They went to the student cafeteria. Everyone seemed to know Gavrieli; the woman serving the pastries took extra time to pick out an especially large chocolate roll for him. Daniel, basking in the light reflected by the halo, got the second-biggest one.
'So, how've you been?'
'Fine.'
'Last time I saw you, you were pretty damned low. Depressed. The doctors said you'd been that way for a while.'
Damn liar Lipschitz. 'The doctors should have kept their mouths shut.'
Gavrieli smiled. 'No choice. Commanding officer has a right to know. Listen, I understand your hating law-I hate it, too, never practiced a day, never intend to. I'm leaving the army, too-they want to turn me into a paper shuffler.'
The last statement was uttered with dramatic flourish. Daniel knew he was supposed to react with surprise. He drank his coffee, took a bite of chocolate roll. Gavrieli looked at him and went on, undaunted.
'A new age, my friend. For both of us. Time to explore new territories- literally and metaphorically, time to loosen up. Listen, I understand your depression. I was there myself. You know the first few weeks after I got out of the hospital, all I wanted to do was play games-kid's games, the stuff I never had time for because I was too busy studying and serving. Checkers, chess, sheshbesh, one from America called Monopoly-you become a capitalist, amass land, and wipe the other guy out. I played with my sister's kids, game after game. Everyone thought I was crazy, but I was just starved for novelty, even stupid novelty. After that I ate nothing but hamburgers and champagne for three weeks. You understand.'
'Sure,' said Daniel, but he didn't. New experiences were the last thing he wanted. The things he'd seen and done made him want to pass through life with a minimum of disruption.
'When I finished with the games,' Gavrieli was saying, 'I knew I had to do something, but not law, not the army. A new challenge. So I'm joining the police.'
Unable to conceal his surprise, Daniel said, 'I wouldn't have thought it.'
'Yes, I know. But I'm talking about a new police force, highly professional-the best technology, a boost in pay, parity with the army. Out with morons, in with intelligent, educated officers: university types, high school diplomas at minimum. I'm being put in as a pakad, which is still a significant drop from my army rank, but with major supervisory duties and plenty of action. They want me to reorganize the Criminal Investigation Division, draw up a security plan for the new territories, report directly to the district commander, no underlinings, no red tape. In six months he's promised me rav pakad. After that it's straight up, in time for his retirement.' Gavrieli paused. 'Want to join me?'
Daniel laughed. 'I don't think so.'
'What's to laugh at? Are you happy doing what you're doing?'
'I'm fine.'
'Sure you are. I know your personality-law won't work for you. You'll sit on your ass wondering why the world's so corrupt, why the good guys don't win. On top of that the payoff is always muddled, nothing's ever solved. And there's already a glut-the big firms aren't hiring. Without family connections it'll be years before you make a living. You'll have to handle tenant-landlord disputes and other nonsense just to scratch by. Sign up with me, Dani, and I'll see to it that you zip through the rookie course, skip through all the dirty work.'
Gavrieli made a square frame with his fingers, put Daniel's face at the center. 'I picture you as a detective. The hand won't make a difference because you'll be using your brains, not your fists. But it's still action, street work, not talk. You'll get priority for every advanced course, be assigned to CID and leap-frogged to rav samal. Which means the best cases-you'll build up a record quickly, be a mefakeah in no time. As I move higher, I'll take you with me.'
'I don't think so,' Daniel repeated.
'That's because you haven't thought at all. You're still floating. Next time you're studying, take a good look at those law books, all that English common-law crap, another gift from the Brits-their judges wear wigs and fart into their robes. Stop and consider if that's really what you want to do with the rest of your life.'
Daniel wiped his lips and stood. 'I've got to be going.'
'Need a ride somewhere?'
'No, thanks.'
'All right, then. Here's my card, call me when you change your mind.'
Two weeks into the new academic year, he called. Ninety days later he was in uniform, patrolling the Katamonim. Gavrieli had offered to skip him through it, but he declined the favor, wanting to walk the streets, get a feel for the job that Gideon would never have-for all his intelligence and savvy, there was a certain naivete about him, a delusion of invincibility that surviving Ammunition Hill had only served to strengthen.
A psychic partition, thought Daniel, that separated him from the darker side of life.
It had caused him be in the wrong place at the wrong time, swept along, inevitably, with the sewage from Lippmann.
Gideon had played from his own script. There was no reason to feel guilty about what had happened. No reason for Daniel to apologize for doing his job.
He looked at his watch. What time was it in Melbourne? Eight hours later, well into the evening.
An embassy party, perhaps? Gorgeous Gideon sticking close to the ambassador, manicured fingers curled around a cocktail glass as he charmed the ladies with flattery and clever anecdotes. His evening jacket tailored to conceal the 9 mm.
Executive attache. When all was said and done, he was just a bodyguard, a suit and a gun. He had to be miserable.
