Lensky had a car waiting for them with a driver and half an hour later they were at their new home. There were lights on in the courtyard and over the arched entrance and the house itself was ablaze with lights. A middle-aged woman, one of Lensky’s friends, was waiting at the open door. She greeted them in Hebrew and Aarons smiled and thanked her in Yiddish.
When Aarons had been shown around the house the four of them went to a small restaurant for a meal. The streets were still busy with shoppers but the shops were beginning to close.
When they were alone Tania said, “Do you like the house?”
He smiled. “I can’t believe it. We did it all in such a rush. It’s a beautiful house. I think we’re going to be very happy here.”
By the end of the first month New York seemed a long way away. They had friends, some of them they had met through Lensky, others Tania had met through photographic contacts. Already she had two local assignments and one from a New York magazine.
Setting up the book business was taking longer. Andrei had a lot of introductions to academics but it was wealthy immigrants who were more interested in his books. But he made enough on his sales of rare and antique books to keep the business going. They had been in Israel just over six months when Aarons was invited to give a talk at the university on the history of the Revolution. He did it reluctantly but it was obviously a great success with the students. It was the Revolution seen by a contemporary with a perceptive eye that now had the benefit of hindsight.
It was Yehuda Cohn, head of the History Faculty, who asked him the following spring if he would care to lecture two days a week at the university. Although Aarons had said that he didn’t feel he was qualified to teach at any level, Cohn had smiled and said that he was too modest and that was part of the reason why the students liked him so much. That and his lack of bias.
The Malloys came to stay with them the following Christmas and a month later they had a visitor who came unannounced to the house.
He was in his forties, a handsome man who spoke good English and introduced himself as Amos Frankel. Could he have a private word with Aarons?
Andrei took him to his library and offered him a coffee which he smilingly declined. When they were both seated Aarons said, “What do you want to talk about?”
Frankel smiled. “You.”
“Me? Is this something to do with books or is it the university?”
“Neither. I wanted to ask for your help.”
“What kind of help?”
“I suppose that vaguely it’s to do with the subject you lecture on at the university.”
The dark eyes were watching Aarons’ face and Frankel smiled. “It’s not an official approach, my friend. Just a … let’s say … a look at one another.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I think you do, but I understand your response.” He shrugged. “We think you have experience that would help us in our relationships with Moscow and we wonder if you might help.”
“You say—‘we think’—who are we?”
“A government organisation.”
“Mossad?”
Frankel shrugged. “In that area, but not Mossad. Solely concerned with politics and diplomacy.” He smiled. “Not doers, more thinkers.”
“What makes you think that I could help?”
Frankel smiled. “An old friend thought you might be willing.”
“I think your old friend was mistaken.”
“Our information is that you helped others to keep the peace, why not your own country—Israel?”
“Where does your information come from?”
“It’s a long story.”
“So tell me.”
For a few seconds Frankel was silent, then he said, “Four weeks ago colleagues of mine in another organisation came across a man. A Soviet. Here as a tourist with a Canadian passport. Let us say he was taken into custody and was interrogated for many days.” Frankel looked at Aarons’ face. “If I say that he confessed to being on a mission for Directorate D—Active Measures—of the First Chief Directorate you’ll know what I’m talking about.”
“And who was the target?”
“Let’s just say it was an old friend of yours. And of mine too. And because of the reasons the Soviet gave as to why our friend was the target we briefed him and had a long talk with him. He was worried about you being a target too. He told us a little of your background.” He smiled. “Just enough to make us look after you.”
“What happened to the Active Measures man?”
Stony-faced Frankel said, “My colleagues in the other organisation assure me that he’ll not be a problem in the future.”
“Tell me your friend’s name.”
“You want me to say it?”
“Yes.”
“It’s Lensky. Jakob Lensky.”
“Why was he a target?”
“He was classified as an enemy of the State.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
Frankel shrugged. “They don’t have to produce evidence, those people. I’m sure you know that.”
“So what has this to do with me?”
“Nothing. You asked me how I knew about you.”
“I left all those things behind when I left New York. I’m happy here. For the first time in my life. We came here to live simple lives, my wife and I.”
“You’re a Jew, Andrei Grigorovich. And an Israeli.”
“So?”
“We are a small country surrounded by enemies.
