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.I don’t have transportation, but I have a friend here who could probably bring me to wherever would be convenient.”“Can you give me a number where I can call back?”That was standard procedure.He would want to check me out before agreeing to a meeting.I looked down at the phone, gave him the number and hung up.I figured while I waited I might as well make some coffee.I switched on the kitchen light, poured water in the coffee maker, located a canister with some ground beans and shoveled a conservative measure into the filter.Back at the bar I sat down and listened to the brew gurgle.It made such a soothing sound that I decided I could forego a morning cigarette for the moment.A few minutes later, a sleepy-eyed Jake Cohen wandered in.“I see you found the coffee,” he said.“I decided it would be best to make contact with the Air Attaché early, so I’ve already called him.He’s checking me out, I’m sure, and promised to call back.I told him I had a friend who might be able to take me to a meeting place.Don’t worry if you can’t make it.I’ll take a taxi.”“To Tel Aviv? Not on your life.” He strolled into the kitchen, pulled out a couple of mugs, and poured the coffee.“I’ve been thinking about where they might be holding my wife,” I said, staring at my cup.“Probably somewhere outside the major population centers.Maybe somebody’s country home.”“How about a kibbutz?”“I hadn’t thought of that.They’re communal farms, aren’t they?”“Mostly.But some have developed around manufacturing.In recent years, those around cities and in resort areas have been catering to tourists.There’s a group of about thirty that have their own hotel chain, with a booking office in Tel Aviv.”“Really? But most are agricultural, right?”“Yes.And traditionally they’ve been anti-religious.”We sat there with our coffee, waiting for the Air Attaché’s call.Jake explained that the kibbutz movement was started in the early nineteen-hundreds by socialist Russian Jews who fled to Palestine to escape persecution under the czar.Another wave after World War II came out to get away from the communists.Most were still secular and socialistic, but a more recent development was the creation of communal farms with a strongly religious character.“I’d say that would be the more likely place for the Temple Alliance to hold your wife,” Jake said.He put some biscuits in the oven and scrambled a few eggs with grated cheese.As we ate, we talked about America.“My Israeli friends frequently ask my take on what’s happening to America,” he said.“Frankly, I’m at a bit of a loss myself.The drug culture, the poverty amidst plenty, the corruption of public officials.what’s happening to the Great American Dream?”“The dream is still there,” I said.“It’s just that some of the dreamers are trying to make it a nightmare.It all gets back to abuse of power, the politicians.”“What have they done now?”“Actually, they got better after September 11.Then they slipped back into their old ways.”When the phone rang.Jake answered it, then handed it to me.I prayed that it was Colonel Jarvis, not Moriah.“Hello,” I said.“What was your first duty station, Colonel?”I breathed more easily and answered quickly.I liked simple questions.“Sewart AFB.”“And what was your last civilian job?”“Investigator for the Davidson County District Attorney.”“Very well,” said Colonel Jarvis.“I am not at home presently, but this is not a secure line.Be careful what you say.Can your friend bring you down to the old walled city?”“Sure.”“Okay.I have an appointment at the consulate in Jerusalem at nine-thirty.I could be in town by eight.I’ll give you the location of a public phone in the Muristan Bazaar.It’s a rats’ nest of narrow streets and hole-in-the-wall retailers not far from the Jaffa Gate.Be there at eight and answer the phone when it rings.”I recalled visiting the area on our tour.It was a hodgepodge of little shops, most without names, that sold everything from cast bronze to stained glass to painted shirts.I was introduced to chickpea fritters stuffed into pita bread at a restaurant there.Jill smiled, watching me eat, then she was gone.“Let me put my friend on, Colonel,” I said.“You can give him directions to the phone booth.I don’t want us wandering around lost.”After hanging up, Jake gave me a questioning look.“Do you plan to take that parchment can along?”“I don’t know.I’d rather leave it for now,” I said.“And if the police should happen to dig it up, I’ll swear you knew nothing about it [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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.I don’t have transportation, but I have a friend here who could probably bring me to wherever would be convenient.”“Can you give me a number where I can call back?”That was standard procedure.He would want to check me out before agreeing to a meeting.I looked down at the phone, gave him the number and hung up.I figured while I waited I might as well make some coffee.I switched on the kitchen light, poured water in the coffee maker, located a canister with some ground beans and shoveled a conservative measure into the filter.Back at the bar I sat down and listened to the brew gurgle.It made such a soothing sound that I decided I could forego a morning cigarette for the moment.A few minutes later, a sleepy-eyed Jake Cohen wandered in.“I see you found the coffee,” he said.“I decided it would be best to make contact with the Air Attaché early, so I’ve already called him.He’s checking me out, I’m sure, and promised to call back.I told him I had a friend who might be able to take me to a meeting place.Don’t worry if you can’t make it.I’ll take a taxi.”“To Tel Aviv? Not on your life.” He strolled into the kitchen, pulled out a couple of mugs, and poured the coffee.“I’ve been thinking about where they might be holding my wife,” I said, staring at my cup.“Probably somewhere outside the major population centers.Maybe somebody’s country home.”“How about a kibbutz?”“I hadn’t thought of that.They’re communal farms, aren’t they?”“Mostly.But some have developed around manufacturing.In recent years, those around cities and in resort areas have been catering to tourists.There’s a group of about thirty that have their own hotel chain, with a booking office in Tel Aviv.”“Really? But most are agricultural, right?”“Yes.And traditionally they’ve been anti-religious.”We sat there with our coffee, waiting for the Air Attaché’s call.Jake explained that the kibbutz movement was started in the early nineteen-hundreds by socialist Russian Jews who fled to Palestine to escape persecution under the czar.Another wave after World War II came out to get away from the communists.Most were still secular and socialistic, but a more recent development was the creation of communal farms with a strongly religious character.“I’d say that would be the more likely place for the Temple Alliance to hold your wife,” Jake said.He put some biscuits in the oven and scrambled a few eggs with grated cheese.As we ate, we talked about America.“My Israeli friends frequently ask my take on what’s happening to America,” he said.“Frankly, I’m at a bit of a loss myself.The drug culture, the poverty amidst plenty, the corruption of public officials.what’s happening to the Great American Dream?”“The dream is still there,” I said.“It’s just that some of the dreamers are trying to make it a nightmare.It all gets back to abuse of power, the politicians.”“What have they done now?”“Actually, they got better after September 11.Then they slipped back into their old ways.”When the phone rang.Jake answered it, then handed it to me.I prayed that it was Colonel Jarvis, not Moriah.“Hello,” I said.“What was your first duty station, Colonel?”I breathed more easily and answered quickly.I liked simple questions.“Sewart AFB.”“And what was your last civilian job?”“Investigator for the Davidson County District Attorney.”“Very well,” said Colonel Jarvis.“I am not at home presently, but this is not a secure line.Be careful what you say.Can your friend bring you down to the old walled city?”“Sure.”“Okay.I have an appointment at the consulate in Jerusalem at nine-thirty.I could be in town by eight.I’ll give you the location of a public phone in the Muristan Bazaar.It’s a rats’ nest of narrow streets and hole-in-the-wall retailers not far from the Jaffa Gate.Be there at eight and answer the phone when it rings.”I recalled visiting the area on our tour.It was a hodgepodge of little shops, most without names, that sold everything from cast bronze to stained glass to painted shirts.I was introduced to chickpea fritters stuffed into pita bread at a restaurant there.Jill smiled, watching me eat, then she was gone.“Let me put my friend on, Colonel,” I said.“You can give him directions to the phone booth.I don’t want us wandering around lost.”After hanging up, Jake gave me a questioning look.“Do you plan to take that parchment can along?”“I don’t know.I’d rather leave it for now,” I said.“And if the police should happen to dig it up, I’ll swear you knew nothing about it [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]