by Rose Fox
The soldier who had fired still stood with his rifle pressed up against his shoulder as a thin trail of smoke was still coming out of its muzzle. When he shifted his gaze from the barrel of his rifle, he saw the three of them lying motionless on top of the missiles. The other soldier nimbly jumped up on the flatbed.
He turned the soldier over with his foot. He lay lifeless, his arms still loosely twisted beneath his back. The living soldier touched his comrade’s neck, waited a few seconds and then shook his head. The soldier said something in Persian and moved on to Abigail. When he pulled her blood smeared hair, she groaned and moved. Adam rose on his elbow. The rifle shots had missed him completely.
They pulled the dead soldier off the flatbed and then one of them climbed on top of the missiles, holding a flat plank of wood. He calmly raised it in the air and brought it down hard on Abigail and then on Adam. He raised it once more and hit them both, one after the other. Then, he stopped and stood up over them and looked at them as he puffed and panted. Adam’s forehead was bleeding and Abigail lay lifeless, her hair and face smeared red with her blood.
Without checking whether they were dead or alive, the soldier threw down the plank of wood and caught the ropes that were thrown to him from outside. First he tied the rope to one of the planks on the side along the length of the flat bed, pulled it taut and wrapped it twice round Abigail, and then wrapped it twice round Adam and tied him to the planks along the other side of the flat bed. On his way out, he trod intentionally with all his might on Abigail’s head and then stepped on Adam’s chest and jumped off the flat bed on to the ground.
Chapter Twenty Six
In the days that followed, open deliberations were held in the matter of the hostages. Every TV channel and newspaper interviewed individuals and commentators. One discussion grabbed headlines and was published on the Internet and transmitted by satellite around the globe.
Sally Ayalon was invited to take part in the popular program, 'Meet the Press', a talk show that was broadcast live. The hosts of the program, the Director, Oded Schwartz and the Producer, Miron, assumed that Sally, the judge’s wife, had a higher than average intellect. They did not take into account the likelihood and the risk that a person in distress, living under pressure, is likely to release such negative demons.
The Director met Sally prior to the broadcast and was aware of her surly mood and it suited his purposes. He loved to host angry or embittered people on his program, because he understood that made it possible to get a hot and stormy discussion going, one that would be headlined and talked about. He decided that Sally was perfect for his program.
Possibly, had he foreseen what would happen, he might have pre-recorded the program and been able to edit out parts he didn’t like, before broadcast.
The discussion began calmly with the customary introduction of the participants. The moderator of the program, Ronnie Ronen, turned to the Minister of Defense with a teasing statement.
“Sir, it would appear that you have lost control over the Security Wing. I refer to the Secret Service, to the Israeli ‘Mossad’.”
The Minister’s reaction was disappointing and, in spite of the challenge, answered with a smile.
“Let’s examine the situation. Firstly, this isn’t a matter of who controls and who is being controlled. It’s important to point out that puppets on strings only appear in children’s theater.”
The Director whispered through the moderator’s earphone suggesting that he move the attention to Sally, the hostage’s wife. From her demeanor and posture, he figured that she would add some fire to the discussion and Ronnie threw out a hook to the woman.
“Madam, I would bet that isn’t what you think. Am I right?”
This was just the moment Sally had been waiting for and she yelled, “I am surprised, Sir, that you are still serving as Minister of Defense. My husband, Adam, who is being held as a hostage and who, by the way, is not one of your admirers, found it surprising that you were still a member of the government. Even in the corridors of justice, where he worked, you are not held in much esteem. That’s a fact and this is the result.”
He stared at her and his eyes narrowed as she added venomously, “certain sources have informed me that your arrogant behavior displayed our weaknesses and led to the capture and imprisonment of our undercover agents.”
Ronnie noticed the spasm that gripped the Minister’s cheek and saw his eyes narrowing. He put out his arm in an attempt to restore calm, but it was too late.
Uri, who could not ignore her remarks, answered her immediately. “Madam, if your husband, Judge Adam, relied on you, he would have remained in the same home with you. Just between us, it is possible he would have made it to the Supreme Court and not remained in the Regional Court.”
Sally was as at a loss for words. This was very personal and insulting and she could not restrain herself. She rose and slapped the Minister of Defense with great force.
Truth to tell, the past days had caused her to lose her patience. Her restraint threshold was zero; nevertheless, it was important to her to conceal the fact that Adam had left their home. Their separation was hellishly difficult for her, especially now, when everyone worshipped the very mention of Adam’s name.
If Sally had known that the Minister of Defense had asked for an investigation of her before the discussion, she may possibly have guarded her tongue, respected his standing and not lashed out at him.
Now, Uri held his cheek, which had been slapped and spoke slowly and clearly.
“Sally, I very much regret making you so angry. It’s not pleasant to be slapped by you but I deserved it. I should have been sensitive to your situation and I should not have revealed that he had left your home and moved to the Florentine neighborhood in Tel Aviv.”
Sally squirmed in her seat and spat out a remark that was picked up clearly by the microphone.
“You’re a bastard and I’ll make you pay dearly for this.”
Uri continued speaking. “It should also not be told that he has a little two-year old daughter, born to the attorney, who is being held hostage together with him. You are right; I should have kept quiet and been more considerate of you.”
Sally choked with rage.
The revelation was dramatic. The participants in the discussion stared open-mouthed at Sally. The tragedy of the capture of the hostages seemed like a fairy tale that paled beside the soap opera that was unfolding here before their eyes.
Reporters at home and abroad made the most of the story and dealt endlessly with the toddler parented by both the hostages; a little girl scampering about the tents in the Negev desert in Israel and being raised by her grandmother in the Ka’abiah tribe’s encampment.
This romance kept the written and broadcast press very busy in what turned out to be a veritable festival at the expense of the hostages and their distraught families.
* * *
The news anchor on Channel 10 reported on the new highway against the background of cars racing along it.
“The new section of Highway 6 was inaugurated. It is an addition to the existing toll road. Till recently, the roadway ended at the Eron Junction but now it will be possible to continue on the toll road till Yokneam.”
The backdrop changed from vehicles riding along the perfectly landscaped highway to photographs of two people, the President of the United States of America and the Prime Minister of Israel. They made statements to the press, shook hands and their meeting was called “really successful”.
Adel mocked the report, shouting, “yes, very successful! Bullshit!” He looked at his mother, noted her apathy and shouted again. “It’s all just a pile of bullshit! They only know how to babble.” Leila did not react and Adel continued, “they claim the meeting was successful. They’re all stupid and it’s all bullshit!!”
Little Arlene said, “bulsit” and when he turned to look at her, she laughed childishly and ran to hide in the folds of her grandmother’s skirts, as she peeped out at him with her blue
eyes. Adel smiled, in spite of his irritation, and looked at the little girl with a loving and forgiving smile.
He stretched out his arms to her and called her. “Come to your uncle.”
“No,” she shrugged and peeked out at him from behind the dress where she had found refuge.
“It’ll soon be Hanukkah,” Adel declared. “They’ve been there for six months. Do you get that?! Half a year!!” He yelled and beat his fist on the large cushion making a muffled thud.
Leila leaned against the cushion. Her granddaughter skipped around her and she followed the little girl with her eyes. It reminded her to ask:
“What has happened to Sharif? How can we find out what he’s doing there?”
Adel breathed out loudly and shook his head.
“What could he possibly do? Really, think logically.”
He carried on talking, more to himself than in answer to his mother.
“He’s there on his own. Perhaps I should have joined him. You know the saying that two heads are better than one.”
She shook her head and added. “It is also said that the rope went after the bucket when it fell,” and a moment later she raised her voice a little and appeared to be angered by his remarks.
“Adel, I’ve lost one and I don’t plan to lose another.”
“Okay. For the time being, I’m not going anywhere. Calm down, I was just talking.”
Yosef entered the tent. He had a cell phone at his ear and handed it to Leila. “They’re asking you for an interview and to participate in a discussion.”
Adel jumped up immediately. “Not a chance, forget about it! Didn’t you see what happened with Ayalon’s wife? You’re not going, Mother! You’re not going to make a fool of yourself!”
Leila answered Yosef quietly. “You will answer them better than me and, of course, I will remain here!” She pointed determinedly towards the sand beneath her, but Yosef, who was still listening on the telephone said to her:
“They say they are prepared to come to you, here.”
“Who says that?” Adel shouted and jumped to his feet.
Yosef continued listening for a few more seconds and spoke into the instrument.
“Wait; let me explain what you’re saying to them.” He distanced the phone from his ear and said to Leila,
“They say they’re planning a program in which they’re going to bring on that fellow, the leader of that gang, himself, to address the families of the hostages. In short, he will speak directly to you.”
“Oh, now that’s great, a real honor. Do you want them to dig a little deeper into our souls? Isn’t what’s happening around us enough for them?" Adel screamed. “You’re all idiots, a despicable gang of bastards!”
He shouted across at the telephone in Yosef’s hand.
Yosef answered briefly and hung up. He turned to Adel,
“Why are you so aggressive? Do you think violence will help get things done better? You won’t solve anything that way!”
“You’re right, carry on being sensitive and well mannered. Why not?! Listen to everyone and try to understand them better,” Adel provoked. “I want to tell you, that way you will only get to see Naima in your dreams!” Adel was red in the face and had completely lost his temper; He roared and didn’t notice Leila’s black eyes staring at him angrily.
“What we should do is smash Hamdallah’s head, break off his arms, one at a time, capture his sister and hang his son up by his legs!”
“Okay, enough, enough, we all understand the point you’re making!” Yosef raised his arm in dismissal but then, Leila burst out.
“Stop, that’s enough!!” She covered her ears with the palms of her hands and turned her head from side to side. “How much more?! Is it going to go on like this every day?! I can’t take it anymore!!” She cried and slapped her face, pulled at her dress and beat her breast and face.
The two men hurried out of the tent, ran to the men’s tent and Yosef grabbed at Adel and hugged him hard.
It was difficult to look at Leila in moments like these.
* * *
On Friday Arlene would be turning three and Leila decided to arrange a birthday party. She believed it was worth looking for a reason to celebrate, to unite the tribe and encourage them to continue living their lives, in spite of the hell she was going through.
Leila woke in the middle of the night after a dream and her face was wet. Naima, her daughter, came to her in her dream and told her that since she had been taken away from her home and her tribe when she was but a little girl, it did not really matter and it was quite alright now. She whispered that if she had been abandoned in the past then it could happen again, in the present. Leila woke up in horror.
Oh, how she wept after that dream but didn’t dare share it with anyone.
Arlene was overjoyed to see her cousins arriving, bearing gifts for her. She had come to terms with the fact that her mother didn’t come and visit anymore and had disappeared from her life.
This little girl had learned her lesson and was careful not to ask about her mother or express interest in her. She realized that the issue was related to suffering for the people around her. Arlene had not forgotten how her grandmother, Leila, had wept and hugged her so tightly that her arms hurt when she once inquired about her mother.
Now, Arlene stood still for a few seconds and watched enviously as Muna’s mother embraced her daughter and kissed her head. Her little heart quickened its beat and she sat in a corner of the tent.
The party was attended by all the children of the tribe. There were Naim’s seven grandchildren, Uncle Adel’s two children and nine cousins from her mother’s sisters. They all played and scampered around their grandmother, Leila.
The day before, a reporter on Arab affairs on Channel 10, Hezi Ben-Artzi called to ask if they would allow them to attend the birthday party for only ten minutes to take photographs. Leila was fond of Hezi and watched him every evening between seven and eight, when he appeared on the show of the two popular broadcasters, Yaron and Modi. The truth was that Hezi had followed the lives of the families of the hostages and covered them very well. He tried to make them feel comfortable and Leila did not sense her privacy was being intruded on. Thus, when he approached her the day before, she found herself in a dilemma.
Leila had zealously refused to be photographed and share her grief with the public. On one hand, she knew she would not be able to conceal it, nor was it really possible because she realized that her Naima, her daughter, had now become valuable public property and a symbol of the state. Leila understood that her seizure and imprisonment by the greatest enemy of the country eclipsed her own personal tragedy.
Then, she saw a cloud of dust in the distance, informing that a car was on its way to them. Yosef pointed to the car in the distance and noticed that Leila was looking at it tensely.
“Are we expecting anyone else?” Yosef inquired without looking away from the dust cloud advancing towards them.
“No, not as far as I know,” she replied and Adel joined them, looking at the car that had slowed down and drew up in front of them.
"Who is still supposed to arrive?” he asked. He also knew that his mother had refused to allow the party to be photographed. Leila and Yosef shrugged.
Hamdi, the dog, began barking in the direction of the approaching car and became very agitated. Little Arlene ran to the dog to soothe him and at that precise moment, the camera appeared, as it protruded from the back window of the car. A second later the camera flashed and photographed little Arlene trying to calm the barking dog.
Leila was boiling with rage at the sight of the camera flashing.
She rose from her chair and approached the car slowly. An argument as heard between her and the people in the car and then Leila put her hand into the car and pulled the strap that was tied to the body of the photographer. She lifted up the camera and threw it on the sand. Without a word, she turned round and went back and sat down again in her chair, her face white with rage.
Everyone stopped talking. They all stared at the spectacle that had lasted barely a minute.
The young man, who had been taking photographs got out of the car and stared sadly at the remains of his broken camera on the sand. He bent down and tried to collect its scattered parts, trying to reassemble them, like a kid trying to put together a Lego toy that has fallen apart. Finally, he collected up all the pieces, got back in the car and closed the door. Through the windscreen, he could be seen talking to the driver, who turned towards him.
Everyone looked at the car with its engine still idling. The driver opened the door, got out and strode slowly towards Leila. He took his time and was apparently thinking of a suitable reaction. Yosef and Adel stepped forward and stood close to her, wanting to show they were protecting her.
The young man was Hamudi, an Arab from Shechem, one of Sharif’s older brothers and he had come to the birthday party by chance.
Hamudi knew of the connection between Sharif and the captive Judge and now came to ask if they had any knowledge of what had become of his brother, Sharif, and where he had disappeared to. Hamudi assumed that here, in this tribe, he would find the answer.
He stood facing Leila and glanced around.
“Who are you Ma’am?” Hamudi asked in Arabic. Leila was surprised.
“Who are you, Sir?” she responded gently.
“I’m Hamudi from Shechem.”
“And I am Leila of the Ka’abiah tribe.”
“I am Sharif’s eldest brother. Do you know him?”
Leila stared at him with her black eyes, and her heart bled. She could not find the courage to face him and she was dumbstruck. She knew very well where his brother had gone and what he was trying to do at that very moment. Yosef, too, was stirred by this revelation.
Adel recovered first, approached the man and hugged him but Hamudi remained tough and did not respond. He was well aware that his reaction now was a deep insult to Leila and the people and that was his intention.
