* * *
Hausner called an end to the festivities and found Burg and Dobkin standing on the high mound—the buried watchtower—that was the previous night’s Command Post/Observation Post. They were looking over the progress of the work. The Tel Aviv waterfront moved slightly as the hot wind picked up the T-shirt flag. “What’s the next priority?” he asked.
Burg suggested, “We should speak with Becker again. He’s on the flight deck.”
They walked back to the Concorde. A flattened platform of earth had been raised up under the collapsed nose wheel assembly, and Kahn was lying on it, supine, with his arms thrust up into the wheel well. He was covered with grease and sweat. Hausner wondered if his energies couldn’t be better spent digging man-traps, but said nothing.
Dobkin called to him. “Any luck?”
Kahn slid out and stood up. “No. Not yet. But I think I’m getting closer.”
Dobkin nodded. “Good.”
“I only hope we have enough batteries and enough fuel left to turn it over and run it if I fix it.” He looked pointedly at Hausner.
“Why?” asked Hausner. “So we can run the air conditioners?” He stepped onto the ramp. “If you two can’t make contact with the radio using the batteries, I don’t think the generator will make any difference.”
Kahn didn’t answer.
Hausner began walking up the ramp. He looked back toward the nose. “Technicians are tinkerers by nature. If something is broken you want to fix it. Your ego is involved with that goddamned APU, Kahn, but what good it’s going to do us fixed is beyond me.”
Kahn was red-faced but remained quiet.
Hausner took a few steps and shouted over his shoulder. “The radio is a quick ticket out of this place, but you two don’t seem to have the touch with it.” He jumped onto the delta wing.
Dobkin and Burg stayed behind and spoke quietly with Kahn.
The cabin was like an oven and Hausner, in spite of having gone without water for some time, began to sweat. There were sounds coming into the cabin from the work being done on the dismantling of the tail. As he passed the galley, Hausner could see that it was stripped bare. The Machmeter was lit, indicating that Becker was using the emergency power. It still read MACH 0.00, which somehow annoyed Hausner. What bright electrical engineer in France had wired the passengers’ Machmeter into the emergency power? Why would the passengers want to know how fast they were going during an emergency situation? It occurred to him that the passengers on 01 must have watched the speed bleed off after the explosion. He wondered how it read in the cabin of 01 when the craft was somersaulting across the sky.
Hausner was assailed by the smell from the flight deck before he reached it. He looked inside. Hess was still sitting slumped over the controls, but rigor had set in and Hess’s body had shifted and looked very unnatural. A hot wind blew in through the hole in the windshield. Becker was listening at the radio with earphones.
Hausner stopped in. “I want him out of here,” he said loudly.
Becker removed his earphones. “He’s my responsibility. I’ll keep him here until they’re ready to bury him.”
Hausner didn’t know what was going on in Becker’s mind and didn’t want even to begin to try and fathom it. What difference did it make where the body was kept? Maybe it was better that the rest of the people didn’t see it. If only that damned rabbi wasn’t . . .
Levin was an enigma. Religious people were all enigmas to Hausner. They wouldn’t fly El Al; they wouldn’t eat lizards even if they were starving; they wouldn’t bury bodies on the Sabbath. In short, they wouldn’t come to grips with the twentieth century. They let people like Hausner break The Law so that the water flowed into their homes on the Sabbath and the radar was manned and surgery was performed. Levin was just another version of Miriam Bernstein, Hausner decided. They were sure they were on the way to Heaven, and Hausner was in training for Hell. It occurred to him that either he was making very astute observations or he was becoming a paranoiac. But was there a despot anywhere who wasn’t.
“I said, do you want to fool around with the radio yourself?” said Becker.
“What? No. I don’t. Did you hear anything? Did you try transmitting?”
“As I said before, it’s very difficult to transmit in the daytime.”
“Right. Maybe we’ll have more luck tonight.”
“No, we won’t.”
“Why not?”
“Well, I did get one transmission.”
Hausner came closer. “Who?”
“Fellow by the name of Ahmed Rish. Before, when he was flying overhead. He said that he hoped Jacob Hausner considered all the lives at stake and all that. He also complimented me on my flying. Nice guy.” Becker allowed himself a laugh. “He also said that he’d be back at dusk to circle overhead and jam me if we weren’t surrendering.”
“Son-of-a-bitch.”
“He’s certainly full of surprises. All bad.” Becker turned off the radio. “Could you shoot him down?”
Hausner wiped the sweat from his neck. “How high could he fly and still jam you?”
“As high as he wants. He has the power, and it’s line of sight through the clear sky.”
“Then we can’t shoot him down unless you have a SAM on board that you’re keeping under wraps.”
Becker stood and pulled at his wet clothes. “Incidentally, I want final authority concerning what is taken off this aircraft, Hausner. A little while ago two of your men tried to take the goddamned wiring that connects this radio to the batteries.”
Hausner nodded. “All right.” He saw that Becker was sallow and his lips were cracked. “Get some water.”
Becker moved toward the door. “I think I’m going to dig the grave.” He left the flight deck.
Hausner stared at the radio. After a few minutes he also left.
* * *
He didn’t want to run into her, but it was inevitable. She was standing on the delta wing with some other men and women from the peace delegation. He had noticed how all the peer groups had stuck together. She didn’t mingle with the junior aides or the flight crew.
They were all going up to the tail to help with the work. She stood with her hands wrapped in cloth to protect them from the jagged metal. She was covered with sweat and dust. She walked slowly across the unbearably hot wing as the others went on up the fuselage. She stood with her legs spread to keep her balance on the pitched wing. “Everyone seems to think you’re a hero.”
“I am.”
“So you are. No one really likes heroes. They fear—detest heroes. Did you know that?”
“Of course.”
“Have you made amends for the sin of overlooking a bomb planted in that tail section,” she pointed to it, “over a year ago in France? Can you rejoin the human race now?”
“You almost make it sound inviting.”
“Then do it.”
He didn’t answer.
“What else did Rish say?”
“He just wanted to talk about old times at Ramla.”
“We have a right to know.”
“Let’s not start this again.”
“What terms did he offer?”
“Would you consider surrendering under any circumstances?”
She hesitated. “Only to save lives.”
“Our precious lives are not worth the national humiliation.”
She shook her head. “What is it that I thought I found likeable in you? You are a loathsome person, really.”
“Don’t you want to tame the beast, Miriam? Aren’t you a doer of good deeds?” He remembered her warmth on the plane when she thought he needed someone.
She seemed confused. “Are you playing with me?”
He took out a cigarette stub and stared at it for a long time. She suddenly seemed so defenseless. He looked up. “Listen, Burg is complaining about you. He says you’re bad for morale. So shape up and keep your opinions to yourself until you have the floor in the Knesset. I’m serious, Miri
am. If he decides to charge you with causing dissension, I can’t help you.”
She looked at him, but it took some time before the words registered. Her mind was on what he had said before. She suddenly flushed red. “What? What the hell kind of charge is ‘causing dissension’? I won’t be bullied like that. This is a democracy, damn it.”
“This is Babylon. This is where the law of retaliation—the law of an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth—was codified by Hammurabi long before Moses gave it to us. Our origins are brutal and cruel, and there was a reason for that—it was a brutal world. Then we became the world’s professional pacifists, and look what happened to us. Now we’re raising young men and women who are fighters again after all these centuries. We may not like their manners, but they don’t care. They don’t much like our European background and all it connotes. If my parents had stayed in Europe, they would have gone into the boxcars like yours. They were the type. Asher Avidar was a damned fool—but you know what? I like that type of damned fool. People like you scare the hell out of me.”
She began to shake and her voice came in short breaths. “If . . . if your parents had stayed in Europe—you would have grown up a Nazi. They would have recognized one of their own.”
Hausner hit her with his open palm. She fell onto the wing and rolled a few meters down the incline before she came to a stop. She lay there with the metal burning her bare legs. She refused to stand up, although she was able to do so.
Hausner finally reached down and yanked her to her feet.
The people on the tail section were staring openly.
Hausner held her up by her arms and pressed her face near his. “We’re never going to get it together if we keep knocking each other around, Miriam.” He stared into her eyes and saw the tears well up and roll down her cheeks. “I’m sorry,” he said.
She pulled away from him with surprising strength. “Go to hell!” She raised her fist, but he caught her by the wrist and held her.
“That’s the spirit, Miriam. Now, doesn’t that feel better than turning the other cheek? You’ll be a fighter yet.”
She pulled loose, walked quickly across the shimmering delta wing, and disappeared through the emergency door of the fuselage.
20
Hausner walked slowly down the earth ramp. Burg was waiting for him. Hausner sighed. “Well, what’s next?”
“I feel like your adjutant.”
“Yes. And my intelligence officer. Dobkin is my executive officer. Leiber is my supply sergeant. Everyone has a function, or will have within the next few hours.”
“Even Miriam Bernstein?” ventured Burg.
Hausner looked at him. “Yes. She has a function, also. She keeps us honest. She reminds us that we are civilized.”
“I’d rather not be reminded of that now. Anyway, she’s only an amateur guilt-producer. The professional wants a word with you. That’s what’s next.”
“The rabbi?”
“The rabbi. Then I think you should speak with McClure and Richardson. As your intelligence officer, I think there is something there that is not entirely kosher.”
“Like what?”
“I’m not sure. Anyway, as your adjutant, I think they could use some morale boosting, being the only foreigners with us. If I were them, I would have taken a walk long ago.”
“McClure is steady as a rock. Richardson is a little shaky, I think. I’ll speak to them. Anything else?”
“Not that I can think of, unless you want to take that vote about accepting Rish’s terms. It’s getting late.”
Hausner smiled. “We’ll take it in the morning.”
Burg nodded. “Yes. We’ll sleep on it.”
“Where’s Dobkin?”
“The last time I saw him, he was giving a class in breastworks, trenches, foxholes, and parapets.”
“Is that a graduate course?”
“I think so. And the final exam is tonight.”
Hausner nodded. “Tell him that before nightfall I also want him to give a class in weapons training. I want as many people as possible cross-trained. If a gunner falls, I want anyone to be able to pick up the weapon.”
“All right. If you need me I’ll be at the shepherds’ hut. I promised those two stews I’d pull a few hours of orderly duty.”
“If we do nothing else right up here, we’ll do our best for them. See that they have everything they need.”
“Of course.”
* * *
Hausner found Rabbi Levin speaking with Becker. Becker was digging a grave on a little knoll that overlooked the Euphrates.
Hausner stood some meters off until the rabbi saw him.
The rabbi said something to Becker, then walked over to where Hausner stood. “Jacob Hausner, the Lion of Babylon. Did you see your namesake on your journey to the Ishtar Gate?”
“What can I do for you, Rabbi?”
“You can begin by telling me precisely the terms that Rish offered.”
“What difference does it make? We’re not accepting them.”
“You’re not and I’m not and most people here are not. But there are some people who wish to. The Law teaches us that each man should make his own decision as to his fate in situations like this.”
“I don’t remember that in the Bible or the Talmud. I think you make these laws up to fit your needs.”
Rabbi Levin laughed. “You’re a hard man to fool, Jacob Hausner. But I’ll tell you what The Law does say. It says suicide is a sin.”
“So?”
“So? You should keep better informed. There are about six young interpreters and secretaries—two girls and four boys, I think—who are members of the hardcore Masada Defense League.”
“And?”
“And they are running around proselytizing a Masada solution if we can’t hold out. I won’t have that, and I suspect you won’t either.” He looked at Hausner sharply.
Hausner wiped the sweat from his neck. The wind was creating swirls of dust across the top of the mound. On the far side of the Euphrates, the flat mud plain stretched forever. There had been trees there once and fields of high grain, but still it must have been possible to see Babylon as you approached with a caravan from the Western Desert along the ancient Damascus road. That’s how the Jews of the Captivity came. Across the burning deserts of Syria. Then they would have seen the cultivated alluvial flood plains in the distance, not at all the way Hausner had seen it from the flight deck of Concorde 02, but it must have looked inviting, even though they knew it was the place of their bondage. And the Babylonians would have stood in the fields and on the walls of the city and watched their great army approach with Israel in chains and with carts loaded with the silver and gold from the sack of Jerusalem.
“Well?”
Hausner looked at him and spoke slowly and softly. “The Captivity . . . the camps . . . the pogroms. . . . You need warm human bodies to commit atrocities against. . . . I mean, when resistance becomes impossible . . . physically impossible . . . then you just . . . you just end it, damn it. You don’t deliver yourself up for humiliation, rape, and slaughter. You end it yourself before they—”
“God decides who dies and who doesn’t! Not man. Not Jacob Hausner. I won’t have this! We have no moral right to end our own lives. And I’Il tell you something else about Masada. It was brave beyond comprehension, but not everyone there wanted to commit suicide, either. There were some who were slain by their own kin before the mass suicide. That’s murder. And I think that is what is going to happen here if those hotheads get control. What the hell kind of young men and women are we raising, anyway? I’ve never seen such recklessness.”
Hausner thought of Avidar again. Then of Bernstein. There must be a compromise between the two philosophies. “In the end, when the situation is beyond saving, those who wish to be taken captive will find a way to surrender. Those who wish to fight to the end will do so. Those who wish to take their own lives will arrange it. Is there anything else, Rabbi?”
R
abbi Levin looked at him with a mixture of pain and disgust. “The wisdom of Jacob Solomon Hausner. Here’s another little piece of unconventional wisdom for you. If those two women had called Solomon’s bluff and agreed to let the baby be split in two, then that would have put King Solomon in the position of murderer and not a revered judge. That’s what you will become—a murderer. Your compromise is not acceptable to me.” The rabbi waved his arm and his voice became louder. “I insist that you let those who wish to surrender do so now, and that you forbid suicide and talk of suicide!”
Hausner noticed that the rabbi was holding something. He stared at the object as it made its way through the air in the rabbi’s hand. Levin was still shouting, but Hausner had tuned him out. He suddenly put his hand on Rabbi Levin’s shoulder and spoke softly. “I don’t know.” He lowered his head. “I just don’t know, Rabbi. I’m getting tired of this. I don’t think I want to be in charge here after all. I don’t feel up to it. I . . .”
Rabbi Levin took Hausner’s hand gently. “I’m sorry. Look, let’s let it rest for now. You look very tired. Listen, you have my word that I won’t bother you for a decision until later—when you’re feeling better.”
Hausner recovered very quickly. He took his hand away from the rabbi’s. “Good. Then that’s the last I expect to hear about it—until later.” He looked down at the object in the rabbi’s other hand. “What the hell is that?”
By the Rivers of Babylon Page 23
