Mishka Ben-David - Forbidden Love in St. Petersburg

Orit wanted to stay on in the house and offered to buy my half. Her new boyfriend, who was going to move in with her, was well off. I thought of using the money to buy out the remaining period of my contract with the Mossad but then realised I had nowhere to go back to. My father had to be moved to a geriatric ward in a hospital in Beersheba, and I was advised that my mother should also be hospitalized there. The geriatric psychiatrists examining her there could not agree on whether she was suffering from dementia, senility or Alzheimer’s. At her stage in life there wasn’t much difference between the three and there was no cure. I placed her in the department which treated people suffering from severe dementia and where the nurses seemed to me to be especially humane.

Every time I went past the house I’d shared with Orit, I saw her boyfriend’s brand new Toyota jeep parked outside, its very presence an assault on my eyes. Clearly, if I were to move to my parents’ empty home I would have to cope not only with this disturbing sight but also with watching Orit’s new man embracing her as they walked along the village footpaths. To stay in the Mossad and in Tel Aviv was the least-worst option.

In the following two months I travelled a great deal and didn’t ask to be released from journeys that fell over a weekend or during a holiday period. Yehiel ran the farm successfully and I suggested that he move into my parents’ house with his wife and children whom he’d left behind in the centre of the country when he first came to us. That would enable him to keep an eye on the farm also on weekends instead of me doing so.

With that I had almost severed my last link with the village. On my free weekends I visited my father in the geriatric ward and my mother in the hospital’s dementia department. Only occasionally did I return to the village to check the situation on the farm and go over the accounts with Yehiel.

Slowly, I became accustomed to my new lifestyle. I got to know two other guys from the office who lived not far from me and went out with them from time to time for a drink. Put together, I saw more films in the cinema and on television in the course of that year than I had ever seen before, particularly after treating myself to a big, flat-screen TV. Once I called an escort agency’s number from a newspaper advertisement. The woman was a brunette of about thirty, good-looking and pleasant but the sex was terrible and I asked her to leave almost immediately after we’d finished. In due course, when my urges and loneliness got the better of me, I invited another call girl to the flat and again it proved to be a waste of time and money. I couldn’t feel anything for the purposeful blonde and the sex was mechanical, even squalid. Again I asked her to leave as soon as we’d completed our business. I had no desire to talk to her or even sleep with her again although the terms of the deal allowed me to do so. Friends from the office attempted to introduce me to various women but I wasn’t interested. My reserves of emotion were utterly drained.

I was in no real state to fly around the world, but couldn’t allow myself to stay at home not doing anything and shirking missions. On one such assignment I very nearly led the team into difficulties. I don’t understand, said young Josh during the debriefing. Yoni informed you that two policemen on horseback were moving along the street in our direction. From the window of your command post in the hotel you should have seen them. How come you didn’t notify us?

You had enough time to finish up and get away before the policemen arrived, Levanon, who’d begun to serve as my deputy, explained on my behalf. There was no point in putting unnecessary pressure on you.

Even in my heart of hearts I couldn’t thank him. HQ should know that I was losing concentration. It hadn’t occurred to Levanon that I’d heard the report about the mounted policemen and a moment later forgot all about it.

In retrospect, the decision not to alarm you was reasonable, Udi concluded. And the main thing is that you carried out the mission and it all ended up well.

I continued flying.

I set up a meeting with Yehiel at the village secretariat to go over a number of charges that we wanted to query. While we were sitting with the accountant in one room I heard Orit’s voice in the corridor. Without thinking about it, I excused myself from the meeting and went outside to say hello. Orit was visibly pregnant.

The blow I felt to my stomach could only have been delivered by a well-trained boxer. It took my breath away, and I felt an intense weakness in my whole body. I leant against the wall.

Are you OK? she asked, in a tone of genuine concern. I quickly pulled myself together.

Yes, I replied, in a voice that wasn’t mine. Congratulations. I didn’t know.

It’s a girl. I’m six months pregnant, said Orit, not trying to hide her happiness. I realized her response was intended to make it clear that the pregnancy only came about after we’d divorced.

You’re not around anymore, she added as I remained silent. Would you like to call by for a coffee?

I’m on my way north, someone answered for me. I wish you an easy birth if we don’t see each other before then.

Orit looked at me worriedly. I turned away and staggered back into the accountant’s room.

I can see that you’re in no state to continue with the figures, the accountant said as he went on checking the computer data, assuming my mind was elsewhere. Perhaps you want a glass of water? A coffee?

Yehiel, who realized what had happened, put his hand on my shoulder and said: it doesn’t have to be now, we can meet another time. He suggested I go to the house for a nap before returning to Tel Aviv. But fuzzy-headed as I was, I wanted to get out of this accursed place immediately, even if my destination was the very source of the curse.

UDI CALLED MY mobile while I was sitting by the pool in what is perhaps the most luxurious hotel in the Gulf. I was taking a break from the squad’s attempts to get into the room of a Saudi Sheikh suspected of having financial ties with Al-Qaida. The Sheikh used to hop to neighbouring states to transfer funds and spend time with local prostitutes, something he couldn’t do in his own country. Because most of the transfers to Afghanistan and Sudan were made during such rushed trips, HQ hoped that photographing the documents in his room would lead us to the organization’s set up in these countries. The hotel, with its golden chandeliers, ivory ornaments on the walls, and deep pile carpets, had a huge staff which made it difficult for us to find a single moment when there wasn’t a chambermaid in the corridor. Whenever a member of our team managed to distract one of them, another would emerge from the housekeeper’s room and the break-in kept on being postponed. Because of the sensitivity of this particular region, the squad’s commander was ordered to consult me, HQ’s senior representative in the field, after any run-in with the hotel’s staff and such instances were indeed becoming increasingly frequent.

The Sheikh was now resting in his room. For a while, I and other members of the team staying at the hotel spent our time playing tourists. When I heard Udi’s voice on my mobile I joked with him a bit, but to my surprise he quickly switched to Hebrew and said, listen, I have some bad news for you.

I’m listening, I said, letting a number of possibilities race through my mind, barely managing to wipe away the remnants of a smile or get up from the sun-bed. Your father is dead. The news confirmed one of the possibilities I’d considered.

I see, I found myself saying.

They’re waiting for you for the funeral, so you need to get there as quickly as possible. We’ve booked you on a flight to Athens leaving in three hours from now and you have a seat on the flight from Athens to Israel at eight in the evening. The funeral will take place in the village at eleven tomorrow morning. Let me know if you can make the outgoing flight so that I can tell Orit.