A. Yehoshua - Friendly Fire - A Duet

"Please, Yirmi, don't say again that Nofar only seemed as if she wanted to throw herself… because it was very real, Yirmi, believe me, the girl was in total despair at the funeral, and it still lingers."

"Forgive me, Daniela," he says, distressed, "I didn't mean… of course it was all real… Nofar is a wonderful girl… and her love for Eyal was wonderful too."

IF INDEED HE intends to threaten Gottlieb, Amotz Ya'ari decides, it should be done carefully and politely, and not in the presence of his father, who out of romantic enthusiasm might just yank the phone from his hand in the middle of the call and wreck the subtlety of the threat with the indignant impatience of an old man who knows his time is up. He clears the taste of the seafood from his mouth with a Filipino cookie, pats Hilario on the head, and drives to the office.

A drizzly Friday. Two in the afternoon. Throughout the neighborhood offices are already closed, but in the big room at Ya'ari's firm, a man and a woman are engaged in spirited conversation in front of a computer. The two young engineers each took a healthy chunk of time off during the week for their children's Hanukkah diversions, and now, on a free day, have abandoned their spouses to make up for lost time. Ya'ari is proud of the sense of duty he has instilled in his workers but does not join their discussion, lest they detain him with a question requiring a complicated answer. He smiles and waves, and without further ado sequesters himself in his office.

Although he did not expect a second call from his wife, whose actual self he will embrace in another seventy-five hours, he is slightly disappointed by the silence. He dials Gottlieb's cell.

It's urgent? It can't wait? grumbles the manufacturer. He's in a café, enjoying the company of fellow manufacturers; it's hard for him to talk and harder to hear. What is this? Because your wife isn't back yet from Africa, you have to bother me even on a Friday?

"Very impressive of you to remember her schedule," Ya'ari says. "I see that over the years you've become one of the family."

The maker of elevators lowers his defenses and is prepared to listen to a short speech, provided it is spoken loud and clearly. Ya'ari conveys the essence of his father's request: Gottlieb is to make new parts for a one-of-a-kind piston that grew old in a tiny ancient Jerusalem elevator. Why make them? Gottlieb wants to know. Why not replace the whole elevator, and at the same time widen it a little? It can't be widened, it's the narrow elevator of an old lady; it goes from a bedroom closet straight up to the roof. It's impossible to make it wider or to replace it. That's the situation.

Gottlieb is in a hurry to rejoin his friends, whose gales of laughter are impeding the phone conversation, and so he promises that on Sunday he'll check out the capabilities of his old metal lathe, which for quite some years has been out of commission. You should know, he scolds Ya'ari, this is not for you, because you are a difficult person, but only because your old man is asking. What can I do, sighs the manufacturer. I have been attached to him for fifty years.

Ya'ari now also requests the services of the woman technician who specializes in noises, to locate the source of the humming in the electrical system of this same elevator.

"If you want to hire the musical ear of my expert," Gottlieb informs him with satisfaction, "you'll have to pay her separately. Not on my tab. She can take a formal day off, and you can play with her all you like."

"But wait a minute, we also need her for the wind problem in the tower, and that's not on my account."

"The wind complaint? Why does that keep coming back? We took that one off the docket. We agreed that we have no responsibility for anything that wails due to the failures of the construction company."

"No, Gottlieb, listen, it's not that simple. I visited there this morning, and the wailing and roaring are really insufferable. And I also ran into that head of the committee, the bereaved tenant…"

"What made you go there?" Gottlieb interrupts him angrily, "after I warned you not to go near the tower or that guy, who automatically makes you feel guilty over everything. They want us to incur major expenses, without our being at fault for anything. If they want to open up the elevators and examine the shaft, by all means — but on the condition that they pay for every minute of the technicians' time. Listen, Ya'ari, I'm warning you, if you're looking for trouble, go get mixed up in this by yourself. These winds do not interest me in any shape or form. I'm out of the whole deal."

"You're not out of anything," Ya'ari answers evenly, "you have no choice. I promised this tenant, head of the committee, that the two of us, together with the architect and the construction company, will find the source of the problem. You can't let yourself off and just disappear. Because if you damage my credibility, in the future I'll cut you out of things that matter to you."

"Like what, for example?"

"For example, the new elevators for the Defense Ministry. Believe me, Gottlieb, if we order them from the Chinese, we'll save the state money."

Now silence looms on the other side. Ya'ari hears the breathing of the maker of elevators, who feels a sharp wound to his pocketbook.

"Now you're threatening me?"

"If you like, call it a threat."

"You know I can threaten you too."

"Obviously, everyone in this country has someone he can threaten. Nobody has immunity."

"You included."

"Of course."

"And this is how you threaten a man that a few minutes ago you said was a member of your family?"

"It's because you're a member of the family," Ya'ari says, laughing.

"Watch out, I'll complain about you to your father."

"You watch out, he's the one who gave me the idea of threatening you."

"So the two of you decided to ruin my weekend."

"Nothing will get ruined, Gottlieb, my friend. For the time being we're talking not about money, just time. What do those winds wandering in the tower want from us, after all? That we track them down with patience and concentration. To provide them an honorable exit."

OUTSIDE A HARD rain falls, a rapid downpour that began without warning, but the farm's great kitchen has been heated by cooking the dishes destined for the hungry band of scientists who will arrive tomorrow from the dig and stay for the weekend. Yirmiyahu's hand props up his head as if it might otherwise snap off from exhaustion and roll down the table between the greasy plates. His nighttime ride to the excavations — its purpose is still unclear to Daniela — was particularly fatiguing; Sijjin Kuang's friends, the stars and the moon, were hidden by heavy clouds, and she had to navigate by the trees and winds, which deceived her time after time. Now he can't keep his eyes open, and so he lumbers upstairs to his temporary room, while his sister-in-law stays at the big dining table and watches the chefs at work, smiling distractedly. The Africans are drawn to the mature white woman and are delighted to ask her to sample one newly cooked dish after another, until she, too, decides to go up to her room. The rain has ended as abruptly as it began, and a sparkling sun comes out to savor the world, but after her brother-in-law's scolding she dares not leave the compound by herself, even for a brief stroll.

She wonders if her visit has gone on too long. Today there was a flight from Morogoro to Nairobi, and from there she could have reached Tel Aviv by dawn tomorrow, with one stopover in Amman. But yet another connection, and in Amman of all places, had frightened Amotz, and she herself had thought it not quite right to make a consolation visit all the way from Asia to Africa for only three nights. If only she had a Friday newspaper, she could even enjoy the time off from her husband and home, but there's not a shred of newsprint to be found in any language, and she can only hope that by the time she returns on Monday Amotz will not have thrown away everything worth reading.