supper.
They began to eat. Her father had been very hungry, and wolfed his food. Elene wondered why be had come. Was it just to tell her of the death of her grandfather? No. That was part of it, perhaps but there would be more.
She asked about her sisters. After the death of their mother all four of them, in their different ways, had broken with their father. Two had gone to America, one had married the son of her father's greatest enemy, and the youngest, Naomi, had chosen the surest escape, and died. It dawned on Elene that her father was destroyed.
He asked her what she was doing. She decided to tell him the truth. 'The British are trying to catch a man, a German, they think is a spy. It's my job to befriend him ... I'm the bait in a snare. But . . . I think I may not help them anymore.'
He had stopped eating. 'Are you afraid?'
She nodded. 'He's very dangerous. He killed a soldier with a knife. Last night ... I was to meet him in a restaurant and the British were to arrest him there, but something went wrong and I spent the whole evening with him, I was so frightened, and when it was over, the Englishman . . .' She stopped, and took a deep breath. 'Anyway, I may not help them anymore.'
Her father went on eating. 'Do you love this Englishman?'
'He isn't Jewish,' she said defiantly.
'I've given up judging everyone,' he said.
Elene could not take it all in. Was there nothing of the old man left?
They finished their meal, and Elene got up to make him a glass of tea. He said: 'The Germans are coming. It will be very bad for Jews. I'm getting out.'
She frowned. 'Where will you go?'
'Jerusalem.'
'How will you get there? The trains are full, there's a quota for Jews-' 'I am going to walk.'
She stared at him not believing he could be serious, not believing he would joke about such a thing. 'Walk?'
He smiled. 'It's been done before.'
She saw that he meant it, and she was angry with him. 'As I recall, Moses never made it.,'
'Perhaps I will be able to hitch a ride.'
'It's crazy!'
'Haven't I always been a little crazy?'
'Yes!' she shouted. Suddenly her anger collapsed. 'Yes, you've always been a little crazy, and I should know better than to try to change your mind.'
'I will pray to God to preserve you. You will have a chance here-you're young and beautiful, and maybe they won't know you're Jewish. But me, a useless old man muttering Hebrew prayers . . . me they would send to a camp where I would surely die. It is always better to live. You said that.'
She tried to persuade him to stay with her, for one night at least, but he would not. She gave him a sweater, and a scarf, and all the cash she had in the house, and told him that if he waited a day she could get more money from the bank, and buy him a good coat; but he was in a hurry. She cried, and dried her eyes, and cried again. When he left she looked out of her window and saw him walking along the street, an old man going up out of Egypt and into the wilderness, following in the footsteps of the Children of Israel. There was something of the old man left: his orthodoxy had mellowed, but he still had a will of iron. He disappeared into the crowd, and she left the window. When she thought of his courage, she knew she could not run out on Vandam.
'She's an intriguing girl,' Wolff said. 'I can't quite figure her out.' He was sitting on the bed, watching Sonja get dressed. 'She's a little jumpy. When I told her we were going on a picnic she acted quite scared, said she hardly knew me, as if she needed a chaperone.'
'With you, she did,' Sonja said.
'And yet she can be very earthy and direct.'
'Just bring her home to me. I'll figure her out.'
'It bothers me.' Wolff frowned. He was thinking aloud. 'Somebody tried to jump into the taxi with us.'
'A beggar.'
'No, be was a European.'
'A European beggar.' Sonja stopped brushing her hair to look at Wolff in the mirror. 'This town is full of crazy people, you know that. Listen, if you have second thoughts, just picture her writhing on that bed with you and me on either side of her.'
Wolff grinned. It was an appealing picture, but not an irresistible one:
it was Sonja's fantasy, not his. His instinct told him to lay low now, and not to make dates with anyone. But Sonja was going to insist-and he still needed her.
Sonja said: 'And when am I going to contact Kemel? He must know by now that you're living here.'
Wolff sighed. Another date; another claim on him; another danger; also, another person whose protection he needed. 'Call him tonight from the club. I'm not in a rush for this meeting, but we've got to keep him sweet.'
'Okay.' She was ready, and her taxi was waiting. 'Make a date with Elene.' She went out.
