All Rivers Run to the Sea_ Memoirs - Elie Wiesel [131]
But who was Givon? Was he a kind of journalistic Shushani, a world-class adventurer, or an ingenious spinner of tales? Don’t ask. If you don’t already know, you never will. He was, in any event, a great character, a remarkable, bizarre personality. Like myself, the Israeli poet Haim Guri and the mayor of Beersheba, Izso Rager, will swear that never in their life did they encounter anyone like Joseph Givon.
I first met him at a reception at the Israeli embassy. He was still young, a man with the light blue eyes of a startled child. He moved his left leg and right arm with apparent difficulty. He wore an elegant blue suit with a golden Palmach insignia on the lapel. When I first saw him he was deep in conversation with an actress from the Israeli National Theater. I couldn’t help but overhear bits and pieces. The actress wanted to know who had given him his decoration. His murmured response: “Yitzhak, General Yitzhak Sadeh in person.” The former commander of the Palmach himself? “Yes. I was a colonel and he was my superior officer. The decoration was bestowed on me at a special session of the General Staff.” The actress, her cheeks flushed, asked what it was for. “Excuse me, but I regret … I’m not allowed … Surely you understand.” She understood, and so did I: He must have been a member of the security services. He strolled through the embassy as if in familiar territory; he knew the ambassador, the military attaché, all the advisers and secretaries, and everyone seemed to know him. Intrigued, I asked an attaché who he was. “I have no idea,” was the reply, “but maybe I’m not supposed to know.” So my guess was right. Surely he was a heroic wounded veteran who worked for the services.
A group of people were exchanging the latest news about Oren. I strained to listen. You never know. Someone might unwittingly offer a little scoop. Suddenly I heard our hero say, “But I did warn him. I told him they were going to arrest him.” Told whom? someone asked. “Mordechai Oren,” he replied nonchalantly. I jumped. Did he know Oren? “Know him? Of course I know him. We were in East Berlin together. And Prague too. I have friends there, you know, friends in high places. And one of them advised me to let Mordechai know they were watching him. That he should leave as soon as possible. ‘Mordechai,’ I begged him, ‘think of yourself, your family. Get the first plane for Paris, Vienna, Bangkok, wherever. You’re in danger. Can’t you feel it?’ The idiot refused to listen. But I have to admit I was no less idiotic than he was. In the end they arrested me too.”
By now I was uneasy, annoyed that he had said all this out loud. There were colleagues of mine in the room, and they might well join us. That was all I needed. I wasn’t sure what to do, but for once I had the guts to act on an idea. I whispered to Joseph Givon that I had a confidential message from the beautiful actress he had just charmed. We withdrew to a corner, and I introduced myself. “I read Yedioth” he said with a faint smile. He then introduced himself in turn. “You have the advantage,” I told him. “I don’t know what you do.” Ignoring my comment, he said: “So what’s the confidential message?” I lowered my voice: “She says you should trust me.”
“That’s all?”
“No. She also says you should