P. Deutermann - The Last Man

“They do not make a desk big enough for both my paperwork and the computer,” she offered apologetically. We regret to inform you. There has been a serious accident.

“Nor for mine, Dr. Ressner. Our small country is beginning to drown in paperwork, I’m afraid. The ultimate sign of modernity.”

She did not reply, choosing to look down at the floor instead, her mind still reeling with the memories. She waited for him to tell her why he was here. There was certainly no worse news he could bring her.

“I wanted to speak to you briefly about this American you will be escorting to Metsadá this week.”

“Really,” she said. “But why? What possible interest—?”

He raised a hand to interrupt her. “As I told you, I am associated with internal state security, yes?”

“I thought you were with security at Dimona.”

He smiled sheepishly, as if caught out in a small lie. The smile deformed the scales of skin on his face. Part of it smiled, part of it did not. The effect did nothing to make his expression more reassuring.

“Quite right. Yes. I said that because I thought you might remember our meeting. At that sad time, when you and I last met, I was a military security officer at the Negev laboratories. Now, I am the director.”

“I see,” she replied, still baffled. Regret to inform you.

“This American has come to Israel with a rather unusual request. Did you know that it was the Ministry of Foreign Affairs who prevailed upon the Interior and Education ministries to accommodate him?”

She shook her head. Yossi had mentioned the ministry, but not which one. Foreign Affairs? There were so many ministries. “Why?” she asked.

“I have no idea, Doctor Ressner,” Skuratov said. “Now that he has arrived, I wondered if you did?”

She shook her head again. “My assignment as his minder came from my department chairman. Ministries are his province, not mine.”

“Just so,” Skuratov said. “Well.” He paused again, as if to assemble enough air in his lungs to speak. “My interest is more direct, and has to do with Metsadá itself. You are an acknowledged expert on certain aspects of that site, but I wanted to remind you that it is a place of great reverence for the Israel Defense Forces. For the nation, as well.”

“Yes, so I understand, Colonel,” she said.

“I wish to make very sure that this — foreigner — does not have some hidden agenda, as the Americans say. Especially with all the stories of buried treasure out there in the caves along the Dead Sea.”

She smiled for the first time and thought she saw him relax minutely.

“Professional archaeologists the world over fear treasure hunters, Colonel; they often do incalculable damage to the ancient sites. I don’t think this man is a treasure hunter. More of a misguided amateur, with some very sophomoric ideas about the history of Metsadá.”

“He is no scholar, then?”

“Hardly. He says he is pursuing this visit to honor his girlfriend’s long-term dream to explore certain historical theories about the site.”

“Go on, please.”

She described what David had told the committee.

“This woman — the girlfriend — she disappeared?”

“So he says. I have the feeling he’s being a bit dramatic. She probably dumped him after he lost his job.”

“What was her name, please?”

She told him Adrian’s name and why Hall had lost his job.

“He is a nuclear engineer?”

She nodded.

“Did these indiscretions have something to do with nuclear matters?”

“I assume so,” she said. “The press reports were a bit vague.”

“Do you trust him?”

“I would say he is harmless, based on a very short acquaintance.”

Skuratov nodded gravely. “I am glad to hear that,” he said. “Still, I want to emphasize that you are the single person who will be in a position to make sure he does not go astray, Doctor. The Defense Ministry is especially interested in seeing to it that he does nothing to dishonor that place.”

“I appreciate the significance of Metsadá, Colonel, to the IDF and to all of Israel. I don’t understand why you of all people are talking to me about this trip. If IDF internal security is concerned, why don’t you put some of your own people on the matter?”

He sat back and paused, as if choosing his words carefully. “The matter has been briefed. I mentioned to my superiors that I had met you, the designated minder, some time ago. I was asked to speak to you.” He stopped for a moment and wet his lips. “As with all government offices in these times of budget austerity, we do not have unlimited resources. It has been a long time since the last war, you see.”

She didn’t know what to say to that, so she remained quiet. He nodded a couple of times to himself, and then heaved himself painfully out of his chair, fishing a card out of his suit pocket.

“I know this might seem a bit paranoid, but paranoia is our business, Professor Ressner. If you should become suspicious that he is not what he seems, or has intentions other than what he has told you and the university, would you be so kind as to please call me, right away, at the number on that card? My people can always find me, yes?”

She stood up and took the card without looking at it. This wasn’t making much sense. Dimona and Masada? As he turned for the door, she remembered something. She stopped him.

“Colonel Skuratov. I thought you were a scientist of some kind. That day. When you… when you came with Solomon Scheinfeldt to tell me about… Dov.”

He picked up his homburg and unconsciously began to turn it around in his hands. She realized he was wearing gloves.

“At that time, I suppose you could say I was a bit of both. I am a nuclear physicist by training, and now a policeman of sorts. The kinds of work done at Dimona, well, this was a useful combination. As you probably can understand.”

She moved around him, toward the door, so that she could see his face better. He seemed to shrink into himself, as if not wanting to be stared at. “Are you aware, now,” she asked, “that I was never told what happened to Dov?” She surprised herself, bringing this up, but she was suddenly desperate to hear his answer. He had been one of “them,” the people in authority at Dimona.

The colonel appeared to be momentarily embarrassed. He looked down at the floor for a few seconds before replying. “The authorities at Dimona assumed Dr. Dov Ressner’s full discretion, Professor. Necessarily we also assume that the spouse of everyone working there knows what Dimona is all about. Certain aspects of Israel’s nuclear energy program are Israel’s worst-kept secret, yes? I need not elaborate. What happened to your husband was an accident. An operational laboratory accident, with severe radiation consequences. There were two others who also died. Security was of course involved, to determine if this had been an accident or deliberate sabotage. There are two more widows like you.”

“Who are they?” she asked quickly, but he shook his head.

“No, it is best that you don’t know that. The incident and the program in which it occurred were then and are now highly secret matters. Everyone involved was and remains sworn to absolute silence. It was an accident, nothing more.”

“ I was never sworn to silence.”

“Your husband was, and took his oath willingly, Mrs. Ressner,” he replied quickly, and this time the smile was gone. His eyes projected the cold gleam of official power. She realized that she had made an implied threat when she said she was never sworn to secrecy. “Your husband died, Mrs. Ressner,” he continued. “It was most unfortunate, but you cannot bring him back, no matter what you might do. Or say. Please keep in mind that the government did not put you out beyond the city walls after the accident, did they?”