“Couldn’t we have told them what we were doing?”
“We never tell the Irgun anything. Officially we have disowned them.” The coffee pot boiled in the kitchen. “More coffee?”
She got up. Asher finished his eggs, wiped his mouth with a napkin and threw it on the table in disgust. The Irgun and the Stern gangs were loose cannons that were a danger to everyone, including the Haganah.
“What’s going to happen now?”
“By tonight every regional commander will have copies of the file. We even have copies for the Irgun and Stem. They are on our side after all.”
“Are they . . . ?”
“Within the week every piece of intelligence the British have about us will be obsolete. As for us, we had better pack up and get out of here today.”
“What’s going to happen to Talbot?”
Sarah did not answer. Asher rubbed at the sticking plaster over his eye and on his forehead. The heat was making the wounds itch.
She returned with a fresh pot of coffee. “He’ll probably spend the rest of his life in prison. And he has me to thank for it.”
“It’s not your fault. It’s not anyone’s fault. No, check that. There is someone to blame. Meodovnik!”
“It doesn’t help.”
“Look, Sarah - ”
“It’s all right, I’m not going to tear my hair and cover myself in ashes. If I had to do the same thing again, I would. I just hope no one expects me to feel proud of it.”
She poured the coffee.
“It saved the Haganah.”
“If we had got the briefcase back in time, we could have saved Henry Talbot as well.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s funny. I’d grown quite fond of him in a way. He seemed kind and he had a sort of dark sense of humor, once you got to know him. I feel responsible.”
They drank their coffee in silence. A dark sense of humor! Asher thought bitterly. Well, the poor bastard is going to need one.
The Hill of Evil Counsel
Henry Talbot arrived at the Residency at eight o’clock. Chandler’s car was already there. Moussa pulled up in front of the main steps and Talbot got out, the briefcase clutched in his right hand. He went inside.
Perhaps there was still a chance.
He went up the echoing marble steps to the second floor and walked smartly along the corridor to the desk sergeant.
“Talbot!”
He turned around. It was Chandler.
“Good morning, sir. Looks like a hot day.”
Chandler’s face was grey. There was a voluminous white handkerchief in his right hand and he used it to dab at the sweat on his face and neck. He walked quickly down the corridor, two soldiers wearing the yellow and red insignia of the Royal Suffolks in step behind him. “Talbot ...” The he just stood there, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat.
“I had a word with Elizabeth,” Talbot said. “I don’t think we’ll be able to make it for dinner tonight.”
“What’s in your briefcase, Henry?”
“The missing files, sir.”
Chandler snatched it out of his hand and tore open the straps. He quickly checked the contents and put the case under his arm. He nodded to the two soldiers with him. “These men are going to put you under arrest, I’m afraid.”
Talbot nodded. “I see.”
Chandler looked as if he might cry. “How could you do this?”
“How could you ignore Rolf Emmerich?”
“Is that all you have to say?”
Talbot felt curiously light-headed. He wanted to laugh out loud, relieved that it was finally over. “There is one thing, sir.”
“Yes?” Chandler’s lips formed a tight, white line.
“Does this mean I shan’t be taking over from you as Acting First Secretary?”
Rehavia
It had been so long. Would he have changed? What if he had found himself another woman?
She reached her flat at four that morning, red-eyed and unable to sleep. She sat at her kitchen table, drinking endless cups of coffee, waiting for dawn. As soon as it was light she ran downstairs and found a taxi.
. . . 213 HaNasi Street, Rehavia . . .
The block of flats was like a dozen others all around it. She ran up to the sixth floor, but when she reached his flat her courage deserted her, so she hid in the shadows under the stairwell and waited.
She had no idea how long she had been standing there when she heard noises on the other side of the door. A man dressed in white shirt and blue denim shorts and sandals ran out and leaped down the stairs, two at a time. As he passed her, she stepped out from the shadows.
He had already reached the first landing when he sensed the movement. He stopped and looked up.
She could not be sure.
His hair was cropped short these days, and peppered with white. A scar distorted ran down one side of his face. He was gaunt, and there was a haunted, hunted look about his eyes.
She tried to remember.
Netanel, her Netanel had been blond, and his hair had been neatly parted. He had had such a sweetness about him, an innocence. He dressed in woolen business suits and polished black shoes.
They stared at each other.
He started back up the stairs.
“Netanel?” she whispered.
“Oh my God.” His face turned grey.
She held out her arms. “I’m back from university,” she said, but he made no move towards her and finally she dropped her arms and they surveyed each other from a distance, two ghosts in a limbo world, lost of their physical form.
Acre
The British prison at Acre was a former Ottoman citadel, built on the ruins of a Crusader fortress. Talbot’s cell was eight feet by ten feet, and there was no electric light and no toilet. The ceilings and walls dripped with water night and day. The outside wall was sixteen feet thick and the only light filtered in through an archer’s slit, a foot high and a few inches wide. Through it he could just make out the tops of the trees on Napoleon Hill.
Although he was allowed neither newspapers nor access to a radio, the cockney warden was a talkative fellow and seemed to be better informed than both the Jerusalem Post and the BBC World Service. His chatter helped keep him sane.
It was almost three weeks since he had been arrested. After his initial interrogation he had seen no one from the administration or the military, and had been allowed no visitors.
The government had communicated with him just once. He had received a letter, bearing the official emblem of the Guards Regiment, informing him that his brother had been killed while on active service in Samaria.
There were no other details.
Two nights ago, the warden told him, the British imposed a curfew throughout Palestine and moved in force against the Yishuv.
“One hundred ’fousand men,” the warden had said. “One hundred ’fousand! Faaaaark! All over far kin’ Palestine! Reckon that’s farkin’ it, mate! We even ’it the farkin’ Jewish Agency itself in J’rusalem!”
I wonder if the Haganah were ready, Talbot thought. I wonder how many they actually caught?
He heard footfall in the corridor outside, and the less familiar clip-clip of stiletto heels. The key turned in the lock and the warden put his head into the cell. “A’ternoon, Mister Talbot. Got a visitor for ya!”
Talbot stood up.
The scent of perfume preceded her. She wore a red silk dress and a black hat with a gauze veil that covered the top half of her face. Tomato-red lipstick, black gloves, and an ivory cigarette-holder completed the vision.
She swayed into the middle of the room and looked around, her nose twitching in disgust. “How quaint.”
A soldier with a drawn bayonet attached to his rifle followed her into the cell. The door slammed shut behind him. The man stood to attention, his eyes fixed on some point high on the far wall.
Elizabeth examined the tin bucket that stood in the comer. “Have you availed yourself of the fac
ilities today, Henry?”
“Not yet, dear.”
“Thank heaven for small mercies.” She indicated the archer’s slit. “What happened to the window?”
“Builder made a mistake with the plans.”
She smiled at him and drew on her cigarette. “Well.”
He smiled at her. “Well.”
“Have you complained to the management? They could have at least offered you a room with a view.”
“This is the presidential suite, I’m afraid.”
“Ah. Pity the poor peasants then.”
“Quite.” He indicated his cot. “Would you like to sit down?”
“I’d rather jump into a pool of vomit.” She crossed the room and pinched his cheek. “You look rather pale.”
“Haven’t been getting out much lately.”
“You also smell rather badly.”
“Do I? I hadn’t noticed.”
She turned and glanced at the guard, then at her husband. “Did you hear what happened the other night?”
“I heard there were a few unscheduled night maneuvers.”
“Complete fiasco. The army arrested three Jewish schoolboys and confiscated a couple of pistols. The High Commissioner has egg on his face.’
“It must be very embarrassing for him.”
“The army say it’s the CID’s fault, the CID are blaming the police and the police are blaming the army.”
“That’s good. I was afraid someone might try to blame me.’
“Frankly, Henry, I wouldn’t care less about any of this, but your behavior has ruined my social life.”
Talbot put his hands in his pockets. “Chisholm been round?”
“Neanderthals have a certain exotic attraction but not for very long. I get so bored listening to him rant about the Jews all the time. It’s like going to bed with Heinrich Himmler.” She stopped and drew on her cigarette. “You don’t mind if I talk about this?”
“It’s conversation.”
“Just one question. That afternoon you found me with the good major’s cock in my hands . . . who were you jealous of? Him or me?”
Talbot looked up at the guard. Still no change in his expression but his cheeks were flushed a cherry red.
“I do have some standards, Lizzie. I just wish you did.”
She started to fuss with the collar of his shirt. “Who does your washing?”
“No one.”
“I didn’t think so.” She stared frankly into his face. “I didn’t know you had it in you.”
“Neither did I.”
“I’m leaving Palestine.”
“Actually, I am surprised you are still here.”
“You’ll find this hard to credit, but I’ve been trying to persuade Sir Alan to help you. Perverse of me, isn’t it?”
“A little.”
“Didn’t have much success until the army’s Noel Coward farce the other night. The next morning he seemed undecided.”
“Undecided?”
“Whether to have you dismembered or to hush the whole thing up. I think he favors the latter. Otherwise there has to be a trial and no one wants that now. It would make everyone look bad. So it seems they’ll just have to let you go. You’ll have to resign of course.”
“Oh? I was hoping they’d give me my old job back.” Talbot sat down heavily on his cot. Freedom. The last thing he expected.
Elizabeth finished her cigarette and flicked the butt into the pail in the comer. Class will out, Talbot thought sourly. She took out her compact mirror and examined her lipstick, then snapped it shut with a gesture of finality. “I’m rather fond of you, you know, in my own way. Not the way a woman is usually fond of a man, I suppose. You’re more like a toothless old dog that suddenly proves its worth and chases off a burglar. Yes. More like that, I suppose.”
“Aren’t you ashamed?”
“Because you’re a faggot or because you betrayed your country?”
“Both.”
“Yes to the first, no the latter. Politics doesn’t really interest me. What you do with other men’s bottoms does.”
Talbot checked the guard. The man’s jaw muscles were clenched and rippling. “So?”
“So, I shall return to England with you and after a decent interval we shall part in a civilized English manner. I do think that’s really the only sensible option, don’t you?”
“Thank you, Elizabeth.”
She sighed and rested her hand gently on his shoulder. “Why on earth did you marry me?”
He shrugged helplessly. Perhaps I just didn’t want to face the truth about myself, he thought. Whoever does?
“Goodbye for now. Do try and have a wash before they let you out.”
She turned to the guard and raised one eyebrow to signal that she was ready to leave. Rather good at wordless commands, Talbot thought. Her talent will be wasted back in England.
After she had gone he sat for a long time, staring at the wall. He had lost his career, and his wife, but apparently he would not also lose his liberty. The rest of his life yawned before him and he wondered with this second chance whether he might make better sense of it next time around.
THE END
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Find Colin Falconer at: https://colinfalconer.wordpress.com
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Born in north London, Colin Falconer worked for many years in TV and radio and freelanced for many of Australia's leading newspapers and magazines. He has been a novelist for the last twenty years, with his work published widely in the UK, US and Europe. His books have been translated into seventeen languages.
Table of Contents
Copyright Page
ZION
PART ONE
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
PART TWO
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
PART THREE
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Other titles by Colin Falconer available at Amazon:
Table of Contents
Copyright Page
ZION
PART ONE
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
PART TWO
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
PART THREE
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Other titles by Colin Falconer available at Amazon:
Zion (Jerusalem) Page 13