God. I thought I would die when I pushed her out of that window back in Amsterdam. I jumped to my death right there with her. Just like that. I don’t have a death wish, don’t get me wrong, but the situation there was… complicated. It was our only way out at the time.
She’d broken all of her bones, then. And now, it’s happening again.
Chapter Thirteen
I woke up sprawled on the couch at 05:28. I’d slept like the dead. Three-and-a-half hours of sleep had to do.
Timothy hadn’t called. I rang him again.
It always took him ages to pick up the phone. Well, he was one of the busiest people I’d ever met. What a pleasure. I wish I could work like that. I had long intervals between each act. With him, it was nonstop. What he finished with his eyes closed, I would never manage in a lifetime.
Okay, that was been five rings, already… I’d have to try again later.
Later is most often measured in ten minutes. I’ll call at six.
What time was it for him? Eleven PM… he was probably asleep already, but I didn’t give a fuck.
Timothy once told me he had this thing with a high-ranking air force officer in the American army. He’d always call without a bit of care for time differences.
On the general’s birthday, Timothy got all the guys together—and it was quite a few, since it had been a serious operation—and each one of us called him up to say happy birthday. The first one had called at two AM in the General’s local time, and the twentieth, at around six AM.
Timothy had also worked at different intervals—ones of twelve minutes between each. Honestly, there’d been more, but the Yank caught on, gave a harsh, Southern-accented curse, then hung up while saying something about not messing with Israelis.
He was right.
In my opinion, he particularly shouldn’t mess with any Israeli women. They always seem to believe that the sun rises and sets from between their legs.
I’ve met non-Israeli women. Liberally speaking, there’s no difference between them. It’s all the same. But those non-Israeli girls also don’t make such a big deal out everything like ours do.
Our girls are… are… well, first of all, they’re the most beautiful women in the world. By far. It’s that special mix—that spiciness that makes Israeli women who they are.
Army service, ten extra kilos right to their asses, then getting discharged…
It’s a rough county, what can I tell you.
It’s the best place on earth.
It’s not for nothing that we’re rated the first place in the world regarding how satisfied we are with the country we live in.
Israelis aren’t suckers, you know. So, if they say that Israel is the best place to be, that they’re happy and fully satisfied, then there’s nothing anyone can say.
First place, not second. Then, maybe I’d be open to discuss it. But you can’t argue with the first place. It’s golden. True gold. No one remembers or knows who Bar Cochva’s lieutenant was. Bar Cochva’s story—everyone knows about. He was a lion.
Timothy is a lion, too.
What the hell is up with him? I’ll try him again.
Timothy has aged quite a bit since that time in Sinai, but it doesn’t matter. He’s a lion, and as he grows older, he’s still a lion. He’s simply an older lion.
I’m pretty sure I’ll lose my mind if I don’t find out Noa is okay.
I’m pretty sure I’ll lose my mind if I don’t see her now. If I don’t hug her now. If I don’t kiss her.
God, what mess have we gotten ourselves in to?
What is going on?
There wasn’t even news from the people who took her.
Who would mess with us? Who would dare?
I didn’t know what to think. She wouldn’t leave my head. I couldn’t work like this. It was affecting me too much.
I had to pull myself together. I had to distance myself from the thought that it was Noa. Otherwise, I wouldn’t act to the best of my abilities. Knowledge and abilities. God, she needed me at my best. Who the hell knew what was going on.
Shit… there were so many scenarios rushing through my head.
I always think the worst.
I’m never taking her on another operation. Never. Never ever.
I only take her because she’s better than you can believe. You’d know how good if things would be going as planned…. Now, though.
Fuck. I’m calling Timothy again.
He still wasn’t picking up.
Right. I’m calling the war room. They say only to call there in emergencies but fuck it all to hell and back. Let them fire me. I don’t care.
I do care. If I’m fired, I’ll have nothing left. Nothing but Noa. And my family. Other than that, nothing. And it’s not exactly in that order. The order has been changing for twenty years now changing per Noa’s moods and willingness to cooperate with me. Those latter two change her ranking from time to time. Thus—also all the others,’ too. This shit isn’t simple. You figured all that out, I presume.
I don’t think about rankings. I try to be a positive influence, all without harming other people’s. As long as they aren’t in the mood to complain, then everything is all right in my books.
It can always be better. It can also be worse. That’s something to remember. then manage life’s risks while keeping it in mind.
Everyone has their own love-hate relationship with their personal risks. It’s like a color spectrum. The infinity is in the middle. In our case—the human case—there are billions of shades.
Everyone has the prism of the own lives, the things they’ve been through and their personal character.
I
