Leon Uris (9 page)

“Mark, you look as though you’ve seen a ghost,” Kitty said.

“I have and he’s just about here. We are going to have a very interesting evening.”

Kitty turned around to see Ari Ben Canaan towering over their table. “I see that you remember me, Parker,” he said, taking a seat without invitation and turning to Kitty. “You must be Mrs. Katherine Fremont.”

Ari’s and Kitty’s eyes met and held. Several awkward seconds of silence followed, then Ari looked around for a waiter and called him over. He ordered sandwiches.

“This is Ari Ben Canaan,” Mark was saying, “he is a very old acquaintance of mine. I see that you seem to know Mrs. Fremont.”

“Ari Ben Canaan,” Kitty said. “What an odd name.”

“It is Hebrew, Mrs. Fremont. It means ‘Lion, Son of Canaan.’ ”

“That’s quite confusing.”

“On the contrary, Hebrew is a very logical language.”

“Funny, it didn’t strike me that way,” Kitty said, with an edge of sarcasm.

Mark looked from one to the other. They had only met, and yet they were already engaged in the verbal fencing and maneuvering he himself so often played. Obviously Ben Canaan had struck either a sweet or a sour chord in Kitty, Mark thought, because she had her claws bared.

“Strange that it wouldn’t strike you as logical,” Ari was answering. “God thought Hebrew was so logical he had the Bible written in that language.”

Kitty smiled and nodded. The orchestra changed to a fox trot. “Dance, Mrs. Fremont?”

Mark leaned back and watched Ben Canaan walk Kitty onto the floor, hold her, and lead her about with smooth gliding grace. For the moment Mark didn’t like the spark that had obviously struck the second they met: it was hard to think of Kitty as a mere mortal playing mortals’ games. They danced close to his table. There seemed to be a dazed look on Kitty’s face and it was unnatural.

Then Mark began thinking of himself. He had had the feeling that something was brewing on Cyprus from the moment he landed. Now it was confirmed by Ben Canaan’s appearance. He knew enough of the Palestinian to realize he was one of the top Mossad Aliyah Bet agents. He also knew that he was going to be approached for something, because Ben Canaan had sought him out. What about Kitty? Did he know of her only because she was with him or was there another reason?

Kitty was a tall girl but she felt lost in Ari Ben Canaan’s arms. A strange sensation swept over her. The appearance of this strapping, handsome man had thrown her off guard. Now, in his arms only a moment after their meeting, she felt—unraveled. The sensation was attractive—it had been many, many years. But she felt rather foolish at the same time.

The music stopped and they returned to the table.

“I didn’t think you Palestinians danced anything but a
hora
,” Mark said.

“I’ve been exposed to too much of your culture,” Ari answered.

His sandwiches arrived and he ate hungrily. Mark waited patiently for him to reveal the nature of his visit. He looked at Kitty carefully. She seemed to be regaining her composure, although she glanced at Ari from the corner of her eye as though she were wary and ready to strike.

At last Ari finished eating and said casually, “I have something I want to talk over with both of you.”

“Here, in the middle of the British Army?”

Ari smiled. He turned to Kitty. “Parker didn’t have a chance to tell you, Mrs. Fremont, that my employment is considered
sub rosa
in some quarters. Every so often the British even glorify us by calling us ‘underground.’ One of the first things I try to impress a new member of our organization with is the danger of making secret midnight rendezvous. I’d say there isn’t a better place in the world to discuss this.”

“Let’s move the party up to my room,” Mark said.

As soon as they had closed the door behind them Ari got right to the point. “Parker, you and I are in a position to do each other a good turn.”

“Go on.”

“Are you familiar with the detention camps at Caraolos?”

Both Mark and Kitty nodded.

“I have just completed plans for three hundred children to make an escape. We are going to bring them over here and load them aboard a ship in the Kyrenia harbor.”

“You boys have been smuggling refugees into Palestine for years. That isn’t news any more, Ben Canaan.”

“It will be news if you help make it news. You remember the commotion over our illegal ship, the
Promised Land
?”

“Sure.”

“The British looked pretty bad then. We feel that if we can create another incident as important as the
Promised Land
we stand a chance of breaking their immigration policy on Palestine.”

“You just lost me,” Mark said. “If you can pull a mass escape from Caraolos how are you going to get them to Palestine? If they do escape then where is the story?”

“That’s the point,” Ari said. “They aren’t going any farther than boarding ship in Kyrenia. I have no intention of making a run for Palestine.”

Mark leaned forward. He was interested, and there was obviously more to Ben Canaan’s plan than first appeared.

“Let’s say,” Ari said, “that I get three hundred orphans out of Caraolos and on a ship in Kyrenia. Let’s say the British find out and stop the ship from sailing. Now—let’s say you have already written a story and it is sitting in Paris or New York. The minute those children board ship your story hits the headlines.”

Mark whistled under his breath. Like most American correspondents he had sympathy for the refugee’s plight. Mark would get the story, Ben Canaan would get the propaganda value. Was the story going to be big enough for him to become involved? There was no way he could seek instructions or talk it over. He alone had to evaluate and make the decision. Ari had thrown him just enough to whet his appetite. To question the Palestinian further could open the door to involvement. Mark looked at Kitty. She seemed completely puzzled by the whole thing.

“How are you going to get three hundred children from Caraolos to Kyrenia?”

“Do I take that to understand you are coming in?”

“Take it to understand I want to know. It doesn’t commit me to a thing. If I decide against it you have my word that anything said will not leave this room.”

“Good enough,” Ari said. He balanced himself on the edge of the dresser and explained his escape plan step by step. Mark frowned. It was daring, audacious, even fantastic. Yet—there was an admirable simplicity about it. For his part, Mark had to write a report and smuggle it out of Cyprus to the ANS Paris or London bureau. By some prearranged signal the report would be published at the exact moment the escape was taking place. Ari finished and Mark digested the plan for many moments.

He lit a cigarette, paced the room, and fired a dozen questions at Ari. Ari seemed to have considered all the angles. Yes, there was a possibility of a sensational series of stories. Now Mark tried to weigh the odds of Ari’s wild scheme. There was no better than a fifty-fifty chance of success. Mark took into account the fact that Ari was an extremely clever man and he knew the British thinking on Cyprus. He also knew that Ari had the kind of people working with him who would be most likely to pull such a thing off.

“Count me in,” Mark said.

“Good,” Ari said, “I thought you’d see the possibilities.” He turned to Kitty. “Mrs. Fremont, about a week ago you were offered a job working in the children’s compound. Have you considered it?”

“I decided not to take it.”

“Would you reconsider it now ... say, to help Parker?”

“Just what do you have in mind for Kitty?” Mark asked.

“All of the teachers, nurses, and welfare people coming in from the outside are Jews,” Ari said, “and we must go under the assumption they are suspect by the British.”

“Suspect of what?”

“Co-operation with the Mossad. You are a Christian, Mrs. Fremont. We feel that someone of your background and religion could move about more freely.”

“In other words, you want to use Kitty as a courier.”

“More or less. We manufacture quite a few papers inside the camp that are needed outside.”

Mark said, “I think I’d better tell you that I’m not too popular with the British. Sutherland’s aide was sitting on my lap the minute I landed. I don’t think this will affect me, but if Kitty goes to work at Caraolos it would be a cinch they’d suspect her of working with me.”

“On the contrary. They would be dead certain you would not send her to work at Caraolos.”

“Maybe you’re right.”

“Of course I’m right,” Ari said. “Let us assume that the worst happens. Let us say Mrs. Fremont gets caught with forged papers. Absolutely nothing will happen to her except some embarrassment, an escort, and a free ticket away from Cyprus.”

“Just a moment,” Kitty said. “I’ve listened to you two divide me up. I am very sorry that I had to hear any of what went on here tonight. I am not going to work at Caraolos, Mr. Ben Canaan, and I am not getting mixed up in this scheme of yours.”

Ari looked quickly to Mark, who merely shrugged. “She’s a big girl.”

“I thought you were a friend of Parker’s.”

“I am,” Kitty said, “and I understand his interest.”

“I don’t understand your lack of it, Mrs. Fremont. This is the end of 1946. In a few months the war in Europe will have been over for two years. We have people behind barbed wire under the most terrible conditions. There are children in Caraolos who have no idea there is a world outside barbed wire. If we don’t break this British policy they can well be behind barbed wire the rest of their lives.”

“That is just the point,” Kitty fired back; “everything connected with Caraolos is neck deep in politics. I am certain that the British have their reasons. I don’t wish to take sides.”

“Mrs. Fremont. I was a captain in the British Army and I hold a Military Cross for valor. To coin an old cliché—some of my best friends are British. The fact is that we have dozens of British officers and soldiers who can’t stomach what is happening in Palestine and who work with us twenty-four hours a day. This is not a case of politics but of humanity.”

“I doubt your sincerity. Why would you risk the lives of three hundred children?”

“Most human beings have a purpose for living,” Ari said; “there is no purpose in Caraolos. Fighting for your freedom is a purpose. We have a quarter of a million people in Europe who want to get into Palestine. Any one of them would board that ship in Kyrenia if given the choice.”

“You are a very clever man, Mr. Ben Canaan. I cannot argue with you. I don’t have your stock list of answers.”

“I thought you were a nurse,” he said sarcastically.

“The world is filled with suffering. I can give my services a thousand places just as needful as Caraolos, without the strings attached.”

“Why don’t you visit Caraolos and tell me that afterwards?”

“You’re not going to trick me and you’re not going to issue me challenges. I worked the night shift in a Cook County hospital, and more nights than not I’ve blotted up bodies off the receiving-room floor. You can’t show me anything at Caraolos that I haven’t seen before.”

The room became quiet. Ari Ben Canaan blew a long breath and threw up his hands in defeat. “I am sorry,” he said. “I’ll be in touch with you in a few days, Parker.” He turned for the door.

“Mr. Ben Canaan,” Kitty said, “are you quite certain that I won’t go telling this story to our mutual friends?”

Ari walked back and looked down into her eyes. She knew that instant she had said the wrong thing. A cruel little smile crossed his face. “I think you are just trying to be a woman and have the last word. I don’t misjudge people very often. I can’t afford to. I like Americans. Americans have consciences. As soon as yours begins to get the best of you, you can reach me at Mr. Mandria’s and I’ll be glad to show you around Caraolos.”

“You are quite sure of yourself, aren’t you?”

“Let us say,” Ari answered, “that right this minute I am surer of myself than you are.” Ari walked from the room.

It took a long time after Ari left for the impact of his visit to subside.

Kitty kicked off her shoes, at last, and sat back on the bed. “Well! You did say we were in for an interesting evening.”

“I think you made a wise choice by staying out of this thing.”

“And you?”

“It’s a day’s work. It could turn into something very big.”

“Suppose you had refused him?”

“Oh, they’d get another correspondent somewhere in Europe to come over to Cyprus. They are very resourceful people. I just happened to be conveniently here.”

“Mark,” Kitty said thoughtfully, “did I make a fool of myself?”

“I don’t suppose you made yourself any more foolish than a hundred other women have.” Mark said it deliberately to let Kitty know she had been obvious about her attraction to Ari.

“He is a gorgeous man. When did you meet him?”

“The first time was in Berlin in the early part of 1939. That was my first ANS post. He had been sent over by Mossad Aliyah Bet to get as many Jews out of Germany as he could before the war started. He was in his early twenties then. I saw him again in Palestine. He was in the British Army ... this was during the war. There was some kind of undercover assignment. I don’t know exactly what it was. Since the war he has been heard of showing up all over Europe, buying arms, smuggling refugees into Palestine.”

“Do you really think he can get away with this utterly fantastic plan of his?”

“He’s a clever man.”

“Well ... I’ll say one thing. This Ben Canaan doesn’t act like any Jew I’ve ever met. You know what I mean. You don’t particularly think of them in a capacity like his ... or fighters ... things of that sort.”

“How do you think of them, Kitty? The good old Indiana version. The little Jew boy named Maury who’s going to marry a little Jew girl named Sadie ...”

“Oh, stop it, Mark! I’ve worked with enough Jewish doctors to know they are arrogant and aggressive people. They look down on us.”

“With what? An inferiority complex?”

“I’d buy that if you were talking about Germany.”

“What are you trying to say, Kitty—that we’re pure?”

“I’m saying no American Jew would trade places with a Negro or a Mexican or an Indian for that matter.”