by Uzi Eilam
***
It wasn’t the first time that Nurit was visiting Francois’s monkish apartment. The most impressive piece of furniture was the bookcase that covered an entire wall. The five volumes of The Atlas of Popular Protest Movements sat on the middle shelf. On Nurit’s first visit, Francois had proudly shown her the atlas that he’d worked on for ten years, the result of his travels with Jacques Vergès.
“Welcome,” Francois said, giving her a soft hug and a light kiss on each cheek. He was wearing a dark suit with a navy-blue tie and snow-white shirt.
He’s so gentle, Nurit thought, and he always manages to make me feel comfortable. She didn’t know if his business suit was a signal to continue with a formal discussion. I would’ve preferred him to be wearing something comfortable, less formal.
“Thanks for making me so happy.” She took his head in both hands and pressed her lips to his in a long kiss. Francois responded by holding her tightly. She led him to the bedroom and smiled when she noticed his flushed cheeks. Slowly, he planted kisses all over her body as she wriggled and held him close.
“Now we really deserve a toast,” Francois said after they’d both relaxed. They were sitting by the low table in the living room, Nurit relieved that Francois made do with just a shirt and pants.
“We sure do,” Nurit agreed. “Let’s drink to health, a good life, and success for us both.”
“À toi.” Francois raised his glass.
“L’chaim,” Nurit replied, feeling confident and happy.
“You had a question, mon chèri, about the grant?” Francois opened the door for Nurit before she could herself.
“Yes, Francois, I have one or two questions,” Nurit said, happy he’d brought up the subject. “I don’t understand who exactly this generous foundation is, investing so much in me.”
“You have nothing to worry about, chèri,” Francois said calmly. “It’s a foundation that believes in promoting social processes, as I’ve told you, in developing countries. I’m familiar with their activities, and you do remember that our group at Berkeley also receives research grants from them.”
He has me convinced, Nurit said to herself, but Arlene would have asked more questions. She forced herself to ask further. “Do they have an address? Have you seen their letterhead?”
“It’s a registered NGO in New York, Nurit,” Francois answered patiently, “and their policy is to remain anonymous. I personally think that their wish should be respected.”
“And you’re sure I’ll receive grants every month?”
“Yes, chèri.” Francois stroked her cheek lovingly. “From our team’s experience, the foundation is very punctual.”
“Thanks, Francois, you don’t know how good I feel to know that I won’t be dependent on the meager allowance my husband gives me,” she said frankly.
“If it’s so important to you,” Francois said empathetically, “the foundation may be able to put more funds at your disposal.”
“Really? How? What do you mean?” Nurit said excitedly, not wanting to miss out.
“There’s another area within the foundation’s activities,” Francois said, sounding hesitant, “concerning what they define as ‘aid for oppressed minorities,’ and the amounts they pay can be very generous.”
“You don’t say!” Nurit said. “Can I join?”
“I’m not quite sure,” Francois said, trying to curb her enthusiasm. “I’ll have to check to see if they have an opening.”
“Do you promise to check and let me know?”
“Oh, certainly, mon chèri, I’ll find out and let you know,” he promised.
Nurit ran through her conversation with Francois all the way home. She hadn’t thought about the threats all day long. She also hadn’t thought about Gideon, who hadn’t kept his promise to get rid of the threat. Her heart was overflowing with joy. I’m going to be rich, she thought, I’m going to be rich.
39.
Gideon sat all morning in his office. He couldn’t concentrate. Ever since Yoni had called him, he’d been edgy. Yoni mentioned a meeting with the FBI and said that Deutsch had taken part too, but he didn’t say specifically that Deutsch would fill me in. Damn it, this matter concerns me directly, and there’s no reason I shouldn’t talk to Deutsch about it. What do I have to lose?
He called Deutsch and set up a meeting half an hour later. As soon as he walked in, Deutsch asked him directly, “Okay, what’s on your mind?”
“Yoni said something about a meeting in San Francisco,” Gideon said cautiously. “I understand that you also attended.”
“Yes, and I gave them a picture of how we’d handled things.”
“Thanks, Gerald,” Gideon said with appreciation. “Was there anything important I should know?”
“Yes. I stressed repeatedly—and this is something you already know—you must continue to behave naturally with Ryan and his investors.”
“Did anything relating to Yudke and his wife come up? Anything to do with the Callnet card?” Gideon finally summoned the courage to ask.
“It did indeed.” Gideon noticed Deutsch choosing his words carefully. “But I wasn’t asked to express an opinion. It isn’t within our area of authority.”
Gideon backed off. “So am I to continue tomorrow as if nothing has happened? And as far as Ryan and his lot are concerned, I’m still continuing my research?”
“Precisely,” Deutsch said calmly. “Just watch their behavior, and let me know if there’s any change. I’ll also let you know if anything new comes up.”
Gideon returned to his office and thought again about what Deutsch had said—and about what he hadn’t. He found it disconcerting to know that things were happening without his involvement, but then he thought that maybe he was better off not knowing. He envied Yudke, who seemed to have nothing on his mind. Then he thought about Nurit, and how he’d tried to see her again after returning from Israel. She was avoiding him without even trying to soften her blatant refusal. Suzy, on the other hand, was being particularly pleasant and warm. Maybe it’s a sign that I should forget Nurit and concentrate on my family?
***
Ann’s Coffee Shop was packed with the morning crowd when Suzy got there.
Ann saw her and came over to say hello. “You look great this morning, and it looks like you feel great too. They’re waiting for you. Over there, in the corner.” Ann pointed to Mindy and Mary Lou, who stood up for a hug.
“You look great,” Mindy said.
“Noam is coming over…”
“That’s great!” Mary Lou exclaimed.
“She wants to start studying political science at Stanford.”
“That sounds like a dream come true,” Mindy said. “I can help her out. I have connections at the dean’s office. I’m sure that the fact that Noam’s father graduated from Stanford with honors will add points for her. When does she arrive?”
“She finishes her army service in two weeks, and then she’s flying straight over.” Suzy listened to herself, not quite believing it was really happening. “She doesn’t want to live with my parents, even though we have tons of space. She prefers to live on her own or with flat mates.”
“I can understand that,” Mindy said. “I’ll see if we can get her on the list for a place in Escondido Village. The university received a generous donation last year, and they’ve built more residences.”
“Thanks, Mindy,” Suzy said excitedly. “It’s so good to have friends like you!”
“Are you planning to celebrate the occasion?” Mary Lou asked.
“As usual, Mrs. Goldman,” Suzy said with a smile, “is organizing a family dinner, which will be something high in calories and home cooked. I’m supposed to be going shopping with her today, and I expect my arms to break.”
“How’s Gideon doing these days, after his trip to Israel? Does he seem more relaxed?”
“Yes, actually, and although he’s still spending hours at the institute, he’s been more receptive and open recently. With Gideon, what you see is always what you get,” Suzy said with relief. “And believe it or not, we even went to the opera this week. In San Francisco.”
“Good for you!” Mindy responded with a mixture of envy and true joy for her. “What did you to see?”
“Carmen by Bizet. It was a beautiful production. And Carmen had an incredible voice. It was good to see Gideon enjoy himself so much.”
The three friends stopped talking when their food arrived, and concentrated on the delicious breakfast they loved so much.
40.
The phone rang and startled Yudke. He was sitting in his office, deep in thought, trying to overcome a recent obstacle in the card’s design. He and his team were working against the clock, and every obstacle felt to him like a threat.
“Yehuda, do you have a minute for me?” Lyall asked. “It’s urgent.”
“Sure, George,” Yudke said. “Now?”
“Yes, I’ll be there in five minutes.”
Ever since he’d returned from the meetings in Israel, Yudke hadn’t felt at ease. He told Nurit nothing, but he knew that the Revolutionary Guards considered intelligence on the Callnet card top priority. The briefing he received in Israel also included the possibility of personal harassment and even attempted abductions. Yudke had no intention of even hinting of this warning to Nurit. He remembered her reaction when he told her about the break-in to their house.
“It’s open,” Yudke called out when Lyall knocked. Lyall opened the door, filling the doorframe almost entirely. He slumped down in a chair, facing Yudke, who tried to read his expression.
“I know, Yudke,” Lyall said, “that you were updated in Israel regarding the Revolutionary Guards’ efforts to obtain information about your Callnet card.”
“I was, and as I promised, I’m doing my utmost to keep the secret files in a safe place in the office.”
“Actually, I’m here about another issue. A senior FBI agent is here, and we’d like a few minutes of your time. We have an idea that we’d like to share with you.”
Yudke was intrigued. “Of course, George, I’m available right now.”
Lyall left the room and returned with a tall athletic man with the short hair of an ex-marine.
“I’ve heard a lot about you, Dr. Avni,” the man said before he was introduced, “and I’m pleased to meet you.”
“It’s good to meet you,” Yudke replied coolly. “I’m all ears…”
Yudke noticed every detail of the man sitting opposite him, from his polished shoes to the almost tattered collar of his white shirt, trying to work out who he was and why he chose to remain nameless.
“We’re assuming that the Iranians will stop at nothing to obtain intelligence on the card,” the man began. “We were thinking of building a version of the card that would let them believe they’d achieved their goal, after some effort on their part, of course. It must be similar to the original card but without the parts that make the whole system effective. You, Dr. Avni, know better than all of us which parts of the software and hardware components can be included in the fake card. You’ll also be the one to decide what has to be removed from the card so we don’t reveal anything classified.” He stopped talking and waited expectantly for Yudke’s response. Yudke seemed lost in thought.
“Basically,” Yudke began cautiously, looking straight into the stranger’s eyes, “it’s possible. The question is how much staff we’ll have to devote to this effort and how long it’ll take…”
“I’m sure,” the man said, “that the Pentagon can allocate an additional budget to the program, which could help with the schedule.”
“That would be useful,” Yudke said. “But bringing new people into the project isn’t that simple. It can’t be done in a day. I need a day or two to think about it and to give you a substantiated assessment. I’ll have to let two or three of my staff in on the secret.”
***
Gideon got to Peet’s early, happy he’d been able to persuade Nurit to meet him.
His mouth was dry, and he didn’t know if it was from cycling in the heat of the day or from the tension he felt at meeting Nurit. We can celebrate a year since we first met up again, he thought, or we could mark the end of our relationship. It all depends on Nurit. She’s become so unstable recently. Impatiently, he looked up at the door. She’s late. Did she change her mind without letting me know? As if in answer to his doubts, he saw Nurit walk in, as beautiful as ever. She isn’t smiling at me.
“Nuri!” he called out and walked toward her, open armed. “It’s so good to see you. You look great.”
Nurit accepted his embrace without enthusiasm and offered him a cool cheek to kiss.
“How are you? And how’s your dissertation going?” he continued after they sat down at the table.
“I’m fine, Gideon, I’m making progress. And what about you? I haven’t seen you since Rosh Hashanah.”
Their usual waitress came to the table. She smiled and guessed their order with a smile and a heavy Spanish accent. “Colombian coffee with warm milk and a chocolate Danish for the gentleman, and a tall espresso and croissant for the lady?”
“You have a great memory. Today I’m buying,” she decreed in a tone that couldn’t be argued with.
“What’s the celebration? Have you won the lottery?” Gideon tried to lighten the atmosphere, and he noticed a slight flush in her cheeks. He wasn’t sure if she was angry or embarrassed.
Nurit hesitated for a moment and then attacked him. “You men! You think only you can succeed…” Her eyes flashed. “Just so you know, I received a scholarship. And a generous one at that.”
“Really? That’s great!” Gideon said. “From the university? How did you get it?”
“It’s for my dissertation, and it’s from a foundation based in New York,” Nurit said without adding details. “I feel freer to work on it without Yudke having to put his hand in his pocket all the time.”
Gideon’s mind was working overtime. A foundation from New York that hands out money? He dismissed his suspicions almost immediately. There are so many organizations and funds in New York and the East Coast. What are the odds?
“I can understand how you feel,” he said, trying to empathize. “Are you calmer now?” He hoped to hear that she’d received no more anonymous calls.
“No, Gideon, I’m not calmer now!” Nurit snapped at him. “That is, regarding the university and my dissertation, yes I am. But the threats, my computer—I asked you to help me and take care of them ages ago. They really worry me.”
“Have you received more threats?” Gideon asked anxiously. “You didn’t tell me a thing.”
“You made light of my fears right from the start,” Nurit growled. “Pranks, you called it.”
“Look, Nuri.” Gideon didn’t hide his distress. “I did what I could and I notified Israeli security. Although they haven’t shared their actions with me, I’m sure they aren’t just dropping the whole issue.”
“In short, Dr. Ben-Ari, you’ve handed the whole disturbing matter over like a hot potato so that you can feel clean.”
“No, I haven’t, and I do care about what you’re going through,” Gideon said strongly. “I don’t need to remind you of how I took care of your computer… Have there been more threatening calls?”
“There was another message on my computer and two silent calls. They scared me more than the other call, when at least he spoke.”
“I didn’t know…” Gideon felt himself losing height.
“You also didn’t know about my pregnancy,” Nurit said, raising the painful subject from the distant past. “I guess you haven’t changed.”
“But Nurit…” Gideon knew he was falling into the abyss without a reserve parachute.
; “I’m beginning to regret meeting up again,” Nurit spat at him. “There’s no point in continuing this charade. Maybe you should go back to the arms of your American.” She stood up and walked out, leaving the coffee and croissant untouched.
Gideon paid the bill and left. He climbed heavily onto his bike and rode in the direction of the institute, trying to console himself by thinking of his research and the people at work who he enjoyed spending time with.
41.
The campus orchestra was beginning its new year of activity, and Gideon was looking forward to the first rehearsal. It was like a beacon of light in the situation he’d found himself in, and he felt it would do him good to be busy with clean, nonthreatening cultural activities. He knew that music couldn’t make him forget Nurit. In the distant past, music had served as a bridge between them in times of crisis. Could it save their relationship now? The way that Nurit had walked out of his life, and the sharp and extreme manner in which she’d expressed herself before doing so hadn’t left much room for hope.
Most of the musicians were already seated when Gideon entered the rehearsal hall. The sound of them tuning their instruments was like the singing of angels to him. He walked through the orchestra, shaking hands on his way to his spot by Karen and Janet, the other flutists. He sat down and looked toward the first violin seats. The chair by Linda’s was empty. As usual, Ryan was late. Professor Cohen tapped on his music stand, and they all began to play the opening to The Marriage of Figaro by Mozart. Cohen dictated a very fast tempo, and he had to stop playing from time to time to polish his playing.
“Where’s your friend Ryan?” Linda asked Gideon at the beginning of the break.
“I have no idea,” Gideon answered, embarrassed. “I haven’t heard from him in the last few days. I’ll give him a call.”
The following morning, Gideon tried to contact Ryan. He left two messages on his mobile phone, asking him to get back to him. Ryan’s direct line at Cisco rang, but no one answered. Finally, Gideon called the company CEO’s office and introduced himself as a researcher from SRI looking for Dr. Ryan Davis. The secretary put him on hold and, after a long wait, apologized and said she couldn’t find him. She asked Gideon to leave his number and promised to let him know when she got ahold of him. The hours passed and she didn’t call him. Something bad has happened to Ryan, Gideon thought, and he decided to see if he was home later. If I don’t find him today, he decided, I’ll call Yoni.
