Mitla Pass - Leon Uris [144]
Both of them had their own intelligence networks. Natasha’s story seemed commonplace on the surface: Hungarian, affluent professional family, lived undercover with false documents wearing a blond wig in Budapest for a greater part of the war, a survivor of Auschwitz. Her mother, father, two brothers were killed in the gas chambers, ran the British blockade of Palestine in a refugee ship after the war.
One could gather that Natasha was quite worldly and well traveled in Europe before the war. She had been married but said nothing about how it ended. Thus far in Israel, several names were attached to her romantically, but apparently not seriously.
But Gideon knew that none of the survivors were simple or commonplace. Their heads were labyrinths with pockets of secrets, tortured guilt, twisted and violent memories. Every concentration camp victim he had interviewed had raw nerves hidden in shallow places, waiting to be irritated. Natasha must have her share of them, but she covered them well.
Gideon spoke even less about himself. His mind, soul, and body were consumed by the book he was going to write. Israel had captured him more deeply than he imagined. He burned with desire to end the research and get at the book itself, but that was months off.
“The Knesset adjourned today. I’ll be heading back to Tel Aviv tomorrow,” Natasha said.
“Just in the nick of time,” he said. “Shlomo and I are going on patrol with the paras in the Negev. We’re going from Nitzana along the Negev-Sinai border down to Eilat. I’m really excited.”
Natasha smiled the smile that every man wanted to see from the woman opposite him—sensuous, playful, knowing.
“What are you snickering at, lady?” he asked.
“I was the one who signed approval for you from the P.M.’s office. You’re going out with the Lion’s Battalion.”
“Small country,” Gideon said. “Well, are we Finked out? Any place else exciting to eat? How about here?”
“One of my girlfriends has a flat just a few blocks away and she’s out of town. I’d like to fix you dinner. I found some fabulous baby lamb chops from the Arab side.”
“How’d you get them? Come on, I’m curious.”
“I have a friend with the United Nations peacekeeping force. Everything passes through the Mandelbaum Gate, except people. Shall we be off?”
“How about a drink first?” Gideon asked.
Natasha nodded knowingly. “What’s on your mind, cowboy?”
“The story of my life in five minutes or less.”
The sound of the muezzin calling the Muslims to prayer was heard from a minaret and drifted over the calm valley. A chilling moment in the divided city’s life.
“Natasha, I’ve been a bad boy for a long time. Right now, my marriage is on tenterhooks. We’ve both made mistakes. Val’s were small stuff beside my sins and transgressions. Mine were whoppers.”
“Whoppers? What’s that?”
“Big ones. I rationalized my screwing around because I blamed her for nailing me to Hollywood. But, you know, in the end we’ve all got to own up for our own actions. So, the marriage is on hold, more or less on trial.”
“Do you still love her?”
Gideon wavered just long enough to give Natasha an answer without words. “You know how it goes,” he finally said. “We’ve been bedmates for over a dozen years, good lovers ... even great sometimes. We’re comfortable around each other when we’re not fighting. We’ve got two beautiful children and I guess you’d say, they’re my life. Who knows about love? We do care for each other. That may have to be enough.”
“That’s sad,” Natasha said.
“When you invited me up to your room last night, I did something I never believed possible, especially to a woman like you. I said no. I said no because I was determined to stay clean here in Israel. Val and I left on very good terms and I wanted, very much, to be trusted again as a husband. God-damned lies pile up on each other. Tell one lie and you need twenty more lies to back it up. It’s shit living that way.”
Natasha’s eyes grew mournful and moist. “That’s very commendable,” she said.
“I don’t know, Natasha. If it