46
PARTISAN REVIEW
"You ask so many questions, Doctor," she said wearily.
'Just answer this. What other authors do you have to read?"
Her eyes rested on me with uncertainty . "Look," I said, "I need to
know the titles.
I'll
get them for you."
"It
would be nice if you could get me something by Galsworthy."
Major Golan received me on the balcony of the town hall . A
man of average height, he had a bony face with a clipped, silver–
streaked mustache. He wore khaki shorts, British style, his socks
reaching to his knees, and he gave off the fragrance of fine tobacco .
In
civilian life he was a real estate developer who put new towns on
the map. After a firm handshake he introduced his party. "Care for a
real Turkish coffee?"
Below, in the large, open square , there was a crowd of sixty or
seventy men, some in striped pajamas , others in white traditional
robes. An old Arab sitting with us kept pointing down towards one
or another of them . One of the officers would then give the word on
the walkie-talkie, and the MPs in the courtyard would step into the
crowd and grab the ones singled out.
"We were lucky this morning," Major Golan said, handing me
a tiny cup of spicy bittersweet coffee. "We stumbled upon a cellar
which turned out to be the local headquarters of the fedayeen. We
found a complete list of all the members of the gang."
"How does he fit into the picture?" I asked , indicating the old
Arab who was eyeing me obsequiously.
"He puts the finger on them ."
"And maybe is using the opportunity to payoff old scores?"
Major Golan puffed on his pipe , giving me an indulgent smile.
"That shouldn't be too difficult to find out." He followed the smoke
ring with his eyes .
When I returned to the hospital I wrote my wife to send me
whatever she could find by Galsworthy, and a few days later a parcel
arrived containing
The Forsyte Saga .
I went into Muna's room and put
it on her bed . She thanked me but did not touch it. I left it lying
there and walked out.
Major Golan's offer to join him for a trip in the desert came just
when a nagging sense of waste was beginning to get me down. I was
ready for a change of scenery . We drove along the foot of bare lime–
hills , the narrow paths winding between craters, cliffs and rocks .
Patches of broom-bushes and withered grass dotted the dunes . The
sand gave off a blinding glare . It was littered with discarded army
