Snap Shot

by A. J. Quinnell

  Still holding her hand he stood and moved round the table and raised her up and kissed her on the mouth and the currents flowed again through her body. He led her silently into the house and to her bedroom, gently and slowly undressed her and himself, laid her on the bed and ran his hands and lips over her body. At first she was passive, mentally and physically. It was still the other woman whose body began to respond and to arch, whose mouth moaned in pleasure. She forgot his problem, forgot Duff and Gideon Galili, forgot her name. When he entered her it was, for this other woman, the first time. The first ecstasy. She had no sense of time. Her first orgasm could have come in seconds, minutes or hours. The second and third followed in a timeless void. There may have been more but her mind and body were welded together and moved from consciousness to fantasy to sleep. It was the ultimate logic of a night of unreality.

  She awoke alone in the bed and lay still for a long time listening to the morning chorus of the birds in the garden and trying to separate fantasy from reality. Eventually she rose, slipped on a robe and went out to the lounge. Through the window she saw him sitting in the same chair on the patio and for a moment thought that he had never moved from there - it had all been merely a dream. But her body still ached sweetly; it had been no dream. She walked out into the sunlight and he raised his head and saw her and smiled wanly. In a second her own feelings were forgotten. For him the night must have been a failure. She sat down facing him while the birds sang in the pine trees. She wanted them to stop. The sounds were like a rock band at a funeral.

  ‘It didn’t work for you?’

  He shook his head. She now felt acute embarrassment, tainted by the memory of her own passion.

  ‘I’m sorry . . . I don’t.’

  His voice interjected quietly. ‘Please, Ruth. Don’t say anything, ‘It didn’t work, but still it was beautiful. I’ve never in my life seen anything so lovely as your face last night. I’ll never forget it.’

  She groped for words. ‘I don’t know. Maybe if I had more skill . . . It got too much for me . . . ’

  He smiled, it was beautiful. Forget about skills - you need none.’ He shrugged, ‘I guess I’ll have to try to live with the problem. I owe you a great deal for trying.’

  She shook her head, swirling her long hair.

  ‘You owe me nothing . . . It’s a waste.’ She felt confused and desperate. How could it have been so beautiful for her, and yet failed for him? It was savagely unfair. Abruptly she reached a decision. ‘When do you go back? To Beirut?’

  ‘In a couple of weeks.’

  ‘Then we’ll try again.’

  ‘Thanks, but you’ve done more than I deserve. You’re going to be married. You have to think of that.’

  ‘I’ve thought about it, I’ve been unfaithful to Gideon. That’s done; it can’t be mended. At least we can try to salvage something.’ A thought crossed her mind and she looked up and said ‘For God’s sake don’t think I’m doing it for lust, even though I’ll tell you now that I have never experienced anything as intense as I did last night.’

  He smiled and shook his head. ‘You’re too honest for that.’

  ‘All right then. Friends of mine have a beach house near Polis on the West Coast. It’s very isolated and quiet. Let’s drive down there for a few days . . . Let’s not rush it. Try to relax and it might work.’

  ‘I feel like a patient.’

  ‘You are. Imagine that you broke your leg and it was set badly. You’ve had a limp for years. Now the leg has to be re-broken and set again. It could be painful.’

  She studied him closely and saw the corners of his mouth twitch into a smile.

  ‘Will you wear a white coat?’

  ‘No. I’ll wear nothing.’

  So they went to Polis, driving down twisting dirt roads and through tiny villages until they came to the coast road, then they turned West, seeing fewer cars and people. It was an area not yet developed for tourism. An area of vineyards and forests and a steep, rugged coastline. They stopped for lunch at a taverna in Stroumbi and sat outside and drank too much wine and talked of inconsequential things and laughed a little. It was another hour’s drive to Polis. They shopped for provisions at the village store and then took the road North through more forests until they came to the promontory and the bay, where legend has it that Aphrodite used to take her bath. The beach house was just beyond it in another tiny bay. Munger had to drive carefully over a little-used track. The house faced the sea and was hidden by a half circle of poplar trees, still and silent in the hot sun.

  No sooner had they parked then Ruth jumped out of the car, stripped off her clothes and ran naked into the water. Munger carried their bags to the full-length verandah and quickly joined her.

  Half an hour later they lay on their backs on the sliver of beach, being dried by the late afternoon sun. He was thinking that it was the most tranquil spot he had ever known. She was thinking that she must proceed cautiously. He would be tense and nervous. Perhaps dreading another failure.

  He rolled over onto one elbow, looked down at her and reached out a finger to touch a droplet of water that had escaped the sun. It nestled beneath her left breast and he watched the nipple rise.

  ‘Last night,’ he whispered, ‘there was very little light. I want to see you now. To watch your face.’

  She started to say something but he moved his finger to seal her lips. Then he was kissing her nipples and running his hand over her belly and she was already wet, her body still conditioned by their lovemaking a few hours before.

  She fought a battle in her mind: one part trying to stay in control, to dictate her movements for his pleasure; the other part drowning in her own sensations. His weight was over her, his mouth on her mouth and his rigid length slid into her. She moved her hands to his buttocks, pulling him deep, moaning in her throat. Then through a thickening mist she heard his voice telling her over and over that he loved her. The mist cleared and she saw his eyes and she murmured something, and moments later he was spurting into her and then they were both laughing and crying at the same time.

  They stayed for ten days. They swam and lay in the sun and made love. They cooked each other meals and walked in the hills and made love. They danced on the verandah at night to the music of an old battery-powered record player and they laughed, and they made love. Only on the fourth night while she lay in his arms in the darkness did she repeat the words she had murmured into his ear on the beach.

  ‘David, I love you.’

  ‘Yes. So we have a problem.’

  ‘No. But unfortunately Gideon has.’

  He rolled over and switched on the light and pulled himself up in the bed. She remained on her back, looking up at him.

  ‘Doctors are not supposed to fall in love with their patients.’ He spoke with mock severity.

  ‘But I never took the Hippocratic Oath.’

  ‘So what about Gideon? You’re not in love with him any more?’

  She frowned and thought carefully. ‘Yes, I am, and I’ll tell him so.

  I’ll also tell him that I love him the same way that Duff loved me - and it’s not enough.’

  ‘You won’t marry him?’

  ‘No. I’m going to marry you - and I want children.’ Her eyes opened wide to watch his reaction but she could read nothing in his face.

  ‘You don’t like the idea?’

  Now he smiled, ‘I was just trying to believe my ears. To make it real . . . when?’

  ‘When we marry, or when we have children?’

  ‘Both.’

  Now she sat up. ‘Let’s make some coffee and plan it.’ She saw him glance at his watch.

  ‘I know,’ she said. ‘It’s late, but I won’t sleep - or make love again - until it’s all settled.’

  So they got up and sat on the verandah and planned it. At first he wanted to go straight to Limassol and tell Walter that ORANGE BLUE was retiring, but they both knew that such a course would be self-defeating. He had come back into the world for a purpose.
That purpose had been the instrument of his rebirth. Ruth was the midwife who had slapped his bottom and brought forth his first cry. The purpose would be a cornerstone of their lives together. It might be two years or more, he warned her. If Walter’s efforts in France failed, he would be needed in Iraq.

  She did not mind the wait - or the danger. She had a strange confidence in their joint destiny. They had both come through much to start on this road. They would marry when the mission was over.

  For the first time she was profoundly positive about something. The love she had discovered inside her put the rest of her life in perspective, particularly her feelings for Duff and Gideon. She was now aware that love happens on a myriad of levels. Perhaps most people never attained a love as intense as she now experienced. She doubted if it could have happened at a much younger age. Surely their past lives had provided the conditions to allow it to come about. She felt a deep sense of gratitude. She was at last completely without doubts or uncertainties: she had discovered what love meant - an emotion compounded of passion and compassion; of need and gratitude. For a long while she bathed in the light of that discovery, then her mind turned to other things and her happiness was clouded.

  When Munger returned to Beirut she would visit Gideon in Israel and break the news. He saw the troubled look on her face.

  ‘He will take it very badly,’ he said, ‘I know that. I know how I would feel. I’d do anything to keep you.’

  She shrugged. ‘Yes. But it can’t be helped. Anyway, he’s strong. He’ll get over it.’ She tried to smile. ‘I don’t want to feel sad tonight. Not even while we’re here. Let’s wait for the dawn and then swim. After that I want to make love on exactly the same spot as that first time. After all, we don’t have to wait to make that baby. I don’t mind being an unmarried mother-in-waiting.’

  Book Four

  Chapter 14

  It was one of the very rare occasions in Walter Blum’s life when he felt a trifle humble. He sat in an anteroom outside the Prime Minister’s office in Jerusalem and he actually had butterflies in his stomach. In a few minutes he would meet for the first time the Prime Minister of Israel, a man whom he admired and who greatly fascinated him. General Hofti had been ushered through a few minutes before and Walter was expecting the call any moment. To contain his nervousness he opened the folder on his knee and read the report that he and General Hofti had prepared during the night: the report that at this moment the Prime Minister would be reading.

  1 OF 3

  IRAQI NUCLEAR PROGRAMME

  Report No. 43A (P.M.): 3rd May 1981

  To: Prime Minister

  From: General Yitzhak Hofti

  Sources: Mossad

  Circulation: Nil

  SITUATION TO DATE:

  In spite of all efforts both diplomatic, by the Foreign Ministry, and covert, by Mossad, the two nuclear research reactors contracted for by Iraq from France have now been shipped and are currently being installed in the nuclear research establishment at El-Tuwaitha on the outskirts of Baghdad.

  (Reports 28A (P.M.) dated 18th July 1980 and 31A (P.M.) dated 12th September 1980 detailed the attempts by Mossad, and in particular its ORANGE network, to sabotage both the equipment and the programme. The result of this activity was that the programme was delayed by 12-14 months.)

  However, the reactors are now on site together with 265 French scientists and technicians.

  2 OF 3

  It is estimated that the main 70 MW reactor will come on stream, i.e. become ‘hot’, between June and September of this year. In Report No. 41A dated 11th February 1981, various options were put forward. At that time your office ordered a further review of the Iraqi potential to manufacture nuclear weapons from material to be obtained from their new reactors. Report No. 42A dated 2nd March 1981 concluded that not only did the potential still exist but that the intention to do so remains a paramount objective of the Hussein regime, particularly since the onset of hostilities with Iran.

  There now remain only two options if a decision is made to destroy the reactors:

  a) A bombing strike

  b) A commando sabotage raid

  In consultation with Military Intelligence we have concluded that option (a) is the more feasible.

  3 OF 3

  The strike must take place before the reactor becomes ‘hot’. El-Tuwaitha lies only twelve and a half miles from the centre of Baghdad and prevailing winds would almost certainly ensure that a massive radiation leak would contaminate a large proportion of the city and its three and a half million inhabitants.

  Conclusion:

  The decision whether or not to destroy the reactor is, of course, a political one Nevertheless, our Research and Analysis Department has distilled an opinion that may have some bearing on that decision.

  In essence, as a result of such a strike, the State of Israel will face condemnation throughout the world. Some of it will be hypocritical, i.e. from Egypt and Iran, but on the whole it will be genuinely felt and vociferously expressed. Certainly we shall face the real threat of United Nations sanctions. There will be two main pillars to this condemnation:

  Iraq has signed and, to date, scrupulously observed the Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty. Israel has not.

  The raid will set a precedence of incalculable dimensions. END IT.

  Walter closed the folder and wondered how the Prime Minister would interpret its conclusion. He did not have to wait long to find out. An aide opened the door, gestured and then ushered the perspiring Walter into the Prime Minister’s office.

  He was sitting with General Hofti at what looked like an ordinary dining room table in a corner of the spacious room. He stood up as Walter approached and waved aside Hofti’s introduction. As he held out his hand and smiled he said:

  ‘We have never met, but I feel I know you. In the name of Israel and Jewish people everywhere I thank you for the work you have done and continue to do.’

  Walter took the hand and shook it, feeling even more humble. He noted with surprise that the Prime Minister was even smaller than he had supposed. He appeared almost frail, but Walter looked into his eyes behind the thick-lensed spectacles and saw nothing but confidence and determination.

  As they sat down the Prime Minister said ‘You may smoke if you wish.’

  Walter smiled and Hofti looked dumbfounded. He had earlier pleaded with Walter not to light up one of his fat cigars, for in this office smoking was strictly forbidden. Walter reached into an inside pocket of his raw-silk maroon-coloured jacket and extracted a cigar. He unwrapped it, clipped off the end and stuck it between his fat lips. Then, to Hofti’s relief, he said. ‘I’ll just chew on it.’

  ‘As you wish.’ The Prime Minister looked down at the file in front of him, picked up a red marker pen and began underlining certain passages. Walter studied him with interest.

  Menachem Begin was a man who believed in an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth, but if the tooth was Jewish he demanded a whole set of dentures in return. He saw himself as the embodiment of the State of Israel. He was passionate in his belief in the historic and biblical rights of the Jewish people. Sometimes it made him, in other people’s eyes, a caricature of contradiction. He would vehemently denounce terrorism but in his youth he had led the Irgun Zvai Leumi terror squad. He would lecture the world on the past evils of Nazi collective punishment and the next day give orders to destroy a Palestinian village from whence a PLO incursion had originated. He would talk eloquently of the rights of Jewish settlements in the Sinai and a month later travel to Camp David and bargain away those rights.

  Walter found him fascinating and saw no contradictions. Every single act of Menachem Begin was aimed at a single target: the continued existence and well-being of the State of Israel.

  Now he looked up from the report and said to Walter:

  ‘Your efforts in France were very commendable.’

  It was a curious adjective, for he was referring to two acts of assassination and an act of sabotage. Profe
ssor Yahia el Mashad, the Egyptian head of the Iraqi nuclear programme, had been killed in his Paris hotel room. It had been a messy affair: there was a French prostitute with him who had escaped after seeing his attackers. Mossad agents had to track her down and a week later arranged for her to have a fatal traffic accident. The Professor had been in Paris to arrange for the Iraqis to buy into a consortium called Eurodif, which manufactured enriched uranium. The deal was called off.

  A few months earlier, in April 1979, Mossad agents had planted explosives in the factory manufacturing part of the reactor, thereby delaying delivery for over a year.

  ‘Unfortunately,’ Walter said, ‘we only managed to delay matters.’

  Begin gestured dramatically. ‘That delay was vital. In the meantime we have made peace with Egypt and two of our enemies - Iraq and Iran - are making war with each other. It means that if we have to take such action as recommended in this report, the timing politically is much better.’ He turned to Hofti.

  ‘General, you point out very vividly the international repercussions we will face, but you miss the main point.’

  Hofti straightened in his chair and asked ‘What is that?’

  ‘The President of the United States of America.’ The Prime Minister smiled as he saw the puzzled look that passed between Hofti and Walter, then he stood and began pacing up and down as he talked.

  ‘In a strange way, the single biggest threat to Israel is not the Arab armies, or Russia, or even nuclear weapons. No, it is the potential alienation of a US President who might have no ambitions to be re-elected.” He turned to face the table.