and the girl spoke quickly to her companion in foreign, slightly
guttural language which touched a deep chord in David's memory. He
understood what she was saying, so it was no surprise when she looked at
him.
We've got to meet somebody in Barcelona this evening. It's important.
Let's go, said David.
They piled the luggage into the Mustang and the girl's companion folded
up his long legs and piled into the back seat. His name was Joseph, but
David was advised by the girl to call him Joe. She was Debra, and
surnames didn't seem important at that stage. She sat in the seat
beside David, with her knees pressed together primly and her hands in
her lap. With one sweeping glance, she assessed the Mustang and its
contents. David watched her check the expensive luggage, the Nikon
camera and Zeiss binoculars in the glove compartment and the cashmere
jacket thrown over the seat. Then she glanced sideways at him, seeming
to notice for the first time the raw silk shirt with the slim gold
Piaget under the cuff.
Blessed are the poor, she murmured, but still it must be pleasant to be
rich.
David enjoyed that. He wanted her to be impressed, he wanted her to
make a few comparisons between himself and the big muscular buck in the
back seat.
Let's go to Barcelona, he laughed.
David drove quietly through the outskirts of the town, and Debra looked
over her shoulder at Joe.
Are you comfortable? she asked in the guttural language she had used
before.
If he's not, he can run behind, David told her in the same language, and
she gawked at him a moment in surprise before she let out a small
exclamation of pleasure. Hey! You speak Hebrew! Not very well, David
admitted. I've forgotten most of it, I and he had a vivid picture of
himself as a ten-year-old, wrestling unhappily with a strange and
mysterious language with back-to-front writing, an alphabet that was
squiggly tadpoles and in which most sounds were made in the back of the
throat, like gargling.
Are you Jewish? she asked, turning in the seat to confront him. She
was no longer smiling; the question was clearly of significance to her.
David shook his head. No, he laughed at the notion. I'm a
half-convinced non-practising monotheist, raised and reared in the
Protestant Christian tradition_a__ Then why did you learn Hebrew? My
mother wanted it, David explained, and felt again the stab of an old
guilt. She was killed when I was still a kid. I just let it drop. It
didn't seem important after she had gone. Your mother, Debra insisted,
leaning towards him, she was Jewish? Yeah. Sure, David agreed. But my
father was a Protestant. There was all sorts of hell when Dad married
her. Everyone was against it, but they went ahead and did it anyway.
Debra turned in the seat to Joe. Did you hear that he's one of us. 'Oh,
come on! David protested, still laughing.
Mazaltov, said Joe. Come and see us in Jerusalem some time. 'You're
Israeli? David asked, with new interest.
Sabras, both of us, said Debra, with a note of pride and deep
satisfaction. We are only on holiday here. 'it must be an interesting
country, David hazarded.
Like Joe just said, why don't you come and find out some time, she
suggested off handedly. You have the right of return Then she changed
the subject. Is this the fastest this machine will go? We have to be
in Barcelona by seven.
There was a relaxed feeling between them now, as though some invisible
barrier had been lowered, as though she had made some weighty judgement.
They were out of the city and ahead the open road wound down into the
valley of the Ebro towards the sea.
Kindly extinguish cigarettes and fasten your seat belts, David said, and
let the Mustang go.
She sat very still beside him with her hands folded in her lap and she
stared ahead when the bends leapt at them, and the straights streamed in
a soft blue blur beneath the body of the Mustang. There was a small
rapturous smile on her mouth and the golden lights danced in her eyes,
and David was moved to know that speed affected her the way it did him.
He forgot everything else but the girl in the seat beside him and the
need to keep the mighty roaring machine on the ribbon of tarmac.
Once when they went twisting down into a dry dusty valley in a series of
tight curves and David snaked the Mustang down into it with his hands
darting from wheel to gear leaver, and his feet dancing heel and toe on
the foot pedals, she laughed aloud with the thrill of it.
They bought cheese and bread and a bottle of white wine at a village
cantina and ate lunch sitting on the parapet of a stone bridge while the
water swirled below them, milky with snow melt from the mountains.
David's thigh touched Debra's, as they sat side by side. He could feel
the warmth and resilience of her flesh through the stuff of their
clothing and she made no move to pull away. Her cheeks were flushed a
little brighter than seemed natural, even in the chill little wind that
nagged at them.
David was puzzled by Joe's attitude. He seemed to be completely
oblivious of David's bird dogging his girl, and he was deriving a
childlike pleasure out of tossing pebbles at the trout in the waters
below them. Suddenly David wished he would put up a better resistance,
it would make his conquest a lot more enjoyable, for conquest was what
David had decided on.
He leaned across Debra for another chunk of the white, tangy cheese and
he let his arm brush lightly against the tantalizing double bulge of her
bosom. Joe seemed not to notice.
Come on, you big ape, David thought scornfully. Fight for it. Don't
just sit there. He wanted to test himself against this buck. He was
big, and strong, and David could tell from the way he moved and held
himself that he was well coordinated and self-assured. His face was
chunky and half ugly, but he knew that some women liked them that way,
and he was not fooled by Joe's slow and lazy grin, the eyes were quick
and sharp.
You want to drive, Joe? he asked suddenly, and the slow grin spread
like a puddle of spilled oil on Joe's face - but the eyes glittered with
anticipation.
Don't mind if I do, said Joe, and David regretted the gesture as he
found himself hunched in the narrow back seat. For the first five
minutes Joe drove sedately, touching the brakes to test for grab and
pull, flicking through the gears to feel the travel and bite of the
stick, taking a burst of power through a bend to establish stability and
detect any tendency for the tail to break out.
Don't be scared of her, David told him, and Joe grunted with a little
frown of concentration creasing his broad forehead. Then he nodded to
himself and his hands settled firmly, taking a fresh grip, and Debra
whooped as he changed down to get the revs peaking.
He slid the car through the first bend and David's right foot stabbed
instinctively at a non-existent brake pedal and he felt his breathing
jam in his throat.
When Joe parked them in the lot outside the airport at Barcelona and
switched off the engine, all of them were silent for a few seconds and
then David said softly, Son of a gun!
Then they were all laughing. David felt a tinge of regret that he was
going to have to take the girl away from him, for he was beginning to
like him, despite himself, beginning to enjoy the slow deliberation of
his speech and movements that was so clearly a put on and finding
pleasure in the big slow smile that took so long to reach its full
bloom. David had to harden his resolve.
They were an hour early for the plane they were meeting and they found a
table in the restaurant overlooking the runways. David ordered an
earthenware jug of Sangria, and Debra sat next to Joe and put her hand
on his arm while she chatted, a gesture that tempered David's new-found
liking for him.
A private flight landed as the waiter brought the Sangria, and Joe
looked up.
One of the new executive Gulfstreams. They tell me she is a little
beauty. And he went on to list the aircraft's specifications in
technical language that Debra seemed to follow intelligently.
You know anything about aircraft? David challenged him. Some, admitted
Joe, but Debra took the question.
Joe is in the airforce, she said proudly, and David stared at them.
So is Debs, 'Joe laughed, and David switched his attention to her.
She's a lieutenant in signals. . 'Only the reserve, Debra demurred,
but Joe is a flier.
A fighter pilot. A flier, David repeated stupidly. He should have
known from Joe's clear and steady gaze that was the peculiar mark of the
fighter pilot. He should have known by the way he handled the Mustang
If he was an Israeli flier, then he would have flown a formidable number
of operations. Hell, every time they took off, they were operational.
He felt a vast tide of respect rising within him.
What squadron are you on, Phantoms? Phantoms! Joe curled his lip.
That isn't flying.
That's operating a computer. No, we really fly. You ever heard of a
Mirage? David blinked, and then nodded. Yeah, said David, I've heard
of them. 'Well, I fly a Mirage. David began to laugh, shaking his
head.
What's wrong? Joe demanded, his smile fading. What's funny about that?
I do too, said David. I fly a Mirage. It was no use trying to get hot
against this buck, he decided. I've got over a thousand hours on
Mirages. And it as Joe's turn to stare, then suddenly they were both
talking at once - Debra's head turning quickly from one to the other.
David ordered another jug of Sangria, but Joe would not let him pay. He
repeated for the fiftieth time, Well, that beats all, and punched
David's shoulder. How about that, Debs? Half-way through the second
jug, David interrupted the talk which had been exclusively on aviation.
Who are we meeting, anyway? We've driven across half of Spain and I
don't even know who the guy is. 'This guy is a girl, Joe laughed, and
Debra filled in.
Hannah, and she grinned at Joe, his fiancee. She is a nursing sister at
Hadassah Hospital, and she could only get away for a week. 'Your
fiancee? David whispered.
They are getting married in June. Debra turned to Joe. It's taken him
two years to make up his mind.
Joe chuckled with embarrassment, and Debra squeezed his arm.
Your fiancee? asked David again.
Why do you keep saying that? Debra demanded.
David pointed at Joe, and then at Debra.
What, he started, I mean, who, what the hell? Debra realized suddenly
and gasped. She covered her mouth with both hands, her eyes sparkling.
You mean - you thought -? Oh, no, she giggled. She pointed at Joe and
then at herself. Is that what you thought? David nodded.
He is my brother, Debra hooted. Joe is my brother, you idiot! Joseph
Israel Mordecai and Debra Ruth Mordecai, brother and sister Hannah was a
rangy girl with bright copper hair and freckles like gold sovereigns.
She was only an inch or two shorter than Joe but he lifted her as she
came through the customs gate, swung her off her feet and then engulfed
her in an enormous embrace.
It seemed completely natural that the four of them should stay together.
By a miracle of packing they got all their luggage and themselves into
the Mustang with Hannah perched on Joe's lap in the rear.
We've got a week, said Debra. A whole week! What are we going to do
with it?
They agreed that Torremolinos was out. It was far south, and since
Michener had written The Drifters, it had become a hangout for all the
bums and freaks.
I was talking to someone on the plane. There is a place called Colera
up the coast. Near the border. They reached it in the middle of the
next morning and it was still so early in the season that they had no
trouble finding pleasant rooms at a small hotel off the winding main
street. The girls shared, but David insisted on a room of his own. He
had certain plans for Debra that made privacy desirable.
Debra's bikini was blue and brief, hardly sufficient to restrain a bosom
that was more exuberant than David had guessed. Her skin was satiny and
tanned to a deep mahogany, although a strip of startling white peeped
over the back of her costume when she stooped to pick up her towel. She
was long in the waist, and leg, and a strong swimmer, pacing David
steadily through the cool blue water when they set out for a rocky islet
half a mile off shore.
They had the tiny island to themselves and they found a pitch of flat
smooth rock out of the wind and full in the sun. They lay side by side
with their fingers entwined and the salt water had sleeked Debra's hair
to her shoulders, like the coat of an otter.
They lay in the sun and they talked away the afternoon. There was so
much they had to learn about each other.
Her father had been one of the youngest colonels in the American
Airforce during World War II, but afterwards he had gone on to Israel.
He had been there ever since, and was now a Major-General. They lived
in a house in an old part of Jerusalem which was five hundred years old,
but was a lot of fun.
She was a senior lecturer in English at the Hebrew University in
Jerusalem and, this shyly as though. it were a rather special secret,
she wanted to write. A small volume of her poetry had already been
published.
That impressed David, and he came up on one elbow and looked at her with
new respect, and a twinge of envy, for someone who saw the way ahead
clearly.
She lay with her eyes closed against the sun, and droplets of water
sparkling like gems on her thick dark eyelashes. She wasn't beautiful,
he decided carefully, but very handsome and very, very sexy. He was
going to have her, of course. There was no doubt in David's mind about
this, but there seemed little urgency in it now. He was enjoying
listening to her talk, she had a quaint way of expressing herself, once
she was in full flight, and her accent was strangely neutral, although
there were faint echoes of her American background now he knew to look
for them. She told him that the poetry was merely a beginning. She was
going to write a novel about being young and living in Israel. She had
the outline worked out, and it seemed like a pretty interesting story to
David. Then she started to talk about her land and the people who lived
in it. David felt something move within him as he listened, a
nostalgia, a deep race memory. Again his envy stirred. She was so
certain of where she was from and where she was going - she knew where
she belonged, and what her destiny was, and this made her strong. Beside
her he felt suddenly insignificant and without purpose.
sunlight and looked up at him.
h? He shook his head but did not answer her smile, and she became