by D S Kane
Her voice in his head. No, Jon. You promised we’d be together forever. We will be.
His head spun. Clearly, he had lost his mind.
The thin, balding man wore a ratty sports jacket. He sat with Jon in a small office painted robin’s egg blue, decorated with soothing images of empty pastures and closeups of flowers and waterfalls. He read the notes in his folder. “It’s pretty normal. After all, you lost someone you loved.”
“You sure? Hearing her disembodied voice; it’s disturbing. It’s happened so often in the past few days. I’ve lost count.”
The clinical psychologist looked up from his pad. He pointed at Jon with his pen. “That’s the thing about loss. Sometimes when we suffer the death of a loved one, we continue to see them for a while. It’s why the Irish have wakes, the Jews sit shiva. Not to worry. These visions will fade.” He wrote some notes as he spoke.
Jon shook his head. “They’re not visions. I hear her voice, as if she was in my head. She isn’t here anymore. I’ll never touch her again. And now, I can’t think. I’m losing sleep.”
“Yes. But, you told me you were in love. A very strong emotion. Be patient.”
“Yeah. I know. But how do I get over her?” Jon’s eyes drifted to the floor for an answer. He wasn’t getting one from the psychologist. That was for sure.
“Your grief is so deep it seems to me something else is at work inside you. You’ve felt these feelings before, haven’t you?” The psychologist tapped his pen against his pad, waiting for Jon’s reply.
Jon shuddered. In a flash he saw his parents, she in a black dress and he in a tux, about to leave him for the final time. “Umm, my parents died in a car accident when I was twelve. At least, I thought their deaths were an accident, but now I’m not even sure of that. It seems I lose everyone I love. But I never heard their voices. Lisa, well, she was my future, my hope.”
“Your parents. Well, two losses like that. Getting to the root of your feelings of abandonment from them will take us some time. As for hearing the voice of your fiancée, your best bet is to find a way to come to terms with her death. I suggest when you hear her voice, smile to yourself and welcome her inside you. She’ll become your friend, and be a part of you.”
Jon shook his head. “Uh, sure, doc. I’ll try that.” He rose from his seat.
The psychologist shook his head. “Okay, well, maybe not. But I have another idea. Create a shrine for her.”
Jon leaned closer. “Huh? A shrine? No way. I want her gone!”
The psychologist was silent for a moment. “Well, then banish her. Do you have anything she gave you?”
Jon thought of the photo he’d stolen. “Uh, yeah.”
“Destroy it. The act of getting rid of it that way might work. Like voodoo.”
He shuddered at the thought. He wondered if it would work.
Two days later, Jon was feeling better. He was on his way home from the grocery store and passed a newspaper stand. The headline of the Times was, “Suicide Bomber in Jerusalem Kills 17.” He stopped and read the article.
Her voice spoke to him. See what happens in the world while you do nothing? Our people die, corpse by corpse! You couldn’t save me. But, you can save others. Innocents!
He stood still and took several deep breaths. He longed to hold her, touch her. Was that why there was no way to get her out from his head? In a daze, he made a simple decision.
He went back to the newsstand. “Matches?”
The old man shook his head. “We sell cigarettes, sonny. Want ’em? They comes with matches.”
“Sure.” He tossed the pack of smokes in the trash several blocks away. In Hyde Park, he found a dry birdbath and placed a few brittle leaves in it. Then he placed the photo on top of them and struck the match. He set the fire. It was Lisa’s funeral pyre. Since her death, he no longer believed there could be a God. Too much had been taken from him.
Watching her image disappear in smoke, he waited to hear her voice. Nothing. A strange calm came over him as he tossed Ben-Levy’s business card into the pyre for good measure. “I’m rid of both of you. Forever.”
But then he heard her laugh back at him. His head swiveled left and right. No one was there.
Several days passed and he hadn’t imagined her voice. Had she left his head for good?
His first day at Dreitsbank took his mind in a new direction. He wrote his personal information onto new-employee forms, visited two orientation sessions and met so many people he couldn’t keep track of all their names.
On the morning of his second day, he met the team leader he’d work for. The man took him to the bank’s training center and set him to work with the letters of credit, documentary collections, and foreign exchange that he’d been studying in textbooks.
By noon, his mind was spinning. He’d thought that banking would be easy for someone with his math skills, but all he was learning was how to fill in forms and use computer systems.
During the lunch break, Jon walked through downtown London. He found a café on Leadenhall Street across from the city library, and bought coffee and a scone. As he sipped, a woman walked by and sat at the table next to his with her coffee. She reached over and touched his hand. He turned his head, unsure if he’d done something he needed to apologize for. “Yes?”
She smiled. “I’m new in town. Where’s a decent music club? Can you help?” She had an accent, but he couldn’t place it. Maybe German?
“What’s your name?” As soon as he asked, he that worried Lisa’s voice would intrude on him. “Mine is Jon. Jon Sommers.” He forced a grin.
“Ruth DeWitt.” She smiled back, extending her hand.
It was the first time in months any woman beside Lisa had shown interest in him. And this one had touched his hand. “Uh, yeah. There’s a free newspaper with clubs in it. What you need to do is—”
Ruth shook her head. “No. Don’t explain. Show me. Can you do that?” Her voice had a husky quality, and he felt his own arousal growing.
The noise from the street muddled her words. “What did you say?”
She opened her mouth to speak, but he interrupted. “Not here. Too busy. Look, I don’t have time now. Can we meet after I finish work? Then, we can go to someplace quieter.”
Her smile pinned him motionless. “I don’t need that long.” She rose and took his hand. They stopped at a diner down the street and Jon bought her coffee. She directed them to a quiet table at the back.
She stared into his eyes. “Okay. I’m an exchange student for the summer semester. I just finished unpacking my stuff. Now I’d like to spend a night on the town. Can you help me with the name of a music club?” Her gorgeous blond hair and willowy figure captivated him.
Jon opened his notebook computer and motioned for her to sit alongside him. He tapped away at the keyboard. “Here. A list of places. Rock, folk, blues, and everything else.”
She nodded and looked away from him. “Oh, of course! Google.” Then she turned and looked right through him. “Why didn’t I think of that?” She stared into his eyes. “Thanks. I feel I owe you.” She smiled. “Can I buy you dinner tonight?”
Jon frowned, his eyes downcast, still waiting for Lisa’s voice. But he was alone. “Sure. When and where?”
She smiled. “Six. I can call you. Okay?”
He nodded. “Sure.” Jon wrote his cell number on a page from his pad and slid it across the table.
She picked it up. “Thanks.” In a blink, she was gone. Jon noticed his palms were sweating.
As dusk settled in, Jon exited the bank’s lobby. His cell buzzed. “Sommers.”
“Hey, Jon. It’s Ruth DeWitt. The lost student you saved earlier today. I’m afraid I won’t have enough time free tonight for dinner.”
Jon scanned his wristwatch. 6 p.m. “That’s okay. If you decide you want company some other time, well—”
“Wait. How about if we just go dancing?”
He jaw fell open and he snapped it shut. “I, uh think maybe there’s a
band playing Friday night in one of the rock ’n’ roll clubs. But, uh, well—”
“Do you like blues?”
This was all unexpected, but he didn’t need a mathematical model to figure out where it was going. “Yes, in fact I do. But why—”
“The club you showed me downtown on your computer. Wasn’t it called the Bug-Eyed Blues Club? How about that one. It’s just two blocks from my apartment. Please?”
What the hell. “Yes. Sure. What time and where do I come get you?” Lisa hadn’t yet made her presence known. Maybe he was free?
Ruth told him she’d meet him outside the club in an hour. When he arrived, he spotted her at the end of the line. It was just after ten. The club was a large, dirty room with a tiny raised stage, and a bar on the side opposite. Its floor was tacky and folding chairs and tiny tables lined the back.
The band, Canned Heat Redux, was loud, rhythmic, and dark-sounding. Their jump-blues renditions were adequate for dancing.
Ruth reached her hand to his shoulder. Touched him. She took Jon to the front of the stage, just below the lead singer. She pulled him close so she could speak right in his ear. “May I have this dance?”
When Ruth pulled his body against hers, it was obvious she wasn’t wearing a bra underneath her blouse. His body responded, alarming him. The band played a sad, slow song, about the blow-up of a relationship. She moved against his body, drifting with him to the grinding rhythm of the verses. Midway through the song, he found it hard to move, his erection caught in his clothing.
When he tried dropping a hand under his belt to reposition his anatomy, she pulled him even closer, grinned, and whispered in his ear. “I guess I’m having a nasty effect on you.” Then she hugged him and whispered into his ear. “I’d like to talk to you about something. A personal matter. Would you mind that?”
He nodded, “Umm, okay,” but stared into her eyes. When Ruth backed off and took a deep breath, his concern peaked. Something didn’t fit right. What was going on here?
But he withheld judgment. He had nothing yet to support his assumption that Ruth was not what she seemed to be. Instead, he took hold of her elbow and guided her back to toward their table. “You have my full attention.”
She pushed him past the table. “Uh, huh. Listen, my apartment is around the corner. I have snacky things, good music, and booze. And drugs if that’s what you prefer.” Before he could respond, she rushed him out the door and down the street, huddling alongside him against the cold wind.
She led him through the lobby and pointed to the elevator. “It’s broken.” At the top of the staircase she moved him to the left, farther down the hall, and halted them both. She swung her head left and right, as if looking to see if someone was hiding in the hall. She nodded toward the door. “Here. Just a modest flat, but I’m the only one lives here.” She unlocked the door and entered, her eyes scanning the interior. He stuck his head in but didn’t enter as he looked around.
She turned back at him. “Just being careful. I was told we had a few burglaries last month. Come on inside. I won’t bite.” She chuckled. “Unless you want me to.”
He marveled at how lucky he was. Not only had a beautiful woman found him interesting, but Lisa Gabriel no longer seemed to care.
He had one foot inside when she pulled him through and shut the door. “So, what do you want to talk about?”
Her face was a mask of conflict. “I have something you need to hear.” She turned away from him. He heard her take a deep breath. “Damn, I can’t do this.”
“Do what?” Jon was getting more curious and more upset by the second. Now he needed to confirm his suspicions. “What do you want from me?” He was almost sure he knew. He touched her shoulder and she turned, facing him. In seconds she was unbuttoning his shirt and pulling his belt open. When she groped his erection, he gave up trying to make sense of what was happening.
He pulled her skirt down and she stepped out of it while they kissed. She was pulling his shirt off even as he tried to undo the buttons of her blouse. When he dropped the blouse on the floor, they faced each other.
Naked.
Her body was as gorgeous as her heart-shaped face. The hunger in her eyes compelled him to look elsewhere, and his eyes drifted down. He stared at her pert, small breasts with long pointed nipples, her narrow waist, and a thatch of amber hair in the vee of her crotch.
Spellbound, he couldn’t move. But he was sure this was no coincidence. Had Ben-Levy sent her? The thought didn’t shock him. In fact, he didn’t care. If he could make love to her, he would. It wouldn’t make him care for her.
His breathing slowed back to normal.
Ruth also seemed to cool. She stepped away. “Listen, this would just be sex, nothing more.” She frowned and faced away. “But it’s a bad idea. So, no, we can’t. Understand?”
He nodded, almost sure now what was really happening.
She cast her eyes at the floor. “Okay then. Well, I need to talk with you about something else. Something very serious.”
Jon nodded. “What?” He waited.
“I didn’t intend to bed you. It just started to happen. You just look good and well—”
For Jon, the mathematical equation completed itself. “He sent you, didn’t he?” Jon reached and touched her face. “Ben-Levy.”
She shook her head. “I’m not supposed to be here.”
“Who are you? Really?”
“My name is Ruth, just like I told you. Listen, I may have been the last person to see Aviva Bushovsky alive.”
Jon’s world stopped and his breath halted. “What?”
Ruth drew closer. Her face was inches away. “I had lunch with your fiancée minutes before she died.”
He tried to form words. It didn’t work. He tried to make a sound but nothing came from him. It took him a while to recover. “Why are you here?”
She faced him. “No one sent me. I came on my own. Please. Listen.” In the dim light he could see her strain to talk.
“Right. So, start talking.” He realized he was shouting.
Ruth frowned. “There was something troubling Aviva when we spoke at lunch. A few minutes before she died. I’m not sure what it was.”
She closed the gap between them and her voice softened. Her lips were so close to his ear, he could feel the warmth of her words against him. “It had something to do with you. I don’t know exactly what, but I’m sure. I decided you needed to know.”
Jon shook his head. “No one sent you?”
She shook her head. “No one.”
He was sure this was a lie. “Why were we about to have sex?”
“A mistake. I felt the attraction. Didn’t you?” She said nothing more.
He walked to the window. “Just sex for the sake of it?” He waited for her to speak.
“Maybe you should leave.” Her voice sounded distant. She turned her back on him and stared out the window in silence, into the alleyway below.
Ben-Levy. Lisa. The Mossad. And now, Ruth. With that last thought, another followed. He felt Lisa’s presence return. Recruitment. It’s what she’s really here to talk to you about. She’s a bat leveyha, just as I was. The sex would have just been part of her assignment. Lisa’s voice was just another equation.
Recruitment. Alarm rang though him. Lisa spoke again. Jon, we would have had a perfect life together. We’d have worked for Mother and raised our children together. And sometimes Mother would send us out as a team. Think of it, Jon. He closed his eyes, now welling with tears.
He imagined Lisa on top of him, fucking him hard. Her hands ripped into his shoulders as she caught fire and her flesh burned away into a skeleton. His head turned to the side of the room, where he imagined he saw Yigdal Ben-Levy watching in silence, taking notes in the corner of the room.
He snarled, now sure Ruth had lied. Ben-Levy must have sent her. There seemed to be no end to what the spymaster would do to achieve his ends, and Jon refused to be manipulated.
He was hyperventilating.
He had a sudden urge to see Lisa. But, he’d burned her picture. What a stupid thing to do.
Does Ben-Levy have a photo of Lisa Gabriel? Of course he does, in his files. But, the only way he could contact Mother was through Ruth, since he’d burned the card containing Mother’s phone number. But how could he ask her?
Looking outside, he saw sunrise bleeding through the window. He decided never to see Ruth again. He dressed fast and left.
He thought as he walked back toward his apartment. Did anything Mother say have any truth in it? Why else would all this be happening to him?
Chapter Eight
Dreitsbank, London branch, 101 Leadenhall Street, London
June 19, 3:23 p.m.
In a cubicle at the bank, Jon sipped coffee during a break while he built a mathematical model of the world Ben-Levy wanted him to enter. Soon, he was second-guessing himself. Before he could commit to anything, he’d have to find out more about Aviva Bushovsky, the woman he’d loved. But, he’d no idea how.
By the time his training session ended in the late afternoon, he realized he’d need a hacker to help him. Would the techno-weenie prince be capable of this?
As he took the tube to his old campus and walked toward the nano-lab, Jon rehearsed the story and arguments he could use to enroll the geek as his accomplice.
Down the stairs to the basement, the smell of Lysol assaulted his nostrils. One of the cleaning crew pushed a broom just outside the glass doors in the basement. He tapped on the glass and a student let him in. So much for building security.
He searched among the cubicles for the chief geek. Ten minutes passed and he’d been all over the basement, but not seen his target.
Jon pulled a chair to one of the computers and sat, head in his hands. It was just after six in the evening. Maybe the man had gone to dinner. Would he return tonight or was he already at his apartment?
Jon waited five minutes and lost patience. He went upstairs to search the cafeteria. There, in the corner by the window, sat the techno-weenie prince.
