“Fine with me.”
There were a few more knocks and then the person went away. We had forgot en al about the visitor, but later, when Ra opened the door to leave, we found a note pinned to the door. It read: I have Daniel’s address. Come to the hotel tomorrow. Coby.
SUNDAY
IT SEEMED TO ME THAT I DIDN’T SLEEP al night, though I think I dreamed that I was awake. I know at one point I had a hal ucinatory dream: Coby came into the room and told me that Daniel was living in a lighthouse on a rock island in the middle of the sea, and that was why no one could find him.
At ve in the morning I went into the hotel and sat on the sofa in the lobby, facing the reception desk. There was no one in the lobby apart from Hussein and the desk clerk. The clerk asked if he could help. “I’m waiting for Coby—it’s urgent,” I said. He shrugged; working in a hotel must have inured him to strange behavior.
I was lucky; Coby was early that morning. At seven o’clock he walked in.
“I’l be with you in a sec,” he said, and disappeared into a back of ice.
I waited another ten minutes, and final y he emerged. I was so disoriented that for a second I wondered how he could look so composed in his perfectly pressed suit when I was such a wreck. He led the way to the dining room and poured cof ee for both of us.
“You look pale.”
“Coby, I haven’t slept al night, what do you think? I’m so excited I can’t breathe.”
“But it isn’t very good news, Dana.”
“Just tel me!”
“Wel , he lives in the territories, inside the Coastal Strip. He’s in Qal’at al-Maraya.”
“Qal’at al-Maraya!”
“I don’t know how or why, my cousin wouldn’t say more. By the way, my cousin is going to kil us both if anyone nds out he’s the one who got the address.”
“Do you have his address?”
“Yes, I wrote it down for you.” He handed me my napkin, the one on which I’d writ en Daniel’s ID number. Under the number he’d writ en: 7 al-Ma’arri Street, Qal’at al-Maraya.
“Qal’at al-Maraya … I was there so many times! I used to go to the beach to take photos there almost once a week.”
“I have no idea how he managed it—how he got them to trust him. Maybe he’s converted?”
“That’s even more ridiculous than your spy theory. Oh God, I’m so happy, thank you, thank you, thank you!” I got up and hugged him.
“I’m going to see him! I’m going to see Daniel, maybe in only an hour—I’l take a taxi, how do I look? What should I bring? Thank you, thank you, I have to go now.”
I turned to leave but Coby caught my arm. “Dana, hold on. Sit down a minute.”
“I can’t. I can’t wait. Sorry, I have to go. I hope I look al right.”
“Dana, you can’t go, you don’t have a permit, you’re not going to get in. You’re not thinking. Calm down, and come back to the table, we have to figure out what you’re going to do.”
“I’l get in, don’t worry. I’l just beg.”
“Yes, begging real y works at checkpoints. Or with the army in general.”
“They have to let me in.”
“Dana, sit down. Here, take one of these.”
I sat down at the table because people were looking at us. He pul ed a bot le of large green pil s out of his pocket.
“What are these?”
“My father’s tranquilizers. Have one, you’l feel bet er.”
“I don’t want to feel tranquil, Coby!”
“Fine. But you can’t just go to the Coastal Strip. You won’t get in.”
“I’l find a way. I can’t wait. I can’t wait. It seems so unreal, like a dream. What if I wake up?”
“Want me to pinch you?”
“Qal’at al-Maraya … he must have learned Arabic …”
“I guess so.”
“He was always good at languages. He learned Russian so he could talk to his grandmother …Thank you, Coby. Thank you. You can’t imagine how I feel.”
“I’m get ing an idea.”
“I’m going to see Daniel …”
