by Uzi Eilam
12.
The sun was already high in the blue sky when Gideon sat behind the steering wheel of his car. He hadn’t slept enough and was still tired. Nurit’s kisses, the touch of her hands, and the smell of her body were still with him. During the drive to the conference, he recovered and noted that he’d already missed a significant part of the morning session. He didn’t regret it. The night with Nurit was worth any sacrifice.
Hundreds of young people, probably students from universities in San Francisco and the Bay Area, were demonstrating in front of the congress building, waving large banners against the arms race, missile development, and the “unholy” connection between the government and the defense industries. It wasn’t new to Gideon, and he tried to pass through the furious throng. They’ll think otherwise, he knew for certain, when they feel the threat of terrorism and the axis of evil for themselves. They’ll talk differently when they’re older, he concluded as he made it to the gates of the building.
The hall was crammed again. An American brigadier general who was a senior member of the BMDO spoke about space defense and focused attention on an almost imaginary project called Brilliant Pebbles. Gideon didn’t try to follow the description of the system that would be operating in outer space. His mind kept drifting to the night he’d spent with Nurit.
The loud applause snapped Gideon from his dreams, and he got up to go out with everyone to the lobby. Holding a cup of steaming coffee and his usual Danish, he fought his way through the crowd around the refreshment table and looked for a table.
“Gideon! Hey!” he heard someone call him and noticed Moti, an old friend he hadn’t seen for some time. “Come join us—if it’s not too hard to mingle with the masses, that is,” he added with a smile. He knew Moti from his student days at the Technion. He’d done well, first working in military R&D and then for Israel Aerospace Industries.
“Moti! How are you doing?” Gideon said as he sat down carefully with his coffee and Danish. “It’s great to see you here. How was the conference yesterday? I didn’t see you.”
“Yes, I’ve been here since the beginning,” Moti replied, “and I heard your brilliant lecture. Chapeau for originality. Well done!” He still hadn’t lost his tendency to throw in French words, a tendency he’d acquired when spending a sabbatical year at a strategic studies institute in Paris. “This is Arieh, from the Ministry of Defense, and next to him—Bentzi from Rafael. This here is Yoel, an air force fighter pilot.”
Gideon shook each man’s hand in turn and thought how nice it was to be with a Hebrew-speaking crowd with whom he could discuss subjects so close to his heart.
“That last speaker this morning,” Yoel said, “reached seventh heaven with such ease. That’s not a field we can even dream of finding the funds for in Israel.”
“You’re right,” Moti said. “We have enough trouble with the threats in our region. And we saw what happened when Saddam Hussein launched a few dozen Al-Hussein missiles at us and at Saudi.”
“Yes, in the Gulf War in ninety-one. Think about what happened not only to us but to the Americans too during that war,” Arieh added. “The writing had already been on the wall for a decade.”
“What do you mean?” Bentzi asked. “What writing? On what wall?”
“Have you forgotten the War of the Cities during the final and decisive stage in the war between Iraq and Iran? The war that Saddam Hussein started after Khomeini came into power and replaced the Shah, who fled with his tail between his knees?” Arieh answered.
“What do you mean?” They all asked in unison.
“That the missile duel between Baghdad and Tehran, which began only after the Iraqis developed the Al-Hussein missile that could also reach Tehran, brought the Iranians to end the war. The Ayatollah Khomeini vowed never to stop the war against the heretic Saddam Hussein. And what do you know? He broke down and agreed to talk about a truce. Saddam was convinced that the Iranians surrendered because missiles, even with conventional warheads, had become a crucial element in the battlefield of the future. Most decision makers in Israel and in the United States needed the Gulf War in ninety-one to understand this,” Arieh concluded, looking smugly at his audience.
Gideon weighed whether to join the conversation and raise the issue of multifocal threats. The Israeli crowd and atmosphere were tempting, but an inner voice warned him, in Deutsch’s baritone, Careful! Don’t get into a situation that you may not be able to get out of. He decided to add his bit to the discussion but to be careful.
“I’d ask another question,” he said. “One that concerns not only the firing of a lot of rockets. What do you do when the rockets are launched from various locations, dozens at a time?”
“That’s a matter that truly concerns us,” Moti said. “But if I’m guessing right, according to what we heard in your lecture yesterday, you should know the answer to that better than any of us.”
“I may be more aware than others of the threat,” Gideon responded quickly, “but please, don’t get carried away. I, too, don’t have a definite solution. We all heard Professor Teller praising Israel and urging the Americans, and basically, we all have to work harder in order to find a solution for the future threat. I’ve touched only the tip of this iceberg. Or, more accurately, the stream of boiling lava…”
“We know a little more,” Arieh volunteered, “thanks to the outstanding relationship we have with the US Department of Defense’s BMDO. We meet with them often, sometimes in Israel and, once, here in the United States. We exchange assessments of the threats developing and ways to deal with them. The threat of missile salvos has not escaped our attention. We have an idea of the effort required in researching and developing the parts that are needed for a complete defense system in the future.”
Was that what Gerald was hinting at when he mentioned the institute’s relationship with the Pentagon? Gideon wondered. He knew there was a limit to what he could reveal in such a busy public place, so he controlled the urge to push Arieh for more details. He was so curious, though, that he decided to take advantage of the conference for a chat with Moti to try to obtain a little more information. With a few more details, he thought, I can talk to Deutsch about what I’ll be linking my model to.
The gong announced the beginning of the next session, and an announcer urged the participants to enter the hall. Gideon stood up with the group and said goodbye to each with a handshake.
“When you come home for a visit,” Arieh said to Gideon, shaking his hand firmly, “come visit us at the defense R&D directorate. We’d love to show you a few things that I’m sure would interest you, and we’d also like to hear you speak more freely about your model. Only if you can, of course.”
Gideon entered the conference hall and took his place in the lecturers’ row. He tried to concentrate on the lecture that began as soon as the lights were dimmed, but the memories of the night before floated into his mind, making everything else disappear until the end of the session.
13.
Arlene and Phyllis’s room was quiet, except for the machine-gun clatter of computer keyboards. After several hours of work, the doctoral students’ room looked like a battlefield. Pages were scattered everywhere, the trash basket was overflowing, and books lay open all over the place. The door suddenly swung open, and Nurit entered, startling Arlene and Phyllis, who looked at their flushed, radiant friend.
“What happened?” they asked. “Any news?”
“Something good? Or, heaven forbid, something bad?” Arlene asked, her black curls bouncing as her blue eyes widened in anticipation.
“I just received a message from the faculty secretary that I passed the last of the course exams I needed to begin working on my research!” Nurit watched their faces with a smile as wide as the world.
“Wow! Congrats!” Phyllis giggled, her belly trembling with joy.
“When do you start?” Arlene got straight to the point. Sh
e was the practical one.
“That’s what I wanted to tell you,” Nurit went on. “I’ve just had a meeting with my mentor.”
“And?” Phyllis asked.
“He’s such a charming, smart man. He obviously has tons of experience in mentoring doctoral dissertations. We discussed possible subjects for research work, and he suggested how I could start working on them. I feel like he’ll do me good.”
“You’ve targeted him so quickly?” Phyllis said with a wink. “Give him time to breathe…”
“What did he advise you to start working on? What’ll you be doing tomorrow morning?” Arlene remained practical.
“I have to define a subject, and he’ll check to make sure I haven’t taken on something too broad. You must remember,” Nurit said, sounding less enthusiastic, “that my study deals with liberation movements in the Middle East during the twentieth century!”
“Yes! You’ve shared your dilemmas,” Phyllis said quickly, “but I think the broadness of your subject will actually allow you to choose an element that feels right for you, don’t you think?”
“True,” Nurit admitted. “He did tell me if I want to complete the research within a reasonable time frame, I must narrow it down. He already wants to see my premises. He said I’ll have to define them and possibly explain and clarify them too.”
“Lord, do I remember that stage of my research,” Arlene said. “It’s critical to the proper construction of the whole study. Don’t go easy on yourself, and don’t skip any step in the process.”
“The truth is, I don’t know how to move forward,” Nurit said hesitantly. “You’re lucky that it’s behind you…” She sighed and sat on the only chair that wasn’t piled with papers or books. She suddenly felt nervous and felt the blood drain from her face.
“Nurit, sweetie, don’t you think you deserve to celebrate today in the cafeteria? It’s on me,” Arlene offered, noticing Nurit’s concern.
“Great idea!” Phyllis exclaimed. “I’ve been fantasizing about a big chunk of their cheesecake since this morning, and if you’re buying…”
“Thanks, Arlene,” Nurit agreed. “True. What are friends for?”
***
Although it was lunchtime and the cafeteria was crowded, they were lucky to find a table in a relatively quiet corner. Arlene went to buy coffee and cake for the three of them. After clinking their cups to toast Nurit, they dived into their cake. The color returned to Nurit’s cheeks and the sparkle to her eyes.
“There’s other news?” Arlene asked and determined at the same time, noticing that Nurit seemed different—there was a glint in her eyes. “You gonna tell us or what?”
“It doesn’t have something to do with your sympathetic mentor, does it?” Phyllis giggled as she took another big bite of cake.
Nurit blushed, trying to hide it by picking up her cup and taking another sip of coffee. Why shouldn’t I tell them? she asked herself. She lifted her eyes and looked her friends straight in the eye.
“I met an old boyfriend last week,” she began, choosing her words carefully.
“Where? Here in Berkeley?” Arlene asked.
“No. I met him in a café in Palo Alto. He’s a researcher for SRI in Stanford. We hadn’t seen each other for ages.”
“When did you split up? Was there an explosion?” Arlene asked. “And now he’s suddenly appeared in your life?”
“Yup. You got it!” Nurit couldn’t stop blushing. “We were together for years, including right through college. It was quite a love story, with ups and downs like many couples have, until we faced a big crisis and ended the relationship once and for all.”
“What happened between you to make such a love fade?” Phyllis mumbled between bites.
“Our love didn’t really fade,” Nurit responded as she peered into Phyllis’s dark eyes. “I put pressure on Gideon to marry me, and he wasn’t ready. I had no contact with my family, and all I could think of was having a family. Gideon didn’t get it, and he wasn’t aware of how distraught I was. It drove me nuts. I was mad at him and ended it.” Nurit’s eyes were damp.
“And then you found Yudke,” Arlene said, “and fulfilled your need for a family and home?”
“Yes, that’s about it. I didn’t see Gideon again until I bumped into him here in Palo Alto. I had no idea where he was.”
Arlene and Phyllis didn’t utter a sound. They just looked warmly at Nurit.
“It turns out that he never stopped loving me. And meanwhile, he did his PhD at Stanford and married a Jewish American woman from a wealthy family that lives in Menlo Park.”
“So you met him in a café and spoke… And that’s it?” Phyllis leaned forward.
“Hmm… No. He visited me here in Berkeley when he attended a conference in San Francisco. We spent the night together…ended up making love. It was amazing.” Nurit’s eyes sparkled as she spoke.
“That’s wonderful!” Phyllis said, speaking over Arlene, who said “You deserve it!” They both knew how dull her life with Yudke was and why she decided to study and live in Berkeley most of the week.
“I was over the moon with Gideon,” Nurit continued, “and I hope it carries on this way.”
Arlene and Phyllis hugged Nurit and showered her with kisses when they went back to work. Nurit stayed behind in the cafeteria for a few more minutes. Then she got up, collected her things, and strolled back to her room to start working on her dissertation.
***
It was late evening by the time Nurit walked to her car in the almost empty parking lot. Something white was sticking out from under her windshield wiper. She took a closer look and saw it was an envelope. She peeped inside and saw a thick piece of paper. A letter from Gideon? She tossed the envelope on the passenger seat, deciding to read it quietly when she got back to her apartment.
When she arrived, she sank into her sofa with a glass of wine in one hand, the envelope in the other. She took out the note and gasped, the glass of wine slipping from her hand. A blurred photo showing her and Gideon sitting together in the café. At the bottom of the page, there was one short sentence written in large print: We know everything. She examined the photo again and noticed it had been taken at Peet’s.
Who’s following me? Or following Gideon? she thought. It can’t be Yudke, I’m certain of that. He has no interest whatsoever in me or in what I do. Maybe it’s Susan? Maybe she isn’t as innocent as Gideon seems to think? Does she have someone following him? I’d give my eyeteeth for Gideon to be here right now. He must know something about this. He’ll calm me. But it’s almost midnight; I’ll have to wait until morning to talk to him.
She couldn’t relax and, only at dawn, fell into a fitful sleep.
14.
“It’s open,” Gideon shouted at the familiar loud knock at the door.
“Morning, Gideon.” Deutsch beamed and, as usual, folded himself into the chair on the other side of Gideon’s desk. “Got a minute?”
“Sure, Gerald,” Gideon answered as expected. No one at SRI ever said no to Deutsch, and he always seemed to have something up his sleeve. “I’m listening.”
“Well, first, I want to thank you for the lecture in San Francisco. I received enthusiastic responses from many people, and you heard Teller’s response for yourself. Did your Israeli colleagues say anything?”
“Thanks for the compliments, Gerald,” Gideon answered. “Yes, I had some interesting discussions with a few heads of defense programs from Israel. They admired the institute’s original approach to multifocal threats.”
From Deutsch’s expression, it was obvious he’d come to discuss something else. Gideon waited for him to get to the point.
“You know your contract’s up in a few months. What are you planning to do?”
So that’s what he wants to talk about, Gideon thought. “It’s been on my mind, but I haven’t had time to reall
y think about it. Time just flies!” That wasn’t really true. Since he’d started seeing Nurit, Gideon often considered his future options.
“If you have time at the end of the day,” Deutsch suggested, “why don’t you pop in for a cup of coffee, and we’ll talk?”
“I’d love to,” Gideon said, glad to have time to organize his thoughts. The model he and his assistants were working on was part of a large system, the details of which hadn’t been revealed to him. On the other hand, Ryan’s offer to continue his research with the help of funding from his investors was very tempting. Perhaps I should ask Ryan to organize a meeting with them? And maybe, just maybe, it’s time to ask Deutsch outright what the odds are that I’ll be hired for the big project my Israeli colleagues mentioned?
***
Most people had gone home for the evening. A bright light shone from Deutsch’s window, and Gideon entered the large office.
“Good you came,” Deutsch said brightly. “I hope I didn’t make you change your plans for the evening.”
“Not at all,” Gideon said, putting him at his ease, thinking painfully how he’d rather spend a night at work than at home with Suzy.
“Espresso, as usual?”
“Yes, thanks.” Gideon watched Deutsch cross the room and come back to his desk with two cups and a plate of cookies.
“Well, Gideon, what do you have to tell me?” Deutsch urged him in his rich, deep voice.
“I wanted to consult with you about a development regarding our research.” Gideon chose his words carefully. “I was approached by a man who came to the afternoon lectures at the institute. He offered to introduce me to some investors who could continue funding my research after my contract with the institute is up.”
“Who is he?” Deutsch responded quickly. “If we opened the door to him for the afternoon lectures, he’s probably not just someone who walked in off the street.”
“His name’s Ryan Davis, and he works for a subsidiary of Cisco Electronics and Communications, here in Silicon Valley. He’s apparently connected to the university and attends lectures relating to the doctoral dissertation he may write sometime in the future. And the amazing thing,” Gideon continued, “is that he’s an excellent violinist, and he recently joined the campus orchestra.”
