Exodus - Leon Uris [29]
“That is just the point,” Kitty fired back; “everything connected with Caraolos is neck deep in politics. I am certain that the British have their reasons. I don’t wish to take sides.”
“Mrs. Fremont. I was a captain in the British Army and I hold a Military Cross for valor. To coin an old cliché—some of my best friends are British. The fact is that we have dozens of British officers and soldiers who can’t stomach what is happening in Palestine and who work with us twenty-four hours a day. This is not a case of politics but of humanity.”
“I doubt your sincerity. Why would you risk the lives of three hundred children?”
“Most human beings have a purpose for living,” Ari said; “there is no purpose in Caraolos. Fighting for your freedom is a purpose. We have a quarter of a million people in Europe who want to get into Palestine. Any one of them would board that ship in Kyrenia if given the choice.”
“You are a very clever man, Mr. Ben Canaan. I cannot argue with you. I don’t have your stock list of answers.”
“I thought you were a nurse,” he said sarcastically.
“The world is filled with suffering. I can give my services a thousand places just as needful as Caraolos, without the strings attached.”
“Why don’t you visit Caraolos and tell me that afterwards?”
“You’re not going to trick me and you’re not going to issue me challenges. I worked the night shift in a Cook County hospital, and more nights than not I’ve blotted up bodies off the receiving-room floor. You can’t show me anything at Caraolos that I haven’t seen before.”
The room became quiet. Ari Ben Canaan blew a long breath and threw up his hands in defeat. “I am sorry,” he said. “I’ll be in touch with you in a few days, Parker.” He turned for the door.
“Mr. Ben Canaan,” Kitty said, “are you quite certain that I won’t go telling this story to our mutual friends?”
Ari walked back and looked down into her eyes. She knew that instant she had said the wrong thing. A cruel little smile crossed his face. “I think you are just trying to be a woman and have the last word. I don’t misjudge people very often. I can’t afford to. I like Americans. Americans have consciences. As soon as yours begins to get the best of you, you can reach me at Mr. Mandria’s and I’ll be glad to show you around Caraolos.”
“You are quite sure of yourself, aren’t you?”
“Let us say,” Ari answered, “that right this minute I am surer of myself than you are.” Ari walked from the room.
It took a long time after Ari left for the impact of his visit to subside.
Kitty kicked off her shoes, at last, and sat back on the bed. “Well! You did say we were in for an interesting evening.”
“I think you made a wise choice by staying out of this thing.”
“And you?”
“It’s a day’s work. It could turn into something very big.”
“Suppose you had refused him?”
“Oh, they’d get another correspondent somewhere in Europe to come over to Cyprus. They are very resourceful people. I just happened to be conveniently here.”
“Mark,” Kitty said thoughtfully, “did I make a fool of myself?”
“I don’t suppose you made yourself any more foolish than a hundred other women have.” Mark said it deliberately to let Kitty know she had been obvious about her attraction to Ari.
“He is a gorgeous man. When did you meet him?”
“The first time was in Berlin in the early part of 1939. That was my first ANS post. He had been sent over by Mossad Aliyah Bet to get as many Jews out of Germany as he could before the war started. He was in his early twenties then. I saw him again in Palestine. He was in the British Army ... this was during the war. There was some kind of undercover assignment. I don’t know exactly what it was. Since the war he has been heard of showing up all over Europe, buying arms, smuggling refugees into Palestine.