The Marsh Angel, Hagai Dagan [free e reader .TXT] 📗

see where he had come from. He turned to face him, and immediately recognized the sandy-yellow leather jacket of the man who had come out of Café Merkur. He politely but assertively asked Tamir to stand still; he swiftly and somewhat roughly frisked his body, and upon feeling satisfied that he posed no danger, nodded to the woman and allowed Tamir to progress. When he reached her, she ordered him to sit on the bench in front of her, not beside her. He complied. He turned his body halfway back, his head turned to face her. Hello Dallal, he said in Arabic.

She looked at him. He couldn’t decipher the look on her face. I know who you are, she finally said.

Yes, it’s me.

You’ve grown up.

What can you do?

You didn’t try to kill me then, by Yaffa, so I assume you’re not here to kill me today.

But you almost shot me then.

Almost.

Yes.

Maybe I’ll finish the job today.

He sat in silence. It was as if the pounding of his heart drowned out his thoughts, and yet, it sounded faint, almost expiring. That wouldn’t be wise, he finally said.

She surveyed him solemnly. The darkness of her eyes seemed to suck in the scant little light floating in the gloomy space of the church. He noticed a silver necklace around her neck with a pendant dangling from it. He couldn’t make out its shape, swallowed in the shadow of her cleavage. You were a soldier then, she said. What are you now?

A teacher.

Well, that’s an improvement. What do you teach?

Philosophy.

Philosophy can be bourgeoise blather, and it can also be… She stopped, as if changing her mind. Sometimes it can truly touch… things.

Yes. It can be illusive. He didn’t know how to say ‘illusive, so he said it in Hebrew. She shifted in her sit. I haven’t heard Hebrew in a long time, she replied in Hebrew. I thought I might’ve forgotten it by now.

I remember your Hebrew wasn’t that great, so…

When? Something sparked in her eye. Ah, yes, I didn’t know if you remembered that.

That’s not true. You knew.

I might have known.

Some things are hard to forget.

They sat in silence. He felt he could see the tamarisk thicket creeping across the floor of the church, spreading between the benches, and covering the alter.

Where did you go after Paris? he asked.

I was a teacher too, she said, reverting back to Arabic. She smiled momentarily, almost absentmindedly. I taught Arabic literature in Leipzig University. It was still East Germany back then. I was relatively safe there. She closed her eyes, as if recollecting. I thought I could infect my students with my love for Arabic literature, for May Ziadeh, Kamal Nasser, for Kanafani’s prose. There were a few good years, but then… After they opened up to the west, the students became absorbed with their own petty, comfortable little lives, lost their curiosity, and… lost their passion. I tried to reignite that passion, but I never stood a chance. They didn’t get me. I was… from another planet.

Yes, from another planet, he mumbled, partly to her, partly to himself.

So, I take it you’re not alone here, since you asked me to lose a tail.

No, I’m not alone.

And why would you tell me that I’m being followed?

I wanted to meet you.

Why?

Because… he deliberated. He didn’t quite know why himself. Some things need to be clarified, he finally said.

Clarified?

Yes. I need to know a few things about you.

You need? Why should I even talk to you? How do I know this isn’t a trap?

You don’t.

She observed him silently. An exacting stillness rested on her face which suddenly seemed completely foreign to him, distant. The girl is gone, swallowed up in the thicket, morphed into this illusive, puzzling woman of whom he knew nothing about. Only in the very pits of her pupils did he perceive to have seen something; black ibises were torn from the heart of darkness, marsh flowers drowned in the dense gloom.

He breathed with all his might, forcing the words to come out his throat. You simply have to believe me. He spoke in Arabic again.

But what’s in it for you? So far, men who’ve offered to help me have always asked for something in return.

I’m not asking for anything in return.

Perhaps that’s even more dangerous.

Is she soft? Is she vulnerable? Is she even here? He tried to see her. To really see her. She tilted her blue beret, which now covered her eyes, precluding Tamir from seeking out her gaze. The angle of his head made it even more difficult. Why did you flee to East Germany? he asked.

I didn’t see any other solution. I didn’t trust your men.

Did you trust Rajai?

I never trusted him. He would sell the last fish in the net for a cigarette.

Tamir figured that must be some kind of Bedouin fishermen expression. But you’ve been passing him intelligence all these years, haven’t you?

Yes and no, she smiled. I’m… helping his promotion.

Why?

First of all, he’s done a lot to protect me and support me. So, I need to show a little gratitude. Secondly, if people like Amir reach positions of genuine power in Iran, what do you think would happen?

I don’t know, they’d drop an atom bomb on us?

What is it with you Israelis and this atom bomb thing? When did you become such cowards? Is it that whole holocaust thing? Come on… All we had were some tin shacks by the sea, and we were much more relaxed than you— until you demolished them, that is. No, he won’t drop a bomb on you. I actually feel like dropping something on you sometimes, but he… he won’t drop anything. He doesn’t even care about you. All he wants is power. The Zionists, the Americans… only the Ayatollahs care about that. Men like Amir… they only care about power. Oh, and women.

Young women, Tamir added.

She looked at him for a moment. Something murky dimmed in her. I see you’re up to date.

But you and him…

Oh, that was a long