by Joan Hess
“You told them about your—ah, problems with the local bank?”
“We were talking about Essie,” she reminded him huffily. “I would never tell anyone but a close family member about the ordeal with the bank. And Biff, of course, and his mother. Do you know what the very worst part of it was?” There was a dramatic pause during which Theo felt obliged to hold his breath, or at least look as though he were doing so. “It was the very week of my birthday.”
“How insensitive of them.”
“That’s exactly what Biff said. He said I ought to sue them for defamation of character and then just pull all my money out and take it to another bank. Daddy wouldn’t let me.”
“No, I would imagine that Charles preferred to have a word with the banker in private. Discretion and all.” Theo looked at the Dead Sea. The matte brown surface rather reminded him of Charles.
“They play golf every Thursday,” Dorrie sighed. “But as I was trying to tell you, Judith, Ilana, and Gideon all howled like veritable banshees when I told them about Essie’s dour comments. ‘Essie and sex’? That’s by far the silliest thing I’ve heard in months; Essie wouldn’t know a bird from a bee if they both perched on her head to copulate. But all the same, it was not pleasant for me. Gideon was the only one who could understand how indignant I was—justifiably so—and he tried to tell me that Essie hadn’t meant anything. At least he tried, Uncle Theo.”
Theo could sympathize with the young man. It must have been decidedly trying.
8
Miriam came by early in the evening to say a jeep was available if he were still interested in a jaunt and a picnic.
“Very much,” he assured her, “but you are looking quite harried. Are you certain that this will not inconvenience you?”
“I can’t find Essie, and it’s worrying me more and more. She is one of the world’s most irresponsible people, but she never has disappeared for such a long time. I’m trying not to think any ominous thoughts about what might have happened to her.” She made the wry face Theo found so charming. “I don’t want to bore you with the bitter truth about hotel staff management, so I shall see you tomorrow in the lobby around ten o’clock.”
Theo saw her out, then turned around to frown at the unmade bed. It was all well and good to provide Essie with an uncomplicated assignment so that she could share in the work of the kibbutz. Well and good, yes; successful, no.
Grumbling under his breath, he made the bed to his satisfaction, draped the damp towels over the shower rod, and straightened the room. The gritty surfaces of the furniture irritated him, but he had no equipment to clean them properly. He was forced to use a handkerchief, but the result was far from satisfactory.
Dorrie joined him for dinner. They chatted about minor Connecticut matters, and when they were finished, went to the lobby for brandy and a perplexing dose of the evening news in Hebrew. Although the words were incomprehensible, the footage of the aftermath of an explosion was graphic. A policeman barked harshly into the camera as he pointed at a razed building and a huddle of weeping women dressed in long robes. Gurneys were wheeled past the camera, their occupants covered with white sheets already stained with dark patches. The news commentator expounded further, then turned his attention to tanks rumbling over hills.
“That was in Hebron,” Dorrie said idly. “It’s less than thirty miles from here, as the crow flies. Do they have crows in Israel?”
Theo raised his eyebrows. “I do not know why they wouldn’t. I’m impressed that you’ve been learning Hebrew in your spare time.”
“Hardly, Uncle Theo, it’s all I can do to keep my hair conditioned. Gideon told me about the bombing.”
“It looked serious. Thirty miles from here, you say?”
“It’s three times further if the crow drives. Gideon said that four children were killed when a wall fell on them this morning. The building was a community center, and the children were there for some kind of scout meeting. Arabs, Gideon said. I think it’s horrid that someone killed those little kids by mistake, even if they were Arabs.”
“I agree,” Theo said. He was aware of the tension between Arabs and Jews, but his fear of finding himself between grenade-wielding combatants had abated since his arrival. He was not delighted to be reminded of the situation, especially when it was a mere thirty miles away. “Have the police arrested the terrorists yet?”
Dorrie glared at a chipped fingernail. “They aren’t terrorists, according to Gideon. Some group has already claimed credit. Gideon said the people who do these things are Jewish defense fighters, retaliating for earlier incidents. I don’t suppose you have a nail file, do you?”
“I regret that I do not, Dorrie. I must admit that I am perplexed by Gideon’s choice of nomenclature. If Jews were responsible for the death of four children, Arab or otherwise, do they not merit a title of ‘terrorists’?”
She shrugged. “Gideon told me about it all the way from Athens to Tel Aviv, if you can imagine. He thinks that the retaliation is necessary in order for the Jews to keep their hold on Judaea and Sumaria. He says the Arabs have to be taught that they can’t get away with anything; otherwise, they’ll keep murdering innocent people. The Arabs have pulled some pretty ghastly stuff, including killing women and babies, blowing up synagogues and so forth. All those terrible hijackings and airport bombings in the last year, the execution of hostages, the kidnappings and commando raids on border towns—it is fairly dreadful, Uncle Theo. Not that Gideon needed to froth about it for the entire plane ride, of course. I had hoped to read a magazine.”
“But four children …” Theo said unhappily. “Surely Gideon cannot feel that the loss of innocent lives can in any way strengthen the position of the Jews?” When Dorrie again responded with a shrug, he put down his glass. “The bartender, I believe, would prefer us to leave so that he can close the bar. Shall we accommodate him?”
Dorrie was now frowning at all of her fingernails. “Yes, I need to go back to my room at once. I’m going to have to do something about my nails; this Israeli polish just disintegrates as fast as I put it on. It’s been sheer hell trying to find a civilized color, and when I do, it chips off the moment I move my hand. I really don’t know how I’ve avoided saying something tacky to someone about it.”
Theo sympathized all the way back to their rooms.
The next morning he joined Miriam in the lobby. “I brought my hat,” he said by way of greeting. “On the other hand, I was not able to purchase a bottle of wine from the bar last night. Apparently one can buy it only one glass at a time.”
“We make more money that way,” Miriam said, “but I brought a bottle from my house. Marvelous claret it isn’t, but it does have a cork. Yussef prefers the imported variety, but I think it’s a fairly good Israeli wine—and it cost about a fifth of what he pays. I don’t know how he can afford to be a connoisseur.”
Theo assured her that he preferred to try the local product. He gallantly insisted on carrying the picnic basket to a battered jeep, but prudently suggested to Miriam that she drive. They bounced through the gate and turned southward on a shimmering black highway.
Clinging to his hat as the hot wind tried to sling it away, Theo pointed at a dirt road parallel to the highway. It was protected by a fence topped with concertina wire. “What is the purpose of a second road?”
“It’s a security road, maintained by the army. They smooth it down every few days so that they can determine if anyone has crossed it. We do have an occasional visitor from across the Dead Sea, and it’s usually not anyone with benevolent intent. The road is a simple but effective way of controlling the border.”
Theo peered at the pristine surface of the security road, wishing it made him feel more secure. “Did you hear of the bombing incident in Hebron? Four children were killed.”
“I’ve heard it was the Sons of Light group,” Miriam said, her hands white around the steering wheel. “This country’s been at war for four thousand years already; I wish everyone would take a
holiday. The Administered Territories are somewhat peaceful, but this sort of nonsense simply stirs everyone up for another round of violence. The radical right-wing faction thinks the retaliation is justified, of course, and demands pardons and amnesty whenever a Jew is arrested for blowing up a West Bank mayor or schoolroom. Then the Arabs are enraged when the sentence is so light. But children …”
“What is this Sons of Light?” Theo said.
“The name comes from a manuscript found in one of the caves near Qumran. The official title of the document, which is roughly two thousand years old and from the Essene sect, is The War of the Sons of Light against the Sons of Darkness. Ironically appropriate, isn’t it? It’s one of the Dead Sea Scrolls now in the Israel Museum in Jerusalem. You can see some of the caves from the highway, although there are many more within the mountains that have yet to be explored.”
Abruptly, she turned onto a road of dubious definition. Theo clamped one hand on the edge of his seat as he began to bounce about like a kernel of popcorn in hot oil. Further questions were impossible as the jeep roared in protest at the erose surface and tortuous incline. At last they reached a wide area on the side of the road.
“Here we are,” Miriam said brightly. “A wadi for your inspection, and a cave reputedly nearby. Would you like a drink of water before we start hiking?”
Theo nodded through a cottony mouth, having experienced dust in intimate detail during the last few minutes of the ride. After a mouthful of water, he said, “This Sons of Light group sounds dangerous, Miriam. A bomb at a community center is more than mildly fanatical. Have the police been unable to find any clues to the identities of the members?”
She took a drink, then capped the bottle and placed it on the seat of the jeep. “Not that I know of. They’ve been playing their vicious pranks for the last three months or so, and although these are the first fatalities, they’ve done an effective job of incensing the Arabs. Retaliation is difficult to stop; no one is ever sure who owes whom the next lesson. But let’s not get into a political discussion, Theo. Isn’t the view magnificent?”
The wadi was indeed magnificent, reminding him of an angry slash left by a negligent giant. It was not difficult to imagine it filled with roiling brown water that might sweep an unwary hiker to a painful death. But now it was dry, and had been so for a very long time. The rocks were warm hues of brown and beige, a muted patchwork quilt that needed only to be smoothed down by the same giant to provide a cozy resting place. Not to mention warm.
“It is impressive,” Theo said. For once, he wished he had a camera, although a flat image would never capture the harsh textures and glowing colors. Unlike the Dead Sea, it held a promise of life, adapted to the point of invisibility but present and watchful.
Miriam rewarded him with a slow grin. “I’m glad you’re impressed with our admittedly hostile environment. Tourists are often appalled at the harshness and heat, and fail to understand how we can bear to live here, much less freely choose to do so.”
Theo unobtrusively slipped his handkerchief back in his pocket. “The heat is noticeable,” he said stoically, “but tolerable. I am beginning to grow accustomed to it.” And to the freckles on her cheeks, and to the fine lines around her eyes, and—“Did you say there are caves in this area? I’m not prepared for any serious spelunking, but I would be interested in examining one.”
“They’re all over the mountains. Gideon told me of one not too far from here that he and Hershel discovered earlier in the summer. They went several hundred feet into it, but they had to stop because of the dust.”
“One would rather expect it to be dusty.”
“It’s the major deterrent to exploration,” Miriam said, beckoning him to follow her as she scrambled down the slope. “The caves are filled with bat guano, which has turned to powder over the centuries. Most of the discoveries have been accidental, or fortuitously near the entrance. The first Dead Sea Scroll was found almost forty years ago by a couple of shepherd boys, and many of the larger caves have been explored since then. The archaeologists are in agreement that there are dozens more with manuscripts or artifacts in them, but it takes money to excavate. The scrolls stay undisturbed for the most part. It’s sad to think of the potential in these caves.”
Theo was too breathless to ask further questions. Loose rocks skittered under their feet and dust drifted behind them as they alternately stumbled and slid down the mountainside. Miriam at last stopped and pointed over the edge of a jutting rock.
“I think the cave is just below us, but I’m not sure,” she said. “Why don’t you wait here while I find a way to get down without breaking both of our necks?”
Theo caught her elbow before she could disappear down a particularly perilous path. “I might as well join you in your impetuous folly,” he panted. “A gentleman never allows a lady to break her neck by herself.”
“Such gallantry,” she murmured with a charming, if facetious, flutter of her eyelashes. “It’s been quite a long time since I’ve had a male escort, except for Gideon. And he hasn’t shown any chivalry since he was twelve years old.”
Theo did not mention Yussef’s vague insinuations. His purported gallantry precluded it. He settled for a nod and followed her as she eased down a crumbling path of loose rocks to a narrow ledge.
“Ah, I was right,” she called, leaning out to peer around a corner. “It’s tight here, but we can make it—I think.” She promptly disappeared from sight.
“I certainly hope so,” Theo said to the ledge and hundred-foot slope dotted with jagged rocks and dried weeds. He closed his eyes for a second, then took a breath, dug his fingers into the rock, and stepped around the corner. When nothing dreadful happened, he looked up in triumph.
Miriam was waiting in front of a hole about the size of the jeep. Her face was pink from the exertion, and alive with excitement. She might have been thirty years younger, pausing from labor to study the new fields of the kibbutz. It was difficult to stop several feet away with a questioning smile, but of course he did.
“Then this is it? Congratulations,” he said. “Or perhaps ‘Eureka!’ might be more appropriate? Do you think we’ll discover some vital scroll that answers the last remaining questions about Biblical times?”
“If we do, we can’t tell anyone. The government is very strict about protecting the archaeological sites until they’ve been examined by authorized people. It’s against the law to possess a metal detector, and a more serious crime than possession of a mere machine gun or a box of grenades. Israel is rife with amateur archaeologists, but they have to be careful and report any finds that might be significant. Then the university people swoop out, put up barbed wire fences, and spend twenty years digging with spoons.”
“If I discover the definitive scroll, I promise not to touch it,” Theo said, enchanted by the sparkles of sunlight that seemed to explode in her hair as she moved.
“We’re more likely to discover several feet of powdered bat guano. I don’t know how Gideon found this particular cave; it’s not visible from above, and the wadi below is inaccessible.” She stopped, her head tilted as she frowned. “There’s something on a rock down there, but I can’t see what it is.”
Theo leaned over as far as he felt was prudent. “I also see it.” After a moment of silence, he added, “It appears to be a body.”
“How could it be? This cave is in the middle of the desert, for God’s sake!” she protested. “No one comes here. You must be mistaken, Theo; it’s more likely an old newspaper.”
He shook his head. “I’m afraid there’s a body in the wadi, Miriam. From the looks of it, a very dead body.”
“That’s a poor joke.”
“If it were a joke, it would indeed be poor,” he said, moving nearer to steady her should she threaten to topple. One body in the wadi was more than enough. “You take the jeep back to the kibbutz and call the authorities. I’ll wait here.”
“By yourself? I wouldn’t want something to happen to you.”
“Nor would I. I shall take every precaution in your absence,” he said firmly.
Miriam blinked in surprise. “Yes, I suppose that’s what we ought to do if it truly is a … body. Sometimes rock climbers do come here to try the walls of the wadis, and aren’t found for weeks. Most probably, this will turn out to be some college student at the end of a frayed rope.” She made a small noise in her throat, as if trying to laugh. It was more of a sob. “It should take almost an hour to drive back to the kibbutz and return. Are you sure you’re willing to stay here alone?”
He assured her that he would, and waited until she reluctantly vanished up the mountainside. Then, after he heard the jeep grumble to life and subsequently fade from hearing, he began a descent toward the rag doll sprawled on the rocks below. He did it without dislodging more than a few rocks, and his pace might have rivaled that of a mountain goat in a marathon.
Had Miriam been there to see him, she would have been more than a little bewildered by the transformation. As it was, Theo was watched only by a hawk high in the cloudless sky. The body in the wadi was past watching anything.
9
“She’s been dead for more than twenty-four hours,” the police lieutenant announced icily. “Rigor mortis has passed, and animals have already disturbed the body. I should estimate as much as thirty-six hours. It is interesting that no one at Kibbutz Mishkan was aware of her disappearance for so long.”
Miriam was slumped on a rock, her face ashen. She touched her hair with a trembling hand, then jerked it away and forced it to her lap. In a controlled voice, she said, “Essie has disappeared before, Lieutenant Gili, and we’ve been looking for her this time for two days. She’s always been—well, a bit odd. Our kibbutz doctor and a Tel Aviv psychiatrist both examined her, and periodically suggested medication or temporary restraints, but in general we allowed her to drift about freely. She was not a criminal or a political prisoner, for God’s sake. She once told me that she went to the desert to listen for instructions.”
