Love Conquers All

by Galia Albin

  Chapter 37

  On her way to the office of Matti and Rian Be’eri, the executors of Jonathan’s estate, Talia passed by the house of her orthodox neighbor, Member of Knesset Rabi Mordechai Eitan. Occasionally, on winter Saturday afternoons, he would come over to their house and, together, they studied the “Ethics of the Fathers.” “Much coin, much care,” she remembered one of the Sages’ aphorisms the rabbi quoted, and wondered if all the trial and tribulation, the deliberations and the worries were really worth it. But she had no choice, she had to continue running the race. The traffic on the road was light and she drove her recently acquired black jeep almost mechanically. Talia wondered if she would not be better off hiring another lawyer. She didn’t really trust Matti, and she hadn’t forgotten Rina’s callous attitude when she desperately needed their help. But the thought of approaching a new lawyer frightened her; she was disgusted with the all the other lawyers who continually pestered her, trying to convince her by hook or by crook that Jonathan, their best friend, had been meaning to drop his other lawyer and give them his business. So, for the time being, she stuck with Matti, who had entrusted the preparation of an inventory of Jonathan’s estate to his wife. By the time it was completed, between business trips and pleasure cruises—the Be’eris never tired of traveling — Talia was amazed to. find that she was the sole inheritor of thirty companies: industrial concerns, hi-tech and communications companies, store chains and a lot of real estate. The capital could not be tallied because most of it was, indeed, stashed away in numbered accounts in foreign banks overseas, and if she wanted to locate it, she would have to do so away from the watchful eye of the authorities.

  Talia was about to board a plane; she looked pale, her head was covered by a shawl, and her eyes were hidden behind dark sunglasses. The purpose of the trip, which was hastily arranged, was to check if, indeed, a large sum of money had been deposited in her name at a certain bank in Geneva, as Jonathan tried to inform her at the time, when he’d refused to listen. Now that the ground was beginning to shift under her feet, she wanted to put her hands on everything that belonged to her. She, who never before evinced any interest in money, assets, or property, now felt a great need to take possession of everything that Jonathan had left behind, as if her mental stability depended on her economic stability. For the first time in her life, she felt a need to be wealthy, to be a woman of means and property, for her own sake, for the sake of her children, and above all—for Jonathan’s sake.

  The idea that Jonathan’s life achievements, the fruits of his toil, should fall into the hands of those responsible for his death, infuriated her and spurred her to action. The biblical quotation, “Have you killed and also taken possession?” echoed in her mind incessantly, like an incantation, growing louder and louder. And so, she set out on a quest with the adventurous fervor reminiscent of fairytale characters bent on restoring their stolen treasures.

  On the boarding ramp, a short distance behind her, she noticed a man whom she thought she had seen earlier at the airport. There was something in his gait, in his short, yet well-proportioned body, that seemed vaguely familiar. He was wearing an elegant top hat and a dark gray three-piece suit. In his hand, adorned by a shining Beetling watch, he held an expensive leather briefcase. Obviously, just like her, he was traveling light, probably going on a business trip for a day or two. He looked as though he belonged to the upper tenth percentile of the ultra-orthodox community, perhaps one of her moneyed neighbors whose wives she used to see coming and going in the stores of the posh Kicker Ham Edina, His appearance bespoke the wealth and prosperity of the orthodox upper-class. His beard was meticulously trimmed and groomed, the color of dark bronze. Perhaps he is one of the numerous sons or sons-in-law of her neighbor, Rabbi Eitan, whose business deals stretched around the world.

  Talia searched her memory; apart from her neighbor and Jonathan’s friend Eli Rammer, who also lived in her neighborhood, she didn’t really know anybody of the closed, self-contained orthodox community. She was really to blame, she told herself, for having kept so aloof and isolated—after all, until she’d been drafted into the army, she had not met any of her contemporaries from the slums or development towns, nor any Arab-Israelis or, for that matter, any religious and orthodox Jews, whom her mother had lumped together under one derogatory epithet: odious.

  At Jonathan’s funeral, when the rabbi had asked who was going to say the mourner’s prayer, Eli, who was one of the pallbearers, stepped forward. Until then, she had not been acquainted with the tall, heavyset man, wearing a black kappa on his thick dark hair, which he clearly wore all the time, not just for ceremonial occasions. He recited the mourner’s prayer indistinctly, monotonously, in the traditional Ashkenazi pronunciation and, with her mind in a daze, the words hadn’t reached her. Her heart had not been in the religious ceremony.

  During the Shiva, Eli came every day with his wife, Tovar. The two of them sat next to her with an expression of sympathy and compassion on their faces. During the prayers of Mynah and Malaria, Eli led the prayers in front of the engraved ark that Rabbi Eitan had brought from his home. Only then did the words and the music of the ancient “Caddish” prayer reach her heart and move her. It was then that Eli told her how he’d come to know Jonathan; it was during the Yom K8ippur War, at the battle of the “Chinese Farm.” Eli was trapped inside a burning tank. The other three soldiers inside had been killed instantly, but he lay groaning, his right leg broken. Suddenly he heard a voice urging him, “Quick, give me your hand,” and a long hand came down through the hatch. He grabbed the robust hand and was pulled up and out of the tank. Almost fainting with pain, his injured leg loose like the limb of a rag doll, they found shelter just as the tank exploded with a tremendous roar. Talia had forgotten this story, and every time Larry teased her saying, “Your husband was a chicken, a coward, he couldn’t stand one night in detention,” she thought to herself, what do you know about courage? Jonathan had graduated from the officers’ training school; he was a company commander during the Yom Kippur War; Jonathan had rescued Eli Rammer from a burning tank. And what did you do? Push pencils? Give motorists tickets? But she kept mum. She didn’t want to desecrate Jonathan’s memory.

  Perhaps this guy knows Eli, she wondered, seated on the shuttle bus that took her the plane. The orthodox businessman gave her a quick look from behind his dark glasses. All orthodox know each other, they are related, their families marry each other. If he looks at me again, I’ll ask him.

  The flight dragged on; it seemed as if the plane was suspended in midair. Talia was tense and apprehensive before her meeting with the manager of Swiss Bank I Zurich, and her limbs felt stiff. In an attempt to dispel the tension, she peeked at the elegant, intriguing orthodox man who continued to glance at her from time to time. The feeling that she had seen him somewhere, sometime before, troubled her, like a forgotten word or a name on the tip of one’s tongue.

  The man was seated two rows in back of her, on the aisle closest to where she was sitting. She felt an uncomfortable itch on the nape of her neck; he was in control, as long as she was under scrutiny. When she turned back, she was surprised to see that he had not removed his hat and glasses, although he had taken off his jacket and tie and hung them by his side, now reading the financial section of a foreign newspaper.

  The flight attendant approached him and asked for his beverage selection. Talia pricked up her ears. Although she had to wear glasses and contact lenses from an early age, her sense of hearing was exceptionally good. The man ordered gin and tonic and red wine. At the moment the penny dropped; It was Larry Koren! That was his voice! How could she miss it? It was the same voice, same tone he’d used when he’d asked her for a gin and tonic on her patio!

  Just to make sure, she threw him another quick glance, then sniffed the air around her. Absolutely! How could she have missed the scent of Paco Raban that he sprayed on so profusely? Talia grinned to herself contentedly; this time she’d caught Larry Koren red-handed! He was tailing
her disguised as a pious Jew; he thought he could outwit her, but she was not so stupid; her excellent senses of hearing and smell could not be fooled nor were her detective skills to be sneezed at, apparently!

  Who could have told Larry about her trip? Who were the people conspiring against her? It was not a difficult question. All of Jonathan’s cronies had declared war on her. But who, in this particular instance, had colluded with the police investigator? Perhaps Matti and Rina Be’eri, the lawyers and executors of Jonathan’s estate? She found the thought alarming, even shocking, despite her many complaints against the couple, she could hardly believe they were so corrupt as to violate the basic ethics of their profession.

  The plane hummed quietly. A small vein started throbbing on her temple. No, she would not call their integrity into question; she refused to believe that her lawyers were so motivated by greed and malice that they would conspire against her and have her tailed. According to the contract, Matti and Rina were entitled to two percent of the estate. Could they possibly suspect her of trying to hide the money from them that was deposited in her name abroad? And what about Larry? He was not so innocent either! Ostensibly, he was on police detail, but if Matti and Rina tipped him off to her trip, perhaps they’d also offered him a fair share of the loot, if he conducted the investigation cleverly and to their advantage. This was of course, purely speculative, but Talia had already learned that in the world she had entered, there were no free lunches and everything had a price tag.

  Now that she was onto his ruse, she decided to pretend that she hadn’t recognized him. She would not look at him until he disappeared from view. But then what? How could she protect herself from him? How could she prevent him from following her? He was liable to threaten her; what should she do then?

  In spite of her worries and misgivings, the flight was rather pleasant, even amusing to some extent. From time to time, when she could not resist, she threw a glance backward. Larry continued to leaf through his magazines assiduously. She no longer felt his eyes prickling her nape.

  Larry took the trip for his own purposes, she reasoned, but, in fact, he was doing “espionage” work for others; he was an instrument in other people’s hands. Talia was not sure what she should do, but it was absolutely clear to her that she was not going to let him interfere with her plans and sabotage her purposes.

  She saw him again at passport control. This time, she was ahead of him, and soon the two of them would breathe the rarefied Swiss air. He would pounce on her, not physically, of course, but with the force that his position bestowed on him. But he is here on false pretenses; she wanted to scream. Suddenly it hit her, and she knew what she should do. She approached the passport counter, and while the clerk was checking her passport with the customary Swiss punctiliousness, she whispered to him in the choice German she had learned at home, “Sir, there is a policeman in disguise who has come from Israel specifically to follow me. He is standing in line four people behind me, and his name is Larry Koren.”

  She breathed a sigh of relief when the clerk finished his examination of her passport. “Yes, madam, I’ll give orders right away to check him,” he told her in measured tones.

  From where she was standing, she watched Larry; he stood nervously, shifting his weight from leg to leg while the officer examined his Israeli passport mechanically and then picked up the phone on his counter. Two uniformed border policemen materialized from nowhere and grabbed him by the arms. They had open handcuffs in their hands.

  Larry looked at her in a mixture of astonishment and rage. She smiled at him, and her lips formed words loud and clear. “How does it feel to be handcuffed, Larry? And do you like being picked up like this without any warning? I can really empathize with you, since I had the same experience, thanks to you. At least now we’re even, aren’t we?

  Dressed in a silken kimono, her face devoid of make-up, Talia relaxed in her room at the Excelsior. The meeting succeeded beyond her expectations; the bank manager gave her all the information about the money Jonathan had deposited there prior to his death. Millions of dollars!

  She was a very rich woman, by any criterion. She examined the effect of the news on the way she felt. No doubt, the hefty amount would free her from any financial worries for the coming years, but what preoccupied her at the moment was the question of how to transfer the money to Israel and to what legitimate use she could put it, both for the benefit of herself and the people around her.

  Her eyes misted over when the hugeness of the sum registered in her consciousness. If she wanted, she could fill her house with objects d’art and her closets with clothes and jewelry. But there would be nothing new in that for her. They never lacked for money at her parents’ house. Heidi Rosen, a simple yet sharp woman, used to say that being rich is no big deal, since a person cannot eat two steaks at the same time.

  And what about clothes, travel, valuables, the glamorous life? Talia had nothing against luxury of any kind, but she never saw it as a means in itself. Even now, with her tall stature and slender, fashionably clad figure, she made and impressive appearance, and her name was always at the top of The Ten Best Dressed women” and “Belles of Tel Aviv,” but to her those lists were a mark of frivolity, superficiality and phoniness.

  When Jonathan was alive, it was a different story; then there was a point to every meal they had at a restaurant. Then she knew how to enjoy every outing, every gift, every trip in the country and abroad. Her elegant clothes represented him and reflected his power and his position. But now, even the little pleasures of life had lost their allure for her. Thank God she had the children, she reflected, they were her anchor, an island of sanity, the givers and receivers of love. She found herself praying to some invisible force to grant her the strength to go on, since household routines no longer held any interest for her.

  As if standing outside herself, she examined the new avatar that was now emerging from her old self. The old Talia would have been content to draw regular sums from the spring of wealth that Jonathan had left her, but the new Talia felt a certain itch, an adventurous urge that was novel and exciting. The money, the businesses she had discovered registered in Jonathan’s name at the companies register, all the assets Jonathan had accumulated in his short life, were all entrusted to her now, to continue to use, to activate, not just for the sake of making money, but for its own sake. Money was power. Now she wanted to be more than she had been before, not merely somebody’s wealthy spouse, the girls from a good, well-to-do family, as she used to be, but a powerful woman of means in her own right.

  Only now did she understand the force that driven Jonathan and her admiration for him increased manifold. She was ready to hop on the first available plane, to start work immediately, to summon board meetings of “her” companies and select good people that she could trust and rely on to manage those companies.

  Talia was in a frenzy of activity, as if Jonathan’s spirit had penetrated her and possessed her. Now she understood the looks that Jonathan’s friends had darted at her, strange sidelong looks. Perhaps they were afraid of her, of the mysterious knowledge that was brewing inside her, and that amazed her, too. “There are many documents you didn’t inform me about; you forgot to tell me who owns some of the companies, but if you don’t tell me, I’ll tell you their names right away,” she said nonchalantly to Matti and to Jonathan’s former partners, who blanched and hastened to spit out the information they supposedly forgot.

  She stretched comfortably on the green brocade sofa of the elegant hotel, sipping red wine from a glass goblet. She had just hung up the phone after her last call of the day, to Jenny. The children were fine, the nanny informed her. They were already in bed after their shower, waiting impatiently for her return in two days. Only after receiving the report from home, putting her mind at ease, she was able to plan the next day’s meetings. There were a few unfinished details—signatures, powers of attorney, and final conferences with lawyers.

  A mirthless smile appeared on her face when she
recalled the scene form the night before, at her home. The feelings of revulsion and indignation still lingered, but they did not obliterate the satisfaction she had derived from the scene. “He certainly got his come-uppance," she told herself.

  It was Micah, whom she never liked nor appreciated, but she never imagined that he could sink so low and display such baseness and meanness. A short time before his death, Jonathan had bought an empty lot in the center of town and given it to Micah in “trusteeship.” By dint of this act, Micah became a partner to the deal, but like other friends that Jonathan had made into silent partners in his businesses and holdings, Micah holed up in his bunker, and was very reluctant to part with what he deemed to be his own property. If Talia had not rummaged in Jonathan’s files one night when she couldn’t fall asleep, and had she not found a letter in his handwriting bearing Micah’s signature, she would never have realized that she was the owner of that very valuable piece of property. Matti, the lawyer, affirmed faintly and only in reply to her inquiry that, in fact, it was not the only property she had not been apprised of. At times, she was resigned to the notion that in the matter of the estate, she might never get to the bottom of the truth but, at other times, she felt resentment and mistrust and helpless rage at the people surrounding her.

  But it was Micah who asked to see her late Sunday night, when Jenny was on her evening off and the little ones were sleeping peacefully in the nursery. He wore a leather jacket the color of cognac with a brown fur collar, a beige shirt, and brown leather pants. “Handsome Micah” was very fastidious about his attire and was a true bon vivant. Recently, he had bought a large advertising agency that represented some of the leading companies in the country, including “Idit,” the chocolate manufacturer, and Workers’ Bank, the second largest bank in the country.

  Talia served him salted almonds and a glass of red wine, which he had requested and waited for him to talk. They were facing each other in the living room, where she and Ditty had sat countless times before. Talia sensed his nervousness; his hands trembled when he brought the glass to his lips. His handsome face was slightly flushed. He tried to control himself and stretched his long legs forward.

  “Talia, you mustn’t think that I was trying to swindle you,” he started, “you know that Jonathan was the best friend I ever had.”

  Another one of those, Talia thought wearily, and said nothing.

  “The whole thing simply slipped my mind, and when I remembered, I came straight here, as you can see, on my own. Ditty knows nothing about it, so I’m begging you not to tell her.”

  “No problem, I’m not going to tell her, but what have you got to hide from her? She’s your wife, isn’t she?” She gave him a hard look and he shot back a look that made her uncomfortable and apprehensive. Perhaps it was the loneliness that had been descending on her in the evening, especially after she had put the children to sleep. Perhaps it was the final realization that Jonathan was dead and would never come back that mad her overcome her reservations and confide some of her feelings to him. “Jonathan too, did not tell me everything, and look what happened. Only sorrow and confusion.” She didn’t like the bitter tone of her own words, but they were already out of her mouth, like water overflowing. But the truth was that Jonathan was not reticent at all about Micah. She knew that he was disappointed in him and unilaterally put an end to the friendship.

  Micah stared at her. He had the stubborn, arrogant look of men who are aware of their physical attractiveness, of men who believe that no woman can resist their charm. But Talia had never been attracted to men just because of their physique or outward appearance and, in fact, she found Micah slightly repulsive, despite his handsome features, or perhaps because of them.

  “Talia, I often think about you. To tell you the truth, I can’t get you out of my mind. I know you’re suffering. ..You miss...” he got up, put his Glasson the coffee table, and approached her, in one turbulent moment, she found her hands held in his. He was kneeling beside her. His mouth closed on hers in a wet, distasteful kiss. She pursed her lips, and he almost bit her in his eagerness. His fingers tightened around her wrists, damp and clammy. She managed to break loose of his grip, but he got up and pulled her form the armchair toward him, pressing her hard against his chest. His skin scorched his face. “Come, Talia,” he murmured, “I know what you need. I can give it to you!”

  Stunned, she tore herself free from his grip, grabbing onto the wall. “Micah, have you lost your mind? You don’t’ know what you’re doing!”

  The whole scene was shameful and, at the same time, ridiculous and infuriating. She panted heavily and then added a sentence that immediately sounded childish to her, “Do you want Ditty to find out about this?”

  Micah collapsed like a punctured balloon. His flushed face turned ashen. “Talia, please, don’t do this to me, especially not now, that she’s finally become pregnant. I apologize. Maybe that’s why I behaved like this. You know how it is with women in her situation; she can think only of herself and the baby.”

  “You are a petty and miserable man, Micah. What could two people who are so dear to me possibly find in you? I just can’t understand.” She made a dismissive gesture, then put her hands to her chest, where two buttons were missing from her blouse.

  “Well, I’m going, Talia. As for the property...”

  “As for the property, Micah, tomorrow morning I want to get a signed deposition from your lawyer that you have no claim whatsoever on it, and that I, Talia Schwarz, and the sole owner of that property.”

  She closed her eyes and communed with Jonathan, as she always did when she was all by herself. What would Jonathan say to the change that had taken place in her? Would he be proud of her assertiveness, of her assertiveness, of her insistence, her sophistication, her ambition? Would he applaud the powers that she found in herself, would he rejoice in her new image that was such a far cry from his familiar Talia that he knew? Perhaps he would deplore the toughness of mind and the mistrust that she now displayed together with the capability and the forcefulness? His Talia, the naive, lamblike creature, had lost her trustfulness her innocence, her softness, and she had become an entirely different person...

  Talia knew that she had mystified her friends and relatives, particularly her mother and her sibling. She herself was often amazed at her behavior, although she was well aware of the change in her. Jonathan, she consoled herself, would have doubtlessly approved. He was the one who often told her that she had it in her, that all she needed was to trust her own powers.

  Mrs. Schwarz, enjoy your new spiky armor, she muttered, examining her face in the illuminated crystal mirror. She stretched on the soft bed and fell asleep listening to the rustling of the yellow silk drapes. The room, decorated in hues of moss green, gold, and ivory, calmed her down and infused peace and tranquility into her dreams.