Mission (46 page)

‘This is the life,' I murmured.

Miriam turned her face so that her forehead touched my cheek. ‘Well, you don't have to be a big-city lawyer. We could always hang our shingles side-by-side on a white timber-frame house down a leafy side-street in Smalltown, USA.'

‘Yeah, I know the place you mean,' I replied. ‘Ten miles east of
Nowhere. It was great when Spencer Tracy was alive but not since they put the Interstate down Main Street. We'd go crazy inside a week.'

She shrugged. ‘I'll take that risk if you will.'

I stroked her hair. ‘It's a nice idea. But really, can you imagine us fitting in with red-necked ranchers, their D.A.R. wives and the rest of those ‘good ole boys'? Besides, they'd never understand my Brooklyn accent.'

‘True, I hadn't thought about that.' She snuggled closer. ‘We could go to Israel.'

‘Yes,' I said. ‘They'll always have a need for doctors. But what chance would I have amongst all those Jewish lawyers?'

‘You could grow oranges.'

I laughed. ‘I suppose I could at that.' It was an idea we had often discussed jokingly before. Like many other young Jewish Americans, Miriam had done a two-year stint on a
kibbutz
before going to medical school and had gone back there for occasional holidays. Five years earlier, when it had been the turn of my contemporaries, I had stayed at home with my nose stuck in law books. I'd regretted the decision afterwards but, by then, it was too late. It would have hurt my career.

Miriam sat up and faced me. ‘You've got two weeks with nothing to do, why don't you go out there and take a look?'

I reached for the first excuse I could think of. ‘But what about The Man?'

‘Leo,' she said firmly, ‘if it's you he's interested in, he'll be there too. He might even prefer it. He won't have so far to travel.'

I eyed her. ‘I don't really think that's a problem. But I see what you mean.' I cast around for another stumbling block.

Miriam clasped her hands together excitedly. ‘Oh, if only – you'll love it. How soon can you go?'

‘Hey, hey, hey – hold on a minute,' I said. ‘That's a big chunk of money you're talking about. Let's think this over.'

She took hold of my hand. ‘Leo, if it feels right, you don't need to think. The moment you do, you can always find a million reasons for not doing anything. It's your birthday on the eighteenth – I'll give you the ticket as a present.'

‘Are you crazy?' I snorted. ‘No way. But buy your own and you've got a deal.'

She grimaced. It was obviously a big temptation. ‘I'd love to but I can't take a break now. But you must go. It's important. Really.'

I shook my head. ‘No, it's a waste of time. Even if I came back starry-eyed and with my pockets full of orange blossom you'll never leave the Manhattan General.'

She dropped her head on one side and considered me. ‘I would. It depends on what kind of proposition was put to me.'

I gazed back at her. ‘You really
are
serious about this….'

‘I'm a very serious girl,' she replied. ‘The only danger is that when you see some of the girls out there, the last thing you'll want to do is marry
me
.'

I considered the idea of going. It was mad, but curiously enticing. I tried to fight it off. ‘Jack Seligmann and his wife hated it.'

‘Jack is a
shnorrer
,' said Miriam. ‘And what does she know about anything?'

So much for the Seligmanns.

‘Listen,' I said. ‘I'll think it over. It certainly would be interesting to see him on his home ground. It's odd that you should mention it now. I've always wanted to go but for some reason I just never got around to it.' It does me no credit but I knew exactly what the reason was. I'd always been scared of booking into a holiday hotel and finding myself sharing breakfast with a boatload of Palestinian commandos, or having my West Bank bus ticket clipped by shrapnel from a grenade. It hadn't happened to anyone I knew but the thought had been enough to put me off. Suddenly what might or might not happen to me was not important anymore. It was the quality of my life I was concerned with; not the length of it.

I gave Miriam a pleading look. ‘It'd really be a lot more fun if you could come with me.'

She took hold of my hands. ‘I will. But it's better for you to see it first through your own eyes. Don't worry, you won't be lonely. I'll give you names and addresses of friends who will be only too pleased to drive you around and show you whatever you want to see. Then, when you come back, we can talk about it and – well, decide what to do.'

‘Okay, but I'm not promising anything,' I said, intent on proving I was my own man.

She planted a motherly kiss on my forehead. ‘I'd rather you didn't. You never keep promises anyway.'

‘Oh, come on, give me a break,' I protested. ‘I make an innocent remark about how nice it is to be sitting in front of a log fire, and the next minute you're trying to tear my life out by the roots and replant
me on some far-flung frontier where they use Syrian artillery fire instead of alarm clocks.'

‘The break will do you good,' said Miriam. ‘I'll phone Israeli Airlines – '

I held her down. ‘
I'll
phone them. What's this sudden desire to get rid of me?'

She brushed her fingers across my face. ‘I don't want to get rid of you, I want to
find
you.'

Before I could reply, I caught a glimpse of sudden movement out of the corner of my eye. Miriam and I turned together and saw The Man standing behind the sofa. He was still wearing the clothes Linda had bought him at Macy's.

It was the seventh time he had appeared. I'd tried to remain calm in face of his quite unpredictable comings and goings but they still sent a chill shock up my spine. ‘We were just talking about you,' I said, when my jaw muscles had tightened sufficiently. ‘Come on over by the fire.'

Miriam hurriedly gathered up the supper dishes and swept them into the kitchen. I pulled a chair closer to the fire for him to sit in and offered him a glass of wine. When Miriam returned to settle on her now separate heap of cushions I noticed that she'd combed her hair.

‘Can I ask you a question?' she said.

He replied with an amused smile. ‘Sure, go ahead.' It was remarkable how patient he was, but I guess that by the time he met us he'd got used to people coming to him for answers. Those seeking enlightenment, the incredulous, the ignorant, and the crafty ones trying to catch him out. And if you bother to count the number of times that I mention it you will also know that he smiled quite a lot. He possessed a wry, good humour and was not above gentle self-mockery but it was my puny, earth-type dilemmas which appeared to provide his greatest source of amusement. But then, he knew what was in store for me. He had already done his stint and was through to the other side. He knew from experience that, faced with the daily insanities of life in a ‘Braxian world, it was better to laugh than cry – and risk drowning in our own tears.

Miriam silenced me with her eyes. ‘I'm trying to persuade Leo to spend his two-week vacation in Israel. What do you think?'

He glanced at me as he weighed up the question. ‘How does Leo feel about it?'

‘He's tempted. But you know what lawyers are like. He wants to go
but on the other hand …' She smiled at me. ‘Leo loves to prolong the agony.'

‘That's not true,' I protested.

She pretended not to hear. ‘I thought you might make up his mind for him.'

The Man looked at us both. ‘It really has to be Leo's decision, but I think it's a good idea.'

My
decision …
Who was he trying to kid?

Miriam turned on me triumphantly. ‘There, you see?' She scrambled to her feet. ‘I'll go and check the flights.'

I grabbed her hand and pulled her back down. ‘I've already told you
I
will do that.' I looked across at The Man. ‘If I decide to go, is that going to throw your plans out?'

‘Not at all,' he replied. ‘I'll show you round.'

The idea of touring the Twelve Stations of the Cross in the company of The Man was an offer that was hard to refuse.

Miriam could see I was wavering. ‘So, when can you go?'

‘Look,' I said. ‘I don't know yet. Just get off my back and let me think about it. Okay?'

Her eyes flashed with annoyance. She turned to The Man. ‘Is there any chance that you might be here tomorrow?'

He nodded. ‘It's possible.'

‘Good.' Miriam turned back to me with a wintry smile. ‘You promised to call Linda – or would you like to think about that too?'

It was the kind of smart Alec remark that often made me feel like punching her right in the mouth. Not that I ever did, of course. I only mention it to show you, despite my first hesitant steps along The Way, I was not yet overflowing with the milk of human kindness.

I swallowed my venom and told The Man that I'd shared our secret with Linda. As he had suggested.

‘Do you think she believed you?' he said.

I laughed. ‘I think she'd like to but she, well – doesn't want to build up her hopes. To be honest, I don't think she's prepared to take my word for it. But at least she didn't suggest I see a doctor.' I glanced sideways at Miriam.

‘Would you like me to have a word with her?' he said.

I shrugged. ‘That's up to you. I think it would be fairer to her. It must be terrible to learn that you're here and not know for certain.'

‘Okay,' he said. ‘Why don't you call her?'

I got to my feet and looked down at Miriam. ‘I'll see if she can make
it tomorrow morning. I'll call Gale McDonald too. And I think you ought to speak to Jeff.'

My sudden decision to make it open house took her by surprise. ‘What shall I say?'

‘Simple,' I replied, throwing one of her favourite words back at her. ‘Just ask him if he'd like to meet Mr Sheppard.'

Linda agreed to come without hesitation but her voice was tinged with understandable caution. ‘What's going to happen?'

‘Nothing,' I said. ‘The six of us are just going to sit around and talk. I've told you what the score is. It's up to you to take it from there. But there is something I ought to explain. The Man doesn't stand on ceremony. The way he was when the two of you went shopping is the way he is all the time. So don't embarrass the hell out of everybody by coming dressed as a Bride of Christ.'

She greeted this with a brief silence then spoke in a small tight voice. ‘I'll see you around eleven. Do you want me to bring anything?'

‘Just an open mind,' I said. I had been deliberately provocative to check her Catholic reflexes. They were obviously in good shape despite her professed apostasy and it was clear from the tone of her voice that my gratuitous remarks had gone against the grain. In its fully developed form, it is a mental and bodily affliction known as religious intolerance. Which we Jews know something about.

Let's be fair. We haven't always been on the receiving end. It was we who began the current outbreak by stoning the followers of The Man for uttering blasphemy. What we didn't foresee was that, with a little outside help, the Christians would turn religious intolerance into a fine art. They not only massacred us and the Moors; Catholic and Protestant had burned each other with equal fervour. Heresy and blasphemy brought imprisonment, mutilation and death to those indicted by the Church. And even today, blasphemy could still result in criminal prosecutions by outraged defenders of the faith. A curious fact when one considers the emphasis The Man put on love, forgiveness, and turning the other cheek, but perfectly understandable if considered as part of a running campaign by ‘Brax to destroy all hope of salvation by turning belief into bigotry. The seed-corn of hatred and discord which, if allowed to grow unchecked, would choke the life out of us. The Life Everlasting that is. Leaving us to feed on our own flesh like a colony of cannibal ants until the sun took matters into its own hands and put an end to us all by engulfing the solar system in
its dying embrace, melting the ice on Neptune and bringing Pluto its first and last sunrise.

I phoned McD and made similar arrangements. I didn't get into lengthy explanations. I told her to schedule her arrival for around eleven a.m. but that, like the others, she should call before leaving to check that our house guest was still there. Miriam gave Fowler the same message. I made it up with her behind the kitchen door but just as I thought I'd got round her, she sank her teeth into my bottom lip to teach me that nothing worthwhile is achieved without pain.

I left her to make a fresh pot of coffee and went back into the livingroom and readied the tape deck so that we could record the postponed session of the missing years.

Some of you will be relieved to learn that I am not going to do a James Fitzpatrick-type travelogue on The Man's journey; others, no doubt, will feel cheated that I chose to waste valuable space telling you about my work, my peccadilloes with people like Fran Nelson, and my relationship with Miriam. Let me just say that The Man told me to tell it my way. That stuff may seem unimportant but they were steps along The Way. Those people and places exist; those incidents took place. Their statements can be checked against this record and the notes and tapes in my safety deposit box to prove that I'm telling the truth. If you want to know what The Man got up to in Rome, all you have to do is listen to Reels Fourteen and Fifteen. What I've repeated here is the essential core of his story – which is where he disappeared to and why. And who with. For he was not to journey alone.

It was the woman known as Mary Magdalene who travelled with him through the mountainous wildernesses of central Asia and over the windswept plains beyond to the myth-laden forests of Central Europe that stretched from the Danube to the Baltic Sea.