by Uzi Eilam
“What you need,” Nurit said confidently, “is a hot shower and a good massage. I promise you you’ll feel better.”
She gave him a soft, fresh towel and the robe. From her experience, she knew that men were better at handling problems after a little pampering.
Ten minutes later, Gideon sat on the armchair, washed, fresh, and wrapped in the robe, waiting for Nurit to come out of the bathroom, drinking the glass of wine that Nurit had waiting for him. He longed for her touch. She, too, was wearing a robe. She went to the bedroom closet and brought out a folding massage table. Who else has she used it for? Gideon wondered enviously. She went back to the bathroom and returned with a bottle of massage oil. Gideon dropped the robe and lay down on his stomach as naked as the day he was born, his face in the hole.
The oil Nurit dripped on his back and shoulders was warm, and he felt a surge of pleasure and anticipation. Her hands, soft yet strong, started moving over his stiff shoulders. She made her way slowly down the sides of his spine and moved on to the muscles over his ribs. His lower back was her next target, and by the time she reached his tailbone, drawing circles around it that sent currents of pleasure through him, all pain had disappeared. Gideon’s body awakened and he turned on his back. There was only one part of him that was stiff, and Nurit didn’t need any hints. Her soft hands began moving gently, up and down, sending electric currents through his body. He sat on the massage table and, with one swift move, removed Nurit’s robe. Then he pressed her to him, pulling her head down to his for a kiss. Her tongue penetrated his mouth, and they fell back on the table.
Silent, they lay side by side for quite some time until Gideon said, “Now that was a bit different from anything else today.” Nurit replied with a light kiss. They got up and threw on their robes and had another glass of wine.
“When did you learn how to give such great massages?”
“I’ve been through a few stations in my life, Gidi,” Nurit said seriously. “I haven’t had time to tell you about them all.” Her face twisted, worrying Gideon.
“Something’s bothering you.”
“Yes, something really weird is happening around me,” Nurit began. “Not only weird, but scary too.”
“Tell me…”
“It started with the photo of us at Peet’s. You know, with the note saying ‘We know everything.’ And then there was that message on the computer. Thanks again for taking care of that, by the way.”
“There’s more?” Gideon asked, trying to hide his concern.
“Yes. I received a phone call last night,” she continued uneasily. “Some man I don’t know who mentioned a card called something like Callnet. And he spoke about the sacred cause. He claimed that I could get information on the card, and they knew more about me than I imagined. That sounds like a threat, doesn’t it?”
“Could it have been a prank call? Not a very good one?” Gideon tried to minimize the importance, hoping to reassure her. He needed time to think. “I wouldn’t read too much into it,” he added, with as much calm and confidence as he could muster.
“But, Gidi,” Nurit said, no calmer, “it’s even more scary than the threat to delete my files. We’re both going to be exposed, and you know what that means… What should I do about it?”
Gideon couldn’t hide his concern but tried to soothe Nurit as best he could. “We can’t do anything right now,” he said confidently and stroked her back. “Tomorrow’s a new day. I’ll try to find someone to talk to about it.” His arm around her, he walked with her to the bed and lay down next to her, waiting for her breath to settle.
26.
For two days, Gideon couldn’t stop reliving the night he spent with Nurit in Berkeley, or thinking about what she was going through. He tried to think coolly and rationally, but her distress gave him no rest. He knew the phone call was no prank, even though he had tried to dismiss it as that just to calm her down. The specific name of Yudke’s smart card told him everything. He considered all his options: should he ignore it and let it go in the hope that it wouldn’t come up again and Nurit would calm down? He rejected that idea, knowing that it was too important a matter to ignore. Should he talk to Yudke about it and come up with a joint line of action? He was afraid of exposing his relationship with Nurit. Deutsch? With his wisdom and contacts at the Pentagon and in the American security services, he could advise and assist. Then Gideon realized that this was a matter clearly related to the security of Israel, with Israelis involved. He decided, therefore, to pass the information on to an Israeli official.
Gideon found himself wondering, as he’d done a few weeks earlier, who to turn to. A meeting he’d had with the Israeli consul in San Francisco when he and Suzy moved to Menlo Park came to mind. Yonatan Feldman, or Yoni, had also been an officer in the paratroopers, and Gideon had formed a warm relationship with him from the moment they’d met. Why not talk to Yoni? he asked himself. He knew the answer, and he decided to update Deutsch later.
Gideon called the consulate that very day and made an appointment. He knew immediately that he’d made the right decision. He told his assistants that he wouldn’t be in the following day, and he left in the morning without saying a word to Suzy.
Gideon knew his way around San Francisco from his Stanford days, and he had no problem finding the address that Yoni had given him. The consulate was in the center of town on the corner of Montgomery and Sacramento, in a seven-story building, taller than the other building in the area. To get to Yoni’s office on the sixth floor, Gideon had to first pass through security at the entrance to the building and then through Israeli security at the entrance to the consulate floor. The Israeli security guard picked up the phone and whispered Gideon’s name and details. He received an immediate reply, and after leaving his passport with the guard, Gideon was allowed through the door.
“Gideon! Hi! It’s so good to see you again!” Yoni said. “Just yesterday, we received Turkish coffee from Israel. Do you want a cup?”
“I’d love one,” Gideon responded. Yoni’s welcome immediately made him feel at home. The paper cups the coffee was served in didn’t diminish its nostalgic aroma.
Yoni went into action. “You look worried.”
“I am. Very much so.”
“Go on then, talk to me.”
Gideon told Yoni everything, except for the details that could expose the exact nature of his relationship with Nurit. He also didn’t mention the note and photo of them that Nurit had found on her car.
“And you heard all this from her?” Yoni interrupted.
“Yes,” Gideon confirmed confidently.
“Why you?” Yoni asked. From his tone of voice, he was making an obvious effort not to pry, but it still angered Gideon, who found it condescending.
“Maybe she just feels more comfortable telling me. On one hand, I’m not a part of her circle, and on the other, we’re childhood friends.”
Yoni raised his eyebrows in doubt but changed direction anyway. “And do you know what the card is for?”
“Sure. That’s what made me think that this is extortion or something like that.”
Gideon told Yoni all about the card and about his meeting at the Pentagon.
“You’ve come far!” Yoni said. “All the way to the Pentagon’s Basement! It’s going to take us time and effort to find out who’s behind this.”
“I trust you folks,” Gideon said with some relief. “What do you suggest I tell Nurit in the meantime? Do I need to update Yudke? After all, he is directly involved. And perhaps he should be instructed to act with caution. They may have already tried to get information out of him too.”
“Good questions…” Yoni thought for a minute and added, “I think that, for now, you should tell Nurit Avni only that the matter is being dealt with, no more. And as for Dr. Avni, don’t do anything, and don’t mention even a hint of what you heard from his wife, even if you get to meet.
Let us take care of it in our own way.”
Gideon smiled gratefully. It then occurred to him to report Ryan’s attempt to tempt him with his New York partners, and he took a deep breath before raising the complicated and sensitive issue.
“And there’s another thing… I hope this doesn’t put too much on you.” He looked Yoni in the eye.
“Take all the time you need,” Yoni said. “I’m listening. That’s what I’m here for.”
After Gideon told him about Ryan, about his meeting with the two men from Advanced Technologies and about Deutsch’s advice and involvement in the matter, he stopped and waited for Yoni’s response.
“What else do you know about Ryan Davis?” Yoni asked sharply.
“No more than that,” Gideon replied uneasily. “I can give you his work address and tell you what he looks like, if that helps.”
“That’ll be a big help,” Yoni said but didn’t give up. “And what about the people from New York?”
“Sorry,” Gideon said. “I told you all I know about them. The meeting was introductory, and I didn’t promise them anything.”
“You did well, Gideon,” Yoni said, reassuring him, “and your institute’s director’s right about the Pentagon’s sensitivity. There may be a connection between the two incidences, but maybe not. We need a thorough investigation of all aspects of this issue, and I think it may be too big for us to deal with on our own.”
Gideon suddenly lost his sense of security.
“I’ll pass on all the details to our people in Israel and anything else that comes up along the way. The way I know them, they’ll want you to visit Israel so you can tell them directly everything that you know.”
“A briefing in Israel?” Gideon responded, his reluctance obvious. “I didn’t think of that…”
“Let’s stay in touch until we receive their response,” Yoni said. “In the meantime, I suggest you do nothing but calm your friend Nurit.”
Gideon left the meeting feeling relaxed for the first time since Nurit told him about the phone call.
27.
Nurit strolled down the faculty hallway. It had been one of her more productive mornings, beginning with a quick chat with Gideon on the phone who assured her that everything was under control and being taken care of and that she had no reason to fear the man who’d called her. Her morning continued with an intense session in the library. The chapter on her hypothesis and the development of the theoretical basis for the dissertation was written, and now the path was clear for further research.
As usual, the little room her doctoral friends shared was neither tidy nor clean. Piles of books and papers covered their desks. Phyllis could barely make her way to her computer through the piles, which were growing every day. The basket under Arlene’s desk was overflowing with balls of crumpled-up paper ready to be thrown in the trash can. Pedantic and neat by nature, Nurit found the mess disturbing, but she hid her feelings. Phyllis and Arlene were true friends.
Now, with the problem shadowing her life solved, she decided to share one of the other matters that weighed on her mind. “You’re both so fortunate that you received financial help for your dissertation. I think it’s justified when you consider the subjects you chose. They’re both important to America’s national security. I wish I could find a small research budget…”
“In my opinion, your subject’s no less important,” Arlene said, “and the way you’re constructing it is interesting and innovative. Your dissertation is certainly worthy of a scholarship.”
Nurit hesitated for a moment. “That’s what I wanted your advice on. There’s a chance that I’ll be able to get financing, but I wanted your opinions,” she continued enthusiastically, “and your encouragement to accept it!”
“Wow!” Phyllis exclaimed, her eyes shining. “Welcome to the club!”
“You’ll have to find out a lot of details before you accept the money, such as what body’s giving it to you? And would you owe them anything in return? Is it a significant amount or just crumbs, as I was initially offered?” Arlene said, sensible as always.
“There’s a program,” Nurit explained, based on what Francois had told her, “that’s largely government sponsored, and it’s for research done by our faculty that analyzes social processes in developing countries. I believe that they’re focusing on two regions: the Middle East and Latin America.”
“Does that mean,” Arlene said, “that you’ll also receive a government grant?”
Nurit hesitated. “I’m not sure. They didn’t tell me what the source was. And I don’t know how much the scholarship is for or what commitment I’ll need to make, if any.”
“Who contacted whom? You or them?”
“Dr. Francois Chaliand suggested it. He’s a researcher on the project I mentioned, and he came here as part of the project. There are researchers on the team from other countries too,” she added quickly.
Arlene, with her sharp senses, picked up on something and said, “How did you meet this Frenchie? Here?”
“Yes, in the cafeteria one morning.” Nurit blushed.
“Is he hot, this Francois?” Phyllis giggled, her eyes fixed on Nurit.
“Slow down!” Nurit raised her voice slightly. “Dr. Chaliand is a researcher with an impressive life experience, and he’s very interesting. He invited me to dinner at Chez Panisse, and he was fascinating. We’re meeting up again tomorrow, and I hope to find out more about the offer.”
“Chez Panisse?” Phyllis’s eyes widened. “He went all out, Mr. Suave.”
“If I were you,” Arlene said, “I’d ask Dr. Chaliand for more information regarding the conditions. In my case, for instance, the Department of Defense limits the publication of my dissertation. Ask him who the funding body is.”
“Thanks, Arlene,” Nurit responded, the ground beneath her feet feeling more solid. “I’ll ask tomorrow at the meeting and let you know.” She left the room, feeling more encouraged but still deep in thought. Then she remembered that she hadn’t set an exact time or place to meet and discuss the exact details of the scholarship with Francois. She felt reassured after talking to Arlene and Phyllis and decided to call him.
The phone rang only once before he picked up the receiver. “Hello. Oui?”
“Hi, it’s me,” Nurit said with anticipation. “I just realized that we didn’t set a time or place to meet.”
“Oh, pardon!” Nurit already knew that Francois couldn’t help switching to French when he was under pressure or embarrassed. “I was dealing with a dispute with the research team. You tell me when it’s convenient for you,” he suggested.
“We can meet at my place,” she ventured. “How does tomorrow evening at eight sound?”
“Formidable, avec plaisir!” Francois exclaimed. “I’ll bring the wine.”
After she put down the phone, Nurit began worrying again. He’s interesting to talk to and charming, and he’s trying to help me with the scholarship. But what do I really want? He fascinates me with his stories and European culture. And Gideon? Gideon’s home… The past… Israel.
***
The workers at Nurit’s favorite deli already knew when Nurit was planning something special, and they watched her as she made her way through the aisles, filling her shopping cart while trying not to think of Gideon.
Nurit made sure the apartment was perfect before slipping into a long turquoise dress. She felt relaxed in the soft, airy fabric that fell loosely around her, barely hinting at her curves. She curled up in her favorite armchair, thinking about the latest developments in her life. Her dissertation had a grounding effect on her, and the possibility of receiving a generous scholarship would also contribute to her well-being. She had no expectations from Yudke. The only thing that interested him was work, and he paid no attention to what she was going through. As far as Gideon was concerned, deep down she knew that she didn’t truly love
him. For a few weeks, their past had charmed her, attracted her. But the more she thought about it, she realized that the love they shared couldn’t really be reawakened.
And then, of course, there was the matter of the scholarship. Nurit had always been attracted to men who could provide her with financial security. She was strongly attracted to Francois.
The doorbell rang, and she glanced at the table, making sure everything was in place…including two empty wineglasses waiting for the wine Francois had promised to bring.
***
“Francois,” Nurit exclaimed happily as she opened the door wide to find her guest dressed in a fine suit, a bottle in hand. She leaned forward for a light kiss on the cheek, which Francois gave her with willing grace.
“Come in, make yourself comfortable.” She took his arm and led him to an armchair by the low table. He seemed a little shy.
“You’ve created a beautiful nest for yourself,” Francois said. “I would imagine that you feel very good here.”
“I do,” Nurit said, delighted by his sensitivity. “I’m really happy here.”
“Should we take care of the formalities first?” Francois suggested.
Nurit felt relieved. “Who is this scholarship from? And what do I have to do to qualify for it?”
“It’s from a foundation. The donors prefer to remain anonymous,” Francois explained, “and it’s run by legal representatives in New York. I have all the details regarding the foundation’s policies and the identity of its managers. My research team deals with social processes in developing countries and receives support from the same foundation. One of their principles,” he continued with an enthusiastic glint in his eye, “is to provide aid to oppressed peoples. You have nothing to be concerned about. They keep their commitments, and from my experience, the money is always on time.”
“And what exactly do I have to do to qualify for a scholarship?”
“It’s quite simple, mon chèri,” Francois said. “Look, I brought the forms with me. You’ll need to fill out your personal details and, naturally, the bank account to which the payments will be made each month too.”
