Mishka Ben-David - Forbidden Love in St. Petersburg

I loved the food, I loved her. But all the while I was nagged by the thought that during those very moments in Israel, where the winter is green and grey, a group of people were exchanging views about my message. I reckoned they would almost certainly be meeting this evening, and if Udi is very busy then they’ll get together tomorrow morning and discuss my fate and the fate of my love for Anna.

You’re not here, my love, Anna said, aware of every nuance of my expression. The move, it’s difficult for you? You’re not at peace with it?

If only I was as much at peace with everything else in my life as I am with my love for you, my Annushka. The words were on the tip of my tongue but didn’t pass my lips. All I said was, it’s certainly harder for you my darling.

Is that the impression I give? she asked, surprised, and pounced on me, hugging and covering my face with kisses. You can’t even imagine how happy I am.

Her face indeed beamed with joy whereas I couldn’t get shot of the cloud hovering over me. I was never a good actor. Even my instructors on the course at the Mossad used to complain about that.

This time Anna surpassed herself with the cooking. She served us a thick chestnut soup with various vegetables, nuts, sour cream and brandy. When I dug my spoon into its depths and my nostrils were filled with its incredible aroma, I discovered there were also bits of roasted goose in there. The combination of tastes was so wonderful that I almost regretted it being wasted on someone like me who ordinarily makes do with shwarma and tahini.

Guess what I’ve got for us? Anna asked when she’d had her fill of my compliments.

I’ve absolutely no idea, I said.

I’ve ordered a home movie system. It’ll arrive tomorrow, together with a large collection of films.

Anna caught on to the expression on my face as I surveyed the small apartment. I know it’s a bit crowded here, but I’ve thought it all through. The screen will be here–she pointed to the wall with the outside window–and we’ll change the lounge area here so we can sit facing it. We don’t want guests, do we? And for us the two-seater is big enough, we can get rid of the armchairs. She gazed at me, her eyes sparkling with happiness and hope.

Wouldn’t it be more sensible for us to move to my apartment? I asked. Though my place had only a bedroom and a study in addition to the living room, it was bigger, much more comfortable, refurbished and well equipped. I didn’t think that from HQ’s point of view it would make much of a difference whether we lived together in my apartment or hers. What was forbidden was the relationship itself.

I don’t want anything bigger, she answered. I want us to be very very near to each other all the time. I want you to want to hurry home from your office, and I’ll hurry back from my shop, and that our evenings together stretch out into the night.

The thought flashed through my mind that it was as if the home movie system was already screening a Spanish soap opera. I suppressed a smile.

I’ll rush back to you, my beautiful one, not the movie system, I said, giving the expected response, and the words sounded a bit forced and theatrical. I had never uttered such expressions of love. And almost none of any other kind. My love for Orit was so self-evident, so big was the void when she left, and so unbridled was my love for Annushka.

And I’ve already chosen a film for us for tomorrow unless you want something else from the selection that I’ve ordered, she added, and seeing my quizzical look, said, Doctor Zhivago .

It’s very beautiful but sad, isn’t it?

But it’s so beautiful and sad that it’s almost like our lives? And it’s got in it all the history I want you to learn, from the 1905 Revolution till the October Revolution, and all the places and things in Russia that I want you to get to know about, Moscow, the Urals, Siberia, workers, farmers, intellectuals.

She put her arms around my neck and we sunk into a very extended kiss that only ended under the new flannel sheets.

A moment after we’d satiated ourselves and were lying in an embrace, and a moment before my eyes closed, the discussion about us in Mossad HQ popped into my mind. Fifteen years with Udi, now head of the Operations Division, dozens of operations with Levanon who replaced me as head of the division’s Planning Department, and a deep understanding of the way in which the office worked, made it possible for me to imagine such a detailed and live scene.

A long time later, when I was sitting in the small room close to Udi and Levanon’s offices, poring over the transcripts, memoranda and logbooks of the operations linked to me, I was surprised to discover how close my imagined discussions were to those that had actually taken place. There were also moments of collegiality during those long and nerve-wracking periods of waiting in Udi and Levanon’s offices for messages from operatives in the field, when they were willing to share with me various additional details. They told me of the frustration they felt when they realized they had to do something to stop me, or of a move they and those under their command planned to make on me in the streets of St Petersburg. The parallel campaign of discussions and operational orders, reconnaissance and operational logs secretly woven against me, without my being able to know anything about it, became increasingly clear. I was pained, angered, and at times utterly bewildered. The written words turned into voices, the names became those of living people, and the dry language of transcripts was transformed into a real and yet phantasmagoric event played out before my own eyes.

It was Ariel, my young controller, who first received my message. He was alarmed by the probable implications of my living with Anna and immediately called a meeting at Division HQ. Those present were Udi and Levanon, Alex, who was with me in the operation in Kazakhstan and now headed the desk for Russia and the former Soviet Republics, Eli, the security officer, and Ilan, the division’s psychologist. Udi asked Ariel to read out my message to the assembled forum.

Re: An Acquaintance. The restaurant where I usually eat in the evening is also frequented by a single woman. We got to talk. She is a widow and owns a bookshop. The relationship became closer and last night I slept in her apartment. We are both interested in continuing the relationship and it’s my intention to do so. I shall, of course, maintain my cover. For your information.

I want to emphasize a number of points, Ariel said. The first is that Yogev defines the relationship as one of ‘acquaintance’, which is a fairly neutral word. Secondly, that there are relations of intimacy between them, which is not so neutral. Thirdly that they intend to continue this relationship, and fourthly that he didn’t, in fact, ask for approval but simply ‘informed’ us, which in my view doesn’t bode well.

Let’s stop talking about ‘Yogev’ Udi said, and, as we do with every other operative, use only the alias. So from now on only ‘Paul’ please. Any more comments on the message?

We know the state he was in during his last period in Israel, Ilan said. He was shattered by his wife leaving him and, so far as we know, he avoided any involvement with women while living in Tel Aviv. We hesitated quite a bit before coming up with the suggestion that he settle in Russia but thought in the end that the move away would enable him to rehabilitate himself. Possibly that is what is now happening. Getting into a relationship with a woman may signal a kind of re-engagement with life.

Does this tell us that he is getting back to normal? Udi asked.

It’s hard to know. Paul is very good at putting things in compartments–as he did with his targeted assassinations–and rationalize it in a way that fits in with his perception of himself as a man of integrity. This is an attribute that makes rehabilitation possible. The fact that he slept at some woman’s house and wants to continue is a good sign. But it very much depends on who she is. Couples get together in all sorts of places and situations and it’s difficult to know if it’s really a sign of a new beginning, or just the coming together of two losers.