The Haj - Leon Uris [219]
‘They also believe they can humiliate us out of existence,’ Gideon said. ‘It won’t happen. We’ve been humiliated before by perverse societies.’
Ibrahim blanched for a moment at the remark. What was the use of fighting with Gideon? ‘If I had come to you in the beginning the result would have been the same as it is now. Humanity was the last thing on the minds of the Syrians and Egyptians. Perpetuation of hatred was the first thing, and in that they have succeeded.’
‘Yes, they have,’ Gideon agreed. ‘They will continue this charade until the dead horse has been flogged a thousand times over. And then another conference, and another and another. Then a war, and another. And, my brother, you’ll still be in Aqbat Jabar.’
‘What is there left for us to do, Gideon?’
‘Rebel. However, no revolution has ever come from the Arab people, only coups, holy wars, and assassinations. Why, in the name of God, is it that you can only exist under a military boot and fanatical holy men?’
Ibrahim downed his whiskey hard, ignoring Gideon’s anger, flushed and coughed and asked for another. ‘Have you heard any word of my son Ishmael?’ he asked at last.
‘No. It is just about impossible for Nuri Mudhil to contact me in Switzerland. Too many messengers can spoil the message and they could also put Mudhil in danger.’
‘I understand.’
‘I should think that Ishmael is safe. I’m afraid I can’t say the same for Jamil. I do have contact with Colonel Zyyad. He’s spoiling to settle his score with you.’
‘I do not fear Zyyad. I can handle him.’
‘Sure, as long as you had stature and importance the Jordanians weren’t going to play around with you, but don’t underestimate Farid Zyyad’s brutality. He can show a civilized face to the outside world, British training and all that, but don’t go to him expecting mercy. You won’t be the strong leader you were when you left. That’s what he is waiting for. I fear for Jamil.’
‘I knew that when I left Palestine,’ Ibrahim said.
‘I still have a few things the Jordanians want from me,’ Gideon said. ‘Let me try to make a deal for you and your family. I’ll think of something.’
‘I will not dishonor my son’s courage.’
‘Courage for what, Ibrahim? To grow up to be a terrorist? Suppose it were Ishmael in that prison? Would you make a deal for him?’
‘I would let Ishmael die first,’ Ibrahim answered without hesitation.
Gideon’s face suddenly reddened with anger. His fist pounded on the desk; he was unable to speak.
‘I did not come to argue with you, Gideon. It has always been you who has said that the Arab lives in fantasy. Well, are you not living out the greatest fantasy of them all? Do you believe you will overcome the entire Arab world?’
Gideon was rocky and weary from months of frustration. He went to the bottle again.
‘I’ll tell you what your Ben-Gurion fears,’ Ibrahim pressed. ‘He fears Israel will end up as a Levantine nation doing things just as we do them.’
‘Oh no,’ Gideon snarled, ‘it won’t happen, because peace is a value to us. Love is a value to us.’ He bolted out of the chair and paced, almost like a caged man. ‘I came here to Zurich believing that one iota of truth, of reason, might penetrate those locked vaults you carry around in your heads.’ He leaned over the desk close to Ibrahim’s face. ‘What kind of perverse society, religion, culture ... what kind of human being ... is it that can generate such volcanic hatred ... that knows only hatred, that breeds only hatred, that exists for hatred? So, let your son die. Be proud, Haj Ibrahim!’
They stood shaking, two gladiators on the brink. ‘Go on,’ Gideon dared, ‘pull your dagger. That’s all you know.’
Ibrahim turned away. ‘I don’t know