Exodus - Leon Uris [242]
Barak held his son’s arm and they walked through their fields to the place where the Jordan River ran past their farm. They could see Jordana and David riding away and they could hear her laughter.
“You see, Jordana is over it already. How are things with the Palmach at Ein Or?”
“As they have always been, Father. Good boys and girls but too few of them and too little to fight with. We cannot expect to win a war against seven armies.”
The sprinklers began whirling in the fields as the sun started its plunge behind the Lebanese hills near Fort Esther. The father and the son watched their fields for a long time. Each of them wondered if there would ever come a day when the only thing to worry about was the mending of a fence or the plowing of their land.
“Let’s go back to the house,” Ari said. “Ema is alone.”
Ari turned to go. He felt his father’s giant hand on his shoulder. He turned. His father’s great head was bowed in sadness. “I leave for Geneva in two days. I leave with sorrow as I have never known. For fifteen years someone has been missing from our table. I have been a proud and stubborn man but I have paid the price of pride with torment. It is hell for me now. Ari, my son, do not let my brother Akiva hang at the end of a British rope.”
Chapter Sixteen
JERUSALEM SEETHED on the eve of the UNSCOP departure. In the Arab sector inflammatory oratory rang out to the wild chantings of Arab mobs. The city was split into fortified areas, cordoned off with barbed wire, and guarded by Tommies entrenched behind massed guns.
Ari Ben Canaan moved through Jerusalem, crossing from sector to sector to all of the known hangouts of Bar Israel, the Maccabee contact man. Bar Israel seemed to have disappeared. There had been no liaison between Maccabees and Haganah since the capture of Akiva and Little Giora. Ari was not without his sources of information, however, and he found out that Bar Israel was living in a room in the El Katamon district.
Ari went directly to the room and unceremoniously shoved the door open. Bar Israel was engaged in a chess game. He looked up, saw Ari, and returned to studying the chess board.
“Get out,” Ari ordered the other player. He shoved the man through the door and closed it. “You knew damned well I was looking for you.”
Bar Israel shrugged and lit a cigar. “You left fifty love letters all over Jerusalem.”
“Then why didn’t you contact me? I’ve been in Jerusalem for twenty-four hours.”
“You’ve made your dramatic entrance. Now what do you want?”
“Take me to Ben Moshe.”
“We aren’t playing with you boys any more. We have an aversion to Haganah commanders learning our headquarters.”
“You’re not talking to a Haganah commander. You are talking to Ari Ben Canaan, the nephew of Akiva.”
“Ari, I trust you personally but orders are orders.”
Ari snatched Bar Israel out of his chair, spilling the chess board to the floor. He held the little Oriental by the lapels and shook him as though he were a weightless sack. “You are going to take me to Ben Moshe or I am going to snap your neck.”
Ben Moshe sat at his desk at Maccabee headquarters in the Greek colony. Beside him stood Nahum Ben Ami. The two men glared angrily at the bewildered Bar Israel and Ari Ben Canaan.
“We all know Ari,” Bar Israel whimpered. “I took a chance.”
“Get out,” Ben Moshe snarled at the sweating man. “We will settle with you later. Now that you are here, Ben Canaan, what do you want?”
“I want to know what you plan to do about Akiva and the boy?”
“Do? Why nothing, of course. What can we do?”
“You are a liar!” Ari said.
“Whatever we do it is none of your damned business,” Nahum said.
Ari smashed his fist on the desk so hard it splintered the top. “It is my business! Akiva is my uncle!”
Ben Moshe remained icy. “We have had enough co-operation with traitors.”
Ari leaned forward until his face was inches from Moshe’s. “I hate your guts, Ben Moshe, and I hate yours, Nahum Ben Ami. But I am not leaving until I know your plans.”
“You are asking for a bullet through your brain.”
“You