by Nathan Ronen
“Do you like the full moon?” she asked him, her tone mysterious.
“I don’t believe in superstition. It actually always reminds me of the moon landing of 1969.”
“What was so special about it? There are rumors that it was actually a trick orchestrated by the CIA in order to make the Russians enter the space race along with the Americans, causing their economy to collapse.”
“That’s not it,” Arik said with a smile. “When Neil Armstrong landed on the surface of the moon, he said the immortal words, ‘That’s one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind.’ But then he added the words, ‘Good luck, Mr. Goldberg.’”
“What?” Lilith said in surprise. “I don’t know that story.”
“When Neil Armstrong returned from space and landed for debriefing in Houston, Texas, he was asked by Mission Control about this strange, unknown addition that he hadn’t coordinated, and which had been censored, as yet unpublished in any newspaper. Armstrong explained that he had studied at NYU and rented a room from a religious Jewish family in the Bronx, for whom he served as a ‘Sabbath goy’ of sorts, performing the tasks they could not perform on their day of rest. He told them that every Friday, he’d hear Mr. Goldberg begging his wife to perform oral sex on him, for once in his life, and asking her when it would finally happen. She would routinely reply, ‘When a man sets foot on the moon.’”
“You have a good sense of humor. I like that in a man,” Lilith said. “We have a collection of pompous, dreadfully serious men here tonight.”
Arik did not reply. She sniffed around him like a cat. “You smell good. What kind of cologne do you use?”
“I’ve been using the same aftershave for years, Eau Sauvage by Dior,” Arik told her.
“So you’re also a wild savage?” she whispered in his ear.
“Not exactly,” Arik said. “Listen, and I’m sorry for calling you out again, but I’m a bit uncomfortable with where this conversation is taking us, as well as with you clinging to me in public and sniffing me like that. I’m going to be your husband’s subordinate,” Arik said in a businesslike manner, pushing her away gently with his big palm.
“Do you know that according to the Talmud, Lilith would wreck the household and steal the husband’s sperm? Lilith harms humans both physically and mentally,” she whispered in his ear, clinging to him once more, as if she hadn’t heard his last comment.
“Well, in my case, my ID states that I’m divorced, so the Liliths don’t scare me,” Arik said with a taunting smile, concealing the existence of Eva in his life. “What I do want to know is where you acquired your deep knowledge of Jewish mysticism and the Talmud?”
“You didn’t look me up?” she asked, her disappointment apparent. “I’m a lecturer on Jewish Thought at Bar Ilan University. My hobby is art, and I make all of these,” she said, gesturing to her jewelry. “I was watching you closely earlier. You looked bored, or like someone who came because he was compelled to do so. Like you felt it would be wrong to just take off. Am I right?”
Arik contemplated elegant means of evasion, staying silent for the time being.
“Do you want to see the duplex apartment? We designed it ourselves, and invested over $400,000 on the renovations,” she tried a different approach.
“Thanks, maybe some other time,” Arik said. He began to walk by himself toward the northern side of the deck, where a grilling station had been set up. Two lamb shanks were skewered and roasting over a wide iron grill, alongside various cuts of meat. Two employees dressed as Argentinian gauchos were toiling over the barbecue, rubbing the meat with various marinades. The resulting aroma was highly tantalizing.
Arik picked up a plate and the gaucho in charge of the grill loaded it with an impressive variety of meats, which he sliced off the myriad offerings with a large knife.
High metal tables and bar stools were set out for the diners’ convenience throughout the large roof deck. Arik sat down alone, facing the view, ate the excellent meat with relish and drank a glass of Sangiovese wine. He felt that he had gotten what he could get out of the evening and fulfilled his duty of politeness. He had attended the party rather than snubbing it like Ben-Ami Cornfield, the departing Mossad director, along with some of his friends. He now intended to take his leave before the arrival of the guest of honor, Ehud Tzur.
A feminine hand caressed his back and a sharp nail impaled itself in his spine, scratching its way down. She’s relentless, that nymphomaniac Lilith, Arik thought with suppressed anger, and did not turn toward her.
“Give me a taste of my favorite food,” she cozied up to him like a little girl. Arik did not react, continuing to eat and sipping slowly from his wineglass.
“I told you I’m Lilith. I take what I see and whatever I like,” she said in a seductive voice. “And you’re as hot as a juicy piece of steak that makes me want to dig in. I want to take a bite out of you.”
“If you’re the virgin Lilith, I’m Peter Pan,” Arik said with obvious impatience. “And here’s the question I’m asking myself: when you randomly choose a lover, you told me yourself that as Lilith, you never allow him to attain satisfaction. Well, what man would agree to a deal like that?”
“Ah, so you’re a good student,” she said with a peal of laughter. “Why don’t you come to my Kabbalah course at the university?”
“And you, madam, are a bit tipsy. And very soon, I’m going to wish you a goodnight and thank the two of you for receiving me in your beautiful home and go sleep in my own private home.”
“Don’t you fancy me even a little?” she asked, her tone turning lascivious once more as she clung to him, her perky breasts, uninhibited by a bra, rubbing against his arm. Arik pushed her gently away from him once more.
“Tell me, Lilith, or whatever your real name is, aren’t you afraid of your husband?”
“Gosh, you’re so conservative,” she said with a false tone of exasperation, like a teacher addressing a disappointing child. “Don’t you understand that risk is the source of all excitement? Do you think that kleptomaniacs really need the items they steal?”
“I don’t know, and I’m finding this really unpleasant. Anyway, my reply to you is ‘no,’ a very final ‘no!’ Thank you.”
“Calm down. You’re behaving like a child. Izzo and I have a polyamorous relationship, meaning we have an open marriage, one based on appreciation and true friendship. We’ve been together for thirty years now. We decided in advance that we didn’t want children. We like to savor life’s pleasures. Both of us are focused on our careers and, I admit, are narcissistic, egocentric types as well. We have an agreement about being intimate with additional partners, without it being considered cheating. We decided in advance that we’d allow ourselves only casual relationships, rather than long-term ones.”
Arik couldn’t control the expression of disbelief on his face.
“Have you watched the BBC series House of Cards? I’m sure you remember how, with his wife’s support, the hero embarks on a campaign of revenge, intending to bring about his election as prime minister, using manipulation, political intrigue, and sensitive information he has accumulated while acting as chief whip in the House of Commons, taking advantage of rebellious party members and blackmailing them in order to attain his goal.”
Arik continued to look at her in bafflement, uncertain where she was going with this.
“My relationship with Izzo Galili is one of mutual support, with no reservations, without all that sentimental bullshit of the so-called family that you all play at. Nothing will stand in our way. Not exploitative, whiney kids or anyone else. We’re child-free by choice. Both of us are very ambitious, and we’ll get to the top. You’ll see. You really should maintain a good relationship with me.”
A chill crawled down Arik’s spine. He had never met such a cold, calculating woman.
“I live a life of convenience and luxury. I
’ve got nothing to complain about, except, maybe, the numbness, apathy and boredom that such an excessively tidy, comfortable, safe life may inflict on a restless type like me. I need new thrills all the time. Izzo Galili, my childhood sweetheart, is a man who has aged well and looks excellent. You might be surprised, but I actually find him more attractive today than I did in the past. From my perspective, he’s someone who’s predictable without being worn and tatty like comfortable slippers,” Lilith said with a smile.
“And it doesn’t bother you that your husband’s a notorious player for years now?” Arik asked, incredulous.
“This might come as a shock, but I know about almost all of them. And that includes about half of the wives of his friends who are here tonight, whom my husband has fucked without the husbands even knowing about it,” Lilith said without batting an eyelash, as she picked up a juicy chunk of grilled meat with her fingernails, bit into it and licked it passionately, tossing the bone into a nearby potted plant.
“Most of the men and women at this party cheat on their partners behind their backs, maintaining a façade of fake familial fidelity,” she continued, biting into another hunk of meat. “You should grow up, Arik. An open marriage can work only in a stable relationship, where the partners share a sense of security, trust, honesty and true openness. Izzo and I are best friends. We can communicate with each other. We’ve invested in self-awareness workshops and studied tantric yoga. We learned how to converse and listen, to be considerate and attentive to our partner’s needs. And today, we’re in a place where we can gossip openly and honestly about our respective lovers.” She laughed, wiping her lips with Arik’s napkin.
“I admit I’m conservative and old-fashioned about these kinds of things.”
Lilith responded with a smile of surprise. “I understand you’re divorced. Is there anyone in your life now?” she asked curiously.
“I have a German girlfriend and we have a baby. In a profession like mine, I don’t always control the events and timeframes in my life, and it’s very hard to have a normal relationship. You could say I’m officially divorced, with a lover and a child, but I’m mostly married to work and its thrills,” Arik said.
“She’s German? Yuck. They’re cold women. So how long has it been since you’ve been with a real woman?” she whispered in his ear, thrusting out her tongue and licking the inner fold of his earlobe. Arik felt a thrill go down his spine, stiffening his member. She smiled to herself, as if she could read him like an open book.
A shiver ran through him. Lilith repelled and attracted him simultaneously. Like him, she was without a doubt a woman who liked to go to extremes. A woman who was constantly exploring boundaries and seeking a new rush. Despite his attempts to hold back, Arik felt himself losing control. He wanted her, intensely and immediately. He wanted to conquer her, to make her scream and beg for more. But she also repulsed him with her wanton behavior. He looked around in embarrassment, and much to his relief, found that they were alone on the spacious deck, other than the chefs and waiters, who were busy clearing tables and cleaning up. All of the guests had complied with the host’s request to come down to the apartment’s living room in order to receive the prime minister, who was expected to arrive at any minute.
He kissed her fervently and she thrust her tongue into his mouth and bit his lip passionately. He bled and she licked the blood without ever looking away from his reactions. An electric current tore through him. He had been without a woman for several weeks now, and she greatly aroused him. She rubbed against him and he grabbed hold of her breasts. She moaned lustfully. Arik came to his senses. He took hold of her shoulders and pushed her away. She flared up and tried to cling to him again. Arik looked into her eyes and said, “Not here.”
Enthusiastic applause sounded downstairs, signaling the arrival of Prime Minister Ehud Tzur. Arik knew he had to go down and be present when Tzur announced his appointment as deputy to the Mossad director and head of the Operations Administration. But Lilith had other plans. She pulled him toward a concealed glass elevator descending from the roof deck to the depths of the enormous apartment. One-way mirrors on the walls hid the elevator’s passengers from the attendees.
When they arrived, she took hold of his hand and pulled him toward her private bedroom, with a round bed at its center. Mirrors were affixed to the room’s ceiling. Arik looked for hidden cameras, but found none.
With a circular motion, Lilith instantly removed her blue sari dress, peeled her jewelry onto the floor and extended her arms toward him in longing. Her naked body was as pale as milk, and her reddish pubic hair was shaved into a tiny triangle. One of her labia was pierced. Her breasts, resembling a plump pair of bananas, were erect, and her nipples, standing at attention, winked at him with a reddish hue.
Arik watched her curiously. He wanted her, but was afraid. His mind was busy calculating an escape route. He had no intention of sleeping with her and becoming another notch in her ongoing tally. She lay down on the bed and opened her legs before him. Arik picked up a silk scarf from the floor and tied her hands to the posts of the bed.
“Wow, you want to give it to me strong and rough,” she whispered wildly, the tips of her nostrils quivering in excitement. “I get it, you don’t want me to scratch you… You’re a control freak… What the hell, go for it… Come to me and give it to me, as hard as you can!” She growled like a lioness, baring her teeth, raising her pelvis and gyrating her magical furnace at him seductively.
Arik examined her full body with interest. “I’ll be right back,” he said hoarsely, swallowing.
She whispered back in sensual indulgence, “Don’t take too long.”
He gazed into her eyes, and all he could see behind the façade of the demonic woman, the wealthy celebrity, the professor who was also the wife of the director of the Israeli Mossad, was a deep misery, a terrible emptiness that she tried to fill with her flirtatious games, with a pathological obsessiveness. This sari-clad Lilith reminded him of the Indian goddess Kali, the multi-armed goddess of death and destruction.
He hurried to the elevator and pressed the button for the floor above. When he exited, he was looking directly at his boss and the prime minister. He nodded to them in greeting and went to look for the exit.
When he returned to his car, he drove straight to his house on the cliff in Palmachim. He knew that revenge was sure to arrive. Lilith the demon did not like to lose her prey. In fact, he remembered, he didn’t know her real name; but he didn’t care. He now found himself missing Eva and his family much more than ever. He wanted to hear her voice, smell her body, hug her and spoon with her in their bed.
His hand reached out for the phone and he pressed speed-dialed her number. But suddenly, he realized it was almost midnight, and disconnected.
Chapter 26
The Paratrooper Memorial in Gedera
The annual ceremony commemorating the fallen members of the Paratroopers Brigade took place next to the tall stone column topped by a pair of iron paratrooper wings, as it did every year. The ceremony began at seven p.m., after sunset.
Spotlights illuminated the spacious plaza, paved with Jerusalem stone tiles among the broad lawns. A company of tall paratroopers in their ceremonial uniforms, bearing Tavor rifles, wearing their red paratrooper berets and their winged-snake shoulder tags, stood at attention on a stone stage next to a pedestal made of blackened guns, displaying a metal helmet with a burning torch inside it.
The guest of honor, Prime Minister Ehud Tzur, was scheduled to take the stage at any minute to address the annual memorial assembly, unexpectedly attended this year by representatives from all major print and electronic media venues, as the prime minister’s spokesperson had hinted that the prime minister had a groundbreaking message to deliver.
In addition to the bereaved families, all past and present paratrooper commanders were invited to attend as well, from battalion commanders onward.
&n
bsp; Retired Major General Ben-Ami Cornfield, the former Mossad director, hobbled on his cane, looking around him. The new brigade commander and the young major generals, some of them wearing red General Staff berets, passed him by without greeting him. As far as they were concerned, he was just another retiree. Younger by thirty years, they did not know that the kindly-looking old man leaning on his cane and dragging a leg was one of the few survivors whose paratrooper wings still displayed a red background, commemorating the one paratrooper combat operation in which Israeli paratroopers had taken part in the Battle of Kadesh in 1956.
He examined the long wall displaying black magnetic plates bearing the names of those killed in battle, his eyes seeking the names of his former friends and subordinates. Someone waved hello. He looked around and noticed the chief of General Staff standing and talking to his friends, all former paratroopers: Motke Hassin, ex-commander of Sayeret Matkal, and Uri Dinur, commander of the Paratrooper Brigade, who had joined the Shin Bet after his discharge from IDF, and ultimately became one of the agency’s heads. Next to him stood Yair Zipori, the former general commissioner of Israel Police, who had also once commanded the Paratrooper Commando.
Cornfield approached his friends, Israel’s gatekeepers who had served in the Israeli defense system alongside him, and shook their hands. They were leaning against the large, seven-branched menorah, with a verse from David’s lament for Saul and Jonathan engraved in the wall behind it: “They were swifter than eagles, mightier than lions.”
The announcer asked everyone to settle in their places. Cornfield always preferred to sit in the aisle, where he could stretch out his prosthetic leg. His friends sat down next to him.
The commander of the Paratrooper Brigade went up to greet the attendees, inviting Chief of General Staff Shlomo Tal to speak. After a brief, moving address to the families, Tal introduced the guest of honor. The television cameras began to roll as Ehud Tzur rose to speak. He began by addressing the bereaved families, but then noticed the red lights on the cameras, indicating his speech was already being broadcast live on the primetime eight o’clock news. He swiftly transitioned to a political speech, appropriating the memory and heritage of the fallen soldiers for his own purposes, and reminding everyone that he, too, had lost a brother, killed in battle when the warship Eilat was attacked and sunk by the Egyptian Navy in 1967.