The Marsh Angel

by Hagai Dagan

  Zulfiqar: What about the things?

  Hitler: They’re ready.

  Zulfiqar: How many cars do you need?

  Hitler: One (unclear word, probably pickup-truck) will do.

  Zulfiqar: Where is it in Tyre?

  Hitler: In the warehouse by Abu Jamil’s office.

  Zulfiqar: Will it be ready by tonight?

  Hitler: No, come tomorrow.

  Zulfiqar: Is it just for the Korean?

  Hitler: Yes.

  Zulfiqar: What else is new?

  Hitler: Someone important is visiting tomorrow, from those up north, above Hussain. He’ll stop by to visit the allies up there first, and then continue down to us.

  Zulfiqar: The one who was here before? With the eye incident?

  Hitler: (Laughs.) Even with one eye, the way he looks at you is terrifying. Imagine if he had two…

  Zulfiqar: (Laughs.)

  Hitler: Brother, that’s actually not funny, show some respect. You know, he was a young soldier during their war with the great infidel, when he lost his eye. He’s a soldier of Allah.

  Zulfiqar: You’re right. Respect…

  (Rest of the audio is broken and unintelligible.)

  Tamir looked at the transcriber. Really broken?

  Bro, believe me, you could give it to Sasson the Legend and he wouldn’t be able to make out a single word. I busted my ear over it. There’s no way.

  Tamir nodded. Okay. Very interesting conversation. Maybe we’ll play a game of chess after I’m done taking care of this.

  We’ll play tomorrow. I’m going back to bed.

  Okay, good night. Tamir wanted to express more appreciation, but didn’t know how. He sat down to annotate the conversation. He wrote that he believes they are referring to a Korean rocket-launcher and that the first part of the conversation regarded armament. Zulfiqar’s question whether it would be prepared by tonight indicates a high probability that there will be a rocket-launcher attack conducted in the Naqoura-‘Alma al-Sha‘ab sector in the coming days. Regarding the second part of the conversation, he wrote that it most likely indicates a visit by a high-level functionary to the operatives’ sector. The combination ‘above Hussain’ most likely pertains to a senior Hezbollah member named Hussain Ma‘atuq from the Beit Lahia sector. If that is indeed the case, then ‘those to his north’ are factors in the Lebanon Valley, very likely factors from the Iranian Revolutionary Guard. In that case, the allies next to them could be factors from Front/Jibril (who collaborate with Iranian factors), with an emphasis on the airborne unit’s base in Baalbek.

  He forwarded the conversation and, as expected, a couple of minutes later his phone started ringing. Everyone demanded more details and clarifications, but that’s all he had to give. The general warnings were soon issued, but it was clear that there was not much else that could be done at the moment. After the phone-calls died down, Tamir stayed in his chair and stared pensively at the conversation. He was less interested in the rocket launchers than in the second part. He wrote to Nissenbaum and asked him to find out with Department 143 that deals with Iran if they know of an Irani functionary with one eye operating in Lebanon, who probably lost his eye during the Iran-Iraq War. He assumed the ‘Great Infidel’ mentioned in the conversation was Saddam Hussein.

  The following day, he called Yaki and asked that ‘Ali the Yellow would try to find something out about such a visit.

  ‘Ala ayni wa-‘ala rasi, Yaki said in his nasal voice. And what about our friend?

  This might have something to do with her, Tamir replied.

  How so?

  I don’t know.

  Intuition…?

  Henri Bergson thought that we should base our consciousness on our intuition rather than on our geometric perception.

  You were a dweeb growing up, weren’t you?

  Yeah, I guess so, Tamir muttered meekly.

  Where are you?

  In Efroni.

  Oh, I hear the girls are hot there. Did you get any?

  No.

  Your priorities are fucked up, believe me.

  Yeah, possibly.

  j. Pools of Light

  Tamir headed straight for Kidonit from Efroni, to finalize a few things before completing his transfer away from the base. After bidding farewell to Jonny— he was glad to discover Harel and Zaguri were at home— returning his equipment to the quartermaster, and completing the necessary paperwork, he went out to take one last look at the view from the fence. He stood there, reflectively gazing at the tree-crowned mountains and the pine forest, when a familiar voice sounded behind him.

  Are you leaving without saying goodbye?

  He turned around slowly. Ophira was standing there, smiling her enigmatic smile.

  I thought you were at home.

  No.

  Yes, evidently.

  Are you glad I’m not home?

  Yes, evidently.

  And are you glad to be leaving us?

  Most of you, not all of you.

  Me?

  No.

  I imagined.

  Say…

  What?

  He cast his gaze on the view. Suddenly, he was struck with an idea. When’s your shift starting?

  Not until evening.

  How do you feel about grave veneration?

  About what?!

  Have you ever been down to Ein-Doev?

  Why in the world would I go down to Ein-Doev?

  Do you wanna?

  She looked at him. A mischievous spark flickered momentarily in her eyes, like a shimmering diamond in the depths of the sweet lake water. To venerate the tzadik’s grave?

  Something like that.

  Sounds interesting, she said. The victory bells and celebratory canon roars from the interlude to Tchaikovsky’s 1812 Overture played in Tamir’s mind.

  They hitched a ride from the base down to the grave with a family who had come from Acre in a rickety Peugeot station wagon. The car made its way down the steep dirt roads bypassing the base. The woman spoke about the miraculous attributes of the tzadik, while the man was driving, silent and distracted, brushing his fingers through his long, patchy beard, and the children were fighting and bickering among themselves. Ophira and Tamir sat in the back, allowing their gazes to cross. He felt both alert and strangely serene. He was wallowing in the muddy lake waters, but not drowning in them. If they were to do it on the grave, he thought, it would actually be a ménage à trois with Rabbah Bar Bar Hana. He didn’t like that idea. The Peugeot kept coughing and wheezing; the road wasn’t long, but it felt to Tamir like it was going on forever. The decrepit car descended further and further down, vanishing completely inside great clouds of dusts, swallowed up in a forest of thin, stubbed pine trees, entrenched in dirt roads and stained with faded sun-spots, while Tamir became increasingly absorbed in Ophira’s eyes; it was as if they had separated from her enigmatic smile, opening towards him as separate entities, autonomous planets of cool mud and fog, shifting swamps in the night, pitch-black peat stirring in unfolding depths. He was no longer floating expertly. He was sinking, his arms and legs flailing. When they finally reached their destination, he could hardly remember who they were and what they were there to do.

  The grave was housed in a decent-looking mausoleum, not too run down, its turquois dome even possessing a certain grace. It rested on the bank of an open valley surrounded on all sides by towering, forest-crowned mountains. Several thick-bearded Jews surrounded the grave, holding siddurs15 and praying vocally, while a group of noisy women clustered by the entrance, some in dresses, sheitels, and headscarves, and others in jeans and tight shirts. Those in headcovers were quick to wrap up their impious sisters in scarfs and fabrics, and the whole hive was bustling with coiling and swathing. Tamir asked Ophira is she wanted one of those scarfs.

 
Yeah, sure, she laughed.

  They peeked inside. The interior was designed with remarkable bad taste. The grave itself was covered in a black shroud embroidered with the words Gravestone of Our Devine Teacher Rabbah Bar Bar Hana, May He Protect Us with His Grace. Palm trees were embroidered on both sides of the epitaph. The shroud was covered in a clear plastic sheet, to which someone had crudely attached a hand-written sign, imploring visitors to maintain the sanctity of the place. In one of the corners was a bookshelf containing Holy Books. Sweaty men edged their way towards the grave, pressing their lips to Psalm books with expert skill.

  Female! someone said and pointed at Ophira. An unkempt yeshiva16 student in an over-sized suit pressed towards them. Soldier, he roared at Ophira without looking at her, up to the women’s balcony,17 not here.

  Not here, indeed, Tamir mused. Come on, let’s get out of this shithole, he said to Ophira in a voice loud enough for the student to hear. He cast a bewildered look at Tamir. They quickly turned their backs to him, left the mausoleum, and turned onto a path which winded into the forest. They strolled along the path; the further away they got from the mausoleum, the taller Tamir felt, like the serenity of the forest was instilling him with newfound vigor. They walked further and further along the bank of the valley, until the hustle and bustle of the mausoleum behind them faded away entirely.

  I’ve been at this base for a whole year now, and I’ve never been out to these forests, Ophira said. It’s like a school field-trip.

  Did you like field-trips?

  Couldn’t stand them.

  Actually, I don’t know anything about you.

  What would you like to know?

  Oh, I don’t know…

  What kind of music I like? What kind of films? What kind of food? she asked sarcastically, suppressing a smile.

  What was the last dream you had?

  Ah, that’s original, her smile widened. Hmm, let me think… Oh, yes, I dreamed I was standing at the base’s gate, waiting for a ride, when suddenly a limousine pulls up; I get inside and I’m immediately offered champagne; I drink the champagne and it’s a bit bitter, but I keep drinking it anyway, and then the limousine turns into an airplane filled with cameras and we’re flying over Syria taking pictures; suddenly, a rocket is fired at us but it turns into a flower, a rose which gets pinned to my collar like a platoon-commander pin; the rose squirts me with rose-water, I’m licking myself and I’m thinking, wow, I taste so good! Like a malabi. Someone just needs to cover me with pistachios…

  Did you really dream all of this?

  You think?

  It could have been a neat dream. You should turn it into a short story and submit it to a newspaper.

  Yeah, sure, she laughed and looked at him. He gazed into her eyes again. They absorbed the diminishing rays of light, and tiny sun-spots emerged over the bustling red loam. They stopped in their tracks. Their feet stood over a bed of moss-covered rocks. Tamir recalled that in field-trips with the youth movement he could never find a comfortable place to rest on the ground, that wherever he sat, tiny pine needles would prick his back, tiny pebbles would jab his bottom, and sticky spurge leaves would get tangled in his clothes. But now, none of that mattered. They cautiously probed their way towards each other, before finally grabbing each other with desperate urgency and plunging onto the mossy stones.

  Scorching-hot mud, searing and pleasuring, covered everything. Fluttering orcs emerged from its depth before being swallowed back down. Shapes beyond recognition, distorted worlds seeking form and a name, ancient kings and forgotten kingdoms, red and hairy, granite stones and rubies and raging lava falls, gates opening like the flickering of a blood-red eye, I have seen things you mortals cannot even imagine, spaceships ablaze in Orion’s shoulder, angels falling like shooting stars through seven galaxies, illuminated by the blaze of seven suns, giants of light and fire approaching the colossal, sublime daughters of man emerging from the womb of the abyss enveloped in darkness and gloom, oh, daughters of man, for they are splendid, for they are mellifluous and succulent, and all is blissfully futile, all is but rays of white light piercing through sweet, infinite darkness, darkness to cover the earth as far as the eye can see, and how good it is to die at its bosom, to fill the lungs with sweet, warm mud, and die.

  Why are you called Ophira, anyway?

  Why not? her fingers casually travelled across his moist, panting belly, as if she were tracing ancient runes.

  If I remember correctly, Ophira derives from the biblical Ophir, right?

  Yes, Ophir-bound— like north-bound means towards to the north.

  And Ophir is a place renowned for gold, right?

  Yeah, gold of Ophir… My favorite verse is the consort stands at your right hand, decked in gold of Ophir.

  Yes, that sounds good, he whispered. Gold of Ophir, he thought, tracing the contours of her body with his hand, running his fingers over her luscious, shimmering skin. Last rays of light refracted over the branches of the pine trees, their broken light descending like glittering confetti, flickering over her breasts, her belly, collecting in her bellybutton, the crevice of her neck, her curves. Pools of light, Tamir thought, and knelt to sip them like a wanderer replenishing himself in an oasis before continuing his desert journey.

  * * *

  4. Tzadik — A Jewish individual attributed with sanctity or a high religious status. Over the past decades, a culture of grave veneration has flourished in Israel. Many people attend these sites, prostrate over the graves, and make requests of the departed tzadik. In many cases, the historic validity of these sites are spurious, if not outright fictitious: often, they are repurposed graves of Arab sheikhs. The Israeli grave-veneration culture is buttressed by a well-oiled, state-sponsored industry of religious business enterprise.

  5. Producer — A person whose role is to listen to enemy/hostile-factor communications and to produce an initial summary of relevant communications for intelligence analysts to assess.

  6. Turkish Knight — A codeword for an infiltration or breach of the border.

  7. Military Intelligence Directorate – Research Department (MID-RD)— The army directorate responsible for evaluating intelligence. The MID-RD concentrates intelligence funneled through by different intelligence collection bodies, evaluates them, and establishes a broad intelligence picture.

  8. Shin-Beit — The Israeli General Security Agency. The agency responsible for homeland security and counter-intelligence, equivalent to the American FBI.

  9. Unit 504 — A unit of the Israeli Intelligence Corps which used to engage in intelligence collection in Lebanon, primarily through agents (HUMINT, human intelligence).

  10. Chuppah and Kiddushin — Terms denoting Jewish engagement and marriage. The chuppah is a kind of makeshift tent, under which the betrothed couple stand. The kiddushin is the text the groom recites to proclaim ownership over his bride in accordance with Jewish law: “You are hereby betrothed unto me in accordance with the laws of Moses and Israel.”

  11. Goyim — The word finds its origin in the bible, where it has two meanings: (a) nations; (b) all nations other than the Hebrew nation. Usually, the word carries the latter meaning, in the context of the belief that Jewish people, through their descent from the ancient Israelites, are chosen people.

  12. “The privilege is mine.”

  13. “Blessed be the hands that serve this food.”

  14. Foreign Volunteers — During the 1970’s, 80’s, and 90’s, kibbutzes in Israel invited young people from around the world to come and volunteer. These people spent short periods of time living in kibbutzes, working, and experiencing life in a collective settlement. For the volunteers, this period was often one of freedom and permissiveness, commonly taking place during the period between graduating high-school and enrolling to college.

  15. Sid
dur — A Jewish prayer book, containing a set order of prayers.

  16. Yeshiva — A Jewish educational institution, where an all-male student body studies the Talmud. In ultra-Orthodox society, studying in a yeshiva is a way of life which can extend for the entire duration of an individual’s life.

  17. Women’s Balcony — The designated area for women at a synagogue. Rabbinical Judaism does not permit mixed prayer between men and women, thereby necessitating the designation of a space for women only. In two-storied synagogues, the women’s balcony (Ezrat Nashim) is usually located in the top floor.

  3. THUNDERBIRDS

  Who is this that cometh out of the wilderness like pillars of smoke, perfumed with myrrh and frankincense, with all powders of the merchant? Behold his bed, which is Solomon’s; threescore valiant men are about it, of the valiant of Israel. They all hold swords, being expert in war: every man hath his sword upon his thigh because of fear in the night.

  — Song of Solomon 3:6-8

  a. The Plot Thickens

  Tamir preferred not to spend the short leave he was given before transferring to headquarters and relocating to Tel-Aviv in the kibbutz. He decided to get to Tel-Aviv earlier, to find an apartment and get settled in. He found an old and slightly dilapidated apartment in Simon Thassi Street. After setting up a telephone line in the apartment, he looked up the Al-Shajara Foundation and called the number he found. After a couple of rings, a familiar and pleasant voice answered.

  Do you remember your hitchhiker?

  I pick up a lot of hitchhikers.

  The one who asked about al-Damun.

  Oh, yes… How are you?

  Good. Do you think we could meet?

  Sure. You’re welcome to come by our office.