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

But did you…

I see this is bothering you. She smiled. Listen, it’s not very complicated. He was my intelligence assignment, and he was quite charming. There’s a kind of Iranian charm… Amir is a cynic, and I doubt he has anything even resembling a conscience, but he has charm. Apparently, that’s not a contradiction in terms. And besides, his tendencies…

His what?

He likes being roughhoused. It’s not surprising, really. It’s common among strong people. I was into it at the time. I wanted to hit somebody. Sometimes, I even took it a bit too far. But that was a long time ago. Now… I guess even someone like Amir needs a friend, someone he can really talk to. And there’s the intelligence thing, of course.

But… Which side are you on? I mean, al-Sa‘iqa killed your… Something threatening flashed in her eyes. He fell silent.

You finished the job with al-Sa‘iqa, even without my having asked, she smiled sardonically.

Yes, he said, he knew the history. The head of the organization, Zuheir Mohsen, was assassinated in Cannes by operatives of the Mossad’s Kidon Unit in 1979. A year later, a navy commando force raided the organization’s base in South Lebanon, killing ten combatants and destroying the base. The two operations desperately weakened the organization. In Department 195, they called the organization al-Sa‘iqa Allah yerhamo— al-Sa‘iqa RIP.

So you’ve always wanted to take revenge against the Palestinians?

Don’t be so facile. You said you’re a philosophy teacher, aren’t you? You should know better. I wanted to take revenge against al-Sa‘iqa. Regarding the Palestinians as a whole, it’s more complicated than that.

Right, complicated, he repeated.

You know, we al-Ghawarneh, the Bedouin of the marsh, we’re neither here nor there. We have a different story, a completely different story… Even the marshes, you took away from us. You dried them. What do we have left? We don’t have a flag, we don’t have a homeland… No story fits us. Like an oversized suit. Ugh, what am I going on about…? I’m not good with words.

But you’re a poet.

Poems, yes, but not tedious tirades like these. These kinds of monologues always sound phony.

But Tamir insisted. There were things he had to understand. So, you had two enemies, al-Sa‘iqa and us. We took out al-Sa‘iqa, and now you’re helping the Iranians take us out?

The thing about the Iranians is interesting, she said. For decades, no regional power could face off with you to create a balance of terror in the Middle East. A balance of terror was actually your idea. That’s what you tried to do with Dimona.

Is a balance of terror a good thing?

You’ve become a dangerous, hostile force. Someone has to keep you in check.

All Zionists have ever wanted was to simply live in peace, to stand on steady ground! Tamir suddenly flared up.

Ah, there’s the little Zionist in you rearing its head, she smiled. I was wondering when it was going to come out. Safe ground beneath your feet? Why don’t you tell that to my tribe. To stop your bulldozers, there has to be a balance of terror. On the other hand, it’s dangerous to have the bomb at the fingertips of some Ayatollah. That’s why people like Amir are so important. He’s pragmatic. He just wants to fuck and rule. He doesn’t believe in anything besides the divine thighs of… she stopped.

Milena?

Ah, I see you’ve left no stone unturned. She sighed. Well, I’ve gotten used to it by now. But leave Milena alone. She doesn’t know anything.

Tamir pictured in his head Rajai lying under the silk blue panties of the icy, beautiful Slovenian, just as he recently did.

People like Amir are good for you, she said, but you don’t realize it.

Maybe instead of chasing you around Vienna, we should invite you to sit in cabinet meetings, he said sarcastically.

Considering who you have sitting there now, that might not be such a bad idea, she replied wryly.

So, the only reason you’re giving him intelligence is for intricate geopolitical reasons? Not because you’re getting something from him in return?

You mean, besides the fact he funds an apartment, an easy life, and a bodyguard for me?

Yes. You don’t strike me as the type to settle for that.

Why? The 8th district is a long way from a shanty village by Acre, don’t you think?

And yet.

The truth is, I did ask him for something.

What?

To send an assassin to kill the former mayor of Acre and the former head of the Green Patrol.

From when your settlement was demolished.

Yes.

That makes sense, Tamir said. He couldn’t make out from her sealed expression whether she was joking or not. Did he agree?

I’m not going to tell you.

Okay.

What was going through your mind then, when the Ultralight landed? she asked.

I don’t know if anything crossed my mind at all.

What were you waiting for? You were waiting for something, right?

He looked at her. She appeared different every time he looked. He couldn’t figure her out. He needed to penetrate some kind of hard exterior, he thought to himself, marshland that dried and hardened in the sirocco.

You said you’re not good with words, he said.

So?

Your sister, she was the one who was good with words, wasn’t she?

She fell silent. She waited.

We know about Flamingo, he said.

Her face remained sealed, but two tears stole quietly down her cheeks. She did not wipe them. She suddenly pounced. Her movement was so swift he could barely see her. By the time he’d realized what was happening, her hands were wrapped tightly around his neck. He struggled to breathe, he couldn’t breathe, yet he did not resist, her fingers felt warm against his neck, warm and penetrative, black, charred angel-feathers, searing the hungry flesh, iron claws piercing, piercing, she was so close, a rush of heat rose from her face and enveloped him like a blanket of darkness, like that time when he crawled out of the thicket right into her arms. He closed his eyes, imagining he could hear the sweet murmur of mothers in Arabic, the cries of jackals, and