THRILLER: The Galilee Plot: (International Biological Terror, The Mossad, and... A Self-contended Couple) (12 page)

“You mean, the fact that
they were Jewish and not Arab children?” I demanded clarification, to gain a
deeper understanding of the bitterness infecting his soul.

“Exactly so!” he declared
in typically peremptory style that meant – I have changed from the person I
have been since birth. “Besides this,” he added, “there’s no guarantee that
tomorrow this will not be inflicted on other children – English, Indian,
African, Arab…” his words sounded convincing.

At this point I couldn’t
resist the impulse to say: “His Name be blessed” - the direct translation of
the Arabic
Subhan Ismo

He pondered this and added
the response: “His Name be blessed for ever and to all eternity!”

I felt tears in my throat.
I turned to him again:

“I can say to you in all
sincerity, that I see in you more than a blood-brother” – and in the whole of
my being something began to settle and ease. Faint stirrings of overwhelming
joy were filling my chest:

“In my humble opinion, you
should make some kind of public statement and let the world breathe a momentary
sigh of relief.”

“That’s exactly what I
intend to do. Call a press conference and bring it all out into the open,
before the eyes of the world. Only then, will I know peace,” Amin declared and
I believed him. He sensed this and hurried to confirm it: “You believe me!”

“With absolute belief,” I
did not hesitate to corroborate his words. “But…” I said.

“No ‘buts’,” he stepped in
quickly to stop me.

“I mean, how will your
controllers take this?”

“I have no controllers. I
am the controller, the planner and the executor… and you have to understand,
the ones who provide the financing for my activities don’t belong to some kind
of highly intellectual coterie, they have money and that’s
all.”    

“How can you explain this
to them?” I insisted.

“In the language they
understand, which is ultimately, at the end of the day, my own language.”

“And the ‘Jihad’?” I asked
a pertinent question.

“Will find its rightful
place.”

“Which is?” I pressed him.

“The personal struggle of
every man against his negative instinct,” and he saw fit to add, “as you know
as well as anyone.”

He fell silent.

“May God go with you,” I
blessed him.

“And with you!” he
responded at once, the response of a brother in faith to a brother in faith.

“The finger of God is
everywhere,” he continued with the fervour that had not yet abated, “I was
hugely relieved when I heard they hadn’t harmed you.”

He finished his first cup
of tea, and I poured him a second.

Amin switched from coffee
to tea, perhaps to show solidarity with me, perhaps on account of some strange
quirk of taste that he had developed among the Germans.

“In conclusion,” my host
declared, “you must go home and attend to whatever needs attending to in the
village of Hasda. Reassure your patrons that a public statement is on its way.
And I know you believe me, and you can convince your patrons and perhaps, by
God’s grace, we can open up the way, however narrow it may be, towards the
salvation of our peoples and all peoples on the face of the earth.”

“With God” was my
benediction.

Amin sensed the potent
hope in my words, and echoed them in Arabic: “
Allah maak
!”

I rose from my armchair.
Amin accompanied me to the door, and I held out my hand. He shook it in all
sincerity, and suddenly I felt his bony arms wrapped around me and found myself
hugging the muscular, energetic frame of the man, so typically Bedou.

“I reserve this kind of
embrace for a faithful brother,” he intoned in my ear.

“Me too,” I responded.

“Just one thing,” I felt I
had to stress, “take care of yourself! In a place where suicide-bombers exist,
people don’t delve deep into things, don’t look at events in a spirit of wisdom
and truth. Your activities are liable to arouse a willingness to murder the
‘traitor’ without examining your motives, without seeing the light generated by
your words and your conduct.”

“I can tell that your
concern is sincere, but it is unnecessary. You forget that these are my
brothers and compatriots, their thoughts are my thoughts, their way is my way,
their perception my perception. Their instinctive penchant for murder and
destruction is my instinctive penchant too.”

“In other words,” I tried
to sum up, “the affiliation between you is strong, and the understanding even
more so.”

“Nicely put!” he declared.

“All the same, if you ever
need a refuge, remember me.”

“My refuge is my God, my
strength – my brothers and compatriots. I thank you for your genuine offer, and
you should understand, if I need a refuge and choose to come to you, I shall
indeed be reckoned a traitor, with no excuses to offer for my actions and my
treachery. In any case, the ways of God are hidden! Thank you. And now, to
work!”

“To work!” I replied like
an echo and there was another firm and sincere handshake, followed by an embrace
no less firm and sincere. And hope soaring to the skies. We parted.

I went up to see Erika,
who was burning up with curiosity.

“Well?” she asked, and
then placing a silencing finger against my lips she went on to say: “Let me
guess – world peace has been achieved! No more terror, no more innocent
victims, an end to despair!”

“It seems to me you’re a
true poetess!”

“What does true poetess
mean?”

“A true poet is a
prophet.”

“What have I prophesied?”
she persisted.

“Just now, the coming of peace.
Before that, the logical and final self-elimination of the white race.”

“What makes you see these
as prophecies?”

“Wishful thinking,” I
admitted shamefacedly.

“You’re the real poet
round here, not me.”

“If you prefer,” I
conceded.

“And if your wife leaves
you, come to me and don’t worry, I am capable of being faithful.”

“What has faithful to do
with anything?” I retorted.

“I know the possessive
types of the Middle East. I’ll be a model wife to you, your durable property.
Do with it as you please and if you get bored with it, sell it off cut-price.
In other words: you won’t find me an easy one to brush off. My love to your
wife, and don’t make any scenes. From a financial perspective you’ll get my
flat, which is worth half a million dollars. At least.”

“It’s obvious to me, the
inverted age is taking you back to the era of servitude,” I said, adding by way
of elucidation: “Everything’s based on money and everything is for sale.”

“That’s the way things
are,” she declared.

“I don’t accept them,” I
retorted.

“You don’t belong to the
inverted age.”

“Thank God for that!”

“Convey my offer to your
wife.”

“I’ll do no such thing.”

“Why is that?”

“It would hurt her.”

“Your innocence makes me
cringe! Tell her about my offer.”

“I’m not interested.”

“Not interested in what?”

“In passing on your offer.
I’m not interested in you. I’m loyal to my wife. She’s the one I want and she’s
the one I’m staying with.”

“Those are the crazy genes
of the Middle East. Anyway, give my love to your wife. She has a stubborn old
mule for a husband. Tell her that. And tell her I admire her patience too.”

“Now that’s a message I
might just pass on.”

We parted. Parted for
good.

I flew back to Israel. I
invited the stewardesses to drink champagne with me to toast my successful
endeavours and the fulfilment of my mission. Without asking what endeavours and
what mission I was talking about – they took their glasses, clinked them and
drank a toast to the success of Mister…. they mentioned my name. Without
mispronouncing it.  

Shmulik was waiting for
me. He saw me from a distance, joined me and took my case and we went in
together, into the VIP lounge again.

“One more trip like this
and I’ll be thinking I really am a VIP,” was my jocular comment.

“You can think that way
from this moment to the end of your time on the earth. In brief,” he pressed
me, “what is the outcome?”

“By the grace of God, we
have averted evil and given good an opportunity to flourish…”

“What’s all that supposed
to mean?” – Shmulik demanded to know.

“From tomorrow,” I began,
getting down to the specifics, “we’ll start the job of decontaminating the
village of Hasda. We’ll need to involve the Department of Health and in
particular the national veterinary authority. I hope there is such a thing.”

“If there isn’t, we’ll set
it up this afternoon. Put simply – what will these people be doing?”

“Putting an end to the
disease, and the conditions it flourishes in.”

He gave me a penetrating
look, without a hint of sympathy, let alone consideration, even consideration
of a direct and simple kind for someone who had been jetting around from here
to there and back again, and getting a rather nasty job done in the process. He
insisted on accompanying me to my home, where my wife was expecting me.

She had prepared my
favourite meal, which wasn’t exactly to Shmulik’s taste – he being a native of
the country with Ashkenazi roots.

All the same, he sat down
and ate, constantly plying my wife with the kind of compliments she wasn’t
accustomed to, though no one could have been more deserving of them.

“And now, my trusty
friend,” Shmulik said, turning his full attention to me, “I’m looking for a
plan of action. No artistic flourishes, just something realistic, carefully
planned and properly executed.”

I thought about this for a
couple of minutes and then began dictating, while Shmulik took notes.

“Number one: all Jews to
be evacuated from the village of Hasda, and Arab patients to be treated.

Number two: with the consent
and active assistance of the veterinary authority, all dogs in the village to
be destroyed, irrespective of ownership, in fact – destroyed and incinerated.
The houses in which the victims lived are also to be burned down to the ground.

Number three: not to give
up on the idea of communal living. It may be that the Arabs will begin to
appreciate it.

Number four: to monitor
the media. A surprise announcement is expected from Doctor Amin Abu Halil, to
which I must respond immediately.”

A few days later the
media, in all its various manifestations and in all corners of the world,
reverberated to the shock reports of a press conference hosted by Dr Amin Abu
Halil in the reception room of the German Prime Minister’s residence, in which
he admitted his blindness and quoted from the Koran – verse 224 of the Sura of
the Cow – “And you shall pursue peace among mankind”, and called the Arabs
“errant brothers”, turning light into darkness and darkness into light. And if
they were to receive their just deserts, for the grief and misery they have
unleashed, over a whole decade, upon their imaginary enemies and especially
upon their own people, sending their precious and beloved children to be
suicide-bombers and destroy people like themselves – then all the chambers of
Hell would be filled to overflowing, for centuries to come. And he is calling
upon them with all his heart, to return to the bosom of true religion and
uphold the commandment “to pursue peace among mankind” according to the spirit
and the letter, seeing himself as the greatest sinner of them all, who at the
instigation of Satan, tried to annihilate the holy people of God, from among
whom came all the prophets, Moses and Jeremiah and Isaiah  and the others,
and all the illustrious kings of antiquity, Dawud the Great and Suleiman the
wisest of men, of whom Islam speaks with awe and reverence. And now he feels it
is the tongue of the Prophet with which he speaks, addressing his brothers and
urging them to repent and adopt the injunction to pursue peace among mankind
and inscribe it on their banners and flags and houses, and become the builders
of a new world, where the sole king of every people, race and nation is the one
God, the mighty and the merciful.

“On a personal basis I
turn to my fellow student and fellow thinker,” – and here he mentioned my name
– “and I seek his pardon and forgiveness for all the evil that I have done to
him and to his people, and here I swear before all the world that such a thing
will never be repeated and my oath is sacred before God and man.”

Shmulik came storming into
my house uninvited, waving the paper in which all Amin’s astonishing statements
were printed, hot off the press.

“You have to reply to it
and at once!” he demanded. “Sit down and write and I’ll take it to the relevant
authorities. It seems everything that has happened has been for the best, as
you write in your books. I’ll sit and wait. I’d love a cup of coffee without
sugar,” he added, turning to my wife, who hurried away to borrow coffee from a
neighbour.

“My brother in faith, in
spirit and in origin, Dr Amin Abu Halil, your words presage what mankind has
always dreamed of – an end to hatred and the shedding of blood – they will open
up the gates of great love, lighting up for all mankind the abode of God, who
is all-conquering love. Forgiveness is given you in full, not only because you
are my brother, but also and especially, because there is nothing to forgive.
And here is the place to ask you for pardon. ‘If God Is for us, who can be
against us?’” – I quoted.

Shmulik took the letter
without reading it and hurried on his way. The letter was published in the
papers, and read out on radio stations, Israeli and foreign, aired on TV
channels, including, significantly, the Arabic ones, in tandem with the remarks
of Dr Amin Abu Halil, my longstanding friend.

A few months later I
received an official invitation to join the staff of the Muahadah Hakikiya –
i.e. Covenant of Truth – medical centre, and the invitation was signed by the
director-general of the centre, Professor Amin Abu Halil. I was sorry that my
reply had to be negative, but the ways of medicine and science were no longer
for me. Anyway, with all my heart I wished him every success in his important
work, work vital for the peace and well-being of the world.

The reply was another
invitation, in which the message was: To my elder brother, greetings! I
understand your feelings, but if ever the idea appeals to you, you will be
warmly welcomed in Riyadh.  Keep to your new line of work, which is no
less important than medicine and may even be a great deal more important.

Be strong and be bold.

He concluded his letter
with the exhortation of the Biblical Joshua.