“I know virtually nothing about the Middle East.”
“We know that.”
“So what help am I?”
“You know how the machinery works in the Kremlin and in Dzerdzhinski Square. You could maybe save lives.”
“Does Lensky know about this?”
“No.”
“He knows more about those things than I do.”
“D’you know how old he is?”
“No.”
“Eighty-two. He’s an old man, my friend. He’s had more than he can take. He hasn’t got long to live. He’s a sick man.”
“And if I don’t help you?”
“We shall be disappointed but we shall understand. It happens to our people as well.”
“What happens?”
“They get worn out by men’s evil. They don’t just read about it in newspapers. They see it, they experience it. Day after day. If they are wise they do what you did. They call it a day.”
“And if they don’t?”
“We send them to nice quiet embassies overseas. New Zealand’s got great healing powers for an over-active mind. Nice people, nice country.”
“So why disturb my peace of mind?”
“We won’t, I assure you.” He smiled. “How about we do a deal?”
“What deal?”
“Come and have dinner with my wife and me once a month.”
“And?”
“And nothing.” He smiled. “I had a duty to ask you. But we aren’t a press-gang. We’re volunteers. Most of our people are escaping from something. Some want to fight on. Some don’t.”
He stood up, still smiling and held out his hand. As Aarons took it Frankel said, “Except for our deal, forget our talk.”
Despite his refusal to help, Aarons had been impressed by Amos Frankel. He was perceptive and understanding without much explaining of Aarons’ feelings. He seemed to understand by experience or instinct that he was asking too much. He was a likeable man too, easy to talk to and a vibrant, alert personality. Sophisticated in the true meaning of the word.
Two months later came the first invitation to dinner and the Aaronses took instantly to Rebecca Frankel and her husband. The two couples met every month at one house or another and they became occasions to look forward to.
Six months later Jakob Lensky died after a fall that broke a leg and turned to pneumonia. Both couples attended his funeral. By then Aarons and Frankel were close friends. Meeting two or three times a week for coffee and a game of chess. Frankel had never again raised the question of Aarons cooperating in some way, nor did he ever bring international politics into their talk.
The sunshine and the lively Israelis had made a real difference to Aarons. For the first time in his life he felt that he belonged. Most Israelis were like him, having left something that they had found oppressive. But he gradually became aware that he had left behind something that he disliked whereas most others had left in the wake of a ruthlessness and cruelty that was sickening to think about. Lives that were best forgotten but could never be forgotten. Faded photographs, those tattooed numbers on wrists, the faraway look in old people’s eyes, the constant awareness of the precariousness of the small country in which they lived, surrounded by enemies who had sworn to sweep them into the sea. That sparkling, blue sea where he and Tania walked along the beach.
It was the third year anniversary of their arrival in Israel when he phoned Amos Frankel and arranged to meet him at the coffee shop on Kiryat Yam.
“I’ve changed my mind, Amos. About helping.”
“Why?”
“This is the country I came to to find some peace. I’ve found it, and I’m grateful. I guess it’s time I paid my dues.”
Frankel smiled and shook his head slowly, “It’s not necessary, Andrei.”
“But I want to help.”
“It’s some years now since you were involved with Moscow. Things have moved on since then. People too.” He paused. “How about we leave it that when we would like a second opinion on some policy matter we could call on you?”
“Anything you want.”
“That’s fine. There are some people I’d like you to meet but there’s no hurry.”
It’s not easy to be a loner in Israel. Doggedly loyal to their communities and their country, Israeli men were not too concerned with the niceties. As Ben-Gurion said to Truman, “There are three million presidents in Israel.” It wasn’t just the background of concentration camps but the harsh conditions of the early years of the State that bred a loyalty to one’s fellows in times of peace as well as war. Casual dress and a lack of inhibitions were the outward uniform of people whose homes were sanctuaries for even the least observant of Jews, with its mezuzah attached to the door-frame to remind all who entered that it was a Jewish home.
As the years went by Aarons’ old life seemed so far away as to be unreal. He seldom thought about it and when he did it was with amazement that he had let it go on for so long.
Their income was not much more than half what they had earned in New York but their living was less expensive too despite the fact that their personal lives were more active. He had no regrets about leaving their old life in New York. Looking back on it it seemed a narrow, broken-backed existence. But he sensed that there were New York things that Tanya missed, and when her old New York agent wrote offering an assignment for a photographic book on the ethnic minorities of New York he noticed that she didn’t hurry to reply. When he asked her how long it would take she had said she would need three months’ hard work. But he had seen her eyes light up when he suggested that she take the assignment to keep up her New York contacts.
They had been Israeli citizens for just over ten years when he saw her off at Ben-Gurion. Sad that she was going, hating being on his own but loving her too much not to let her go. She was going
