk, but finally he arrived with beating heart at an old tumbledown house in a quiet side-street. It was apparently a cobbler’s shop, and it was locked. He tapped at the door and was challenged by a voice; he gave his name in a whisper and was admitted. On the third floor three men sat round an oil lamp, playing cards at a table, while a fourth in the far corner was copytaking from a small transmitter whose chattering and chirping made the only sound in the room. The three men sat quite absorbed in their game by the yellow light. Only one of them looked up and greeted the Professor as he stumbled into the doorway. He stared more closely, recognized the Professor, and got up to welcome him.

  “Ben Adam,” said Liebling, “I come to ask for your help.” The second man shuffled the cards and stacked them. Then he and his companion rose and placed a chair for their visitor.

  “The plans,” said Liebling incoherently, “we must not let them out of her hands.”

  A gruff voice said: “Come, Professor, explain.”

  Liebling took a very deep breath, fetched up from his shoes, and concentrated for a moment; then he began to explain. They listened intently, with their dark faces turned unsmilingly towards him. Only at the mention of the name Donner did their faces register any expression. They turned to one another and exchanged a glance of recognition. At the end of the recital Ben Adam turned to the second man and said:

  “Aaron — this is your part of the world.”

  “Yes. I know the girl.”

  They all thought heavily for a moment. Then Ben Adam went to a telephone and asked for a number. “Hullo, is that the Central Prison? May I speak to Faber, please?” There was a long wait while Aaron said under his breath to the Professor: “A contact in Central.”

  Ben Adam motioned them to silence. “About Baby, Faber, it was about him; what is he doing these days? Is he at home? No. Off duty? Thank you.”

  He replaced the phone carefully, caressed it like a pet parrot, and came back to the table. “He’s not there; he must be at his villa. But he might be anywhere at all. Shall I try and ring him to see?”

  He went back to the phone and asked for a number. It rang and rang and he held the receiver away from his head as he shook it with a gesture meaning “Nobody at home” — suddenly there was a click and Donner’s voice said: “Hullo?” Ben Adam replaced the receiver.

  “Aaron,” he said, “get going.” But already Aaron was slipping a magazine into his Luger and putting on his tattered overcoat.

  •

  It was with something of a flourish that Donner unlocked the front door of the little suburban villa and ushered his captive inside. He had solicitously taken charge of the briefcase by this time, with the gesture of a man putting it under arrest. As he opened the door the telephone was ringing. He lumbered across to the hall table and took it up, calling “Hullo” in a peevish tone. The instrument went dead as he did so. He shrugged his shoulders and came back to the girl as she stood by the front door.

  “Now, Miss Roth,” he said, with an attempt at genial gallantry, “if you follow my advice you will be free and in full possession of your papers in a few hours. Meantime you will wait here.” He showed her into a shabby little sitting-room and indicated a sofa; from the sideboard he produced a bottle of whisky and a bottle of gin and some glasses. “If you feel like refreshment... he said, “you needn’t ask. Just act. This is Liberty Hall.”

  “Why am I here?” she asked.

  “To check your papers.”

  “But you have seen my identity card.”

  “Oh, that!” said Donner, pouring himself a whisky. “It’s the other stuff in the briefcase; how do we know it isn’t some secret stuff for the Germans — some code?”

  “Do you know my history?”

  “More or less.”

  “And you think it is likely at this stage — and above all with Germany just about to crack?”

  Donner put one hand on the side of his nose. “I’m not saying it is so,” he said. “But my orders are just to check.”

  “And do you do mathematics?” she asked acidly.

  “No. But we have experts in everything. But let’s not waste your valuable time. I’ll ring my man now.”

  He picked up the briefcase and took it back into the hall with him to telephone; she saw him place it on the stand beside the instrument. He asked for a number and was connected fairly soon. His voice had changed. It had become charged with a new kind of excitement. “It’s your old friend, remember? Yes, it’s me. I’ve got it all here. Or you could send him round to collect — I’ll wait for the vetting. How long would it take? I have the lady here and I don’t want to inconvenience her more than necessary. In an hour then.”

  He came back into the sitting-room with great good humour. “At most a couple of hours,” he said, “and you are free as the wind.”

  Judith bit her lip and stared desperately through the open door to the briefcase; it seemed miles away now, at the end of a long avenue of work and despair. Moreover, it was so puzzling, this strange encounter with this unorthodox policeman; nothing that he said sounded truthful or reasonable. Surely the British would hardly steal unpatented plans; or if they did, surely they would be a bit more subtle about it.

  “When I get out,” she said, “I’m going straight round to the central station to find out if you have been acting with authority or not.”

  Donner jumped and his eyes widened. He gave an uneasy laugh and an ugly expression came over his face. He came close to her and said:

  “Listen to me, young lady. I’m trying to be nice to you. But if you play any funny tricks, you know... She stared at him, smiling grimly.

  “You are acting without authority. I can see it in your face.” Donner flushed and struck her across the cheek. She staggered back and sat down on the sofa with a thud.

  “Now,” he said quietly, “just don’t give me any of your lip, or I’ll really start to interrogate you. Authority! I have the authority to use any means to drag the truth out of criminals. It’s my job. Just you go round to Central and ask them. They’ll tell you all right.” His bluster was unconvincing, but she sat nursing her bruised face and feeling the taste of blood from the cut inside her lip.

  “Now listen,” said Donner plaintively, “be a sensible girl and cut out the rag; I’ve told you you’ll go free quite soon with all your papers. Here, have a little drink and be friendly.”

  But as he reached forward, the lights went out and absolute blackness engulfed the little flat. Donner groaned and grunted with surprise. “Another power cut!” he said.

  She heard him stand up and walk to the window cautiously, where she saw his huge bulk outlined in vague silhouette against the night.

  “That’s funny,” he muttered. “The other houses are lighted all right.”

  There came a faint sound from the pathway outside the house and a vague alarm filled Donner’s mind — but why he could not say. “Stay quite still,” he said hoarsely, and crossed to the doorway into the hall on tiptoe. The front door had a wrought-iron frame on hinges, which during the hot months of the summer could be swung back to admit the air. The grille was now shut but, as Donner walked towards it, there was a scratching movement and it swung softly open.

  “Is that you, Ali?” said Donner, in accen
ts of hope and uncertainty, peering out at the night; but an arm came through the opening and fastened itself suddenly and brutally upon the collar of the khaki bush-jacket, twisting and knotting itself round in an unbreakable hold. No word was spoken, but Donner’s knees suddenly weakened under him as he felt himself choking. His anguished gasps sounded like the bronchial coughing of an animal.

  “Let me go!” he gasped as he sagged.

  In the darkness Judith crossed behind him and took possession of her briefcase. Donner was sagging now, almost on his knees, but the door was still locked. Judith closed her eyes and mentally made a map of the place — trying to think of something with which to hit the policeman. Then she recalled a heavy metal vase in the sitting-room. She picked up the object and returned to find that Donner had managed in the interval to draw a gun, though his present position, half on the floor, made it difficult to bring it to bear on the possessor of the arm who stood on the doorstep silently strangling him. She brought the vase down as hard as she could on his head and Donner spread-eagled himself on the floor, cursing and whining. The hand released its hold and groped for the latch. The door swung open and a voice called:

  “Judith Roth?”

  “I’m here,” she said and slipped through the doorway. “Have you got...

  “Yes.”

  Donner’s pistol with its silencer made a deep plushy sound in the silence of the night; they felt the grooves the bullets cut in the air as they bounded down the stairs into the garden. The rescuer was wearing a handkerchief tied over his face like a desperado from some ancient print of a hold-up in America. As they ran down the path, a car was drawing up and two men were getting out, apparently bound for Donner. Aaron dragged Judith to one side and they waited behind the bush, panting until the men had passed them on the drive. Aaron had whipped off his mask now, and she stared at him with a surprise and delight that would be difficult to exaggerate.

  “Darling,” he said. He kissed her breathlessly and they both began to run through the dark streets of Jerusalem until they reached the University quarter, when they slowed up a little.

  “That was a bit of luck,” said Aaron with a laugh. Judith was trembling and breathless still — she had a pain in her side.