The operation Eran had prepared now went into action, with the assumption that the store’s alarm would still work even during a general system failure. For this reason, everything had to be prepared for fast loading, and an even quicker getaway, under the cover of darkness to the middle of the sea. Eran therefore ordered me to get ready to take a quick rest until darkness fell.
I, on the other hand, wanted to take a preliminary tour around the store to find the weakest point through which I could get inside.
I set off toward the store, passing through its backyard that served as a storage area for empty boxes and garbage. At the back of the store, I discovered an open door that led to a small, dirty, foul-smelling toilet. It had a window overlooking the yard and an opening into the store. Although it was covered with a board, it was still an opening.
I began checking out the board, and I guessed it was covering an air-conditioning vent. It was connected to the wall with a few nails.
Raising my head, I searched for security cameras or an alarm installation, but I did not see anything like that. I went back into the yard to search for some kind of tool I could use to remove the nails. It was as if someone from above had heard my thoughts. Some rusty pliers were lying behind the green trashcan. I picked them up and returned to the stinky toilet.
The rusty nails came away easily. The board fell down toward me, without setting off any alarm. The store was now in front of me in all its glory and I found out the opening was wide enough both for me and for considerable volume to pass through it.
The daylight that burst through the shop window illuminated the entire store. I pushed half of my body inside, and I studied the walls carefully. The only cameras I could see were facing the checkouts and the store window. When I looked back again, I saw an open box of batteries underneath me, from which a small battery was connected to electrical wires that led to an alarm bell on the wall on the left.
I decided to neutralize the battery, using a method for neutralizing explosives based on electrical activation. I went back into the yard and found a short electrical cord. I unraveled it into thin wires that I connected to the battery’s magnetic poles to neutralize it.
Other than that, since there was no electricity and the telephones were not working, I was sure it would not be dangerous to go into the store.
I went back to Eran, who was busy tying various knots I would never manage to understand or learn. I told him what I had done in the store, and I suggested breaking in during the daylight so we could find the things we needed more easily.
There was no one around, but Eran insisted I stay outside as a lookout. He went through the opening I had made, and a few minutes later, which felt like an eternity to me, he returned, dragging four bags filled with preserved and concentrated food products.
We went back to the dinghy and packed all of these items into bags that had been fastened to the little craft. Suddenly, Eran remembered that, in the store, he had seen a machine for desalinating seawater based on radiation energy that was more sophisticated and smaller than the one he had brought with him from Israel. He decided to go back to the store, and he returned half an hour later with the desalination machine, packed in a box, and a small fishing rod for me.
“What took you so long?” I asked.
“I put the board back in place,” he answered, with typical exactness.
Eran attached the desalination machine to one of the panels, according to the manufacturer’s instructions, and he put the older device into the box, closed it inside a plastic bag, and put it into the small dinghy that was already almost overflowing.
Eran then packed and bound all of the equipment very well, so even if the dinghy overturned, everything would stay in place and would not fall into the sea.
After another half hour of final checks and several explanations, we set sail.
Sailing inside the port was wonderful. The water was calm, and I thought in all innocence that the entire voyage would be like this. But as soon as we left the port and passed the old lighthouse, the wind and waves began to batter the sailboat as if it had entered forbidden territory,
Fifteen minutes had barely gone by when I started throwing up violently into the sea. I lay down like a stinking sack of potatoes, and I felt guilty for not being able to help Eran. From where I lay, he seemed to be as heroic as Samson, taking control of the ropes, masts, and large sails, as if they were feathers, working ceaselessly and without rest, while I was lying there, totally useless.
All I wanted to do was return my soul to its Creator.
This nightmare went on for three days. That’s what Eran told me. To me, it seemed like forever.
The sea calmed down a little. Eran, exhausted, lay down next to me after he had tied the sails, as the wind had stabilized. We fell asleep, and when we woke up, it was already twilight. Darkness began to descend, and suddenly we saw the lighthouse of the Straits of Gibraltar. Eran jumped for joy, proud of himself for having steered the sailboat so exactly
Eran’s happiness spread to me, and I got up for the first time. I began walking shakily around the deck, and I quickly slipped into the cool water. Fortunately for me, the experienced Eran had put on me a life jacket that he had attached to the sailboat with a rope. All he had to do was simply pull on the rope and draw me out of the water.
The immersion had its effect. It woke me up completely and also cleaned off the smell of vomit that had become attached to me, so when I got back on deck, I felt as if I had just been washed.
Sailing through the Straits of Gibraltar in the darkness was very exciting. The waters were as calm as they looked, reflecting the face of the moon, and the wind dropped. We felt as if the Mediterranean Sea was moving us along with a blessing, in a pastoral manner. This took me out of my state of helplessness and despair into a mood of optimism. I smiled for the first time in three days.
Eran took advantage of my alertness to give me a short lesson on seamanship, so I could take over from him. He had not slept properly for three days. I did my best to take in as much information as I could. I really wanted to help him.
Fortunately, the wind was stable, and I followed all of Eran’s instructions. As for Eran himself, he sank into a deep sleep.
When I had gotten somewhat used to the immense responsibility, I started thinking about and missing my children and family. I recalled my last conversation with my wife, some days earlier, in which she told me with great emotion about the huge explosion at the offices of the Yedioth Ahronoth newspaper in Tel Aviv during a ceremony at which my friend Kalman was awarded a prize.
Kalman and I were classmates in elementary school. We reconnected twenty-five years later when I moved to the small town of Chavatzelet with my family, close to Kalman’s mother’s house. Since then, we had held several gatherings in our homes with all of our mutual friends. Kalman had told me about the award he was to receive. Of course, he gave me an invitation and told me he was going to surprise everyone at the ceremony by announcing the publication of an article that would appear in the newspapers the following morning and would have powerful international ramifications.
I did not ask him what it was about, but I told him I was going to Paris to observe the arrival of Eran’s sailboat in France.
Kalman had said that was wonderful, as you never knew when you would get a scoop. He gave the example of an interview with an engineer in the Jerusalem hills that was a regular, random interview, but gave him a huge scoop that would shock the world. Of course, I never questioned him or asked him for further details.
In our telephone conversation, my wife told me more than two hundred people were killed in the mysterious explosion at the offices of the Yedioth Ahronoth newspaper. Most of them were guests at the awards ceremony, meaning most of our mutual friends.
Horrified, my wife also told me about the morning’s news. There had been two murders, one in Haifa and the other in
Tel Aviv, and both of the victims had also been our mutual friends. Half joking and half serious, she said I was lucky to be in Paris, otherwise I might have also been killed.
Perhaps it was the starry night or the purity of the air around me that brought me to the intuitive conclusion that the murders and the explosion were intended to eliminate anyone who knew or who could have known the details of the scoop Kalman had been about to bring to the world’s attention.
My wife said the entire office building turned into ashes, and not even a single piece of paper that could give any kind of clue to investigators remained. It was such a sophisticated explosion that it was hard to believe a terrorist organization was responsible.
My thoughts became as clear as the night. I knew when I got back to Israel, I would investigate the whole story immediately, in memory of my friend Kalman.
Eran only opened his eyes with the first morning light, and he dove into the water straight away for a short dip. When he got back on deck, he checked all of the equipment and announced the boat was right on course.
“Welcome to the world of sailing!” he said, patting me on the back.
It was as if the Mediterranean Sea knew where we were heading. Fortunately, the wind was blowing in an ideal direction. Eran told me that on his way into Europe, the wind was blowing in the opposite direction, and it made the voyage very difficult for him. The sea was as smooth as silk, and we had had a comparatively calm week, following Eran’s schedule and doing sporting activities, such as swimming several times a day alongside the sailboat, wearing a safety jacket attached to a rope.
Eran also taught me how to catch fish and fry them using solar energy, to use drops of lemon juice to prevent tetanus, to boil water for coffee, and take four measured bites from special energy-filled cookies. Apart from these, according to Eran, there was no need for any other food.
I also learned how to vaporize water, to add salt and minerals to it, and to convert it into drinking water. I even learned to tie a few of the complicated seaman’s knots.
Eran and I had many conversations during those calm days. During one of those conversations, he told me about his father’s friend, who was known as The Engineer.
The Engineer lived in the community of Shoresh in the Judean Hills, and he held some very unique views. Eran said that as a young man, he did not take much of an interest in these opinions, but he remembered him as a very unique person who could make changes to the world order.
We also spoke about our feelings as we fled from Europe to the land of our forefathers, as if we were leaving Egypt or like all of those Jews who were exiled somewhere and strove to return to the land of Israel.
We spoke about Zionism and our love of the land despite everything that had happened there and its deterioration into corruption at every level and stage, uncontrolled crime, and the concentration of its wealth in the hands of the few that run the government.
After ten days of sailing, the wind became more powerful, and the waves grew higher and very threatening. I felt nauseated all the time and Eran went into high gear. While he tied, untied, lifted, and navigated, he muttered that there was one good thing about this strong wind—it was in the right direction, which would shorten the length of the voyage.
I started to panic again. Everything seemed frightening to me. The dinghy overturned several times, but Eran, with the help of his smart system of ropes, turned it back again. To me, we were like a nutshell buffeting along the surface of the powerful waters.
The time seemed to drag on forever. Again, I threw my guts up, and I wanted to die. Fortunately, feeling nauseated only went on for one more day. When we passed Crete, the sea grew calm again, and I gradually regained my strength, began functioning again fully, and helped Eran.
We had another three days of sailing. From my point of view, it was like the light at the end of a tunnel. I roared in delight, but they were the longest three days of my life.
My tasks seemed longer and more difficult than usual, and I was impatient to reach Israeli territory. Finally, after three tough days, we saw the shores of Israel on the eastern horizon. It looked misty in the rays of the morning light.
Toward the afternoon, we reached at the shore of Netanya, opposite the community where I lived. We dragged the sailboat onto the sand, tied it up, hidden among the tangled bushes, and ran toward my house. My wife was so surprised when we arrived! Even though she did not recognize me when she first saw me, when I opened my mouth she was so moved she could not stop crying, and our three children soon joined in. My eyes, of course, were not devoid of tears either.
After everyone had calmed down, I got hold of a bicycle for Eran, so he could travel to his family. We parted with a long hug and with much gratitude to him for bringing me back, and the knowledge that everything was thanks to him.
After he left, I sat down with my loving family and slowly told them what had happened since our last conversation. I concluded it was true that it was an impressive nautical experience, but my fear of the sea had not abated. In fact, it had gotten worse, and the only thing that had changed was I had more respect for the sea.
My wife and children told me about the dreadful chaos that had prevailed in Israel during the first days after the systems crashed, the slow recovery, and how certain systems were gradually starting to work in a strange way under the control of an unclear authority. Whatever it was, it was clear a certain order was developing.
My wife was very excited by the fact that I had lost around thirty kilos in weight and even claimed she thought it looked very good. I looked in the mirror. I had not seen my own reflection for two weeks, and I discovered a new me—thin, wrinkled, and suntanned to almost black. A new man, indeed.
In the evening, I went into our bedroom and fell onto the bed, sinking into a deep sleep. My wife woke me thirty-six hours later, just to make sure I was still alive. I got up, bathed, and finally had a proper meal that was not a biscuit andor a fish. I really enjoyed this unusual breakfast! My wife sat opposite me, feeling happy, and she joined in with my pleasure. When I had eaten enough, I went into the lounge and settled comfortably into an armchair, opposite the nonfunctioning television set.
My wife gave me a very exact overview of the situation and what had happened to her and the children over the past few weeks. As I already knew, my wife had managed exceptionally well throughout the crisis.
“I have someone to rely on!” I told her, and I held her close. You can only be a journalist if you have a wife like her.
Toward noon, we heard loud knocks at the door. Eran had arrived with his son and two bicycles. Meticulous Eran had felt obliged to return my bicycle immediately. I was very pleased to see him.
My wife welcomed them warmly, offering loads of refreshments. Only the boy took something, out of politeness. Eran kept to a very strict diet.
Eran told me he was leaving my bicycle here, as it belonged to me, and he would ride home with his son on his own bicycle.
I suggested that we transferred the sailboat here, to my yard, so it would be looked after. Eran was very excited by this idea. We called my children and started walking several hundred meters toward the undergrowth by the beach. We managed, without any major problems, to find the folded up sailboat. We assigned specific tasks, and we managed to transfer it to my yard in four relays.
Just before we finally parted from Eran and his son, I asked Eran if I could go out and find The Engineer from the Judean Hill myself. Eran nodded enthusiastically, and he sketched a detailed exact map, in his usual style, from Sha’ar HaGai, through Shuaiba, toward Shoresh, and continuing to The Engineer’s house. I thanked Eran again for everything, and I escorted him and his son, riding on my bicycle, almost as far as their home in Netanya.
I stayed at home for almost a whole week, absorbing the stability and warmth of my family, until I felt a strong urge to go out and investigate the tragic death of my friend Ka
lman and those of our mutual friends in the same disaster.
I prepared my bicycle and parted from my wife, who was upset by my early departure and being left alone to deal with the daily challenges. I went because I could not have done anything else.
2.
I reached Sha’ar HaGai after a few hours of riding. I will never forget the actual ascent to Sha’ar HaGai itself. It was an ongoing nightmare. I accelerated more and more quickly, pleased by my fitness, which had improved during my weeks on the boat. I sweated, panted, and grunted with the strain, and after a few hours, I found myself passing the town of Shuaiba and approaching the moshav of Shoresh.
At the entrance to the moshav, I stopped for a rest at a breathtaking observation point that overlooked the crevices of the Jerusalem Hills and the plains of Judea that lay flat behind them.
When I was breathing regularly again, I rode into the moshav. Following the map Eran had sketched for me, I found the house of The Engineer very easily.
The long path from the gate to his house was crowded with an untidy avenue of trees that was rather impressive in its disorder. A St. Bernard dog accompanied me along the path, rejoicing at my arrival. I knocked on the door, which was opened quickly. In response to The Engineer’s questioning glance, I introduced myself as a friend of Eran, the son of his friend.
When he heard the familiar names, his face lit up. He led me into the living room, where a huge glass wall allowed the amazing view into the house.
The Engineer briefly explained the complex architectural design of the house while I stood there, astounded, looking at the view. Even though we were very close to an urban area, the view looked very different, almost like another country.
“Amazing,” I muttered.
The Engineer smiled with satisfaction. For some reason, I felt a certain vague excitement. I had prepared the conversation inside my head. It was obvious to me I had to begin with architecture—The Engineer’s favorite subject—and to move forward from there to wherever the conversation led.
A Universal Storm: A Gripping Thriller Page 2
