Overload (56 page)

"Something else which will have to be bought," Georgos said, "is several

dozen fire extinguishers-portable ones, the red-painted kind that stand

on their own base."

"Fire extinguishers! For Chrissakes, we want to start a fire, not put one

out."

Georgos smiled slyly, knowing it was his turn to be superior. "The fire

extinguishers will be emptied, their casings weakened, and our time bombs

put inside them. It's something I've been working on. You can set down

a fire extinguisher anywhere-especially in a hotel-without it being

suspect or, most times, even noticed. If it is noticed, it simply looks

as if the management is taking extra safety precautions."

Grinning broadly, Birdsong leaned forward and thumped Georgos on the

shoulders. "That's diabolical! Beautifully diabolical!"

"We can work out later how to get the extinguishers into the hotel."

Georgos was still thinking aloud. "It shouldn't be difficult. We could

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rent a truck or buy one, and paint a fake company name on it, so it looks

official. We'd print up some kind of authorization-maybe get a hotel

purchase order and copy it-which our people would carry, in case they were

stopped by anyone, asking questions. Then we'll want uniforms-for me, the

others . . ."

"No problem about a truck or uniforms," Birdsong said, "and we'll work

on the purchase order thing." He mused. "It's all coming together. I have

that feeling. And when it's over, people will see our strength and fall

over themselves to obey our orders."

"About the explosives," Georgos said. "I'll need ten thousand dollars

cash-small bills-in the next few days, and after that . . ."

With mounting enthusiasm, they continued planning.

11

"If there's an obscure Jewish holiday which no one else ever heard of,"

Nim told Ruth, speaking from the driver's seat of his Fiat, "you can be

sure your parents will dust it off and use it."

His wife, in the seat beside him, laughed. He bad noticed, earlier this

evening, when he came home from work and while they were getting ready

to go out, that Ruth was in an easy, cheerful humor. It contrasted with

the moodiness, and sometimes outright depression, she had exhibited in

recent weeks.

It was now mid-January, and even though three months had passed since

their talk about a possible divorce, and Ruth's concession that she would

wait "a little while," neither bad raised the subject again directly. But

clearly, it would have to be discussed soon.

Basically, their relationship-an uncertain truce-remained unchanged. Nim,

however, bad consciously been more considerate, continuing to spend

increased time at home and with the children, and perhaps Leah's and

Benjy's obvious enjoyment of their father had caused Ruth to hold back

from a final confrontation. Nim, for his part, was still unsure bow he

wanted their dilemma to be resolved. Meanwhile, the problems of GSP & L

kept him intensely occupied, with little room for personal concerns.

"I can never remember all those Jewish holidays," Ruth said. "What did

father say this one was?"

"Rosh Hashanah L'Elanoth-or Jewish Arbor Day. I did some research in the

office library, and literally it means New Year of the Trees."

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"New year for Jewish trees? Or just any trees?"

He chuckled. "Better ask your old man."

They were traveling across town, beading west, and Nim threaded the car

through traffic which never seemed to lessen, whatever time of day it was.

A week ago, Aaron Neuberger had telephoned Nim at work to suggest he bring

Ruth for a Tu B'Shvat party-the more common name of the same holiday. Nim

bad accepted immediately, partly because his fatherin-law was unusually

friendly on the phone, partly because Nim had mild guilt feelings about his

own behavior to the Neubergers in the past and it seemed an opportunity to

expiate them. His skepticism, though, about his parents-in-law's almost

fanatic Jewishness had not changed.

When they arrived at the Neubergers' bome-a spacious, comfortable duplex

apartment in a well-to-do area of the city's west side, several cars were

already parked outside and, nearer the house, they could bear the sound of

voices from the upper level. Nim was relieved to know there were other

guests, The presence of strangers might prevent the usual barrage of

personal questions, including the inevitable one about a bar mitzvah for

Benjy.

Going in, Ruth touched the mezuzab at the doorway, then kissed her hand, as

she usually did out of deference to her parents. Nim, who in the past had

scoffed at the custom as being-among other thingssuperstitious, on impulse

did the same.

Inside, there was no doubt about their welcome-especially Nim's.

Aaron Neuberger, who was apple-cheeked, stocky and totally bald, had

sometimes regarded Nim with tbinly veiled suspicion. But tonight his eyes

were friendly behind thick-lensed glasses as he pumped his son-inlaw's

hand. Rachel, Ruth's mother, a voluminous woman who disapproved of diets

for herself and others, clasped Nim in her arms, then held him back

appraisingly. "Is my daughter not feeding you at all? All I feel is bones.

But we will put some meat on them tonight."

Nim was amused and, at the same time, touched. Almost certainly, be

tbought, word had reached the Neubergers that his and Ruth's marriage was

in jeopardy; therefore the older couple had set aside other feelings in an

attempt to hold the family together. Nim glanced sideways at Ruth, who was

smiling at the demonstrative reception.

She was wearing a softly draped dress of blue-gray silk, with pearl ear-

rings of the same shade. As always, her black bair was elegant, her skin

soft and unblemished, though paler than normal, Nim thought.

As Nim and Ruth moved forward to meet those who had arrived earlier, be

whispered, "You look beautiful tonight."

She looked at him sharply and said, low-voiced, "Have you any idea bow long

it is since you told me that?"

There was no time for any more. They were surrounded by faces,

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going through introductions, and shaking hands. Among the two dozen or so

guests there were only a few whom Nim knew. Most were already eating, plates

piled high with delicacies from an elaborate buffet.

"Come with me, Nimrodi" Ruth's mother seized his arm in an iron grip and

propelled him from the living room to the dining room where the buffet was

set up. "The rest of our friends, you can meet later," she instructed. "For

now, have something to fill that emptiness inside before you faint from

hunger." She took a plate and began piling food on it generously, as if it

were the day before the fast of Yom Kippur. Nim recognized several

varieties of knishes, kishke cooked in cbolent, loksben kugel, stuffed

cabbage and pitcha. Set out ready as sweets were boney cake, strudel and

apple pirusbkes.

Nim helped himself to a glass of white Israeli Carmel wine.

As he returned to the living room, the purpose of the occasion became

clear. Rosh Hashanah L'Elanoth, their host explained, is celcbrated in

Israel by the planting of trees and in North America by eating fruit of a

kind not partaken of, thus far, in the Jewish year. To make the point,

Aaron Neuberger and others were nibbling on figs from several dishes spread

around.

Something else the Neubergers made plain was that they expected donations

from their guests, and the money collected would be sent to Israel to pay

for tree plantings. Already, several fifty- and twenty-dollar bills had

been deposited on a silver tray, put out for the purpose. Nim added twenty

dollars of his own, then helped himself to figs.

"If you'll pardon an atrocious pun," a voice behind him said, "I suppose it

all shows we give a fig."

Nim turned. The speaker was an elderly, gnomish man with a cherubic,

cheerful face beneath a cloud of white hair. Nim remembered him as a

doctor-an internist-who sometimes attended the Neubergers. He groped in

memory for a name and found it.

"Good evening, Dr. Levin." Raising his glass of wine, Nim offered the

toast, "L'Chaim."

"L'Chaim . . . how are you, Nim? Don't see you often at these Jewish

wingdings. I'm surprised at your interest in the Holy Land."

"I'm not religious, Doctor."

"Nor am I, Nim. Never have been. Know my way around a sanitarium a whole

lot better than a synagogue." The doctor finished the fig be had been

eating and selected another. "But I like the forms and ceremonies, all the

ancient history of our people. It isn't religion, you know, that holds

Jewish people together. It's a sense of community going back five thousand

years. A long, long time. Ever think about that, Nim?"

"Yes, since you ask. I've been thinking quite a lot about it."

The older man regarded him shrewdly. "Troubles you sometimes, does it?

Wondering how much of a Jew you can be? Or if you can be

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one at all without observing all that labyrinthine ritual stuff old Aaron

does?"

Nim smiled at the reference to his father-in-law, who, across the room,

had maneuvered a newly arrived guest into a comer and was earnestly

describing Tu B'Shvat: has its roots in the Talmud . . ."

"Something like that," Nim said.

"Then I'll give you some advice, son: Don't let it worry you worth a

damn. Do what I do: Enjoy being a Jew, be proud of all the achievements

of our people, but as to the rest-pick and choose. Observe the High Holy

Days if you like-personally I take them off and go fishing -but if you

don't observe them, that's allowable in my book too."

Nim found himself warming toward the cheerful little doctor and told him,

"My grandfather was a rabbi, a sweet old man I remember well. It was my

father who broke away from religion."

"And you wonder sometimes if you should go back?"

"In a vague way. Not too seriously."

"In any way-forget itl It's a mental impossibility for someone at your

stage-or mine-to become a practicing Jew. Start going to synagogue,

you'll find that out in five minutes. What you feel, Nim, is nostalgia,

an affection for things in the past. Nothing wrong with it, but that's

what it is."

Nim said thoughtfully, "I suppose so."

"Let me tell you something else. People like you and me have the same

concern for Judaism that we might have for old friends-an occasional

sense of guilt for not having seen them more often, plus emotional

attachment. I felt that way when I went with a group to Israel."

"A religious group?"

"Nope. Mostly businessmen, a few other doctors, couple of lawyers." Dr.

Levin chuckled. "Hardly any of us took a yarmulke. I didn't. Had to

borrow one when I went to the Wall in Jerusalem. just the same, it was

a deeply emotional experience, something I'll never forget. Had a sense

of belonging and pride. I felt Jewish then! Always will."

Nim asked, "Do you have children, Doctor?"

The other shook his bead. "Never did. My dear wife-she's dead now, bless

her memory! . . . she and I both regretted it. One of the few things I