“Allow me to introduce you to MK Akuka,” said Avraham.
22.
Akuka’s ample frame was nattily draped in a grey suit, blue shirt and yellow tie. When he smiled, which he did frequently and broadly, he revealed a gold tooth. A gold bracelet on one wrist and a gold Rolex on the other came into view when he rested his elbows on the desk.
“Excuse me. Sorry to disturb you,” said Nahum, turning to leave when he saw that Avraham was not alone in the office.
“Stay!” Avraham ordered. “We’re waiting for you. Do you remember MK Akuka?”
“Remind me,” Nahum scanned the elegant visitor from head to toe.
Disappointed at Nahum’s failure to recognize him, MK Akuka prompted, “We spoke on the telephone last month, remember?”
Since Nahum was obviously no wiser and continued his visual inspection, MK Akuka was determined to jog his memory. He said, “I phoned you about Gillie, the head of the town council. Surely you remember?”
“Ah! Member of the Knesset Akuka, about Gillie! Of course I remember.”Then he added, “What can I do for you?”
Nobody spoke. The editor-in-chief of Today and the MK exchanged meaningful, secretive glances.
“Tell him,” said the editor-in-chief.
“I’d rather you told him. He works for you, not for me.” Akuka smiled at Nahum and waited for Avraham to speak, but he seemed hesitant. A heavy silence fell on the three men.
“Have you done anything about the article on Gill?” Avraham finally asked.
“Meaning?’ Nahum asked in surprise, adding in an assertive tone of voice, “The article’s already in press. It’ll be in this Friday’s paper.”
Akuka shot an alarmed look at Avraham, at which the latter turned to Nahum and said, “How about putting it on hold for a while?’
Nahum roared, “Why?”
Another oppressive silence hung in the air for a long moment. Avraham stared in embarrassment at his senior reporter before he turned to Akuka and practically commanded him, “Kindly tell him what you told me!”
Akuka began, almost pleadingly, by telling Nahum that Gill was in a state of extreme distress. True, Gill had done some foolish things. Nobody ever said that Gill was white as snow. He had been questioned by the police on more than five occasions and he might even be facing charges. Gillie was taking this into account. But an article at this time could do him a lot of harm. Gillie had a wonderful family and the article could seriously hurt them. Gill’s seventeen year old son had told Akuka straight out that if this article about his father’s alleged corruption appeared, he would drop out of school. He even threatened suicide. Gill’s wife declared that she would divorce him. She would not remain with him for even one day if this thing was published.
It was a pity to destroy a family. Akuka was not asking him to cancel the article. All he asked was to delay publication. Nothing more. Just to delay it.
Nahum rose to his feet. He was furious.
“Mr. Akuka,” he shouted, “Gillie should have considered all those things before he decided to start a public career. He should have considered all those things before he committed those offenses.”
MK Akuka turned to Avraham, “Tell him!”
Nahum did not wait to hear what the editor in chief had to say. Before he slammed the door on his way out, he yelled, “The article will appear in this Friday’s paper!”
Even when he was no longer in the room, hurrying to his desk, and in spite of the fact that Avraham and Akuka were out of earshot, he continued to shout, “This Friday, d’you hear me? If not, I’ll resign, I’ll be out of here!”
Nahum’s desk phone was ringing persistently. He let it ring. Rikkie called to him to take the call. Nahum remained where he was. He saw MK Akuka’s stormy departure down the corridor. When the visitor was gone, Avraham came to Nahum’s office. He nervously observed his senior reporter’s angry face before saying anything.
His voice lacked its usual authority when he finally said, “Not for a moment did I intend to put the article on hold. I anticipated that you’d put him straight. I knew you’d never let him persuade you.”
Avraham was thoughtful for a moment before continuing, “But, still, I’ve never seen you react so aggressively. I think you went too far in your behavior to the Member of the Knesset. Don’t you think so?
Nahum seemed to preoccupied to answer his boss. Avraham left the room. Nahum’s phone had not stopped ringing and when Rikkie dashed over to his desk and asked him why he did not answer it, he merely stared glassily at the wall.
She snatched the receiver and said, “This is Nahum Peterson’s secretary. Who’s speaking?”
Tell him it’s Aharon. He’d better answer the phone.”
Rikkie whispered to Nahum, “I think it’s that man who’s been harassing you. Maybe you should contact the police?”
Nahum grabbed the phone and shouted, “Who’s speaking?”
“What are you shouting for, hey?” the man said and then, “It’s me, Aharon. What! Didn’t you know it’s me?”
Almost at the end of his tether, Nahum said, “Listen, I’m sick of you. If you don’t stop bothering me, I’ll go to the police. I’m warning you.”
As he was about to slam down the receiver, Aharon’s voice came through in a shout. “Don’t hang up. I’ve got something to tell you.”
Nahum put the receiver to his ear and waited.
“I know you’re there, listening,” said Aharon. “It’s very worth your while to meet me.”
Nahum said nothing. He pressed the receiver closer to his ear.
“You’ll go home soon,” Aharon continued, “you’ll change into your blue tracksuit, plug in your walkman and take a quick walk for exactly forty minutes.”
Nahum sat down and said in a near whisper, “I’m listening.”
“Then you’ll go up to your apartment, take a shower and boil some water.” Aharon paused for a moment.
“Nahum was drawn, “Go on, I’m listening.”
“Once or twice a week, you close yourself in your study.”
Nahum frowned. “Okay; I’m listening.”
“And there, in the closed room, you record yourself.” Aharon fell silent.
His voice at breaking point, Nahum asked, “What do you want?’
“To meet you.”
“Where?”
“At Yaffa’s Cafe on Ben - Yehuda Street. I’ll be there in an hour.”
“How will I know you?”
“I’ll be holding a brown leather briefcase.”
Before hanging up, he managed to say, “I wear a hat. Quite a big hat.”
23.
It was impossible to mistake him. Wearing khaki shorts and a black shirt, he was sitting at the far end of the cafe, gripping a shabby brown leather briefcase. He was also wearing a hat with an unusually wide, straw brim. Nahum wondered what the man was trying to demonstrate with such eccentric headgear. Maybe he had something to hide? In fact, the wide hat only exaggerated the twitching, disturbed movements of his young face.
Nahum found something incongruous in the combination of the man’s wide hat, young face, khaki shorts and the ancient briefcase he was holding with such determination. From his vantage point at the entrance, he noted that only a few tables were occupied.
“Hello, here I am!” The man in the hat called, gesturing with his free hand.
As Nahum walked towards Aharon – if indeed that was his name – he saw that the face under the extraordinary hat was babyish. Aharon, however, did not allow him much time to scrutinize his appearance. Dispensing with formalities, he launched into a fervent monologue before Nahum was properly seated.
“August ’89, the Dead Sea hotel affair. January ’90, negligence of instructor on a school trip that led to the death of a child in the Judean Desert. March ’90, such a clever political ar
ticle about the need for a new center party in the Israeli political landscape – an article that was like a prophetic vision.”
Nahum stared in amazement at the man in the hat. “This fellow is thoroughly familiar with every important piece I’ve written,” he thought. “Perhaps even more than I am.”
Aharon continued with the same fervor.
“Will he remain in power, or will the enlightened world finally be rid of him?” – 2nd of August, 1991, the article on Saddam Hussein. How right you were. He survived.”
Nahum could no longer restrain himself. He said, “You’re keeping track of me. You’re an expert on my articles. Who are you? What do you want of me? Who sent you? Who are you working for?”
Hurt to the quick, the man in the hat said, “Is that what you think of me? That I’m some sort of miserable spy? Yes? Is that what you think of me? That’s how you appreciate me?”
Nahum was confused. He did not know what to say. His eyes rested on the man opposite him, on the hat, before he said, “So, you’re Aharon, who phones me all the time?”
A little hesitantly, the young man answered, “Yes, I’m Aharon. Anything wrongs with that?”
Something about Aharon’s eyes drew Nahum’s attention. Something opaque. Glassy. Nahum was unable to crack the code they were sending. He needed to define the man.
“What’s your occupation?”
Aharon’s tone of voice changed completely. It wavered between aggressive and tearful when he replied, “What? Is this an interrogation?”
Then he fell into a confused silence.
Ignoring his reaction, Nahum asked, “What do you want of me?”
He was stunned when Aharon burst into bitter tears and pleaded, “Don’t do this to me. I beg you, please…please…”
“What are you talking about?” Nahum was totally confused by this turn in the conversation.
“Don’t write about me. Don’t write anything at all about me. I promise to disappear. You’ll never see me. You won’t ever see me again.”
“What is there to write about you?” Nahum enquired.
In an effort to calm the man, he adopted a pacifying tone of voice and added quickly, “You can relax completely. I don’t usually write about unknown people, people who don’t stand out in any way and are of no interest to the public.”
Aharon banged his fist on the table. To Nahum, it was as if a bomb had exploded in the young man’s hand. Again, the latter’s tone of voice changed beyond recognition as he yelled, “Aha, so I’m nothing, am I? I’m not worth a thing, hey? You’re also one of those who treat me like dirt, right? I don’t exist, you don’t see me. I’m unknown, that’s what you think of me, right?”
Nahum felt a strong desire to get up and leave, but he stayed where he was.
Aharon carried on, “I’m scared…terribly scared. Promise. Promise you won’t write that I’m scared. If they know I’m a coward, they’ll win. Everything…everything depends on you. If you don’t publish the fact that I’m afraid of them…they…they won’t know…they won’t know and they won’t be able to harm me.”
Nahum pitied the unfortunate fellow opposite him. There was no doubt that he was unstable.
“I can give you my promise. They will know nothing,” he said, keeping his voice even and relaxed. “You can trust me completely. It’s our secret. Only you and I know that you’re afraid of them. They don’t know that you’re afraid of them and I will never write anything about it.”
Aharon’s face lit up. He no longer looked threatening. “Just so you know, you’ve made a commitment never to write anything about the matter. Remember.”
“I won’t write a single word about you, not about you and not about the matter. Don’t worry. You can rely on me.”
Nahum had a sudden inspiration. He had found a way out of his involvement with the owner of the leather briefcase and the straw hat who knew most of the journalist’s writings by heart and hovered like a shadow on his life.
“Do you honor agreements?” Nahum asked suddenly.
“Certainly. I know very well how to honor agreements!”
“Very good. Here is a verbal agreement that both of us will keep,” said Nahum.
Clearing his throat, he formally announced, “I, Nahum, journalist with the Today newspaper, hereby promise never to write about you in the paper, not one single word or syllable. As a result, they will never know that you are afraid of them and therefore they will not be able to harm you.”
“Do you promise?” Aharon said with a pleading look at Nahum.
“I do,” said Nahum firmly, “but all this is on condition that you also make a commitment.”
“What do I have to make a commitment about?” Aharon asked, eager to accept the pledge.
“You, Aharon, commit yourself to refrain from all contact with me and to absolutely stop phoning me.”
Nahum, seeing the expression of deep despair in the young man’s eyes, said softly, “An agreement is an agreement.”
Aharon responded with, “You don’t write and I don’t contact you. It’s a deal.”
They shook hands and as Nahum stood up to leave, he said, “You know, Aharon, I want to thank you for showing such respect for my articles. I thank you for your interest. You can’t imagine what a compliment it is.”
He meant every word of it.
Aharon, not believing his ears, asked, “What, aren’t you angry with me for keeping track of everything you’ve written in the newspaper?”
“No, Aharon. To tell the truth, I’m moved by the knowledge that somebody out there responds so sympathetically to what I write, the way you did.”
While Nahum waited for the waitress to bring the bill, he thought, “What a unique lunatic. So perceptive, so capable of making all these arrangements and retaining all that information, but crazy. Absolutely crazy.”
As he way paying the waitress, he mumbled to himself, “It’s a pity only the lunatics take my work seriously.”
In answer to the waitress’ puzzled look, he said as he left the cafe, “Never mind Private joke.”
Aharon asked for the bill and the girl said, “Your friend paid the bill.”
“Does he think I can’t pay for myself? Like the rest of them, he thinks I’m an idiot!” As the waitress moved nervously away from the table, he continued, “I’ll show him who’s an idiot. Anyway, I committed myself to refrain from contacting him. But I can stalk him without phoning him. I didn’t promise I wouldn’t stalk him.”
Aharon grabbed the girl’s hand and asked, “So, you tell me, hey, who’s the idiot, me or him? Hey?”
The poor girl pulled away from him and disappeared into the kitchen.
24.
“I should have understood right away that I was dealing with a lunatic. Everything pointed to it. The way he spoke on the telephone, the way he hung onto that scruffy briefcase, his strange clothes and, especially, that oversized straw hat hiding his head. Looking at him, I couldn’t help thinking how pathetic he was. I thanked my lucky stars for my normality.”
Nahum was sitting with Edna in the living room, telling her about his day. She listened attentively as he unburdened his anxiety and then, when he stopped talking, she took the gift package from her handbag and held it out to him.
“I bought something for you, to congratulate you on being chosen to give the keynote speech at the conference. We still have to celebrate the event, don’t we?”
Nahum did not take the package she was holding out to him. Instead, he disappeared into his study for a moment and emerged with a writing pad.
“Open it,” he said with obvious pride.
The first four pages were covered in his close, neat handwriting. Edna concentrated on the pages before her and, when she came to the end, returned to the first page to start reading again.
“You’re so thorough!” she excl
aimed happily. “When did you manage to write all this?”
“I got up very early this morning and finished it in less than three hours,” he said, caught in a passing moment of self-satisfaction.
“I’m so proud of you, Nahum. It’s a wonderful speech,” she declared, “but what’s the hurry? The conference is only in ten months’ time.”
Instead of replying, he went to his study and brought out the tape recorder.
“I’ll record the text and listen to the tape every evening on my walk until I can deliver the speech even in my sleep.”
Then he looked at his watch and said, “I almost forgot to walk this evening!”
Edna was still holding the music box in the gift wrapping when he emerged in his tracksuit and sneakers, kissed her on the lips, waved goodbye and went downstairs. He was already in the lobby, when Michael appeared on the stairs.
“Hello, Mr. Nahum,” Michael greeted him.
“Hello, Michael. I haven’t seen you for quite a long time,” he answered.
“I called out to you yesterday when you were going up to your apartment, but you ignored me.”
“Are you sure? I’m surprised to hear that.”
Instead of answering, Michael said eagerly, “Mr. Nahum, look at me. Do you see anything new?”
Nahum peered at his neighbor, searching for something special. Noticing nothing unusual, he said, “You tell me. I have to start my walk.”
“Don’t you see my new blue tracksuit and sneakers??” Michael cried in disappointment.
“Of course, I wish you well to wear them!” Nahum answered quickly.
Michael wanted to point out that they were dressed identically, but Nahum said a hurried, apologetic goodbye and left.
Michael went up to his room, quickly opened the shutters and waited to see Nahum stride out on his asphalt route. Then, standing by the window, his whole body gripped in agitation, he began running on the spot and pumping his arms rhythmically, as he gritted his teeth and muttered, “Go, Mr. Nahum! Go, man, go!”
Until Sweet Death Arrives Page 9