Married to the Mossad

by Hessel, Shalva

  Sally was unimpressed by the gesture. “Free gifts are worth nothing,” she said, quoting an old saying her father used to repeat in Aramaic. “I want you to provide a service you imagine was paid for in full. By the middle of next week, I expect to receive a detailed and well-founded divorce request for Muriel Marin.”

  The chief lawyer looked at Marin quizzically, who said, “Starting now, she manages everything to do with my divorce from Muriel. She will also report to me on the progress made.”

  “Mom, I’m proud of you,” Roy repeated as they left the room, and Sally, for the first time in weeks, felt happy. They waited for Marin in the foyer, and when he arrived he gave Roy a fatherly pat on the back. “I heard that you’re a soldier in the IDF,” he said. “Allow me to treat you to the many luxuries Geneva has to offer, and to buy your mother a special gift as a token of my appreciation for what she did earlier in the conference room.”

  “I won’t have it,” Sally said. “If you want to pamper him, be my guest. He came here straight from operational activity and he deserves it. Don’t buy me any gifts.”

  Like magic, the limousine approached the curb and now Joel and Rubi looked at them through the window. Roy mumbled, “Where did these children come from and how did the driver know we were done?”

  “Get used to it,” Sally said. “This is how it works here.” She stepped into the car first, then entered Roy and finally Marin, who pointed at Joel and told Roy, “This is the man your grandfather is preparing for his bar mitzvah.”

  Roy extended his hand to the boy and said in English, “I’m Roy, pleased to meet you.”

  “He’s an officer in the Israeli army,” said Marin proudly, “and Sally’s son.”

  The children looked at Roy admiringly and Marin momentarily lowered the partition between him in the driver and said, “To the Armani shop, please.”

  Following a shopping spree—where Roy objected to almost all of Marin’s suggestions, which included expensive watches, perfumes, and high-heeled shoes (“Does he think I’m gay?” he whispered to Sally)—Sally and her son returned to the hotel with bags filled with Armani polo shirts and a pair of Prada jeans. An hour later, they were back in the backseat of the Bentley, heading toward Marin’s mansion in Gstaad.

  “Have you shot at people?” Joel suddenly asked, and Sally noted with surprise that his English was almost unaccented.

  Roy choked with surprise. “Yes,” he said finally. “Soldiers shoot at people. That’s what they must do. But they only shoot at those who shoot at them.”

  Joel wouldn’t let it rest. “Have you killed anyone?” he asked with sparkly eyes.

  “Sometimes. It doesn’t feel good.”

  “When I grow up I’ll go to Israel and be a soldier.”

  “By the time you grow up there will be peace, and no need for an army,” Roy said, and Sally could sense that he himself didn’t believe that. To her surprise, Marin grew curious. “Do you think so?” he asked.

  Roy shrugged. “I hope so.”

  Marin relentlessly questioned Roy about his life as a soldier and an officer, on operations he took part in—an issue Roy evaded—and on his feelings about fighting for a Jewish army. “I feel privileged to serve in the army,” said Roy without a hint of pathos. “It’s an honor to ensure the future of the Jewish people.”

  Marin laughed. “The young people I know don’t think about such things. They just want to have fun. Are there many like you in Israel?”

  “I don’t know. I never checked. I can only say that all my friends feel the same. Otherwise they wouldn’t have ended up in my unit. We eat a lot of dust and sweat, and sometimes more.”

  “How close is your friendship?”

  “Close enough to take risks for each other.”

  The two children hung off his every word. Sally looked at Marin, whose face was sour. “I suppose you think my friends, the lawyers, are disloyal.”

  “Every society has different notions of loyalty,” said Roy with cautious politeness. “To us, in Israel, friendship and family are especially important values. Here, things may be different.”

  “Don’t be afraid to tell me the truth. What do you think of them?”

  “I’m a commander,” Roy said. “I manage people who are also my friends. Those people aren’t your friends. A person should fight for his friends, and your lawyers show no will to fight. You’re going through a hard time right now. Everyone’s at your throat. Ben David, your wife, the organization behind Ben David. This is the moment you discover who’s truly your friend and who isn’t.”

  Marin looked into Sally’s eyes. “This is how I want your father to educate Joel, and also Rubi when the day comes. I want them to become human beings, like your son.”

  When the limousine entered Marin’s mansion, Sally could see light in the guesthouse, and her heart filled with yearning for her father and her previous life.

  47.

  She was tall and incredibly tanned, and when she saw Sally she smiled at her, revealing white teeth.

  It took Sally a few seconds to realize she wasn’t smiling at her but at Roy, who was walking a few steps behind her and embracing Marin’s two sons, who looked on him with the admiration of younger brothers. “This is Sally, a good friend and my personal assistant. And that’s her son Roy,” Marin said in an official tone. “Melody, why don’t you take Roy for a ride in the new Maserati I bought you?”

  Melody took the amazed Roy by the hand. “Come,” she said, “the car is here, in the garage.”

  “You don’t mind that they drive together?” Sally asked.

  “Not at all. I don’t do anything with her anyway.”

  “And yet you bought her a Maserati.”

  “Yes,” he moaned. “That’s the price I must pay to keep her, and considering my financial situation, it’s really not high. I also demand nothing in return. Before she was a model, Melody wanted to be an actress, and had to indulge the demands of all sorts of men to get parts, until I met her and freed her from that life.”

  Sally was repulsed. “Why do you need this pretending?”

  “It’s part of my status, I’ve already explained that.”

  “And I’ve already told you that there’s more to you than just money. You need to find a woman who’ll love you for who you are, not for buying her a Maserati. This way, you’ll end up with a Muriel again.”

  Marin stared at her for a long while. “I want a woman like you.”

  She giggled. “We’ve discussed this. I’m not available, and even if I were, I don’t conform to your standards. I’m critical, independent, and I don’t have the perfect figure of a model. You’d get tired of me, and then we’d lose the friendship we have today.”

  He took her hand softly. “I’ll never be tried of you, my dear Sally. I promise that if we can’t live together, I’ll give you—”

  “Money again?” She pulled her hand away, as if he hurt her. “Pierre, when will you learn?”

  “I beg your pardon,” Marin said, just as Natalia appeared at the door. Her hand, which was just starting to signal dinner, froze midair as she heard her boss apologize profusely in a manner she’d never heard before.

  48.

  In the evening, as Sally sat in her room watching a light French film, the grandfather clock on the downstairs floor struck eight. Where was Roy? She tried to calculate when he’d left. Three o’clock? Four? She dialed him. The phone rang, but Roy didn’t answer. She left her room in panic and found Marin in the large living room. “My son hasn’t returned.”

  “Don’t worry. They’re in my chalet in the mountains, near Montreux.”

  “He isn’t answering me,” Sally said, close to tears.

  “Reception there is no good, as the chalet is in a ravine between two mountains. Sometimes I climb one of them to make a call.” He poured a glass from his now-familiar bottle of co
gnac. “Come, drink with me. It’s sad to drink alone.”

  Sally sat down on the sofa, but rejected the drink. “You set this up on purpose, didn’t you?”

  “No, I didn’t. I only allowed it to happen.” He smiled. “They returned while you were in your room and seemed to have had a very nice time together. I offered her to head over to the chalet to see make sure everything is OK, and gave her a key.” He grew serious. “Do you realize how much I wanted to be with you?”

  Sally got up. “It won’t work, Pierre. You’re a charming, intelligent, experienced, and wealthy man, but you’re bad news. Any woman who ties her destiny to yours will eventually be hurt. You consider women a resource, and treat them with the same possessiveness with which you treat your other assets, and even your children. It’s true that your wife neglects them in favor of some imposter rabbi, but you’re not much better than her when it comes to your relationship with the children. You flood them with gifts, but when have you ever had dinner with them? When did you prepare dinner, and showed you care about them?”

  Marin sank into a long silence. Finally, he said, “Regarding the children, you’re right. I don’t know how to speak to them, I don’t know how to take care of them, and honestly speaking, they’re a burden to me. I had children with two women as a way of binding them to me. Then, I lost interest in them and in their children. But with you—” he suddenly came to life “—I don’t want children, nor do I need you for my pride or to impress others. I simply want to be with you. You make me believe in my real self, freeing me from all of my accessories: My cars, my houses, my money. You don’t believe me, do you? You think I’m just talking.”

  “No, I feel you’re honest, but I’m not sure you’ll think the same tomorrow. Besides, I have feelings for Jerry. They’re confused, but they’re there.”

  Marin nodded in understanding. “I won’t pester you,” he said. “We’ll stay friends, we’ll work together, and I won’t say another word. But know that I’ll always be waiting and dreaming of the night we had, and hoping…”

  Later that evening, Sally called Roy again. Again, there was no answer. She was so angry—although she knew her anger was unjustifiable. It was the first time that Roy had had a leave of absence in many weeks, and when she arranged for him to come with her, she had hoped for much more quality time together.

  She called Natalia and asked for a bottle of wine, which she gulped down sitting on her bed, shoeless. She suddenly missed Marin, his faint scent of cologne, his touch—both comforting and stirring, which she remembered from the only night they’d spent together.

  And he was so close. Only a path separated her house from his. Sally put on her shoes and walked out to the corridor, and from there to the garden. She tried to stroll along the lawn, but it was damp and wet her shoes. She returned to the path, which beckoned her along, until she arrived at the open, inviting door of the mansion. She entered, breathing in the smell of antique furniture and delicate cleaning agents. The wooden stairs creaked under her feet. She reached the second floor, took off her shoes again, and walked barefoot along the corridor. The touch of the carpet on her feet aroused her. She stood at his bedroom door and hesitated. “Come,” Marin’s voice sounded from inside, and she entered.

  Roy and Melody arrived the following afternoon with the engine of the Maserati roaring. Marin welcomed them both with a tight hug. Sally hugged Roy. “I’m sorry, Mom,” he said, a mischievous glimmer in his eye.

  “Nothing to apologize for,” she said. “Nothing at all. Now gather your things or you’ll be late for your flight.”

  En route to Geneva, in the backseat of the limousine, he suddenly put his head on her shoulder and said, “I thought about our meeting with the lawyers yesterday. Mom, you’re doing holy work.” She caressed the short hair on the back of his neck, as she did when he was a child. When they parted at the first-class desk at the airport, she held back her tears.

  Only when she was alone in the car, behind the partition separating her from the driver, did she allow herself to cry. She cried over the sense of missed opportunity in Roy’s short visit, over her family that was crumbling before her eyes, over her need for justice that was ruining her life. On television, a man and woman were rambling on about global warming. She turned up the volume so that the driver wouldn’t hear even the distant echo of her crying. On the side of the screen, an ominous thermometer climbed to the temperature of 40 degrees Celsius. “Within a few years, temperatures in Geneva will reach forty degrees during the summer,” the woman said. “The ski slopes will melt and a wave of water will flood the valleys.”

  The man was less frightened. “The summer will be hot and there may be slight melting, but on the peaks, the heat isn’t as substantial because the ice continues to cool the air.”

  The phone rang. Sally breathed in deeply, straining to erase all traces of crying from her voice. Nevertheless, Marin sensed that something was wrong. “Are you all right?”

  “A bit under the weather. I’m on my way to your office.”

  “Could you meet me at Darmond’s office? There’s something I want to consult with you about.”

  Sally looked at the back of the driver’s neck. “OK. I also have some materials for him. Tell Fred to drive me there.”

  “You tell him,” Marin said. “He has instructions to drive you anywhere you want to go.”

  Sally picked up the receiver of the internal phone and gave Fred his new destination. The doorman at the office building rushed to open the car door.. She passed by him quickly and entered the elevator. The receptionist stood up to greet her. “Hello, Madame Amir. They’re waiting for you in Mr. Darmond’s office,” she quickly said, walking Sally to a corner room overlooking the both the lake and street below.

  Darmond sat behind a decorated desk across from Marin. “Thank you for coming,” Marin said. He stood up and escorted her to a sofa next to the table. “As my personal assistant dealing with all my private affairs, I need your advice. We are drafting my will,” he said with a smile. “Monsieur Darmond suggests that I open a bank account in Muriel’s name and deposit fifty million dollars in it, so that she can care for our children if something happens to me. The rest of my estate will go to a special fund managed by Darmond and you in cooperation. Funds will be distributed to my children from both marriages as need be—”

  “What need?” Sally stopped him.

  “For example—” he thought for a moment “—Emil, my eldest son who you’ve never met, manages a small software business that he created with his own two hands.” Sally could hear the pride and sorrow in his voice. “You see, his mother has incited him against me. He’s never asked for help and I never volunteered mine, of course. Perhaps after I die—” he hesitated “—he will agree to accept a sum that will allow him to develop his business. I trust your wisdom as managers of the estate to know how much to give him and under which conditions.”

  “And what if we disagree?”

  “A Canton of Geneva judge will decide,” Darmond said, glaring at Sally.

  “What if Muriel dies?” Sally continued her questioning.

  “Ten million dollars will go to her parents in Canada and the rest will be managed by you,” Marin explained.

  Sally contemplated the matter for a long while. Her eyes were fixed on a photograph resting on the back table, of Darmond in the company of a woman and two children. She analyzed the information she had just heard.

  “Is anything wrong?” Darmond asked.

  “I don’t understand why so much money must be given to an unstable woman.”

  Darmond crossed his arms like a lecturer. “Let’s assume Monsieur Marin passes away tomorrow, God forbid. The children are minors and their guardian is Madame Marin, who doesn’t own a cent except the stipend she receives from Monsieur Marin—a stipend that ends with his death. We must give her a sum of money that she can use at least during the initial
period until the will goes into legal affect, don’t we?”

  “But why fifty million? Why not one hundred million?”

  “Monsieur Marin’s businesses and assets are so numerous that realizing the will can take a long time.”

  “Then one million, or five, but why fifty?”

  Darmond’s shell of politeness slightly cracked. “Madame, that’s the law here. The will cannot be valid unless we submit it to the court soon after it’s written. No court will approve it unless we set aside an adequate sum for the use of Madame Marin and her children.”

  “And Ben David? How do you ensure he doesn’t take hold of the money? You need an article forbidding her to give power of attorney to anyone else.”

  “We can’t,” Darmond asserted. “As owner of the account she has the right to do whatever she wishes with it.”

  “We can add an article to the will stating that as soon as a power of attorney is given in the account, Muriel’s rights in it are null and void.”

  “That’s not allowed either,” Darmond replied. “In Switzerland, you can’t limit the owner of an account with a document signed outside the bank. We have no choice. We’ll have to trust Muriel’s love for Joel and Rubi.”

  Sally scoffed. “She’s already abandoned them twice.”

  Marin looked at Darmond, seeking advice. Darmond didn’t respond and Marin shrugged. “We have no choice. I’m willing to risk the money for the children.” He smiled at Sally. “That’s what any good father would do, isn’t it?” he said, alluding to their conversation the previous evening.

  Sally held herself back from telling him how wrong he was, trying again to express his fatherhood using money. But this was neither the time nor the place. “We have another matter to deal with,” she said. “A divorce claim—”

  “Certainly,” Darmond said. “Here’s the document you requested.” He placed a number of documents stapled together in front of her. She read them quickly, and realized this was exactly what she was hoping for: A detailed plan, including a number of legal steps to free Pierre Marin from his marriage to Muriel. “What are the chances?” she asked Darmond.