Exodus - Leon Uris [179]
“It’s better to stay up here. I know too many people and they won’t let me alone for a minute if we stay in the center of town. Now you rest up. I’ll go down the hill and scare up an auto. I’ll be back by dinner.”
That evening Ari took Kitty to a restaurant on the very top of the Carmel, commanding a view of the entire area. The sight beneath was breath-taking. The whole hillside was alive with green trees and half-hidden brownstone houses and apartment buildings, all done in a square Arabic style. The weird-looking oil refinery appeared to be but a dot from this height, and as it turned dark a golden string of lights ran down the twisting road from Har Ha-Carmel into the Arab section by the waterfront.
Kitty was flushed with excitement and pleased with Ari’s sudden show of attention. She was surprised by the modernness of Jewish Haifa. Why, it was far more modern than Athens or Salonika! Much of the strangeness went away when she was addressed in English by the waiter and a half dozen people who knew Ari and stopped at their table to exchange greetings.
They sipped brandy at the end of the meal and Kitty became solemn, intent on the panorama below.
“Are you still wondering what you are doing here?”
“Very much. It doesn’t seem quite real.”
“You will find that we are quite civilized and I can even be charming—sometimes. You know, I never have properly thanked you.”
“You don’t have to. You are thanking me very nicely. I can only remember one other place so lovely as this.”
“That must be San Francisco?”
“Have you been there, Ari?”
“No. All Americans say that Haifa reminds them of San Francisco.”
It was fully dark and lights twinkled on all over the Carmel hillside. A small orchestra played some light dinner music and Ari poured Kitty another brandy and they touched glasses.
Suddenly the music stopped. All conversation halted.
With startling speed a truckload of British troops pulled to a stop before the restaurant and the place was cordoned off. Six soldiers led by a captain entered and looked around. They began to move among the tables, stopping at several and demanding to see identification papers.
“This is just routine,” Ari whispered. “You’ll get used to it.”
The captain in charge of the detail stared at Ari’s table, then walked over to it. “If it isn’t Ari Ben Canaan,” the captain said sarcastically. “We haven’t had your picture on the boards for a long time. I hear you’ve been making mischief elsewhere.”
“Evening, Sergeant,” Ari said. “I’d introduce you if I could remember your name.”
The captain grinned through clenched teeth. “Well, I remember yours. We’re watching you, Ben Canaan. Your old cell at Acre jail is lonesome for you. Who knows, maybe the high commissioner will be smart this time and give you a rope instead.” The captain gave a mock salute and walked on.
“Well,” Kitty said, “what a lovely welcome to Palestine. He was certainly a nasty person.”
Ari leaned close to Kitty and spoke into her ear. “He is Captain Allan Bridges. He is one of the best friends the Haganah has. He keeps us advised on every Arab and British move in the Haifa area. That was all for appearance.”
Kitty shook her head, bewildered. The patrol left with two Jews whose papers didn’t appear in order. The orchestra harassed them with a chorus of “God Save the King.”
The lorry drove away and in a moment it was as though nothing had happened, but Kitty was a little dazed by the suddenness of it and astonished by the calm of the people.
“You learn to live with tension after a while,” Ari said, watching her. “You’ll get used to it. It is a country filled with angry, emotional people. After a while you won’t know what to do when you get one of those rare weeks of peace and quiet. Don’t be sorry you came just when you are getting ...”
Ari’s speech was cut off by a shock wave that ran through the restaurant, rattling the windows and jarring some dishes from the tables. In a second they saw a huge orange ball of flame push angrily into the sky. Another series of explosions