by Yitzhak Nir
“Good evening, Jerry. Come in!” she called joyously to him.
He entered slowly, clasped her around the waist and began closing his lips onto hers.
Then he saw him.
He was standing in the middle of the living room and looking straight at him. He was tall, fair-skinned, clad in a gray suit, a white shirt but no tie and black leather shoes. His full head of hair was meticulously cut and on his small nose rested expensive rimless glasses. He stood there smiling, gazing at him with slanted eyes through his glasses.
Gershon kissed her lightly on the lips, turned and closed the entrance door behind him. His heart was pounding.
She faced her father and called: “Jerry, meet my dad! Dad, meet my Jerry!”
As was expected of him, Gershon approached and held out his hand. The tall Chinese man grasped it in both of his, bowed his head, as was customary in the Far East, and said:
“Joe Yang. Good to meet you, sir.” Gershon notice the expensive Rolex watch peeping out of his shirtsleeve and a thick gold ring with a small dragon on his pale, long-fingered left hand.
...Delicate fingers like a pianist’s… he noted to himself. A whiff of aftershave emanated from him.
...Polo Red...? He sniffed without moving his head. The firm grip of Joe’s hands on his was warm and strong and he began to relax.
“Nice to meet you too, sir,” he replied in a firm voice, avoiding pronouncing his name. “May we speak English tonight?” he asked with an Israeli accent.
“Oh, yes, yes!” Li-Lan who had joined them, called, still smiling. Gershon freed his hand from Joe’s, while the latter continued observing him. Gershon quickly surveyed the room, further hiding his doubts. Two Chinese paintings of reeds and flocks of storks were hanging above the sofa and a huge television set was on the opposite wall. On a white bookcase were stacked old recording disks of classical music, with Beethoven’s “Fifth” at the top of the pile. ...Nehama would probably love that… the thought crossed his mind. ...And Adam as well… He didn’t spot any electronic eye or hidden camera lens, although he knew that they didn’t conceal electronic toys like that nowadays. He placed his trust in Shauli and walked towards the balcony, with Joe on his heels. His heart rate had almost completely returned to normal.
“Do you want the balcony-light on?” Li-Lan asked in English. He turned to look back, while Joe continued sizing him up. Gershon didn’t feel any alienation or judgment in his gaze; quite the opposite. His brown eyes seemed to embrace the visitor, finally looking him straight in the eye.
“I suggest that we sit here on the balcony. The night is warm and the view from here is very relaxing. I don’t think we need any light,” he replied in English.
At home, many days later he went over and over again that night’s conversation and transcribed it into Hebrew, to check whether there were hints that he hadn’t caught in real time.
“No problem. We’ll have a better view outside.” Joe immediately replied.
“Is beer okay, or do you want something else?” Li-Lan asked lightly. She tapped towards the kitchen on her red high heels, her dress emphasizing her narrow waist.
Joe regarded him. “Is that alright with you, Mister Jerry?”
…I’m not driving tonight, and what does it matter anyway? Soon enough I won’t even be here… a melancholy, self-pitying thought arose in him of a kind that he rarely allowed himself. “That’s fine for me. And you, professor?” he asked immediately, returning the Chinese man’s steady gaze, and ignored the question that may have shown some alleged irreverence and disbelief in his cover name.
“What’s fine for you is also fine for me. Lily, will you drink with us?”
… So that’s what he calls her. Nice. I’ll adopt it…
“Lily,” he carefully tried out her new name. “Could you put on Beethoven’s Fifth for us?”
“Sure. No problem. Beethoven and beer! I’ll be right there!”
They stood on the balcony near a low glass table, on which Li-Lan placed three beer glasses and next to them cans of Heineken and a bowl of peanuts.
“You like peanuts, don’t you, Jerry?” her rosy lips smiled, revealing dark gums above white teeth, while the sea breeze ruffled her raven hair and the intermittent murmur of the waves could be heard from the shore.
The three of them stared out at the night landscape and continued chatting in English, feeling one another out. Gershon moved his gaze from the Pole Star to the estimated location of his headquarters. After recognizing its red antenna’s lights from afar, he looked down through the balcony’s railing to the parking lot below them. There he could distinguish the silent silvery Superb and to its left, crouching like a black cat with its tale tucked under it, the black Savannah.
Beethoven’s Fifth played over and over in a closed loop. The orchestra pounded out the well-known rhythm: ‘Ta-ta-ta taamm! Ta-ta-ta taamm!’ three short chords followed by a longer and lower one.
...Like our sign, the fate… he mused. Up to now everything is going as anticipated, apart from the prostate cancer that my Li-Lan knows nothing about and the fact that she’s not really mine…
Joe looked around and fixed his gaze on the dark sea beyond the Mandarin Hotel. “It’s so calm here. It’s as quiet as Manchester, Connecticut, apart from the crashing of the waves. We’re not near the ocean,” he said quietly, as if talking to himself.
“I greatly enjoy sitting here at night watching the planes emerging from the darkness, with their powerful landing lights on. Most probably they’re on their landing pattern to Ben-Gurion...”
They sat there while she poured the beer. They clicked their glasses together silently, each immersed in thought.
Perhaps due to the night, perhaps due to his failing eyesight due to age, or perhaps because of the dull-dark matt color of the black dragon hovering silently opposite them - he did not notice the dragon’s camera lenses focused on them or its microphones picking up their conversation.
“So how was your tour? Was Adam okay? Were his explanations helpful?”
“Oh, yes, definitely. A delightful person. Intelligent. Good sense of humor. He spoke about what’s happening here. Lots of ideas and also lots of jokes. A good guy, and also a hunk.” Li-Lan went on to describe their week traveling around the country and their trips to the Dead Sea, the Negev, the Carmel Tunnels and Haifa port and how they observed the coastline from Hadera’s high smokestacks toward the south: Tel Aviv, Ashdod and Ashkelon and as far as Gaza, and their visit to the new Palestinian city of Rawabi opposite the Israeli town of Modi’in. Afterwards, Li-Lan went to the kitchen and left the men in her life to continue their chat.
“Lily has told me a lot about you,” he said in American English with a light Chinese accent. “I think,” his eyes gleamed, “my daughter is in love with you,” he laughed. “Finally! She told me that if you agree, she wants to - how do you say in Hebrew - ‘Mityageret’?”
…Almost exactly like his daughter speaks… he chuckled to himself. This guy is beginning to grow on me…
“Mitgayeret, convert to Judaism.”
“Yes, that’s how you pronounce it. And do you think this new baby, my grandchild, will live here? Nowadays for people of your age it’s no problem. Now fifty is the new thirty, and you’re still young, Mister Jeremiah.”
Gershon nodded his head with pretended politeness, but was pleased by the compliment: “Not so young anymore, professor.”
Joe’s question remained hanging in the air, and a cool breeze began to blow. Shards of pale gray clouds began collecting, slowly hiding the dark firmament above them and palely reflecting back small shards of light from the city below.
Without warning, while standing and watching the cloud formations, and as though talking to himself, Joe let slip in a monotonous voice:
“Mister Jeremiah, have you ever killed a man?”
The brutal question immediately made
the calm, warm night’s atmosphere threatening and filled with dangers.
Why is he asking that? What is this about? Somebody who asks a question like that has probably killed someone himself. What does he know?
“Why do you ask, professor? Do I look to you like a murderer or something?”
“Oh no, no. Of course not. I just thought that since in Israel you were all in the army, and with all your wars… I wondered how it felt.”
Gershon’s suspicions grew. He surreptitiously took two breaths to calm himself and answered: “Never. I was a young pilot who was injured in a bailing-out accident, disabled and returned to the kibbutz. In recent years our foreign office has employed me as a diplomatic courier. It’s pretty boring, I’d say.” And added to himself: …How easily lies come to me after all these years. At least the X-rays of my crushed vertebrae tell the truth…
“Of course, of course,” Joe replied immediately. “No problem. I’m sorry I asked. I apologize.” He smiled at him with reassuring almond eyes.
“It’s okay. Don’t worry,” Gershon said, but his heartbeats had gone into higher gear.
Li-Lan, who had returned to them, gave them a surprised look, opening her eyes wide, looking from Gershon to her father and back again without saying a word.
The timpani drums of the Fifth continued to thunder heavily, carrying Beethoven’s music into the open air. His deep, mysterious tones washed over the balcony and faded away into the darkened night, swallowed up by the black dragon’s sensitive microphones.
An Offer That Can Be Refused
Many days afterwards, Gershon repeatedly returned in his imagination to the night of March 19th, 2025, the night that changed his life and that of countless others.
“More beer, anyone? Coffee? Litchi?” Li-Lan attempted to lighten the atmosphere.
“I’ll have some coffee, please,” Gershon replied.
“I’ll have something stronger. Do we have any gin or scotch, Lili?” Joe said, returning to his chair. Li-Lan turned towards the kitchen with a blank face. One could hear the weak, rising and falling thunder of the sea waves.
Joe broke the silence. “I once killed someone, before Lili was born. That was the reason I finally left China - China as it was in those days.” he added without being asked. Gershon regarded him with cautious surprise: What is he plotting, this sympathetic and affection-generating man? I’m beginning to grow fond of him. Maybe that’s how they operate?
“Dad! You never told me!” Li-Lan stared at him in surprise, questioning worry lines distorting her beautiful face.
“Ah, it doesn’t matter; it’s not an important story. I was just a boy and I was forcibly recruited to the army. We were sent to suppress a Uyghur rebellion in Urumqi, their capital. It’s in the Gobi Desert on the Old Silk Road, you know. There was a big riot and they attacked us. There were only five of us and our commander panicked. Everyone opened fire, including me…” he paused for a moment. “Afterwards I was released from service and you were born. I waited for an opportunity to escape, but it only presented itself much later.” He looked at her steadily, but finally lowered his eyes. Li-Lan hugged him for a long moment.
Gershon wasn’t sure if he saw tears. What a performance! What actors! Are they for real? But for some reason their behavior didn’t seem phony to him.
“Well, Mr. Jeremiah Stark. I’m here not only for my daughter and my future grandchildren. I’ve come to make you an offer.”
“Stop right there, Mr. Yang! No offers, please. I’m a government employee!” Gershon replied automatically.
“Jerry, Jerry, take it easy. It’s only you and me here. When are you retiring?”
“Okay, the Chinese guy is showing his cards… Let’s play along for a while. Nobody will be the wiser if I destroy the recording later… Then he answered, “At the end of the year.”
“Nice! And what will you do besides make grandchildren for me?”
“I haven’t decided yet. Maybe I’ll return to the kibbutz, take piano lessons and write poetry. Lili would like that,” he replied with humorous sarcasm as if wanting to say “This has gone too far!”
“Okay, Jeremiah, I understand.” He pulled a black disc-on-key from his pocket with a small red dragon on one side and “Sepcom” written in silver letters on the other, and held it out to Gershon. “Take it. It’s a gift from me.”
“I’m not allowed to accept gifts.”…What could I lose? His mind was working quickly. …Tomorrow I’ll send it to our forensic department. They’ll continue the investigation on him and on her…
“It isn’t really a gift, but a data file. Please take it.”
Gershon picked up the little electronic device and put it in his pocket quickly, like a thief attempting to avoid detection.
“Look, Jerry,” Joe continued quickly, afraid of losing a momentary opportunity, “your situation in Israel might appear bright at the moment, but the sky is darkening. Any storm could possibly destroy your Zionist vision and you along with it, and I mean that literally!” he said, emphasizing the last word. “I am very much in the picture, not only regarding business matters, but regarding your struggle for the land and the narrative, values, dreams and vision that brought you here. Also, my Lili is doing a great job for you!”
She returned with the whisky and the coffee and sat down quietly opposite them, glancing from him to her father and back again, nodding assent at every sentence.
“You and your Jewish genius are greatly admired in China, but they’re worried! You can’t decide about anything among yourselves and definitely not with the Palestinians. The way you and they are perpetuating a hundred and thirty years of bloody struggle, you’ll reach no solution and definitely no peace, but rather a hundred and thirty more years of bloody political and religious struggle. And that’s without mentioning the threats on you from outside: Teheran, Hezbollah and all the rest. For a long time now there has been no responsible adult to manage things here. Furthermore, you are lacking a new dream, a new vision!” He paused rhetorically and continued, “America is sinking and has no real interests here due to the fact that it has more oil than it needs, so the only really firm American interest here is huge arms sales to the region. And that is also changing fast. In reality, America is withdrawing from the Middle East! And the American Jews are also losing interest in you!” He raised his voice, “Consider power shifts there. America won’t be there to support you forever! There must be a major change in order for me to feel at ease about my daughter and grandchildren living here!” he concluded emotionally.
...He has gums and teeth like hers… Gershon noted to himself. And also his fingers… But where is he going with all this? Politics? I’m already dealing with radical prostate surgery, chemo, radiation, and all that shit…! His face expressed sadness mixed with anger, but he pulled himself together: “So what can little me do to help you out, professor?”
“Look, Mister Stark, at the request of the Beijing government, we at Sepcom have prepared a possible solution to your problem. You are aware that I am a true believer, not only in God, but in economics and global interests, as they are in Beijing as well. Before coming here we met with the European community, the leaders of Russia, the U. S., Egypt, Turkey, Jordan, Kuwait and Saudi Arabia, and they were all enthusiastic! We met with Hamas and Fatah and convinced them, as well. You might be surprised, but the Iranians are also prepared to offer assistance. However, you, the Israelis, are the key to success. And that’s what I need you for!” he concluded, with a steady gaze. Small beads of perspiration gleamed on his forehead, his eyebrows were slightly raised and his tanned face waited for a reply, radiating determination.
“And all that is contained in the little dragon you just handed me?” Another delusional smart guy who thinks he is a man vision, and has come to mess up our brains… Does he really know who he’s talking to?
“Yes, and much more. Read it tomorrow on your
computer. Professor Safran and I have worked on that plan for several long months in total secrecy.”
...Safran? Professor Daniel Safran? So that old bastard and his voracious bitch are partners in this new initiative, and I’m the only one that suits their purposes? Aha! So it wasn’t a coincidence that he dropped all those obscure hints about Herzl, America, football and all the rest of his bullshit… It was all part of a plan to recruit me to this plot, without even waiting until I retired… Although he, Safran, seems to have good intentions, I’ll still cut his balls off! And what role has Li-Lan, my innocent love, been playing in all of this?
Gershon decided to continue with this make-believe game as long as the Chinese man continued playing, without revealing any sign of recognizing the newly-introduced name of Safran. ...Open-handed poker till the end…
“We want to begin at the bottom, Mister Stark, with the people. After we feel their pulse, we will attempt to convince your government.” He suddenly lost a bit of his composure. “And we don’t believe that you can continue like this for many more years!!” His sonorous voice projected a self-assured urgency.
Gershon began losing patience: “And who are ‘we,’ professor?
“Oh, ‘we’ are the Chinese government and the Communist Party, the Bank of China and the Asian Development Bank, the Chinese economy and its industry and a billion and a half Chinese who stand behind us and must be fed, including our enormous workforce that must continue being employed! As you say: ‘A billion Chinese can’t be wrong!’ he smiled, suddenly trying out his Hebrew. “And in another fifty years, when we are three billion, we will need even more! And we won’t have it - unless we worry about it right now!” he said in his Shanghai Mandarin accent, but in excellent English. “‘We’ is also the Sepcom Corporation, which has been given the task of organizing this twenty-first century initiative.”
