meeting. “How come every other local TV reporter from Kalamazoo can run into Jeza and we come up empty for two damn weeks? Where the hell
“I want more reconnaissance, more spotters, more cell phone contact going on. And I want you guys to come back with something really big by Monday morning or some of you are going back where you came from. Do I make myself clear?”
After the dispiriting staff meeting, it was an especially pleasant diversion for Feldman to receive a phone call from Anke, who normally wouldn't disturb him at the office. It had been four long days since he'd seen her, and Feldman was not looking forward to telling her he'd be working this weekend.
“Jon, I'm sorry to bother you at the office.”
“Not a bother. It's good to hear a friendly voice. How are you?”
“Actually, I'm doing very well-for the both of us. I've found you a contact with the Negev Research Institute. And it's a good one.”
Feldman bolted forward in his chair, ecstatic. “You're kidding! I can't believe it! You don't know how badly we need a break like this! Who is it?”
“Not now. Come down tonight after work for a nice, home-cooked dinner and I'll tell you all about it. We've got a meeting set up for tomorrow morning. Just you and me, and no cameras. And for God's sake, don't tell anyone. There's apparently a lot more to this than any of us realize!”
The drive to Tel Aviv was a short fifty minutes, and an eager Feldman arrived well before dark. Despite his persistence, however, Anke refused to discuss business until after dinner. They dined on the balcony in the refreshing salt breeze, enjoying steamed crabs and rock lobster that Anke had prepared to perfection. Later, snuggling together in a love seat, a luxury liner plying the twilight sea before them, Feldman took his arm from around her, grasped her smooth brown shoulders and turned her toward him.
“All right now,” he commanded with transparent sternness, “I've been frustrated long enough. You tell me immediately about this source of yours or I'm turning you over my knee!”
She laughed at the impatience in his eyes. “Believe me, Jon, this is worth waiting for. I just wanted you to relax a little first.” Her face glowing with excitement, she grasped his hands in hers. “When I got back to campus for classes last week I picked up a copy of the university paper to catch up on what had happened over winter break. I was shocked and upset to read an article and obituary on Dr. Jozef Leveque, who was a genetics biology professor at the university. I knew him and his wife, Anne, very well. Both of them being from France, like me, we had much in common.
“The article was peculiar in that it didn't give a cause of death, a date or anything. Well, I didn't make the connection at the time, but later I phoned Anne Leveque to offer my condolences. We talked for a while, and she finally confided in me that her husband had died in the explosion at the institute. She was terribly shattered over it, of course, poor thing.
“I tried to get Mrs. Leveque to open up a bit, but she seemed very nervous, although I could tell she wanted to talk with someone. When I told her about us, who you were and all, she got extremely anxious and made me swear an oath that I wouldn't say anything to you. She made some excuse and hung up. I thought that was the end of it, but then today, she called to say she wanted to meet with you and me tomorrow morning and that it was very important. But only you and me and no cameras or tape recorders. She was calling from a pay phone because she was afraid her home was bugged.”
Feldman looked off in the distance at the disappearing ocean liner and sighed appreciatively. “You don't know how timely this is!” He gave her a vigorous hug. “When do we meet?”
“Seven o'clock, tomorrow morning.”
He feigned a frown of concern. “Then we'd better get to bed early tonight, wouldn't you say?”
43
Nordau Towers, Tel Aviv, Israel 7:00 A.M., Saturday, January 22, 2000
Anne Leveque arrived promptly and nervously at the appointed hour. Anke invited her in and introduced her to Feldman, whom she immediately recognized. “You're as handsome in person as you are on TV,” she complimented him in excellent English, and Feldman smiled graciously.
Mrs. Leveque was a sprightly, dignified-looking woman, in her early seventies, Feldman guessed. Nicely dressed, with thick silver hair swept back and secured by a gold clasp. Although she smiled with her lips, her gray eyes and brow were in perpetual worry. Feldman reassured her that she could place her trust in Anke and him.
As if she'd finally resolved her inner conflicts, she stared closely at them for a moment, reached over to take their hands in hers, and whispered softly, “You make such a wonderful couple. Jozef and I were much like you many years ago.”
Feldman glanced over at Anke, who was sitting close to him with large tears in her eyes.
Mrs. Leveque attempted another half smile. “Yes, I know I can trust you both and I will do what I have to do.” She grew serious again and stared intently at Feldman. “Jon, I want you to know that I love my country dearly and would never do anything to harm it. What I am about to tell you is not a betrayal of Israel. It concerns a secret IDF operation unknown even to the prime minister or the Knesset. And that makes my situation all the more serious because the operation is outside the law.”
She could no longer look Feldman in the eye. “I am ashamed to admit to you that I and my late husband played a major part in all of this.”
Feldman frowned and reclined slightly in his chair.
“As you know,” the woman proceeded, “the IDF functions under the control of Defense Minister Shaul Tamin, who is directly involved in this operation. Tamin is a ruthless man, and what I say here will place me at great risk. Nevertheless, for the safety-and possibly the life-of someone… very important to me, I must do this. I must expose something I fervently believe is against all the laws of God and nature.
“But I must have your solemn oath that certain aspects of this story, which I will designate to you, be held in the strictest confidence.”
They both solemnly agreed.
This seemed to satisfy Mrs. Leveque and she settled into the couch.
“It's an involved story and I should start from the beginning.”
“Do you object to my taking notes?” Feldman asked.
“Not so long as you don't record names or those details that I will indicate as sensitive.”
Mrs. Leveque opened her large saddle purse next to her chair and withdrew a worn, clothbound album. “Because you will not believe what I am about to tell you, when I am finished I will share with you my husband's diary, which will substantiate everything. You understand, however, I cannot let you borrow it. It is all I have left of these last strange years with Jozef.”
Feldman nodded. Mrs. Leveque held the diary in both hands, as if drawing strength from it.
“First,” she began, “let me explain to you that I met my husband Jozef at the University of Cologne in 1952 where we were both graduate students in biology. We fell in love, and after completing our degrees, Jozef received a professorship at the University of Tel Aviv. We married against my parents’ objections-I'm a devout Catholic and Jozef is Jewish-and we moved here in the summer of 1954.”
Feldman noted with interest that, unlike his parents, the Leveques seemed to have reconciled their disparate religious persuasions.
“Jozef quickly earned a research position at the university and I was also offered a biology professorship there. Because of our careers, we decided to forgo having children. Our daughter, Marie, who was born in 1968, was a wonderful accident. It wasn't until we had her that we realized how much we'd been missing in our lives. Marie was the most loving, intelligent and happy child a parent could ever wish for. She completed perfectly the love
