Killers Moon

1
The Dogbreaths Publishing
A Killers Moon
David William Kirby
A Killers Moon
10/09/12
David William Kirby
A Killers Moon
Copyright David William Kirby 2012
Scribd Edition
ISBN: 9781310444531
Scribd Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or
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purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This work is a piece of fiction
some scenes are based on actual historical events
Characters and names are
fictional.
Any resemblance to
persons living or dead
is purely coincidental.
A Killers Moon
David William Kirby
A Killers Moon
dwkglynrde5@yahoo.co.uk
Chapter 1
Its time come for roll call
time for us to part
Darling Ill caress you
press you to my heart
there Neath the lantern light
Id hold you very tight
wed kiss goodnight
my Lily of lamplight
my own, Lily Marlene
(Marlene Dietrich- Lily Marlene)
Poland 1943
They stood for two weeks in filth, with the stench of faeces and death
up their noses, the ooze from fetid corpses squashed between their
ice-cold, dirty feet. They were starved and thirsty with only the snowmelt that collected around the frozen window to keep them watered.
Now filthy and confused, they looked through starved, red-eyes at a
crack of light shining through the cattle truck door. Some called to an
unconcerned god; their prayers unheard.
When in Warsaw they had begged the German soldiers to be released,
they moaned about the cramped quarters, the lack of sanitation, the
food; anything and everything but with good reason.
A Killers Moon
David William Kirby
They demanded to be moved out, relocated somewhere then, out of

the blue, the order came. Some say you get what you wish for but
none of them expected to be shunted into cattle trucks and left to die.
I can hear music. What can you see? One of the ragged asked from
the shadows.
We have stopped at a station. The taller one replied as he peered
through the slats at the scene beyond. Theres an Edison playing
music.
Not sidings again? Another croaked and then, hearing the locks
being pulled aside, the huge door pulled back; a gasp rang through
them. Sunlight hurt their eyes as the doors were pulled back causing a
shudder to pass through those assembled.
They squinted to make out beyond, above the singing crackling from
the Edison disc player, the sound of dogs barked as the steam engine
chuffed; soldiers looked in at them with disgust .
In the bright sunlight streaming through the door they could see the
dead laying between their legs. The piles of filthy clothing that used
to be human were now just stinking piles of rotting meat underfoot.
Those women who were mothers shielded the childrens eyes from
the horror of it all.
Get out, get out. A Ukrainian armed with a baton shouted as he
banged on the side of the truck with his weapon.
They fell from the truck and gathered together frozen and dazed after
such a long and arduous journey. A woman with two children stopped
one of the Ukrainians and asked politely.
Will we be looked after now?
Yes mother. The Ukrainian replied. These bastards are going to
look after you good.
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David William Kirby
Myriam? The woman said to her daughter, a tall, thin girl with
sullen features and dark rings around her eyes. Kocham Cie.
Yes mother, I love you too?
If Oscar and I get separated from you...
No! The young girl cried. Dont say that, we must stay together.
Listen to me girl! Myriams mother replied urgently.

Look. You may be able to work here, look there.
She nodded to a metal sign over the camp gate which said in long
black iron lettering
Arbeit macht frei (work makes (you) free).
But I am still a child. Myriam replied.
Youre 14 and tall for your age. Her mother said with desperation in
her voice.
I cannot work as I have to look after your brother, Oscar; but you
can. Darling, please!
All women with young children and the elderly line up to your
right. A tall uniformed SS officer shouted as he played with a leather
riding crop.
If you cannot walk there is a cart for you to sit on. This line on the
right will go to our hospital section. Everyone else line up to the left.
Go Myriam. The girls mother insisted. If you get a chance in the
future, remember to say Kaddish for me and your brother. Will you
remember to do that for me darling?
She pushed her daughter to the line on the left and whispered.
Prosimy przetrwany.
A Killers Moon
David William Kirby
The girl did as her mother asked and stood in the work line with the
words Please Survive ringing in her ears. She watched in shock while
her mother, brother and all the other parents with small children were
led away following a cart full of dribbling invalids and shivering
infirm.
They walked in the cold, following that cart, to a set of trees in the
distance.
Just before they disappeared around the far distant corner her mother
turned, waved with a tense expression, and smiled. Oscar also waved
at his sister and lifted his cap cheerily; seemingly oblivious to the
scene around him.
Leave your luggage. The SS officer shouted. It will follow you to
your barracks.
Myriam looked about her and saw ragged clothed inmates in striped
uniforms dragging the dead from the railway trucks. Piling them high
upon carts while others threw peoples cases and bags upon other
carts; dragging them into the camp.
Guards with dogs mingled uneasily with the Ukrainian capos who
bullied the line into some order with their batons.
Get in line Jewish bitch. One shouted to a middle aged woman who
was dazed by the hellish scene.
You want this? Fucking Jewish whore. he threatened her with his
baton and spat on the floor by her feet.
Listen up! The SS officer shouted. You are now in a work camp
just outside Owicim. There will be no escape from this camp, only
work.
If you work well you will be fed and taken care of. If you do not
work, make trouble or try to escape you will die.
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David William Kirby
The others are probable dead already. A man whispered just behind
Myriams shoulder.
Dont speak such evil. Another replied in a hush. They have gone
to a hospital block. Why would they lie?
In a moment... The officer continued. I will ask you to step
forwards and you will give me your name and age, then I will decide
what work you shall do while you are here with us. Understood?
He then indicated for the line to slowly move forwards before placing
each person in a different group beside the iron gates. When Myriam
reached the table at the head of the queue she gave her name as
Myriam Wolanski, aged 19.
She thought it sounded better then 14, her real age, and nobody
seemed to care. She was told to stand in a group of other woman.
When the group reached 20 or so the SS officer stopped the line and
addressed his staff.
This lot for Canada. he shouted at a capo dressed scruffily in a
faded, dirty gray shirt and blue pants who had been watching the
women intensely.
Canada... The capo laughed sarcastically as he directed those at the
front of the group into the camp.
...The land of plenty.
Oh, Myriam said to no-one in particular as she followed the other
women through the iron gates.
Perhaps they will feed us now; in this place of plenty?
As they were led through the arched gate a fresh bout of snow began
to fall and the whole scene was cast in a white, antiseptic glow. The
women filed through the gaps between single story barracks.
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David William Kirby
They past huddled men, who clutched their caps with dirty fingers
and held lost looks in their eyes, past the bodies of half starved
children dying in the snow drifts.
Eventually they reached a clearing under a corrugated awning open
to the elements along one side. Here several women already worked
unpacking suitcases and sorting the contents into piles. Another SS
officer, wearing his green day uniform, sat at a desk in front of them.
Next to him an inmate in a striped uniform wrote in a ledger any
significant or valuable finds under the watchful eye of his SS
companion.
You! A capo shouted towards Myriam. Work with this bitch, she
will show you what to do.
Myriam joined the woman the capos baton pointed at, aged in her
early twenties, with thin white skin and bony features, her hair was
tied tightly behind her head with a piece of string. Myriam watched as
the woman took a case from the cart wheeled in by a male inmate.
Linens go in that pile... The woman said her breath freezing
instantly on the icy air.
...Cottons over there, silks there, childrens goods there... She
quickly indicated the separate piles of clothes with an expressionless
face white and stress worn, her thin lips stretched over her teeth.
... and the leather goods over there. Quickly girl; get yourself a
case.
Myriam walked to the cart and removed a suitcase, it had scrawled in
chalk upon the front Bernstein, Kam Ulicia Kracow. She opened it
and went through the neatly folded shirts and suits within.
Quickly. The woman next to her shouted. Or that fat bastard will
beat you.
A Killers Moon
David William Kirby
Myriam threw the shirts from the case into a pile of shirts, white
shirts, blue shirts, shirts with ivory buttons, shirts with silver tipped
collars; all manner and quality sat in that pile for her to examine but
she just scanned it quickly and continued.
The woollen trousers went into their pile, the cotton pants in another.
As she made her way through the layers within the case she came to a
photograph of an elderly man with a friendly face and long white
beard.
What shall I do with this?
Drop it. The woman shouted. Myriam looked down and saw the
floor was littered with old photographs. A record of happier times
snapped with small Lica cameras which were popular at the time.
They were pictures of children with their parents, young lovers, the
elderly and the gone.
She saw a wedding photograph and faded pictures of long dead
relatives. Items which had been treasured through the generations,
were now lying underfoot getting dirty and stamped into dust.
Family treasures turning into trash.
Suddenly, toward the very bottom of the suitcase, Myriam found a
small fold of cloth. She was about to pull it open when the woman
that worked with her snatched it and put it under her shirt near her
breast.
What was that? The capo asked banging his stick upon Myriams
suitcase.
Hed seen something but was unsure what. The woman next to
Myriam pursed her lips and gave the young girl such a stern look that
she knew instantly that to tell the truth was wrong.
A Killers Moon
David William Kirby
What shall I do with this? The young girl asked holding up a dogeared copy of the Torah which was at the bottom of the case.
Ah. The capo looked at Myriam, then at the case, then back toward
the girl and laughed. Take it to wipe your arse.
He turned and walked away muttering about seeing something going
on.
After a few moments the woman approached Myriam and whispered
Thank you for keeping your mouth shut, stay with me after we have
finished, I will look after you.
Later that day as they were led back to a barrack the two women
walked together. Soon they were filing single handed through the door
into a dank hut. Inside women were laying three deep and three across
on sets of bunks stretched out the length of the barrack.
The smell of body odour and death filled Myriams nostrils and she
felt slightly sick walking from the outside into such a thick and fetid
atmosphere.
Follow me. Her friend said leading her to the end of the barracks.
I have a bunk up the end near the stove; my friend died last night so
there is room for you.
Both women found an empty shelf at the end of the barrack with
blankets. Although the bunk was next to a wood burning stove not
much heat could be felt coming from it.
When Myriam reached out to touch the stove she felt some warmth
but it needed more wood or coal to make it effective.
Its not very good. Her friend stated. It just keeps the frost out and
in this weather you need all the help you can get. That little bit of
warmth is the difference between living and dying here.
They climbed up to the bunk and lay under a blanket and the woman
she had worked with all day introduced herself.
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My name is Helena, Helena Volska.

Polish? Myriam asked.
Of course. Helena replied. From Gdansk, you?
My mother and I are from Kracow.
Dzien Dobry. Helena smiled.
Dzien Dobry. Myriam replied.
Now. Helena whispered. Lets see what we have here.
She reached into her bra and pulled out the small wrap of fabric which
she had secreted earlier and unfolded it closely guarding it from the
other bunks.
Neatly hidden within the silk bundle were four large, white, glittering
diamonds.
Thank you, Mr Bernstein? Myriam sighed before whispering a
silent prayer for him.
Keep your voice down. Helena whispered. These other bitches will
kill for these.
What are you going to do with them? Myriam asked.
I will swap them for food of course. Helena replied as if Myriam
should have known.
These beautiful rocks will keep us alive for a week.
Chapter 2
The following evening, after a long day of sorting, the women made
their way back to the barracks. Myriam looked towards the tall clump
of trees in the distance and saw smoke rising there.
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Is that the boiler for the hospital? The young girl asked her elder
friend.
I think of my mother and brother when I look over there, all warm
and well fed. When do you think I will be allowed to see them?
What are you going on about, girl? Helena asked throwing Myriam
a strained look.
Helena was deep in thought about something else at the time and
stared at Myriam with expectation to labour the point.
The hospital over there? Myriam nodded to the trees in the distance.
The Hospital? Helena replied.
Yes.
Is that where your family were taken? Helena asked placing her arm
around the girls shoulders.
Yes, with the elderly people.
Myriam. Helena said slowly. This place...
Yes? The girl replied.
This place is a work camp... Helena took a deep breath and sighed.
...If you work they keep you alive, even then it is barely. If you dont
work they kill you.
What?
That place... Helena continued, stopping for a moment to cast a
sombre look towards the snow laden trees in the distance.
...There is no hospital over there... She said softly.
...just death. The smoke you can see is where they are burning
bodies. These fucking murderers are killing people every day,
thousands of them. Including any family you have.
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No. Myriam replied with as the colour drained from her face. Its
too horrible.
Yes, but true... Helena replied urging her to continue to walk.
...Your people are dead, They were probably killed within minutes of
arriving here. The Germans take them through the trees and gas
them. Its true. The smoke you see is from furnaces they use to
destroy the evidence of their crimes.
Dont say such horrible things, please. The young girl cried, with
more tears welling up in her eyes.
Mother, Oscar. No!
Calm down... Helena insisted holding the young girl tightly in her
arms.
...If they hardly feed us, the ones who work for them, what makes
you think they will waste food on others who do nothing for them?
But my mother, my little brother. Myriam shrieked. It cant be true
how will I ever be happy again?
Go on cry little one.... Helena sighed as they stepped into their
barracks. ...But after the tears you must get angry, that anger will
keep you alive.
Later that night after collecting their meagre bowl of soup Helena
disappeared for a few moments, when she returned she dived under
the blanket next to Myriam and dug about under her shirt. Eventually
she pulled out a meat covered bone.
What is it? Myriam asked as they both bit into the soft cooked
flesh. Its delicious.
It could be dog, cat, cow or pig. Helena replied. I dont know and I
dont care.
You mean it may not be kosher. Myriam said hesitantly looking at
the succulent piece of meat.
God will forgive you girl. Eat.
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Both women gorged themselves on the bone and imagined it was the
tastiest piece of food ever cooked. A woman in the next bunk, hearing
the sound of jaws sucking marrow from the bone, tapped on the
wooden structure that separated the bunks and whispered.
You, what have you got in there?
Mind your own fucking business. Helena shouted. Then she looked
out to make sure no one was going to bother them.
Fucking bitches, let them get their own food. If she comes here I
have the thing for her.
What? Myriam whispered. You have a weapon here?
Helena held out her greasy hands and strained the fingers into claws.
I will strangle the bitch with these. She said scarily. While you
have hands you have weapons. Just remember that.
You are frightening me. Myriam smiled. How did you become so
hard, have you been here long?
Too long. Helena replied.
She cast the child a knowing look which said clearly that she did not
want to talk further about her past and so the conversation ended
there.
A few nights later Helena disappeared again, Myriam knew she was
going to climb out the barrack window where she had arranged to
meet someone from the cook house; a capo.
He was going to swap meat again for another diamond. When she
returned she dived under the blanket next to Myriam and smiled.
Look at this one. Lifting her shirt she pulled out nearly a whole leg
of mutton which had just a few slices taken off the side.
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It smells delicious. Myriam said as she tore a piece of meat from

the bone and ate. Just then both women heard someone beside the
bunk. They carefully lowered the blanket and saw a grey haired old
woman standing there holding her hands up to beg.
Please. The old woman rubbed one thin hand on her belly and
simpered. Just a little for an old woman.
Myriam looked at Helena and pulled a strip of meat from the bone.
We must. She whispered. Look, she is dying.
Helena sighed loudly and threw the blanket to one side, she jumped
from the bunk and put her hands around the old womans neck and
started to strangle her. Both women danced, here and there, until the
old woman sagged to her knees and gasped. Then she keeled over
backwards.
Now you dont have to worry. Helena panted towards Myriam.
She is dead already. Helena turned to the other ghostly faces that
had watched the scene in stunned silence and screamed.
Listen, you fucking bitches. This is what I will do to any of you who
bother us again. Understand?
The women in the other bunks looked away and some pretended as if
nothing had happened.
Why did you do that? Myriam said in a hushed voice. She looked
at the dead woman in a state of shock and then towards Helena again.
Why?
See this. Helena said lifting the dead womans skirt, under it tucked
into the top of her stockings was a piece of glass with fabric twisted
around one end making a crude dagger.
If she knew for sure you had food this would have gone in your
throat.
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Helena jumped back onto the bunk and pulled the blanket over them
both as others crept from the shadows and stripped the body of its
clothing; leaving it unwanted and naked for the collection next day.
Chapter 3
January 1944
The women were working in the area called Canada as usual when
another SS officer joined the usual one at the ledger table. He casually
examined a set of silver candlesticks which had been found in bag
moments earlier but his eyes wandered over the female workers and
eventually focused upon Myriam.
The SS guard looked clean and smart in his green day uniform and
Myriam could tell that he was more senior than the other officer by
the studs on his collar. She felt slightly uncomfortable as the young
man looked at her so intensely; then he whispered something to the
other guard who also looked directly at her.
You! The guard at the ledger table shouted. Helena stopped what
she was doing and took in the scene.
Me? Myriam asked pointing to herself.
Yes you. The guard shouted.
Come and speak to the Haupscharfuhrer.
Be careful. Helena whispered as Myriam left the line of women and
joined the two SS officers.
What is your name, Girl? The Hauptscharfuhrer asked with a coy
smile.
Myriam, Sir. Myriam replied lowering her gaze towards the floor.
Myriam Wolenska.
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Can you cook, Myriam Wolenska? the officer asked taking her chin
in his fingers and lifting her face gently so he could look into her
eyes.
Cook, Sir? She replied trembling slightly. Yes, I can cook very
well, my mother showed me.
Good. The officer smiled. I will send a boy to fetch her later.
With that the officer turned and walked away leaving the officer at the
ledger desk open mouthed.
You lucky bitch... He smiled sarcastically. ...someone up there
must be looking out for you.
Some hours later a young boy, dressed in a clean shirt and tight
trousers came to the area where the women unpacked the cases. He
spoke to the SS guard and handed him a piece of paper which the
guard read in silence.
His eyes slowly rose and found Myriam who was trying to look
inconspicuous among the other workers.
Girl! The guard shouted. Come. The Captain wants you.
Myriam looked at Helena and the thought crossed both their minds
that perhaps this would be the last time they saw each other. Helena
smiled and whispered through the side of her mouth.
Good luck. as Myriam walked to the desk.
Follow this boy. He said nodding towards the youth.
With that the young man turned and walked swiftly away, Myriam
had to run to catch up with him before saying.
Whats the rush?
My feet are freezing. The boy replied. It was only then that Myriam
looked down to see he had no shoes upon his feet and in the thick
snow his toes were red raw.
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They came to the camp gates and without a word the guards opened
them and allowed the two to leave. Myriam felt slightly odd being
allowed to leave the place that had been her prison for a year and she
wondered where the boy was taking her.
They came to the train platform she had said goodbye to her mother
and brother at only a few months earlier; Myriam looked towards the
trees in the distance and saw thick white smoke rising.
Her heart sank as she remembered the last sight she had of Oscar, her
brother, being dragged away with the other women and children. The
shoeless boy then turned, took her hand and led her across the railway
lines.
It was only after crossing the lines that she saw a small red brick
house with windows and a chimney on the other side of the lines. It
stood alone next to a wire fence and reminded her of the farm her
family once owned in Kracow.
That seemed a long time ago, she remembered the cow they kept in an
outhouse and the chickens she used to feed. This had been before her
father had died and Mother and Oscar moved with her to Warsaw.
Mother had thought the move would lead to a better life for them. In
the city she may have got work, even training for some skill; but all
that had changed once the Germans came.
When they got to the house the boy opened the back door and allowed
them entry, it was so warm inside the kitchen beyond she felt the hairs
on the back of her neck stand on end. It was the first time in twelve
months that she actually felt warm.
Oh, thats better. The boy said as he walked to a stove and rubbed
his feet. Well, come in and close that door. He said looking at
Myriam. Theres some coffee in that pot if you want some.
What? Myriam replied. Real coffee?
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The boy sighed and shook his head. He went to the coffee pot and
poured her a steaming drink into an old glass before sitting on a chair
next to the stove.
Its lovely and warm here, isnt it?
Like heaven. Myriam replied warming her hands by the stove.
The Captains wife is ill. The boy continued. She used to cook for
him but shes gone back to Berlin; she hated this place. So, youll
have to make him breakfast and a dinner each day. Can you do that?
Has he food? Myriam asked looking slightly confused. She had
eaten so little herself over the past twelve months it hadnt occurred to
her that others actually still ate well.
Nothing special, but its what he likes. The boy ran his fingers
through his thick dark hair and flashed those deep blue eyes at her.
My name is Sasha, Sasha Romanov. How very nice to meet you. He
said in a formal tone trying to suppress his thick Russian accent.
He held out his hand and kissed hers when she did the same.
I am Myriam Wolanska. She replied with an awkward smile.
Polish? He asked.
Yes, from Kracow.
Oh. He rubbed his hands together and then looked at her with a half
smile.
Im Russian. I was picked up in 1942 and brought here a few months
later. I have friends in the Russian sector of the camp, theyre
soldiers.
Really? Myriam replied sipping on the coffee and devouring its
flavours. I did not even know Russians were here.
They keep all the races apart. Sasha replied. He smiled a friendly
reassuring grin that made her feel warm.
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They have Jews in one place, Gypsies in another, Russian soldiers

over the back. Even deviants are sent here; not that Ive seen any of
them but Ive been told. I know this because I have the run of the
camp now and people tell me things.
Really. Myriam replied amazed by the young boys confidence.
Are you a soldier?
Not yet. The boy replied. But one day I will fight. Ive done so
already, I fought one of the Gypsy boys. He was going to stab the
captain and I got him.
What do you mean? Myriam asked.
You know. Sasha replied showing off a little and acting out the
scene for her.
I grabbed the bastard and when the captain saw what was going on,
bang, he shot the boy right here between the eyes; pop, just like that.
Why not let him kill the German? I would have. Myriam replied
sucking air between her teeth.
I would have helped him to stab the Nazi, all Germans are murdering
bastards; I know see, my friend told me.
Thats where we are different. Sasha smiled. I wanted a better time
while I was here. I was wondering what I could do to get into the
guards good books. Thats when it happened. I couldnt have planned
it better.
Oh. She replied looking at the floor with a sad expression.
Dont get me wrong. Sasha continued. One day I will kill this
Captain bastard, but it will be on a day that suits me. Till then I will
run errands and eat his food. It has to be better than being in the
camp.
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He stood and opened a nearby cupboard, inside Myriam saw a shelf

full of pans, loose vegetables, a chicken and some fruit.
Do you want an Orange? Sasha smiled throwing one towards her.
Wow. Myriam smiled. I really have gone to heaven.
She greedily peeled the fruit and gorged herself upon a piece, smiling
at her new friend with juice running down her chin.
Well, Sasha said softly. Its hell really, but if we want to survive
the war we must make a better way for ourselves. No-one else will
help us, were on our own.
This is so good. Myriam smiled.
You look nice when you smile. Sasha said reaching out and
touching her chin. The captain said you must bath before he meets
you later.
Bath? Myriam replied, her eyes widened and she looked awkward.
What, here?
Dont worry. Sasha laughed. I will fill the tin bath from the copper
over there and pull a curtain round. You will have some privacy.
That sounds heavenly. Myriam replied. Are you sure it will be
okay?
He must like you, to bring you here to this house, I mean. Sasha
replied taking his seat and sitting on it backwards. He used the upright
rear of the chair as an armrest and looked at her intensely.
These Germans are a strange bunch, one day they want to kill you
the next they want to be your friend. I am just waiting, as soon as the
red army is just over the hill, bosh I will kill them all.
I will help you. Myriam replied.
Good. Sasha smiled. We both have something to look forwards
too.
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They both chuckled.

Later that evening, as the sun set outside and the snow began to fall in
a thick white curtain, Myriam wrapped a towel around her damp hair
and joined Sasha by the stove again.
That was lovely. She sighed rubbing her hair with the towel. She
had used another to wrap around her body and noticed Sasha glancing
at her surreptitiously. He thought she wouldnt notice.
Its funny. She smiled.
What is? Sasha asked looking across the darkened room into her
deep brown eyes.
How, having a bath can make you feel human again. She said
slowly.
Her thoughts went back to a time before the war, how her mother used
to fill the tin bath they had on their farm. It was laid out next to an
open fire on cold winter evenings and one by one the family would
get into the steaming water and use home-made soap to wash away
the dirt. It seemed almost like a dream, or someone elses life, almost
like someone elses memories.
You are very pretty. Sasha said softly. He looked at her bare
shoulders and saw steam rising in fluffy fronds from her
Goosebumps.
The curve of her thin neck and her thick shoulder-length hair as it fell
out of the damp towel brought something, some feeling he had lost,
back alive within him. The teenage boy hed forgotten.
Thank you. She smiled.
An awkward silence fell across the room and only the sound of a train
backing into the sidings outside could be heard above the cracking of
the burning wood in the stove. Myriam glanced towards the kitchen
window and bit her lip.
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What time do the trains stop arriving? She asked. Sasha stood and
went to the window. He saw the ice covered train and could just make
out shadows of guards walking on the other side. Their tall shadows
creeping under the train wheels and stretching across the track. The
sound of human misery inside each truck echoed out over the snow.
This will be the last tonight. He replied glumly.
They never unload after dark so they will be out there all night. The
poor people in the trucks.
All night? She said with a shocked expression. In this cold, it will
kill them.
Precisely. Sasha sighed. Thats what the Captains wife hated,
hearing the screams, the pleading of people dying. It made her ill.
After a short pause he went to a drawer and pulled it open. Inside
were neatly folded aprons and kitchen clothes. He took out a long
white jacket with buttons down the front and an apron which he
tossed across the kitchen to her.
Put these on. He said coming back to his chair by the stove. The
captain will be back shortly and he will want to see you.
What shall I cook for him? She asked with a slight sense of panic in
her voice. Ive not thought about it, I dont even know what is here
too cook.
Dont worry tonight. Sasha smiled. There is some lamb stew in the
pantry. It just needs warming and he will have some of that with
bread.
Lamb stew? She said licking her lips. What, real stew, with meat.
Not just bones?
No bones. Sasha giggled. They keep the bones to make the
prisoners food. The guards and capos all get proper meat, us too. Its
nice, I had some last night.
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I am getting hungry just thinking about it. Myriam said with a sigh.
Suddenly a bell rang out across from over the kitchen door. For a
moment she and Sasha froze to the spot. His eyes widened and he
looked at her intensely.
Get dressed. He said with an urgent tone. Its the captain.
He averted his eyes while she let the towel that was wrapped around
her body fall to the ground. Then she quickly pulled on the white
house-coat, did up the buttons, and wrapped the apron around her
waist.
Myriam then went to the mirror hanging next to the window and
combed her hair back over her head and tied it loosely in a pony-tail
behind. She looked down at her bare feet and then towards Sasha.
Here. He said tossing a pair of thin, leather slippers towards her.
These are mine but they may fit you.
Why didnt you wear these earlier? She asked remembering how
cold his feet were when he collected her.
I wanted to keep them dry. He replied with a crooked smile. Hurry,
he doesnt like to wait.
Sorry. Myriam smiled as she slipped them onto her feet. Ill look
after them for you.
Dont worry. Sasha said as he opened the kitchen door under the bell
and led her to a narrow staircase. Up there, on the right.
Myriam nervously stepped up to the landing on the floor above and
found herself in a narrow hall. The street door was on her left and a
hall table with a coat hook was placed next to it.
She took note of the grey/green overcoat which was hanging on one
of the hooks next to a peeked cap. Below these a pair of muddy boots
had been left out to dry. Myriam stepped down the hall and found a
door on her left which she tapped on softly.
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Come. A voice said from within.

She felt her fingers shaking as she twisted the handle and swung the
door open. Inside was a white painted room, bare except for a sturdy
table and four oak chairs; the only light to blaze through the room was
from a flickering fire burning in a grate. Sitting, with his back to a
narrow bay window, the Haupscharfuhrer faced her.
His hair looked lighter and his skin more youthful in the light of the
fire and even, she thought, the little moustache he wore looked soft
and downy. His left arm stretched limply across the table and the slow
drumming from his finger-tips gave an indication of his inner tension.
Close the door and step closer. He said in a deep voice, in Polish
with a distinctive German accent, she thought. Although the dialect,
the hard verbs, his guttural R sounds, were harsh and frightened her a
little, she put this to one side and took three steps towards him.
A gust of wind came down the chimney and the door slammed by its
own momentous collision with the doorframe. Myriam was startled
by the loud band and went rigid, from toe to head and back again.
This made him smile and broke the tension between the two; if only
for a moment.
You scrub up well. The captain smiled
...my name is Hauptscharfuhrer Haupman. Captain Haupman. You
will call me Sir or Captain from now on.
Yes, Sir.
He began looking intently at her hair, her uniform, her eyes and then
her small breasts under the thin apron before his gaze fell to the mens
slippers covering her feet.
Ask Sasha to get you a pair of house slippers. He smiled and
stroked his chin and sank back into the chair drinking in the picture.
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She was younger, he thought, than the age recorded on her record;
with a strong face and intelligent look in her eyes.
He wondered if she was what he needed or if hed been drawn to her
beauty. He sighed and thought hed give her a trial and see how she
cooked before deciding whether to keep her of not.
Thank you. Myriam replied, feeling shy in the spotlight of his gaze.
Theres some mutton, cooked? The captain asked, answering
himself after a pause.
Of course there is. Bring some up when you have warmed a bowl.
Get Sasha to show you where the bread is kept, he knows how I want
it. Oh, coffee. I want my coffee hot. He stopped smiling and looked
blankly towards her. After a short pause he frowned and added.
That will be all. Thank you
Myriam stood patiently waiting upon his next word, hesitantly as
silence fell between them both. It seemed eternal, almost infinite,
although just a few seconds had ticked; she was unsure what to do
next.
When I say, That will be all. The captain added suddenly glaring at
her.
It usually means get lost.
Get lost? She replied, her mind went blank and her mouth fell open.
The phrase seemed familiar but she had to think about it for a moment
before he lifted his arm and started to shoo her away. It was like she
was a troublesome fly that had flown in through an open window.
Shoo! he gestured as the glair became a faint smile. They both
realised the ridiculousness of the situation and she backed out,
giggling nervously, through the door that only moments before had
slammed their introduction.
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Myriam smiled politely at the floor, and exited the room before
finding herself in the cold hall again. Shivering with nerves she took a
moment to calm down.
She quickly found the stairs and went down to join Sasha in the
kitchen again. He was waiting by the stove facing the door when she
walked back into the room.
How was he? Sasha asked with a small smile. He knew exactly how
the captain would have been, Sasha thought to himself, but it was
polite to ask anyway and he tried hard pretending to be interested.
I think he wants me to warm a bowl of mutton soup? Myriam
replied with a shrug. ...With bread.
And coffee? Sasha added. I always do that last, so its hot when I
take it up to him. He likes it very hot.
Yes. Myriam replied. She looked down towards the slippers and
used her toes to take them off.
Can you get a pair made for me? The captain said it was okay.
Of course. Sasha replied. It had taken him three months before the
captain said he could get his prized leather slippers, Sasha
remembered, and he wondered what else the captain would want from
the girl. He had a feeling he wouldnt have to wait long to find out.
I want a strap, at the back... Myriam added with a cheeky smile.
...will that be okay?
In gold, with silver bells, perhaps? Sasha laughed. Let me show
you the pantry, if you get his food done quickly its out of the way; we
can relax a little. Okay. Slippers tomorrow, food tonight, you
understand dont you?
Has the slipper shop closed? She giggled.
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Thats right. Sasha laughed. The shops closed and the little man
has gone home to bed.
They both laughed as he led her barefooted across the room. Sasha
opened another door off the kitchen and Myriam stepped into a larger
anti-room. Shelved from floor to ceiling and stocked mostly with
tinned, army rationed goods.
She saw containers of fresh foods, some in preparation while next to
them sat bowels of cooked meats, fish and broth. Each stored neatly
waiting to be called into service to satisfy the wants of the captain,
and of course, his staff.
Myriam glanced at the floor in a far corner and saw a rat trap, next to
it was a small yellow cylinder fitted with a tight lid and decorated
with the legend Zyclone B, POISON. It held her interest and she
wondered where she had heard that word before.
This is where the bread is kept. Sasha said opening a small wooden
container and taking out a loaf of Polish bread. Bring that pot. He
said nodding towards a blue tureen.
Myriam picked it up and followed him back to the stove. The boy
took a carving board from the shelf next to the window and a knife
from the drawer as she placed the tureen on one of the stoves hot
plates.
Will this explode? Myriam asked. Her face broke into a bright smile
that lit the room up and made Sasha want to look closer at her lips and
eyes. The china, porcelain, glass or whatever it is, it wont crack on
the heat I hope?
Its an enamelled tin. Sasha replied cutting thick slices of bread and
spreading butter on each one liberally. So its okay. He couldnt
help notice the shape of her breasts under the white housecoat.
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The apron pulled her waist in a certain way and whenever she turned
towards him, the teenage boy felt the blood in his veins run thick and
slow. He cut a slice of buttered bread in half and offered a piece to
her.
Thank you. Myriam replied. She savoured the slice of fresh bread,
remembering that this was how bread was supposed to taste. Not like
the hard, sawdust and flour, bricks of bread they got in the camp.
Bread you could only digest if you let it soak the thin soup that the
prisoners got each day. This was totally different, just like she
remembered her mother used to bake..
You should stir that. Sasha said nodding at the tureen.
Oh, thanks. Myriam replied taking the lid off and using a large
spoon gave it a slow stir.
The captains wife cooked that. Sasha said as he slid up beside her.
Placing his body close to hers the boy reached out and laid a hand
over the one she held the wooden spoon in. It smells so good.
Yes. Myriam replied feeling the boys breath on the back of her
neck. It does.
Chapter 4
Later that evening she was washing the dishes and looking out the
kitchen window towards the parked train. It was slowly becoming
covered in a film of ice and snow, she looked towards one of the small
slatted windows of which each cattle truck had at least one, through
squinted eyes and the soft blur of falling snow.
Falling so slowly without even the slightest breeze to fault its
trajectory, the simple flakes of white snow almost sparkled like small
diamonds; Myriam thought she saw dirty fingers clutching through
the window grills.
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Bloodied finger tips, stiff with frost, stabbing through the wood. The
only reminder that the trucks contained tightly packed, exhausted
human beings.
Myriam remembered her own journey in a similar cattle truck and
how her mother stood in front of her and Oscar, protecting them from
the crush of the other adults crammed around them. She had to look
away.
Myriam thought back to the way the captain had looked at her when
she served him the mutton soup, bread and hot coffee, barefooted,
earlier that evening.
She had glanced down to his groin to see if he needed a napkin and
her eyes lingered for a moment too long upon his grey/green uniform
trousers. Their eyes met in the middle of this pregnant pause and once
again they both giggled.
It seemed so disrespectful when people, hundreds of them, were
dyeing just a few feet away just outside the window. Yet, she thought,
that train may as well have been on the moon.
She could do nothing for them, she did not want to risk anything that
might get her put back in the main camp, so she looked away and
tried to get them out of her thoughts.
Are you okay? Sasha asked as he tidied up around the stove putting
the clean dishes away. You seem quiet, whats wrong?
Its them. Myriam replied looking back through the kitchen
window. ...Isnt there anything we can do?
I would take them water if it were hot outside... Sasha replied.
...Or food if they were hungry, but with the cold, you just have to
pray that they get through it. The Arabs have a saying, Enshala; it
means God willing. Who will live is in Gods hands.
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She remembered back to her journey to the camp with mother and
Oscar. Packed in, with so many people, their body heat sometimes
seemed hotter than a bright fire. How thirsty she had been and how
she prayed for someone to take pity on her and give her water; no one
did.
Then again, she could remember being as cold, cold like the deep
ocean. At times, in the middle of those long dark nights, on that long
train journey it could be freezing.
Do you believe in God? Myriam asked softly. The boy looked
across the room and pursed his lips.
I dont. Myriam added. How can a god exist when he allows this
to happen?
She remembered how she and Helena would start work in the camp.
In that place they called Canada, in the early mornings the breath
would freeze on their lips and, because one side was opened to the
elements, everyones fingers got frostbite to varying degrees.
Myriam remembered having to blow and rub and beat and pocket her
hands, then blow and rub again. All that effort was intended to lift the
digits out of heat poverty and make them glow with warmth but it
failed to make it on both counts.
The action just got their stiff little fingers ready to open cases and
search through peoples private belongings. Sometimes, in quiet
prayer, she would ask the owners of the cases to excuse her and then
be respectful of the items she found.
Especially if she found photographs right away, pictures which told
her, who the cases belonged to; taken in brighter times.
She was silently excusing her behaviour to the ghosts that owned the
luggage, under her breath, without anyone else being aware. Myriam
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whispered prayers for the dead and sometimes cried after finding
sentimental items.
A wedding photograph, private letters, the little things people kept to
remind them of others. A childs first pair of boots, made from pink
silk, with tasselled laces.
The cold seemed insignificant now when she thought back to that
time. Each suitcase was a person, each shirt, or pair of pants, each
dress or jacket belonged to someone.
Each photograph was a life now lost. Each lock of hair, picture of a
young mother, or young couples kissing by the long beach meant
something to someone. Those faded pictures of couples holding hands
after a happy event. Babies Brit or Bar Mitzvah; drinks with friends.
The family Torah.
Which were all just dropped to the floor to be trod into dirt. History
stamped under the feet of scavengers and their captors; God had
looked away, she thought, and soon her prayers had become curses.
Insults to an uninterested saviour and with time even this seemed
unreal; like she was speaking to spectres.
I will make you a bed up. Sasha said after a while. We have a
clean straw mattress. You will have to be up early to take him coffee.
Really? Myriam asked stepping towards the stove and trying to
block out what was happening right outside the window. What
time?
Six thirty. Sasha laughed. Always six thirty.
He made up two beds on the floor near the stove, two straw
mattresses with cotton quilts stuffed with hay. Myriam pulled her quilt
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over her and tried to close her eyes but found it difficult to blot out
what was happening outside.
She looked at the shadows being cast across the ceiling from the harsh
security lights that followed the barbed wire around the camp.
Occasionally she thought she could hear, above the hooting owls, the
baying of distant horses, the screaming bats; above the sound of
hissing engines, Myriam thought she heard the faint sound of a
woman praying.
It was like a song to the stars, as the white smoke rose from the
furnace just beyond the clump of trees, she imagined it serenaded the
birth of a new sun. A glittering relic set in the black sky to remind an
uncaring world of their suffering.
Wake up. A voice said snapping her from the dream she thought she
was having. When she opened her eyes the memory of her dream
disappeared and she saw Sasha, his hair standing on end, looking
down at her.
Its time to get up.
The kitchen was still dark and outside fresh snow had piled high
against the railway trucks, against the window sill and frost covered
the glass. His breath froze into a thick white steam as Sasha spoke to
her.
Ive put his coffee on.
Oh, thank you. Myriam replied rubbing the sleep from her eyes.
He just has coffee and bread. Sasha added pulling his trousers up
over a pair of long-johns. He quickly pulled a woollen jersey over his
shirt and opened the small door on the stove.
Throwing fresh wood into the burner he glanced over towards her as
Myriam got up and washed in the water by the sink.
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I have to make the fire in the dining room... Sasha said as he

collected more wood and went to the kitchen door.
...when you are ready, put coffee on the trey with that bread, over
there. Make sure its hot; his coffee has to be hot.
Myriam glanced at the table and saw he had set out a trey with jams
and bread, a cup and saucer was laid in the centre of the trey and the
coffee pot was heating on the stove.
Where shall I take it? She asked as Sasha left the room to go about
his other morning chores.
Take it to his bedroom. He said from the stairwell on the other side
of the kitchen door. ...Up the stairs on the right.
Myriam combed her hair and adjusted her housecoat before tying
another apron around her waist. Then she put the coffee pot on the
trey and went up to the main part of the house carefully balancing
everything; she wanted to make a good impression by not spilling
anything.
She saw his cap and coat were still on the hook by the door and as she
walked past it, to get to the upper stairwell, she noticed a deaths head
emblem; in silver, on the front of the peeked cap.
She stepped gingerly up to the floor above and found a door on the
right. Myriam knocked softly and waited. After a short pause she
heard the captain telling her to enter.
Good morning. Sir. Myriam said entering the room and taking the
trey to the bed. She made sure the door closed quietly not wanting to
cause another loud bang. Letting the wind slam the door closed
noisily once can be amusing but doing it twice would appear sloppy.
This is something she did not want him to think; Myriam did not want
to cause anything that may end up with her back in the camp or
worse.
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Turn on that lamp, please. The captain said sitting up and pulling
the trey to his lap. She did as asked and the room was flooded with a
dim, yellow glow. The captain took a sip from the coffee and looked
at the girl. Myriam waited nervously for him to dismiss her but he
said nothing. After a pause that felt eternal he looked at the wardrobe
and asked with a boyish grin.
Is there a clean shirt in there?
Myriam opened the wardrobe door and saw a row of neatly ironed
shirts all hung on individual hangers. Along with the shirts she saw
the black dress uniform of a SS officer and she felt a shudder go
through her spine. It reminded her of the men who had told them to
leave their Warsaw flat and go to the ghetto.
She pulled out a shirt and showed it to the captain.
Do you like this one? She asked.
Yes. He replied looking blankly into space. Make sure there are
clean shirts for me every day, thank you.
Will that be all, Sir? Myriam asked as the captain put the trey to one
side and threw back the quilt. He was wearing only a pair of grey
shorts and she looked at his legs, the thick thighs, and soft blond
down which covered them. He became aware of her interest and stood
to give her a good look at his strong German body while he pulled the
shirt over his vest.
I will be back at lunchtime. The captain said with a yawn; glancing
briefly out the window.
It looks especially cold so have something hot for me, Sasha will
know what I like.
Yes Sir. She replied. Myriam reached across the bed and took the
trey to the bedroom door. As she exited the room she heard the
captain muse under his breath.
Time to unload more stinking cargo.
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As she went back to the kitchen she thought about this phrase and it
occurred to her that this was his way of dealing with the industrial
murder over which he managed each day.
If the people on the train became just goods or cargo instead of human
beings he had nothing to feel guilty about; it was no longer murder
but efficient delivering and sorting of produce. The thought made her
shake her head and frown; it seemed so inhuman.
When she was washing the dishes later Myriam looked out across the
snow drifts and noticed the train was gone. She saw a group of people
queuing up to give their names and ages to the SS officer in front and
in the distance another group, of women and young children, followed
a cart towards the clump of trees in the distance.
Who is that? Myriam asked as Sasha joined her. He looked out and
saw the SS officer at the front of the queue about who she inquired.
Sasha shook his head and huffed loudly.
Thats Hoss. He replied shaking his fist at the window furtively.
Hes the camp commandant. Hes someone Id really like to stab
hard. You see that scar on his face; it makes him look mean. Id like to
put another one down the other side and then see how mean he really
is.
He scares me? Myriam said, she remembered her first day at the
camp and it was the same man who had spoken to the queue that day.
He was the one who had allocated her to Canada and so, in an odd
way, was responsible for her working in the house. Who is the
officer by the gate?
Sasha looked at the young officer in his neat and clean black dress
uniform, his black leather gloves and peeked cap. Sasha glared at the
mans sly eyes, his superior attitude and this made his blood run cold.
That is Mengela. Sasha said through gritted teeth.
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They say he is a doctor. If that is true then the world really is upside
down.
What do you mean? Myriam replied drying her hands and looking
at him with an inquisitive expression. I dont understand.
Doctors. Sasha said walking back to the stove and taking his usual
seat.
Doctors cure people. They care for people. Doctors should take in
the sick and look after them.
Yes? Myriam said sitting beside him. Sasha took a cigarette packet
from his breast pocket and offered her one. Myriam smirked, it was
the first time she had seen him smoke and the first time in months she
had seen a prisoner smoking cigarettes. Hes a doctor, I get it.
No! Sasha said sharply. He lit a cigarette and blew the smoke above
her head. Hes a doctor who kills. More specifically he kills children.
I have seen it with my own eyes, the man is a monster. He is the sort
of monster children need to be afraid of, very afraid.
He kills children? She said softly. ..What children?
Jewish children, particularly twins. Sasha replied softly.
He is doing some work on genetic disease or so he says. He infects
one twin with some horrible disease and then kills both.
He opens them up and looks at the differences between the two. Its a
real horror story, scary stuff; nightmarish. How that man can sleep at
night I do not know.
Sasha shook his head and took a deep draw from his cigarette before
blowing the smoke into the air again.
Let me try. Myriam said reaching for the cigarette. Sasha passed it
to her and waited while she smoked a couple of puffs. She began to
cough loudly and gave the cigarette back to him.
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I know how; how he can sleep at night Myriam announced after her
throat cleared. Its because they dont think of us as human. They
think we are animals and that gives them the right to slaughter us; just
like animals are slaughtered on the farm.
Yes youre right. Sasha agreed. This camp is just a huge slaughter
house.
They both looked towards the stove and thought their own daydreams
for a while. Myriam remembered her mother and brother, how little
Oscar had turned, doffed his cap and waved just moments before
walking innocently towards his murder under the small group of trees
in the distance.
To that place where they were going to be gassed, that secret place,
hidden in the trees. She hoped it was quick, that they didnt suffer, and
she was glad that he died with their mother beside him.
He takes the twins when they get off the trains. Sasha added.
Thats why you see him lingering in the background when a train has
come; lingering like a bad smell.
He is looking through the crowd, looking to see if any twins have
arrived, meat for him to cut up and examine. The mans a fucking
beast.
Myriam didnt hear the words as she was remembering her mother
and how, when she was Oscars age, she would stroke her hair and
sing to her.
Her mothers hands were so soft and tender; her fingers would stroke
her head and the world would seem a beautiful place. Myriam hoped
Oscar had that feeling when they closed the door to the gas chamber
and that her mothers soft fingers had soothed him, that the last thing
he heard was her beautiful voice singing.
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Chapter 5
A few weeks later Myriam made a pack of meat, pastry and bread and
folded it up neatly into a piece of cloth. Sasha stood by the kitchen
table expectantly as she tied the cloth with a small knot.
You know where they cross to their barrack?
Yes. Sasha sighed. How many more times must you say?
It is dark. She continued. So the guard should not see you pass it to
her, make sure she knows its from me.
Myriam. Sasha said taking the small parcel of food and putting it
into his jacket pocket.
Who else would be passing food to your friend?
Be careful. She said escorting Sasha to the kitchen door. Opening it
they both saw the wind was blowing the snow into a vortex of ice and
water. A cold chill rushed into the kitchen making them both freeze
instantly.
Normally at this time of the day Sasha would be in the house for the
evening and Myriam felt guilty about sending him out again;
especially in such awful weather.
Sasha was glad to do this for her. He was able to steal a pair of boots
recently which fitted him. This made going out easier as he didnt
think his feet would last another cold month without shoes.
Helena and the other women from Canada left the corrugated shelter
just after dusk. They were escorted back to the womans barracks by
two guards, one in front and one in the rear, who battled against the
cold like their prisoners.
Sasha knew the guards could not stop him from walking through the
centre of the group of women and, if he was quick, would be able to
pass Helena the food easily.
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Myriam had told him she was easy to see, being one of the younger
women and certainly the tallest and proudest of the bunch. She
watched him go, pass through the gate without any problems and
onward into the main camp. She closed the kitchen door and was
going back to her chores when the upstairs bell rang.
This was now a familiar part of the day and did not fill her with dread
like it used to. She straightened her house coat and went to the upper
dining room where she knew the captain spent the early part of the
evening. After tapping on the door he called her to enter.
Myriam? The captain said, sitting beside the table, dressed in his
grey/green day uniform and boots. She saw his peeked cap on the
table next to a pair of black leather gloves and thought that he must
have just come home quickly and intended to go out again. Otherwise
his boots and hat would have been left by the main door.
Yes Sir?
We are having an important cargo delivered tonight. He said
looking at her expressionless. He took a packet of cigarettes from his
breast pocket and lit one up while deep in thought. Eventually he
glanced up and said:
I am unsure what time the cargo will be delivered so I want to eat
early.
Yes Sir. She replied wondering if this was all he wanted.
The captain blew smoke into the air and paused for a moment as he
collected his thoughts. Myriam remembered what was in the pantry
and decided to tell him so she could get this out the way and back to
the kitchen for when Sasha returned.
We have cooked chicken, Myriam stated. I could make some
vegetables to go with it?
Yes, that sounds good. He replied looking at her with a strange
expression she had never seen before. It was a furtive look,
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mischievous and coy, as if he wanted to say something but was unsure

if it would be appropriate to do so.
Please have it ready within the hour. He said.
She turned to leave when he cleared his throat. He usually wanted her
to go quickly but tonight gave the impression that he was not finished
with her so she lingered momentarily before taking her first step
toward the door.
I have not told you to go yet. He said firmly.
Sir.
Myriam turned and looked at him, put her shoulders back and pursed
her lips, they had both seen the allied aeroplanes flying overhead
recently and, only a few days before, the chemical plant which the
camp serviced with labour had been bombed.
This had given all the prisoners a sense that the war was soon to be
over and there was hope that this nightmare would end. She looked
across the room and knew that the Germans were aware of this too.
Perhaps he wanted to discuss this with her, she thought, or perhaps it
was something about the cargo he was expecting.
You are Polish, yes? The captain asked eventually. It was a question
which threw her off balance and quite unexpected. She looked down
at him and their eyes met in that space between the door and the
dining room table.
Yes Sir. She replied. The captain had never asked her anything
about herself in the past. This new inquisitiveness made her feel
uneasy.
What do Poles like to eat? The captain asked with a small smile.
Pardon? Myriam said completely disarmed by the question.
She did not know whether this was a trick or what. Did he know about
the food she was going to smuggle into the camp or did he really have
an interest in her diet.
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Your food... He continued. ...Christmas is coming up and I thought

maybe you would like to cook something familiar.
Jews do not celebrate Christmas. She replied sullenly.
Whatever. He huffed with a shrug. What do Poles cook when they
have a special meal?
Well... She replied thinking hard about what her mother would
make if there were people coming to visit. It was hard for her to
remember any other time but wartime and the austerity which
invariably followed.
As this was the case the only meal she could think of instantly was
her mothers speciality when times were hard.
Bigoss is something we do on special occasions, its not necessarily
a Jewish dish.
Yes. The captain replied sucking on his cigarette and looking
intensely through the thin smoke towards her.
I am not interested in Jewish food, the captain added. Just Polish.
Bigoss, Sir. She said enthusiastically.
Its cabbage and sausage, with herbs and spices, its very nice. Sir.
Get Sasha to collect what you need. The captain replied. He tapped
anxiously on the table and sucked breath through his clenched teeth.
Bigoss, you say?
Yes, Sir.
Then you will make it for us. He took another puff on the cigarette
and frowned a little. That will be all.
As she left the room she heard the captain shout after her something
about his lunch within the hour and so made this her first task when
returning to the kitchen.
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Myriam took the half eaten chicken from the pantry and sliced off
four thick pieces of meat. Then she peeled some potatoes and put
them on the stove to boil. There was some cooked cabbage in the
pantry and she put it in a sieve to warm in the steam above the
potatoes.
When it was ready she put it on a trey with some utensils and took the
meal up to the dining room. Upon entering she saw the captain was
not alone. Two other SS officers sat with him and they fell into silence
as the door closed behind her.
I am sorry for not knocking. Myriam said placing the trey of food
on the table in front of the captain. She saw one of the other men was
the camp commandant, Hoss, he was easily recognised by the scar
running under his left eye. The other officer was a stranger and she
did not recall seeing him at the camp before.
Perhaps, she wondered, he worked in an area she had not been to. The
men were drinking rum from a bottle in the centre of the table and
each had a half filled glass set before them.
The stranger looked at her intently before saying something under his
breath in German. It sounded like a crude sexual remark which she
failed to understand but thought it was significant that Hoss, but not
the captain, laughed at this.
Tell me. Hoss asked in Polish with a thick German accent. All three
men looked at her and Myriam felt very small, vulnerable and weak
for a moment.
Sir? She said looking into Hoss eyes.
Are you happy here?
Hoss looked across the table towards the strange SS officer and
smirked. Then he turned his attention to her with a greedy look in his
eyes.
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Happy Sir? Myriam replied. She wanted to tell him that he was a
vile animal, that what he oversaw at this death factory was an insult to
mankind and to God.
She would have liked to have reached into the leather holster that
hung at his waist and used the gun there to kill all three of them.
Instead she smiled softly and nodded.
I am very happy, Sir.
The three SS officers spoke in German to congratulate themselves on
what a good job they had done, she thought, although in reality she
had no idea what theyd said.
Only the captain did not smile, he agreed with his friends with a
vacant, empty look on his face. The sort of look that told her he was
sorry for allowing them to humiliate her in that way.
Will that be all, Sir? Myriam asked bowing her head slightly.
Thank you. The captain replied as he began to eat.
She saw Hoss pour each of them another drink from the very nearly
empty rum bottle as she left the room and she found herself slumping
against the door outside as soon as she had exited.
There was something about the three men which seemed different.
They looked on edge, uneasy. It was as if they no longer believed,
except when they drank strong alcohol, that they ruled the world.
It was, she thought, as if they worried about the future in the same
way the people they held captive, their prisoners, did. Worried that
today, this day, no matter how full of pain and horror it was, may be
their last day alive and so should be enjoyed for what little life it
offered.
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When she returned to the kitchen Sasha was warming himself by the
stove. He had taken his jacket off and snow was melting on the toes of
the boots he wore; making small puddles on the flagstones.
Where have you been? He asked as she joined him. I was
worried.
The captain wanted his food early. She replied sitting next to the
stove and warming herself in the glow coming from the firebox.
Hes up there with the commandant and some other Nazi officer.
Are they drunk? Sasha asked. This surprised her, but Sasha had a
way of saying things that surprised her, he may have been a boy but
he knew the captain better than anyone, perhaps even the captains
own wife.
How did you know?
They always drink when that are working late. He sighed. They
have a train coming in from Warsaw later.
A special cargo, he said. Myriam looked across the kitchen towards
the window and saw the thick white snow falling heavily outside.
Did it go okay with Helena?
Im here arent I? Sasha laughed. Id be in lock-up if Id been
caught.
You recognised her then?
Tall, thin, younger and proud; you said? He pulled a wide smile and
winked at her. There was only one person that could be her. She
knew at once to take the parcel and hide it. The guards saw nothing.
Good. Myriam replied. She thought about Helena and wondered if
she was okay, feeling a little guilty that there they were warm and
well fed while just a few hundred yards away her friend was freezing
in that dirty, death-riddled, stinking barrack.
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You did what you could for your friend. Sasha said placing his arm
across her shoulder. It was as if he knew what was going on in her
mind before she even did.
She will be enjoying meat and bread tonight and thanking you in her
dreams.
Do you think so? Myriam asked getting closer to Sasha in the
shadows that danced around them; cast by the stoves firebox. It was
cosy and comforting for her to feel his body next to her, the sound of
his heartbeat in her ear; his arm across her shoulders.
The sound of a train shunting into the sidings outside the house drew
their attention and they got up and went to the window. They could
see the smoke already rising in the distance as the furnaces were lit by
the sondercommando.
Ready to take in this new delivery of half dead human beings and
cook them to ashes; a shiver went down Myriams back thinking
about their fate.
Long shadows crept under the train trucks as the passengers were told
to get out and stand on the platform. Sasha and Myriam could only
see the shadows under the trucks as the camp spot lights lit up the
scene there and they both imagined what was happening beyond the
trucks out of view.
Its a small train. Sasha said as he counted the trucks attached to the
engine. Only eight carriages. Normally there are twenty or so.
What does that mean? Myriam asked feeling Sashas hand reach
behind her and pull her towards him.
Im not sure.
Suddenly the train started to huff and puff as steam was passed
through its pistons and it chugged loudly into reverse. The train
slowly revealed the platform beyond and Myriam stood on tip toes to
survey the scene. She saw Hoss addressing a small group of women,
next to them were a huddled group of children.
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A cart was waiting for the two eldest, a grey haired grandmother and
an invalid with one leg to climb aboard. Two uniformed prisoners
were waiting to pull the cart.
Sondercommando. Sasha sighed nodding at the two prisoners who
were to pull the cart. They are prisoners who work only in the gas
chambers and nowhere else.
Myriam saw a SS officer she did not recognise standing just behind
Hoss near the camp gate. He was talking to Mengela and both men
seemed happy about something.
They work over there, beyond the trees. Sasha said softly. The
sondercommando.
What do they do in the gas chambers? Myriam asked and then
realising that she perhaps did not really want to know.
They get the people undressed, direct them into the gas room and
then after, they take the bodies to be burned.
How awful. She said softly.
Hes the man who puts the gas pellets in through the roof. Sasha
said nodding towards the officer who was talking to Mengela.
Hes the murderer. Only a German SS officer can pour the gas pellets
in; the sondercommando just clear up after him.
After Hoss had finished addressing the group of women they started
to say goodbye to the children on the platform. Some hugged and
cried; others blew kisses across the snowy platform while others just
buried their faces in hankie-chiefs and walked away leaving crying
toddlers on the platform behind them.
The two prisoners began to pull the cart and the weeping women
followed, towards the clearing behind the row of trees, towards the
rising smoke of the furnaces and their inevitable deaths.
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Mengela nodded towards the officer he had been talking to as this

murderer followed the weeping women. Mengela then joined Hoss
and held his arms out towards the lone group of children on the
platform.
He was calling them to him as if he were a good uncle, calling the
children into his arms.
I cant look anymore. Myriam said softly turning and finding
herself under Sashas arms, locked together they looked into each
others eyes. Sasha seemed hesitant before slowly kissing her gently.
Myriam knew what was happening but was unable or unwilling to
stop it. Then they were both on the floor tearing at each others
clothing.
Is this your sister, child? The doctor asked as two small girls were
led into the examination room. The little girls looked up at the man in
the black uniform, they felt shy, his toothy smile hid a darker intent
which made the girls feel uneasy.
Take this apple. The doctor said as a nurse led one of the young
girls outside. Dont be afraid, I wont hurt you.
Myriam felt Sashas fingers under the housecoat, ripping through the
thin briefs she had so carefully looked after, washed and dried every
other day since she had arrived; his fingers exploring her intimately.
Inject the enzyme into the optic nerve. Mengela whispered to his
assistant as he held the child down on the aluminium post-mortem
table, her kicking reverberating around the room. He stuffed a cloth
into the girls gaping mouth as the needle entered her eye.
With a gasp Sasha pushed with his groin and Myriam let out a tiny
squeal. The pain shot through her groin like electricity. It was so
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sharp, so deep and meaningful that a Myriam sighed as uncontrolled

pleasure filled up her body.
Quickly now. Mengela shouted as the young girl twisted this way
and that, her young face flushed with terror and pain.
Inject the Hydrogen Peroxide into her heart, now! The long needle
went through the childs panting ribs and after a moment of shock she
was still.
Okay. the doctor panted. Lets open her up and see what the
enzyme did, then well get the sister in here.
A simpering moan left Myriams lips like a fractured scream and
stayed suspended in the air between them for an eternity. Sweat had
made their hair wet and Sasha fell onto her panting wildly in her ear.
Rolling across the floor in each others arms, until at the foot of the
stove, he kissed her so gently Myriam felt like crying.
Thank you. She whispered in his ear.
For what? Sasha smiled looking into her dark eyes and seeing tears
collecting.
For making me feel something good today.
They lay there in the dark for a long time, hearing only the beating of
their hearts in their chests and the soft crack of wood burning in the
stove.
It was still and quiet in that place they had made their own, a place
where the horror outside the window could be ignored; if only for a
couple of breathless hours.
When Myriam woke the following morning it was still dark. Instead
of sleeping upon her own straw mattress alone they had slept together
and she peered in the dim light at his face before moving. He was so
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young, his beard had not started to grow and yet this boy had made
her feel like an adult for the first time.
He opened his pale blue eyes and smiled at her before reaching out
and pulling her lips down to meet his succulent mouth.
I need to get ready. Myriam whispered. She picked up her torn
panties and let out a frustrated huff before tossing them across the
room towards the bin.
I will get you another pair today. Sasha smiled. Silk, with a pair of
silk stockings.
Sure. She smiled with a raised eyebrow. Although this seemed
impossible Sasha had a way of surprising her and she eventually was
ready to believe him.
She wrapped a white housecoat around her shivering body and tied a
apron around her waist before going to the mirror and combing her
hair. She looked in the reflection and saw Sasha getting up.
His hard cock was standing on end as he pulled a shirt over his
shoulders; she hid a small smirk.
Then he started to put the beds away before announcing.
I will get them. He said joining her at the sink. You watch.
Myriam turned and gave him a small smile before bursting into
uncontrollable laughter.
Whats so funny? Sasha said taking a finger and rubbing his teeth
with cold water.
Them. She replied pointing at his testicles which were hanging
below the bottom of his shirt.
Do all men have droopy balls? She giggled.
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When theyre hot they do. He replied taking Myriam in his arms
and tickling her. Now whos laughing? he screamed as she laughed
and struggled to get away.
Stop. Myriam said with a note of urgency in her voice. I have to
take him his coffee.
Sasha let her get on with arranging the captains trey and put the
coffee pot on the stove to boil.
Be careful today. He said giving Myriam a coy look. Going into
that mans room with no knickers on could be asking for trouble.
Dont worry. She replied. He wont even know.
As the coffee pot heated she sat by the stove and did the buckle up on
the slippers Sasha had got her and he came up behind and touched her
neck softly.
Guess what? Myriam said looking back at Sasha. He wants me to
cook. He wants something Polish.
Polish? Sasha giggled. Give the bastard boot polish for his dinner
and see how he likes that. Id like to strangle him right now. I could
go and kill him without a second thought.
He placed his hands around Myriams throat and squeezed slowly
before she pushed him to one side.
Im being serious. She said firmly. I need you to get cabbage,
polish sausage and some herbs. You know, chives, garlic and all that.
I would like to stick a knife in his heart... Sasha spat continuing his
fantasy. ...and twist it.
Are all boys so bloodthirsty? She asked.
Yes. Sasha replied. Were all bloodthirsty with droopy balls.
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Chapter 6
You look different. The captain remarked as she laid the trey across
his bed. He was sitting up smoking a cigarette when she entered his
room and his eyes lingered on her for an unusual length of time before
he continued.
I was getting used to your nervousness, but now...
Nervous? Myriam sniffed before turning and opening the wardrobe
door to take out a clean shirt for him to wear. Suddenly she felt his
fingers lifting the back of her housecoat and she turned to glare at
him.
Sir? She said. The captain smiled and licked his lips slowly before
sitting back against his pillows and, taking the coffee cup, remarked.
Have we forgotten something today?
They fell apart and I had no others? She said holding a shirt for his
inspection.
Well I couldnt ask you to wear a pair of Sashas... He giggled.
...could I?
He took the shirt and pulled it over his shoulders after placing his
cigarette in the ashtrey. Doing up the buttons he smiled to himself and
then threw his legs out of the bed and stood up.
Pass me those pants please. The captain said indicating a pair that
were folded over the back of the dressing table chair. Myriam did as
she was asked and watched as he pulled them on.
See if Sasha can get you a replacement. He smiled picking his
cigarette up and taking a puff.
That will be all.
Myriam nodded and left the room feeling quite confused. When he
touched her the feeling she had was strangely ecstatic. She could
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almost have fallen to her knees and laid her head in his lap but this
thought repulsed her.
She leant back on the bedroom door and shuddered, thinking about
how it had made her feel, knowing that he was busy inspecting her
buttocks.
She wondered if he was excited by the sight of her bare flesh. She bit
her lip and pushed the thoughts deep down into the very bottom of her
soul before returning to the kitchen; waiting for the sound of the front
door to close as he left.
Sasha was late back that afternoon and when he did return he had a
small bag tucked under his coat and he smelt of alcohol.
Look what I have got. He whispered closing the back door and
banging the caked snow from his shoes. Look at this.
I hope its a pair of panties for me. Myriam said with a big sigh.
The captains food was cooked and warming on the stove, baked
potatoes, pickled cabbage and tinned beef. She had kept some for her
and Sasha but had already eaten when he didnt return by sunset.
She left her chair by the stove and joined him at the table as Sasha
opened the bag and held up a small bottle of vodka. He took the screw
top off and swigged from it before offering some to her.
Where did you get that? She asked. Sasha never ceased to amaze
her, it was as if he could get anything regardless of the fact they were
in a camp.
Here. He drooled. Have some, its good.
She pushed his hand away, perhaps if she wasnt expecting the captain
to return at any moment she may have tried a sip or two but she was
far too cautious to do such a thing.
Sasha drunkenly dipped into the bag once again and removed and
smaller bag which, after winking at her, he opened.
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Myriam saw a flash of beige silk and some soft tan netting. Her eyes
lit up as she took the bag and pulled out three pairs of silk and lace
panties and a pair of soft, gossamer silk stockings.
She leant forwards and kissed him on the cheek before pulling on a
pair and looking at her reflection in the mirror.
Oh, Sasha. Theyre lovely.
Youre lovely. He smiled before coming up behind her and placing
is hands on her hips. Suddenly the bell above the door rang. Myriam
pushed his hands away and tried to turn but he placed them back and
leant forwards.
I want to fuck you, right now.
Sasha. She giggled. Behave yourself, I have to go to him.
Fuck him. Sasha sniffed placing his lips on her mouth and trying to
kiss her. I want you, now.
Later! She said firmly. Myriam managed to pull herself away and
went to collect the Captains food from the stove. She placed it on a
trey and smiled shaking her head at Sasha.
I dont know how you do it? She laughed going to the door. Sasha
watched her go and fondled the vodka bottle imagining the soft curves
were her. The sight of Myriam in those silk panties had made him
mad with excitement but he knew the rules and gave a salute to them
as Myriam left the kitchen.
The captain was in the dining room and, unusually for this time of
night, was still wearing his boots and uniform jacket. The jacket was
open to the waist and as Myriam placed the trey down beside him, felt
the captains hand grab her wrist tightly.
Tell Sasha. The captain spat, his face red, full of serious intent.
That if I hear he has been in the Russian soldiers stockade again he
will find himself there for good.
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Myriam looked at the captain and let out a small breath indicating that
he was hurting her. He released her wrist and picked up the fork.
Has he been to the Russian stockade? Myriam asked softly.
That boy is playing a very foolish game. The captain replied
stuffing beef into his mouth and waving the fork at her. I couldnt
save him if the commandant found him over there, doing deals with
those prisoners. Its not right, I tell you.
Doing deals? She replied.
Dont play dumb. The captain said snorting and drumming on the
table with his finger tips.
If he gets caught the commandant will have him shot.
The captain placed another forkful of food into his mouth and pieces
of food spat across the room as he continued. Shot, tell him that, will
you!
Yes Sir. Myriam replied. Will that be all?
The captain shook his head and shooed her away as he had the first
time they had met. Myriam returned to the kitchen and found Sasha
sprawled across the table in a drunken sleep.
She pulled off his wet boots and left them by the stove to dry and as
she removed his coat something hard rubbed against her fingers.
Myriam pulled the coat from his arms and opened it wide to see what
was in the inner pocket. She saw a large revolver, like the ones the
guards carried, black with a dark brown piece on wood riveted to the
handle.
She peered into the revolving drum and saw three cartages. The sight
of a loaded gun made her feel very uneasy but did not confront him
when he opened his drunken eyes and spied her.
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Whats wrong with you? Sasha asked noticing her worried

expression.
He knows, you know? She replied simply.
He knows what? Sasha said drunkenly as he reached out and pulled
Myriam towards him.
He knows you have been to the Russian compound. Myriam
replied. If he knew you had this...
She placed the gun on the table next to him and Sasha looked up at
her with a dumb expression. He pressed his index finger to his lips
and hissed quietly.
Wed better not tell him. He smiled.
Myriam shook her head and picked the weapon up as Sasha sat up in
his chair and clapped.
Let me show you a trick. He announced. The soldiers taught me.
Stop messing around, Sasha. She replied. He hushed her again
before placing the pistol in her palm and wrapping her fingers around
the grip.
Pretend youre going to shoot me in the head. He giggled. Dont
pull the trigger though.
Sasha! She gasped.
Go on... He giggled. Point it at my head.
Myriam sighed and did as he asked. Without much enthusiasm she
pointed the pistol towards him and the barrel hovered inches away
from his face.
Watch! He said.
Then, with a sudden burst of excitement Sasha used one hand to
knock the barrel away from him against her thumb. The action of
twisting the weapon made her grip loosen and in a fraction of a
second he was holding the weapon and pointing it at her.
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Clever. eh? He laughed. The Russian soldiers taught me that.

You said. She huffed taking the gun from him and standing.
Drunken fool. she sniffed.
Sasha placed his head on his hands and closed his eyes. Soon he was
snoring loudly making Myriam sigh and shake her head. She took the
gun and hid it in the pantry before hanging Sashas coat next to the
door which led outside..
Myriam spent the rest of the evening listening to his snoring as she
warmed herself by the stove. She didnt make up a bed and eventually
fell into a deep sleep herself. The following morning Sasha had rolled
off the table and was curled up on the floor, the vodka bottle was
empty by his side.
Chapter 7
November 1944
That day started like any other, she took the captains breakfast,
selected a shirt for him to wear, washed up the breakfast dishes and
tidied the house.
In the afternoon she prepared that evenings meal and did any laundry
that was needed, Sasha did his errands in the camp and would return
just as nightfall began to set in. It was just an ordinary day.
Myriam had noticed earlier in the week that fewer trains arrived each
day and was surprised that this day none had pulled into the sidings
behind the house.
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Perhaps, she thought, the air-raids, which were become more and
more frequent, had tore up the tracks along the line and so the trains
couldnt get through.
Suddenly the door opened and, in a gust of snow and wind, Sasha
entered the kitchen. He looked across the room towards Myriam and
shook his head slowly.
They are killing everyone in the camp. He announced solemnly.
Myriam stood and looked at him with a glazed expression across her
face.
What? she asked.
Its true. Sasha said glumly. I have seen the Sondercommando
taking people from other parts of the camp to the crematoria. They
told me...
But Helena? Myriam gasped.
The women from Canada are already dead. Sasha said taking her in
his arms and squeezing her tightly.
I have just seen them. He repeated shrugging.
Where? Myriam asked pushing him away.
Where did you see them?
Over there... He replied. ...by the gate.
Myriam run to the kitchen window and looked out. She could hardly
see through the thick snow fall but a group of women who were
huddled beside the railways tracks were clearly visible.
Shes there, I see her. Myriam said excitedly. Go to the gate and
attract the guards attention. She said pushing Sasha towards the
kitchen door.
But Ive only just got in. He protested. Its impossible, forget it.
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Go and cause a scene. Myriam shouted pulling on her coat. She

opened the door and a thin light lit up the track attracting the attention
of a German who was addressing the women.
He saw Sasha leave the house and approach the gate, the German and
the capo who stood bored nearby missed Myriam. She dived into a
nearby snowdrift and crawled towards the rear of the group of
women.
As Sasha got closer to the group Helena looked at him and read his
expression, Sashas eyes darted behind him causing the woman to
follow his gaze.
She casually glanced behind her and saw Myriam huddled low in the
snow beckoning her to jump. The German officer addressing the
women was telling them that the allies had been seen nearby and that
very soon that area was going to become a warzone.
In view of this, he said, they were going to be dispersed. Before
dispersal the women were going to be allowed to shower and change
into clean clothes.
He paused as Sasha approached the camp gate and announced that he
had left something important that he had to collect. The Ukrainian
capo with the group looked on suspiciously as Sasha performed
excitedly for their attention as if he were drunk.
Myriam beckoned to Helena once again as Sasha made a big gesture
pretending to fall. The German addressing the women looked very
angry and started to shout in German towards him attracting the
attention of everyone.
This enabled Helena to launch herself into the darkness to land next to
Myriam in the snow. Both women huddled together trying to conceal
themselves from everyone.
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They heard the women getting led away by the capo who had been
standing with the German officer and then the German shouting
madly toward Sasha, telling him to go and get what he had left in the
camp before he was shot.
Slowly the two women crawled back to the house. When they thought
it was safe Myriam stood and opened the back door. She knew the
light escaping from the kitchen would attract the guards attention
next to the camp gate.
But the distance and the heavy snowfall made it hard for them to
make out what she had been doing. When it was safe, Helena
crouched against the shadows, and moved swiftly into the house.
Myriam quickly switched the kitchen light off and then ran to the
window. Looking out and expecting a contingent of guards to be
bearing down on them.
She was glad to see they had not been observed but felt her heart sink
as the last of the group headed towards the clearing behind the trees in
the distance.
She could see white smoke rising from the furnaces through the thick
snowfall and shuddered thinking about what could have happened to
her friend.
Come to the stove and warm yourself. She said to Helena. Her
friend had clearly lost weight and the rings around her eyes seem to
have got darker in the months they had been apart.
Its lovely. Helena said trembling. Thank you for thinking of me.
Ive always been thinking about you. Myriam replied softly.
I know. Her friend replied softly.
Are you sure we are safe? Helena asked, anxiously moving to the
kitchen window, peering out into the darkness.
That capo doesnt miss much.
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I dont think we were seen. Myriam said softly. Here, let me pour
you some coffee?
What, real coffee? Helena drooled. Made with real beans, coffee
beans?
I will cut you some meat and bread. Myriam smiled handing her
friend a steaming mug of coffee. You must be starving.
What if someone comes? Helena asked looking towards the back
door as she sipped from the steaming mug. Where shall I hide?
Behind that door is the pantry. Myriam replied. You will be safe in
there but dont move around too much knives and pans are hanging in
there.
Wheres your friend? Helena asked after a small pause.
The Russian boy?
I sent him to cause a disturbance. Myriam smiled slicing thick
pieces of lamb from a joint that she had cooked for the Captains
evening meal. She cut two slices of bread and gave these to Helena
who wolfed them down as if it was the first thing she had eaten for a
week.
He certainly did that. Helena replied. Just to save me, wow, that
was brave of him.
He would do it for anyone. Myriam replied. Give his life for
anyone, Sasha is like that. Now... Myriam said as she thought for a
moment.
We have to get out of this place.
Helena washed herself in the hot water from the copper and used soap
on her hair for the first time in three years. As she used a clean towel
to dry herself both women froze hearing trudges in the snow coming
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closer to the back door. Suddenly a loud thumping rang out through
the kitchen.
Quick. Myriam whispered. She led her friend to the pantry door and
closed it behind her. Hearing further thumping on the door the young
girl checked the kitchen to ensure no evidence was in sight before
straightening her clothes and opening the door.
Outside the capo that guarded the area called Canada stood, he pushed
her to one side and barged into the kitchen stinking of cheap vodka.
Get out of here. Myriam shouted. This is the captains house and
his guests enter by the front door.
The huge man ignored her and dragged his baton along the side of the
table as his eyes examined the room.
What do you want? Myriam shouted closing the door and stepping
towards the man.
So. He said at last, rubbing his unshaved chin with the back of his
free hand. This is where youve been hiding out. You got it quite nice
here; for a Jewess whore.
Get out of here. Myriam shouted. You dont scare me any longer,
once the Haupscharfuhrer finds out what youve been doing...
What? The man shouted banging his baton on the table to punctuate
the word.
Once he finds out what you have been doing, it will be you in
trouble.
Myriam looked at him coldly, trying to see if it was a bluff, or
whether he had seen Helena duck out of the group.
I have done nothing. She replied firmly. Now get out before he
gets back.
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Nothing, eh? The man hissed softly looking at her in the darkness
of the kitchen, only a fractured light beaming through the window
enabled them to see each other.
So, youve not got anything to worry about, nothing hidden, away?
The man stepped towards one of the doors that led off from the
kitchen and opened it. He peered inside closed and moved on to
another.
You think youre pretty clever, dont you? He said gradually
moving along the wall in the direction of the pantry. You think you
are better than everyone else now, a big shot; dont you?
I dont know what you are talking about?
He gradually reached the pantry door and his fingers stretched out for
the handle. Myriam walked to the coffee pot on the stove and took a
mug from the shelf.
Here, have some coffee and go. She said as the capo opened the
pantry door.
He looked at the steaming mug of coffee, let go of the door handle
and took a step towards her; greedily swigged from the mug.
Very nice. He said leering at Myriam in the glow of the stove fire.
So... he said after drinking the coffee.
What else are you going to do for me?
The man reached out and gripped Myriams wrist with his thick
fingers. His baton went rolling across the floor as he pulled her
towards him and pushed her back across the table.
Get off me you animal. Myriam screamed. Your breath stinks, you
filthy pig.
You Jews dont like pigs? The man giggled snorting like a sow a
couple of times while fumbling to reach under Myriams housecoat.
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You let him fuck you,.. He whispered in her ear as he tried to kiss
her.
...That German bastard. So now you must let me have a turn.
Myriam struggled but the man was too strong for her to push off. His
thick fingers gripped the new panties that Sasha had brought for her
and she felt them being ripped from her groin.
She tried to knee him in the balls but he just pushed her thin legs
opened and felt him tearing at his trouser fly. Myriam stifled a scream
as his eyes glazed over and blood trickled from the Capos mouth.
He slid slowly off her letting a deep rumble escape from his lungs and
Myriam saw Helena standing behind him with a bloodied knife in her
hand. Myriam reached down for the mans baton which had rolled
across the stone floor and began smashing it into his skull. Again and
again until the tip of the wooden baton was covered in blood, brain
and tissue.
Both women stepped back breathless and exhausted from the
expanding puddle of blood that escaped from the capos battered
head.
Oh God! Myriam whispered. We have killed him.
Good! I have hated this bastard with a vengeance. Helena spat. If I
die today it will be with a smile on my face.
Both women sat in the dark looking at the body and the expanding
blood as it congealed on the kitchen floor. They only moved when
Sasha opened the kitchen door and stepped into the kitchen followed
by a flurry of snowflakes.
Whats happened? He said looking at the mangled body and the two
shocked women.
He tried to rape me. Myriam whispered.
Sasha sucked air through his teeth and sighed loudly.
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Dont worry. He said after a short pause. You did the right thing.
We have to hide the body and get away from this place, tonight.
How? Myriam said looking at him like he had now gone mad.
I dont know yet. Sasha replied. Suddenly the bell rang and all three
looked at it in shock. The tinkling bell sounded louder than a fire bell
as it tinkled above the kitchen door.
All three stood rooted to the spot unable to move for a brief moment.
It rang again before Sasha took the lead.
Myriam, take his food. He said thinking quickly. Try to act
normally, as if nothing has happened; its just another evening. Can
you do that?
Yes. She replied getting herself ready. She noticed blood on her face
and washed it away as the bell rang a third time.
Quickly. Sasha said. We dont want him coming down here.
Helena you can help me hide this cunts body. We need a bucket and
soap for the blood and some old rags.
Under the sink. Myriam replied placing the Captains food on a trey
and walking to the door which led upstairs.
Go, go now. Sasha said urging her to take the food.
She cautiously made her way to the room he always ate in at this time
in the evening and knocked. He asked her to enter almost
immediately.
What took you? The Captain asked eyeing her suspiciously. I was
about to come to find out what was happening.
I spilt something. She lied. It took longer to clear it up than
expected.
Myriam placed the plate of food in front of him and his cup of coffee
but he noticed her hand shaking as she placed the cup on the table.
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The Captain reached out and held her hand. He could see deep red
welts around her wrist where the Capo had held her tightly. The
Captain examined them and looked at her.
Is there anything you want to tell me? He asked softly.
No, Sir. Myriam replied. He let go of her hand and sat back in his
chair glancing out of the window for a moment. Then he turned and
eyed her suspiciously.
I am not your enemy, you know. He said and after a pause added.
You can trust me.
Myriam pursed her lips and eyed him with a simmering contempt.
She thought about her mother and her young brother as they were led
away to be murdered; how dare he try to shed responsibility for
killing those she loved.
How dare he sit there and try to pretend that he bore no guilt; try to
say they could be friends. Now it seemed the Germans would lose the
war he was trying to reach out to her, to befriend her, he was trying to
get closer to her.
Perhaps he was laying the foundation for a future character reference
or something, as Myriam considered this he continued.
War is murder. He said with a sigh. He pursed his lips and threw her
an inquisitive look as if he could tell what she was thinking.
Soldiers kill every day, it is their job. What they, what we, are trained
for...
Myriam said nothing as he tried to put a guilt edged gloss on the
barbaric atrocities that had been committed in that place.
...On moonless nights like this we were told to use the darkness to
our advantage... The Captain mused.
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...to kill with it. We call it a Nactdes Totung mondes. A Todich

Mond; a Killers Moon.
Is it the night that allows the murder of women, unarmed women and
their children? Myriam stuttered.
Is it the moon that gives permission for unwarranted slaughter or
perhaps its the darkness that allows secrets to go unseen; or perhaps
these are just excuses. Its that you were trained to kill no matter what
or who?
Unarmed women and children die every day in war. The captain
replied. They are the collateral damage left by artillery shelling and
high level bombing, they are the result of contaminated water, lack of
food and medicine.
Death walks hand in hand with war and we are all touched by it. Only
yesterday I received notice that my wife and child were injured in
Berlin. Suffocated under the rubble of a bombed building; my son
died later of his injuries. He was killed by the British war planes.
So, in war we are all touched by death; its how we respond to that
touch that makes us human.
Myriam felt herself shaking with rage, she looked at the knife she had
placed by the Captains plate of food and wanted to reach down and
plunge it into his eye. Into his brain, then, she thought, he would be
touched by death.
You wish to say something? He asked taking a mouthful of meat
and chewing on it.
Feel free to speak. Come, lets hear it.
I think you are a hypocrite and a murderer. She spat. Everyday you
oversee the destruction of innocents, hundreds, probable thousands of
them and yet you expect me to mourn the loss of your son. He
deserved to die in payment for what you have done in this place and
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then it would still not be enough. I hope he died in abject agony with
your name on his lips.
Shut up. He spat. Thats enough.
He died with your blood on his hands.
Shut up.
I hope the same for you and every butcher in this place.
Get out of here. He stood and pushed her to the door.
Get out of here before I shoot you dead. Get out and dont come
back.
Nothing you could do will hurt me. She shouted as they reached the
doorway.
Nothing will ever hurt me as much as I have already been hurt in this
place. Do you hear me, NOTHING!
Chapter 8
The door slammed on her face and she stood there with tears in her
eyes looking at it. Before long she was back in the kitchen to find the
body of the Ukrainian had been dragged away out of sight.
Helena was on her hands and knees washing the blood that had
drained from his body off the stone kitchen floor.
How was he? Sasha asked as Myriam entered the kitchen. When
she didnt reply he went up to her and saw she had been crying.
Myriam, whats wrong?
I called him a butcher and a murderer. Myriam replied softly. I said
his son deserved to die in agony. Besides that, nothing is wrong.
We have to get out of here, tonight. Sasha said thinking hard and
fast. He had always been a quick thinker.
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Like the day he saw the gypsy boy attack the Captain. He had acted so
fast it was only after the event that his brain had caught up. Perhaps if
hed spent time, thinking about what he would do, the time for action
would have gone.
He had been like that since he was a boy. Riding horses on the vast
open plains of the step had taught him to be quick witted and to think
on the spot. Nothing confounded him and the older he got the more
cunning and precocious he became.
Now he used every sinew of his brain to problem solve the current
predicament until a plan evolved in his head.
How are we going to get out of here? Helena asked sitting up and
looking at the boy quizzically.
He has a vehicle. Sasha replied. Its in one of the outhouses, an old
Volkswagen. If we can start that, and get a uniform, I may be able to
drive by the sentries on the road. It will be easy.
You dont need a whole uniform. Myriam replied. His hat and coat
are in the hall. If you wore them, in this weather, they may just think
its him.
One of us will have to kill him. Sasha said softly. Its the only
way.
Couldnt we just take the car when hes sleeping? Helena asked.
No one leaves this place late at night. Sasha replied. The sentries
are less likely to stop us if its not too late.
I have seen him drive to the town around seven or eight o clock on
lots of occasions. He probably drives straight through the road block.
Road block? Helena sighed. Theres a road block with sentries, oh
God.
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Its just two sentries in a hut next to a bar... Sasha said quickly.
...they will raise it when they see his car approaching; I am sure of it.
But he will have to go. We cant risk him running after us or raising
the alarm.
I will do it... Myriam said softly. ...when he calls me to collect the
plates.
No. Sasha said softly. I will go. If you spoke to him like you said
you had, he may not want you near him tonight.
What! Myriam gasped. If Id spoken to him like Id said. Do you
think Im lying?
Of course not. Sasha sighed touching her gently on the chin.
I didnt mean it that way.
He leant forward and kissed her gently on the forehead as Helena
squinted her eyes and nodded to herself.
Now, Sasha said. When the bell rings, I will answer it.
Do you want the knife I used on the pig Ukrainian? Helena asked
standing. She looked at Sasha across the darkened room and he saw a
long thin blade sparkle in one of her hands. Its a clean, sharp blade.
Hide it in your trousers and then cut his throat; easy.
I have a gun. Sasha said looking at the two women. It has only has
three bullets which we may need. I could subdue him with it and only
use it if he becomes difficult.
What? Helena giggled. Are you going to smash him over the head
with it. He has a side arm too, doesnt he?
He never wears it in the house.
Sasha went to the pantry and opened the bread bin. Inside, wrapped in
a piece of cloth was the small handgun he had taken from one of the
Russian soldiers in exchange for food earlier in the year. He looked
down the barrel and checked the revolver.
Three cartages. He sighed.
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Take a knife. Helena urged. That thing will get you killed if he
takes it from you; Just strangle him. Its quiet and all you need is your
hands.
Wheres Myriam? The Captain asked as Sasha stepped into the
room. He noted at once that the captain was wearing his black SS
uniform and his peeked cap was laid on the table next to his wallet.
Shes feeling unwell. Sasha lied as he collected the empty plate and
cup. Placing them on the trey he had brought from the kitchen Sasha
became aware of the captains eyes boring into the back of his head.
I thought so. The Captain sniffed and lit a cigarette. Women, they
seldom realise when to shut up.
Especially when they are menstruating. Sasha smiled.
Oh, I see. The Captain face was crossed with a surely grin and
rapped his fist on the table. So thats it, I should have realised.
Shall I draw the curtain, Sir? Sasha asked walking behind where the
captain was seated and beginning to tug at the long curtain that was
hung between the bay window.
The blackout, you know.
Yes. The Captain replied thinking to himself. Suddenly he sniffed.
I should have realised, my wife was exactly the same. Suddenly he
stopped talking and his mood became sombre again.
Sasha gripped the handle of the knife between his fingers as it was
hidden down the front of his trousers. He turned and glanced at the
back of the captains neck, the space visible between the top of his
collar and the beginning of his hairline.
Sasha pulled the blade from his trousers, lined it up and then thrust
out. It entered the captains neck like soft butter and Sasha only felt
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bone when the width of the blade made contact and forced apart the
vertebra.
A gasp rang out and the captain lifted his hands as Sasha reached
around and pulled back on the mans chin pushing the blade further
into his throat.
The captain made a short cry as his spinal cord was severed and then
rolled onto the floor. Sasha looked at him closely and saw he was
breathing but it was very laboured, he knew severing the spine at such
a spot would render the man incapable and was pleased to see it.
Sasha stood over him and examined the captains prostrate form for a
moment; perhaps too long of a moment but the sight of this man now
void of action laying there at his feet held interest for him.
Sasha leant forwards and felt the Captains pockets, he removed
anything of value, the car keys and the officers side-arm from its
leather pouch.
I am sorry, Sir. Sasha said respectfully. It isnt personal, I quite
liked you as a person, but you are a Nazi and this is war.
With that he stood, grabbed the mans wallet and then went to the hall,
he took the Captains great coat and service cap from the hat rack and
then joined the women down in the kitchen.
Whats happening? Helena asked anxiously as Sasha walked into
the room.
Couldnt you do it?
What do you mean? Sasha smiled. You asked me to kill him and
this is what I have done.
But, we heard nothing? Myriam smiled.
So? Sasha said pulling on the Captains coat.
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Im a professional. How do I look?

He placed the peeked cap on his head and pulled the brim down low.
Both women looked at him in silence before Helena said.
Good, lets get out of here.
They made their way to the top of the stairs and Sasha went to the
main door. The house was ghostly and quiet as the three stood in the
hall next to the coat rack.
The wind was howling outside, a long and low murmur as if it was
mourning the passing of those murdered in that place. Sasha looked at
the women and then the odd before he opened it slightly. They looked
through the thick veil of falling snow towards a set of outhouses
across the drive.
Its in that one. Sasha said quietly.
How do you know it has fuel? Helena asked.
It has a full tank, he always fills it up after every journey. Sasha
pulled the keys from his pocket and looked at Myriam.
Go and take a quilt from his bed so I can cover you two in the rear
foot well.
Myriam did as she was told and Sasha lifted his collar and walked
across the drive to the first outhouse. He pulled open the double doors
and Helena smiled to see the Volkswagen sitting there just waiting for
them to drive from that place.
If there is a God. She whispered under her breath. May he be
looking after us now.
What? Myriam said joining her friend by the open door. Did you
say something?
No. Helena replied.
Sasha started the vehicle and without turning on its lights drove it
from the outhouse towards the front door. The snow was falling
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thickly and he had to turn on the wipers to prevent the windscreen

from becoming completely blind.
The two women ran from the house and opened the rear of the
vehicle, they climbed into the back foot well and lay in each others
arms as Sasha arranged the heavy black quilt over them.
He closed the rear door and sat in the drivers seat before turning the
vehicles lights on low and making his way down the drive. It was a
five minute journey following the railway tracks on one side and a
thick wooded area on the other before he saw the small hut and barrier
across the road.
He turned off the windscreen wipers for a few strokes to allow the
snow to build up on the screen slightly as the barrier came closer.
Very soon now. He whispered to the women in the back.
Sasha saw one of the guards come from the hut and peer through the
thick snowstorm towards the oncoming vehicle. Sasha reached up to
the brim of his cap and tugged at it hoping the guard would interpret
this as a salute and just wave them through.
To his amazement this had the desired effect and the man began to
raise the barrier before waving the car through the gap it made
beneath it.
Shit. Sasha sighed placing on the guns safety catch nestled on his
lap. Weve done it. Were free.
He switched on the window wipers and looked in his rear view mirror
to see the guard lowering the barrier again behind them. Sasha began
laughing wildly as the two women peered up from under the quilt and
looked into the rear view window.
At the fading barrier in the distance, the rows of spotlights and barbed
wire, at the rising smoke from the crematoria. Sasha stared towards
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the road and back towards the years of misery and abject horror
fading into the snowstorm behind them.
Dont drive too fast. Myriam said as she put her arms around
Helena and held her tightly.
Were just survived Auschwitz, now we just have to survive this
goddamn journey.
I cannot believe it. Helena said softly. It was so easy, all we needed
was the will to get out and go. When I think of the hours I have spent
in that fucking shit-hole, hours and days, just wishing I could escape.
All that time looking for a fault in the security, a guard who could be
bribed to look the other way or perhaps a tunnel to the other side of
the fence.
All that scheming and planning and anxiety; it was all un-necessary.
We just had to get a vehicle, kill a capo or two, and drive through the
gate, amazing eh?
Were not out of the fire yet. Sasha said looking back at the two
women still huddled in the rear foot well.
The Germans still occupy Poland dont forget. We have to get to
Warsaw without being stopped by them and then to an area controlled
by the allies.
I have heard. Helena said sitting up and placing her head in the gap
between the vehicles two front seats. I have heard that there are
partisans in the forest around Warsaw.
That they intend to rise up once the Russians are on the banks of the
Volga; we should try to make contact with these fighting men.
Rely on the Russians? Sasha gasped. I am a Russian myself and I
tell you this from my own experience. If we were waiting for real
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Russian soldiers to come and fight with the partisans than thats what
would happen.
But they are not real Russians, they are a group of Marxist bastards;
Stalins murderers. If any of them held the principles of real Russia
they would have been shot by Stalin in one of his many purges.
They are still our allies. Helena replied as the vehicle ploughed on
through the snow into the forest that made up most of rural Poland.
If given the choice Id surrender to a Russian anytime rather than to
a German.
I would rather walk over broken glass. Sasha said bluntly. I will
fight with the partisans for a while; kill some Germans for fun. Then,
when the Russian army crosses the Volga I will go and find the
Americans. Stalin can kiss my shiny, white ass.
Chapter 9
Jaffa February 1946
The city of Tel Aviv clutches the coast of the Mediterranean like a
jumbled metropolis of white bricked hotels and street markets.
Slowly, the city thins out into a sleepy collection of fishing wharfs
and marinas which eventually becomes the district of Jaffa.
During the 1930s there was huge migration of German Jews into Tel
Aviv and Jaffa and with them came their love of Modernism and the
latest Bauhaus style. Consequently, stepping back from the coast line
a little, the wandering tourist is confronted with whole areas built up
in this architectural style.
Myriam sat at a small cafe, drinking strong coffee and looking out
over the marina below. The sun was hot and the wide brim of her hat
shielded her eyes from its intense glair.
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Only her bright red lips were visible crowning the top of her thin chin
and long neck as it swept up from the neckline of her tight fitting blue
silk dress.
She took a cigarette from a packet on the table next to her sun-glasses
and held it delicately between the fingers of a white gloved hand.
Myriam froze momentarily when a man spoke.
Do you want a light?
She lifted the brim of her hat and saw the man offering a gold lighter
who was wearing a crisp white suit and black tie. He was aged in his
fifties, with olive skin and greased black hair, swept back over his
head, highlighted with fine wisps of grey.
Reuven, I presume? Myriam smiled holding her cigarette for the
man to light. He smiled and sat beside her as she blew a cloud of
smoke into the air between them.
You must be the lovely Myriam? He smiled back placing his lighter
in a side pocket. He ordered a coffee and both examined each other in
thoughtful silence as the waiter delivered it.
The man, Reuven, looked about, over his shoulder and along the
counter of the bar to ensure they were not being overheard before
leaning forwards and whispering.
I believe you have been asking to meet me?
Yes. Myriam smiled. She cocked her head on one side and flashed
a row of intensely white teeth.
I want to join the Haganah to kill Germans.
Really? the man giggled. Thats quite a statement from such a
beautiful woman in delightful surroundings like these.
Jaffa... Myriam spat. ...It is too German, I hate them and want to
join the Haganah and rid the world of those monsters. If I could kill a
German every day I would be a happier person.
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He sat back in his chair and looked at her closely, weighing her up. He
could see a determined look in her eyes and although she was tall and
beautiful she also had some fierce look about her which he found
compelling.
Tell me about yourself? he asked softly. Where have you come
from?
I was in a camp during the war. She said without emotion.
I escaped after helping to kill two of the butchers who guarded us. I
was in Warsaw for a while following that where I managed to kill
some others.
Then I was in Bucharest getting away from the Russians. I managed
to smuggle myself onto a boat to Gaza and now I am an Israeli
citizen.
Did you lose anyone in the camp? He asked with a raised eyebrow.
Myriam looked away and out to sea. The question filled her with
memories which she would like to forget.
The man sitting next to her understood the question was intrusive and
touched a nerve. She stiffened up and the colour drained from the
porcelain-like skin which stretched across the bones of her face. He
didnt wait to hear her reply.
Please dont answer that, I understand. He tapped on the table leg
nervously and pursed his lips.
Hatred is not a good reason to do the kind of work you seek; using
violence for revenge can make a person empty inside.
Instead of giving the relief you think it could; hate just destroys. It can
make you more angry. It can make you angry with yourself. Have you
considered that?
Mr Reuven? Myriam replied softly. She crossed her hands on her
lap and let out a deep breath before looking directly into his eyes.
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I have thought a lot about ridding myself of the emotions I carry. I

cannot cry about the past, or sink into a fit of melancholy or woe the
hand life has dealt me; it will not change a thing.
I have no skills so to speak, no formal training or education, Im too
damaged by my experiences to concentrate on that side of life. I have
very little to build a career upon except my steely determination for
justice. Yes, justice.
That determination is not founded on hatred, or on a desperate quest
for revenge, no; but its something that motivates me. Pushes me on, it
gets me out of bed in the mornings and plays on my mind as I fall to
sleep every night-time; my plan to get justice.
Thats all I want to achieve. To balance the scales once and for all and
bring justice to the memory of those I have loved and lost. To bring
justice for those family members who were cruelly taken away and
who I miss and think about every waking moment.
I just want Justice for them.
A thick silence descended between Myriam and Reuven. A silence
through which only the sound of distant waves crashing on the bows
of fishing boats in the marina and gulls flying overhead penetrated.
She neither smiled or frowned and as Reuven examined her piercing
brown eyes he recognised a kindred spirit sitting opposite. Not
another word need be said; he knew she would make a valuable
member of his team.
Well Myriam. He sighed at last. Im afraid your information is out
of date.
It is? She replied with a concerned look. Myriam removed another
cigarette from her packet and waited as Reuven fumbled inside his
pocket and removed his lighter.
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Yes. The man replied. The Haganah was disbanded after the
British mandate. They simply do not exist any longer.
But... She stuttered.
I think, despite your reservations... Reuven said with a small smile.
...that you need to get some education. We have an Institute here in
Jaffa, its only a small place with a limited student quota. Its just the
sort of place that needs people like you.
But I want to fight. Myriam said firmly. Not learn.
Before we fight... The man replied taking a small card from his
breast pocket.
...we must be organised, before we are organised we must be
educated. Please, trust me.
He passed her the card and in bold letters it said across the top.
The Institute
11123 Ambrosia Avenue
Jaffa. ISRAEL
Be here... Reuven said tapping the card.
... at 9.am tomorrow morning, I will let them know you are coming.
Its a school? Myriam asked as the man stood, smiled, and said
goodbye.
Its an Institute. Reuven replied as he turned and walked away
swiftly.
Remember, 9am, Dont be late.
The following morning she made her way to a nondescript office
block situated in the business area of Jaffa. Standing outside with a
quizzical look made Myriam wonder if this was where the man had
wanted her to go, it didnt look like a school.
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It didnt really look like a private business. There was a reception on

the ground floor at which a uniformed guard sat and he looked up as
she pushed open the double glass doors to enter the building.
Myriam gave her name to the guard and looked about the reception
area; at the brown marble walls and floor, the chrome fixtures and
fittings, even the huge potted fern by the elevator looked
conspicuously out of place.
The guard checked a list and then directed her to a elevator which she
found upon entering, had just one button; for the fourth floor. Once
she had pressed that button her life changed forever.
Chapter 10
Over the next six months Myriam was inducted into the Institute. This
included courses on small arms, light machine guns, self defence and
unarmed combat. She joined a class of four other women who, with
the help of Israeli military assistance, graduated in the noble arts of
death and murder.
They were trained, in the hills overlooking Tel Aviv, to run and
increase their stamina, to hide and take on other personas. They were
given lessons in deconstructing weapons and reconstruction in
blindfolds.
Some of their time was spent in class rooms where the recent history
of Israel was explained in minute detail but here they learnt other
skills which they would need in the future.
You! The instructor shouted across the room towards Myriam.
Explain Adelph, Bet, Hin and Ayin?
Each team will consist of two trained killers. Myriam replied
standing to attention.
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These will be known as the Aleph squad. Bet are their cover unit,
Ayin a secondary squad who cover the Aleph and Bet.
Ayin will make arrangements for each team, cars, hotels, weapons, all
will be their responsibility.
What is Qophs responsibility? The instructor shouted pointing at
another girl in the group. She stood to attention as Myriam sat.
Communications will always be through a squad known as Qoph.
Why is this? The man asked.
Plausible Deniability. The woman shouted back.
No link must lead back. All teams in the field are independent and
expendable. The government will deny all knowledge of their actions
if teams are compromised, their denial must be plausible.
Very good. the instructor said before scrawling another two words
on the board behind him.
What is the T.C?
No target can be hit without a Verbal Termination Contract. another
woman said as she stood.
The contract will be authorised by a senior level operative and
relayed verbally to team members. There are never copies of the
contract paperwork and no paper trail. No termination will be carried
out without one.
Excellent. The trainer smiled before adding: Of course, team
leaders may make up a file to illustrate an action for the team, these
should be destroyed prior to action taking place.
This is the Drer light machine gun. The weapons instructor said
placing a fully assembled gun on the table in front of the women.
In this configuration is can be used as a single shot marksman type
weapon but is hard to conceal. If we remove the shoulder pad from
the stock and unscrew the barrel we are left with a short Light
Machine Gun which is easily hidden under a coat or in a bag.
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Is it very accurate in this configuration? Myriam asked picking up

the gun and looking down its sights.
No! The instructor replied. In this configuration the weapon should
be used only in automatic mode, it will then spray one hundred and
fifty rounds a minute over the target area. Its especially good for
taking on large groups or a moving target.
When everyone in the room. Myriam added. Just has to get
killed.
These rounds are very large. Another woman added picking up one
of the bullets laid out next to the weapon.
Are these right for this gun, they look too big?
Well spotted. The instructor smiled. The L.M.G has been adapted
to take these .303 rounds. They are slightly larger than the guns usual
cartage but they were modified after the British Mandate ended as we
found ourselves in possession of millions of them.
Really? The woman smiled.
Yes. The instructor giggled.
They fell off a back of a British lorry as it left the country. It seemed
a shame to waste so many good rounds. So, our engineers adapted
this LMG to take them. Now it works very nicely; thanks to the
British Army.
In the field you will usually use a .22 Beretta handgun. Its a small
round but if placed in the correct position, just below the muscle on
the back of the neck, or here on the temple, the round will enter the
brain, not have the energy to exit.
It will bounce around the skull cavity shredding the brain instantly.
We have found on other missions a larger shell can just enter and exit
cleanly and not do the job. A smaller round is better in close
conditions.
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What about a chest shot? Myriam asked picking up the Beretta.

A .22 will do no damage.
Youre right but dependent where the round hits it can do the job.
Always aim for the left side of the solar plexus.
The instructor indicated a circle on his own chest.
The round could sever any number of heart vessels and could even
puncture the heart itself. Termination will not be instant but the target
will go down and lights out within 20 seconds.
Chapter 11
Myriam come in, please. Reuven said as she entered his office
above a row of shops in downtown Tel Aviv. It was almost empty,
once past the receptionist a visitor found just a desk equipped with a
telephone, notepad and pen trey.
This was Reuvens private office away from Ambrosia Avenue.
Where he could discretely meet agents without them being seen going
into a building associated with the Institute.
Two chairs furnished the office, one behind the desk and one in front.
Beside a metal filing cabinet which stood in a corner and behind the
desk a window blind gave slatted views across the Tel Aviv skyline.
I have heard very good reports from your instructors.
Really? Myriam smiled. I have enjoyed the course but I was
unsure how I was doing. My fitness worried me but Ive worked hard
to build up my stamina.
Well, we are pleased with your progress. Reuven replied.
...So pleased that we have decided to allocate you to a team.
No, what already? Myriam said excitedly.
How wonderful, I promise, I will not let you down.
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We know. Her controller smiled. He paused and looked out over the
city before looking at her with an intense glare.
I need to ask you something though beforehand.
Go ahead. She smiled sitting back in her chair relaxed. Anything.
Well, this may be difficult for you. Reuven said before clasping his
hands in front of him and leaning across the desk.
Unlike the avenging you are used to, our work is more varied.
I understand. She replied wondering what he was getting at.
We see the targeting of war criminals, Germans, Latvians,
Ukrainians and the like, as part of it but in the present climate. He
paused and sighed.
Just get to the point, please. She said firmly.
How would you feel if you were working with a German who is
friendly to our cause?
A what? She said slightly shocked by the question.
Surely theres no such thing as a friendly German?
Myriam. Reuven sighed.
Our enemies are everywhere. In fact Ben Gurion is going to declare
Israel a state in its own right very soon, then our enemies are likely to
converge and try to destroy us.
These people are not Germans, they are Arabs, Islamic
fundamentalists, and they are all around us. We know German
scientists are helping them and these will be dealt with eventually but
what I need from you...
Yes?
I need an assurance that if we get help from a German, someone we
can trust, you will be able to control your natural hatred of these
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people. For the sake of Israel; the country which has given you a
home?
Our enemies enemy is our friend. She replied softly.
Precisely. Reuven smiled.
Not all Germans are Nazis and, of course, not all Nazis were
German. If you remember that you will be okay.
It will be difficult. Myriam replied through clenched teeth.
Of course.
But not impossible. She added.
Good! Reuven said slapping his hands together and standing.
He walked to a side door and smiled at her.
That is precisely what I wanted to hear. Reuven opened the door
and announced. Let me introduce to you the person who will head
your team.
Myriam looked towards the open door and gasped when Helena
entered the room. Both women ran to each other and hugged tightly.
Helena, I thought you were... Myriam cried taking her friends head
in her hands and looking into her eyes. She saw they were older, more
lined, but still had the strength of character she remembered back in
the camp. She broke into a wide smile and shook her head.
I thought you were dead. Myriam stuttered.
Me too. Helena replied. I thought you died in Warsaw. Now look
at you, all grown up and beautiful.
You too. Myriam sighed. You are lovely, look at your hair, its
amazing.
Ladies. Reven announced tapping the desk with his pipe. He took a
match and lit it up before saying.
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Theres a bar across the street, please go and make up for lost time; I
know you have a lot to discuss. Helena, look after this little one, she is
going to do good things for us. I feel it in my bones.
They left Reuven and made their way across the street arm in arm
smiling the whole way before finding a secluded table in the bar
opposite. When the waiter had delivered two strong drinks they
toasted and greeted each other properly.
Dzien Dobry. Myriam said swigging back her glass.
Dzien Dobry. Helena replied. The waiter brought two more drinks
and the women looked at each other with knowing smiles before both
talking at once.
So what have you... Helena said.
Tell me what... Myriam said too.
No you. Helena smiled.
No you first. Myriam giggled. What happened to you after
Warsaw?
Helena collected her thoughts before sighing. She looked across the
room and pursed her lips.
After Sasha and I lost you during the fighting. She sighed.
He joined the partisans in the Warsaw sewers. The Red Army were
just across the bridge and we thought they would come and help, but
of course, they did nothing. Sahsa said they would wait until we were
all dead.
I heard. Myriam sighed. The Russians wanted the Germans to kill
any troublemakers before they took the city.
Yes. Helena replied. I went into the forest and joined a group who
were attacking the retreating German army. Once the war finished I
decided to return to Kracow with my man.
You got married? Myriam smiled.
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No. Helena sighed. She paused and looked into the distance for a
long while as she collected her thoughts.
I had a wild relationship with this Polish officer, Alex, he was a nice
man. We had a child.
Oh, Helena. Myriam sighed. Im so happy for you.
Well, it all went wrong. Helena said as her mouth tensed into a tight
line. We went back to Kracow and guess what, there was someone
living in my family home.
They had stolen it. Alex and I tried to move them but they attacked us.
Eventually they killed him, him and the child.
What?
Its true. Helena sighed.
Fuck off Jews. They shouted, youre not wanted here, you should
have died in the war.
Thats disgusting. Myriam said softly holding her friends hand
across the table.
They shot Alex right there, in front of me and the child... Helena
continued.
...I ran with the baby but the kid got cold and hungry and died. I had
to bury him at the side of a road, no headstone, no prayers, nothing.
I am so sorry. Myriam sighed. What a terrible story.
I decided to come to Israel. Helena said sitting up in her chair and
pushing the grief to the back of her mind.
They want Jews here, I am now a naturalised Israeli and my Polish
past is dead, like that child I buried.
I have cried all I want to cry; from the day I came to Israel I decided
no more tears. When Stalin put up the Iron Curtain I was the happiest
Id been for a long while; quietly hoping the people in my house were
suffering.
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Me too. Myriam said quietly. She looked about the bar to ensure
they were not being overheard.
I joined a group with a guy called Avvi after the war. He was in a
British unit made up of Jewish soldiers and when the unit was
disbanded we became a group of travelling killers; Avenging the past
if you like.
We went after as many Germans as we could locate. He wanted to
poison the water supply of six major German cities and kill six
million of them. Like the six million of us they murdered.
I heard about that. Helena smiled.
The Israeli government, as it was, wouldnt allow it. They were
worried about bad publicity and such.
Myriam pursed her lips and leant across the table.
We found out about a German prisoner of war camp which got its
bread from a certain bakery. Well we infiltrated the bakery and
poisoned the bread for the camp.
No. Helena gasped. How many butchers did you get?
Ha. It was a stupid idea, but thats Avvi for you Myriam giggled.
The press reports said no-one had died but many of them were sick
as dogs and had to have their stomachs pumped. The British, can you
believe that, the British saved the bastards.
Then what?
I became disillusioned with Avvis mad ideas. Myriam continued.
I hooked up with this fat German businessman who was driving to
Bucharest, he had lots of cash and I needed to get out of Europe. I
murdered him in a hotel before taking his money and coming to
Israel.
Myriam. Helena giggled. Youre wild.
I strangled the bastard. Myriam smiled.
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He kept pestering me for sex so one night I said I was going to let
him have it. He got very drunk and laid on the bed waiting for me to
give it to him.
I sat astride the stinking fat worm, placed my hands around his throat
and throttled the life out of his disgusting German body. It was
lovely.
I told you. Helena laughed. Didnt I, as long as you have hands
you have weapons. Didnt I tell you that?
You did, I never forgot. Myriam smiled. They sat in silence for a
moment feeling the alcohol seep into their brains before Myriam
added.
So, now youre going to be my boss?
Lets not put it like that. Helena smiled. I work with a guy called
Hiam, hes a straight talker, doesnt suffer fools lightly and is an
expert at what he does. He will like you.
What will I be doing? Myriam asked quietly.
I want to be involved with the action, not kept on the sidelines.
Dont worry, youll see plenty of action. Helena replied taking a sip
from her glass.
The squads work together. It will become clear very soon how I like
to work; very informal; in fact we have a job coming up next week, in
Cairo.
Next week, but my passport? Myriam said looking slightly startled.
We will sort all the paperwork out. Helena smiled.
Dont worry. Reuven will arrange travel documents for us; he can get
hold of anything. Youre a government agent now.
Chapter 12
Cairo March 1946
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The streets of Cairo are dusty and busy with people night and day,
coffee sellers and carpet baggers cross paths with tourists and tourist
guides, strey dogs piss and fruit stall holders sing while the incessant
din of traffic holds court above the noise of everything else.
Only Friday afternoons offer a moments peace when, after the call to
prayer, the streets empty as most of the population go to prostrate
themselves before Allah in any one of the many mosques that saturate
the city.
In a small guest house situated in the beating heart of the city, behind
the Ramses Station, a beautiful American tourist sat in the open
lounge looking out at the scene unfolding in the street beyond.
She had booked in late the previous evening and had offered her
passport to the reception desk and paid for three nights upfront, in
cash.
Sipping a cool drink under the shade of a palm tree the woman looked
like any other guest the house had received that week. She looked up
as a man and woman came from the upstairs rooms and handed in
their key at the clerk behind the reception desk.
Hi ya. Myriam shouted in her best American accent. How are you
finding the city?
Oh Yar. Helena replied in a hokey Swiss accent. My husband and I
think it is too hot. But we are from a very cold part of Europe and the
heat gets to us.
Why dont you join me in a drink later? Myriam drooled. Im
holidaying alone and I would enjoy the company.
This is good, yar. Hiam added, making his accent even more
ridiculous. Both Myriam and Helena stifled a small smile at his
hammy acting before Helena interjected.
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You are holidaying alone, no? Please you must come to our room
tonight. She smiled widely.
We are having friends for drinks and you are welcome, okay. Room
67. First we go sight-see, the museums, okay.
Thanks buddy. Myriam smiled back. Will 7.00 oclock do ya?
This is good, yar. Hiam smiled.
Seven O clock, see you then.
Enjoy your sightseeing.
The staff behind the reception desk didnt notice the slight signals that
others who might have been more attuned to them would have. The
nods, the deep and knowing smiles that indicated these people
actually knew each other well. The staff were paid to serve and not
notice too much and these indicators of friendship were lost to them.
Later, after the sun had begun to set over the pyramids Myriam made
her way to room 67 and tapped on the door. Helena opened it and
allowed her to enter before checking she was not followed. Inside the
room were three men, Hiam and Helena. Myriam sat on the bed next
to one of the men who smiled and made room for her.
This is Myriam. Helena said with a small smile. Shes posing as an
American tourist.
Susan Maxwell. Myriam laughed. I hate the name Susan.
But this is what we will call you in public. Helena said. She then
turned to Hiam and said
This is Hiam, over there is Abraham.
You can call me Abby. The small man with glasses interjected.
Im travelling under the name of Stavros Papillonios, its Greek. So
be thankful of the American name, imagine having to remember that
mouthful whenever you sign anything, its hell.
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The group began to giggle before Hiam clapped his hands and they
fell silent again.
This is Solomon. Helena continued.
But in public Im Sam, a Canadian student. Solomon smiled.
And finally this is Rochim. Hiam said pointing to the thick set
young man eating a snack.
Im Joe, another yank.. He added between mouthfuls of samosa.
Hiam picked up a file and opened it to the first page, it was a large
black and white photograph of a middle-aged man with a thin face,
large nose and bald head.
This folks, is Gerrad Leaderman. Hiam announced.
He has been working loosely with a dissident Jewish faction in
Egypt for about two years. The faction...
The Lehi Underground... Helena interjected.
...have been responsible for several bombings and targeted
assignations recently. Hiam continued.
The thing is, the plots always seem to go wrong, members of the
group are picked up or shot or the bombs explode in the wrong place.
The last one, on March 31 last year, was supposed to target the
Egyptian military as they travelled between Cairo and Haifa on an
express train. The bomb exploded in a suburb of Caesarea killing no
Egyptians but over 44 Jews.
The people back home. Helena continued.
Started to look into Leadermans background and were shocked to
find out that he is receiving payment from Egyptian Secret Services.
Ten thousand dollars were paid into a private account just before the
Caesarean bombing, hes a traitor.
The bastard. Solomon sighed.
A Jew, killing other Jews, its obscene.
Its money. Hiam said flatly. Leaderman is deeply in debt; he has
expensive vices.
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Mainly women and gambling. Helena said.

What can you tell us Rochim?
The young man with the snack sat up and quickly folded the remains
of his meal up in a napkin before clearing his throat.
I have been following Leaderman for some time. He said rubbing
grease away from his chin with the napkin.
And he seems to be very security aware. Especially going between
his home and work.
Every Wednesday afternoon he goes to a little guesthouse at the back
of the Egyptian Museum and meets various call girls. Its the only
time he is vulnerable. If we can prevent the girl getting to her
appointment and replace her wed be able to take him out. It would be
easy.
Its an appointment he is ashamed of and keeps very private... Abbi
interjected.
His security go off duty, he likes to slip away, have a fuck and get
back without anyone noticing.
Okay. Hiam said folding the file and addressing the group.
I will notify Qoph. Lets say the target will be taken out this
Wednesday if the contract is still valid.
They do not want this to look like an operation so we will be using a
small amount of Korari to incapacitate the target and then Ill
administer a potassium enema. Any investigation will put the death
down to heart failure.
Hiam and I will be the Aleph team. Helena said.
I will replace the call girl, administer the korari and then let Hiam
into the room to administer the enema. Solomon and Myriam will
back us up and take out the girl as she makes her way to the room.
Abbi and Rochim, Hiam said looking at the two firmly.
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You will have a vehicle waiting at the rear of the guest house for our
escape. Any questions?
Do we have to kill the girl? Solomon asked quietly. He raised his
eyebrows and looked around the room at the faces staring back at
him.
No! Hiam replied. This is a covert action, her death would only
alert people to us; so just put her off. Say you are his wife or
something. Frighten her, but she must not get to the guest house.
Okay?
The following Wednesday afternoon, a young girl dressed in western
clothing, made her way down the side of the Egyptian Museum of
Antiquities.
Her agency had called her earlier that day to say a regular
appointment had been made for her and she would be expected at the
guest house by four pm.
The rear of the museum turns into a collection of dark streets and
alleyways which the girl was familiar with. She did not notice the
woman wearing a dark hooded Kaftan and silk scarf which covered
her face walking closely behind her.
When the girl stepped off the main street and into a narrow alley,
which led to the guest house, a man stepped in front of her and
blocked her path. She smiled coyly and tried to move around him but
the man prevented her moving any further.
What do you want? The girl asked as the man gripped her wrist. He
said nothing but nodded for the girl to look behind her. As she turned
the woman in the hooded kaftan slapped her face.
You fucking whore. Myriam spat placing her face inches from the
young girl.
I know you are going to fuck my husband.
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I am sorry. The stunned girl replied looking at the woman baring

down on her.
I was hired by an agency.
We know, you fucking bitch, whore. Myriam shouted.
How much is the bastard paying you, ten, twenty, fifty dollars. Here,
take your filthy money. Myriam threw a selection of twenty dollar
bills onto the soiled ground and spat on them.
Take it, and go whore. Before I crack your head open.
The girl leant down and took up the money, in fact she had been
promised only five dollars by the agency to get ten times that much
for nothing was a real blessing. She tucked the money into her bra and
bowed slightly.
I am sorry madam. She said softly.
I was just trying to feed my children.
Myriam and Solomon smiled softly as the woman turned on her heels
and ran. At around the same time, down the alley, on the first floor of
a seedy guesthouse Helena tapped gently on a door. After a short
pause Leaderman opened the door and peered through the crack.
Can I help you.
Helena pulled down her niqab and smiled. Her bright red lipstick
seemed to delight the man who immediately opened the door wider
and peered outside into the hall.
Wheres the girl I usually get? He said looking at this womans thin
body through the fabric of her cotton kaftan.
I am sorry. Sir. Helena whispered seductively.
This girl caught a disease which prevents her working, she is in
treatment today.
Oh, its like that, eh? Satisfied that she was alone Leaderman
opened the door wider.
Youd better come in.
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Helena entered the sparsely decorated room. She noted the double bed
in the centre and the overhead fan which hardly seemed to work
causing beads of sweat to assemble on her brow.
There was a dresser nearby a full length patio door which had a thin
cotton curtain billowing in the summer heat.
I am here to please you. Helena said as she took the hijab from her
hair and shook it out into long brown tresses. Leaderman sighed
seeing how beautiful this girl was and how nicely her breasts lay
under the sheer fabric of her kaftan.
Would you like a drink? He asked walking to the small table
equipped with two glasses and a whiskey bottle.
Helena took Leaderman by the arm and led him to the bed. She
pushed him down and then lifted his thin legs until he was laid out,
casually sitting against two pillows. She tugged at his shorts and
smiled.
Remove these please. Helena smiled wickedly.
I will pour the refreshments. I am here to serve you master
Leadermans eyes lit up and he began to pull his shorts over his feet,
he tugged down the bottom of his shirt to cover his growing cock as
the woman danced seductively over to the table.
She poured two short drinks ensuring the small vial of korari secreted
in her palm was emptied into one without him seeing.
Let us toast love. She said handing him the poisoned glass.
To love. He smiled knocking back the drink with one gulp.
Helena did the same but found herself gasping at the strength of the
whiskey.
Careful. Leaderman smiled. Thats strong stuff.
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My religion does not allow me strong alcoholic drinks. Helena lied.

So please excuse I cannot drink more, but would you like another,
before we start?
Yes. Leaderman hissed.
But lets toast lust, this time.
Helena poured him more drink and the handed it to Leaderman.
To lust. He shouted clinking his glass against her own. Helena crept
on the bed and sat over him; watching him knock back the drink.
To lust. she said softly.
Just then the glass slipped from Leadermans fingers and dropped
onto the bed. Helena was sitting astride him and looking carefully into
his eyes.
Sorry... He said softly.
...That drink has gone straight to my ...
The words trailed off and she saw a palsy attack one side of his face,
his lips on the left and the muscles along his body seemed to droop;
Leadermans eyes glazed over.
Helena leant forwards and looked into them, she could feel his
breathing becoming laboured and his body became limp under her.
Are you feeling okay, Mr Leaderman? she asked with a sardonic
smile. He said nothing but she could see by the look in his eyes that
he was still aware but confused.
He had not told her his name and had always used an alias with the
agency whenever he called for a girl.
I dont think the drink has affected you badly. Helena added.
It was more likely the muscle relaxant I put in it. Dont worry
though, its not going to kill you. That will come in a moment.
She stood and went to the door; unlocking it and allowing Hiam to
enter. Leadermans eyes darted here and there as the two got on with
their work.
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Hiam laid a small leather bag on the bed while Helena began wiping
anything she had touched with a small cloth. Leadermans eyes
became wide and terrified as Hiam removed a long plastic tube from
the bag and a half litre syringe.
He snapped the lid off a glass vial and sucked up 100 mils of
potassium in a liquid solution and then topped this up with one
hundred mils saline solution. When the syringe was filled with a
combined 200 mils Hiam squirted a little into the air.
Leadermans eyes widened as Helena sat on the bed and lifted his legs
under the knees.
Gerrad Leaderman. Hiam said as he lubricated one end of the
plastic tube with jelly.
The Jewish state has become aware that you are a double agent and
your paymasters are the Egyptian military.
Leaderman would have screamed if he could; but only a thin line of
spittle emerged from his mouth as Hiam inserted the tube into his
rectum. Helena looked into his terrified eyes and lifted his legs.
You have been found guilty of murdering 44 Jews... Hiam stated as
he glanced at Helena and slowly depressed the plunger, injecting the
200 mils of creamy liquid into Leadermans backside.
...And sentenced to death by a panel of your peers.
Leadermans eyes screamed in silence as the effects of the potassium
burned into his rectal tissues. Hiam watched with morbid interest as
the blood vessels on Leadermans face became enlarged and then
throbbed with growing blood pressure.
He slid the end of the tube from Leadermans rear end and Helena
dropped the mans limp legs out across the bed. Hiam placed the tube
in a plastic bag and sealed the end before taking the syringe to pieces
and placing everything back into his leather case.
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Leadermans eyes flickered as his body went into shock. He started to

shudder with convulsions and the bed rocked from side to side for a
brief moment before Helena saw the mans pupils gloss over as his
life went out like an extinguished candle.
Hes gone. She said simply. Oh, what a stink.
Yes. Hiam replied. Its a reaction to the potassium, mega-farts and
then death. Its quick though, isnt it?
Quick, but fucking smelly. She coughed.
They both stood back and checked the room to ensure nothing had
been left behind. When they were satisfied that the room was clean
Hiam exited and Helena used a tissue to turn the light off before
leaving and locking the door behind her.
She then leant down and flicked the room key under the door so that it
would slide across the floor and land next to the bed. Just as if
Leaderman had dropped it before he died of a heart attack.
Chapter 13
September 1950
Bavaria is beautiful in the fall, as the river Rhine follows the small
mountains, hills and valleys down to the sea. Each new view is
blessed with either an archaic castle with red tiled towers and high
white plastered walls or a small town.
All these beautiful towns themselves are equipped with either
cathedrals or quaint medieval market squares lined with old shops.
Lodz is such a town, its main source of income is tourism and people
flock from all over the world to visit the beautiful churches and the
towns crowning beauty, a tenth century cathedral.
Behind the main square is a sprawling collection of alleys and narrow
streets where lazy days can be spent looking into antique shop
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windows or browsing through book stores in the hope of finding a lost

treasure.
Arnauld Gunther was busy one sunny afternoon in his bookshop
unpacking boxes. The boxes had been stored, during the war, in a
disused mineshaft some ten kilometres out of town and since he was
now the owner of the store it was his job to go through each box.
He was sorting out valuable titles and placing them in order before
deciding what should be kept in a locked cabinet and what should be
displayed on the shelves. Some books had become damp and were no
good for sale and these he tossed into a box by his feet on the floor.
Gunther knew the value of books and had spent his whole childhood
reading some of the dusty tombs his parents had collected and sold in
the family business.
The business had passed to him and his brother before the war and in
1943, while he was doing his duty, a bomb had blown his brother and
sister in-law to pieces and destroyed most of the shop.
Now he was the only person left to look after the business and had
spent all his back pay restoring the business to its former glory.
He pulled a leather bound copy of Goethe from the box and blew the
dust from the guilt edged book before admiring the feel, the smell and
the weight of the tomb. This was something valuable that he would
have to keep in a locked glass cabinet, he thought to himself.
He looked across the shop and thought about his brother for a
moment. How proud his brother had been when he had heard he,
Arnauld, had been awarded the Knights Cross with Oak leaves after
stopping the Jew rebellion in the Warsaw ghetto.
It was a bad job of course, killing men, women and children, but
someone had to do it and when he was asked to serve the fatherland
Gunther had done the job well.
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His superiors were well pleased with his lack of mercy, his
determined approach to murder and his total domination over the
hundreds of half starved Jews who would not obey their masters.
If they allowed one rabble to rise up and riot where would it end.
They had to be crushed and made to regret their actions to prevent
other uprisings and the need to do it all over again.
He was just thinking how sad it was that, just because Germany had
lost the war, he was unable to display his award in the shop. Because
Britain and America had sided with the Communists, Germany had
been cast down in history as losers, defeated by Stalin and the Jewish
mobsters Hitler had sought to destroy; how angry it made him feel,
especially as it had cost his family dear.
Only now, he thought, were the Allies realising that Hitler was right.
Now that half of Europe was under the boot straps of Jewish
communism and locked behind an Iron Curtain. He flicked through
the leather bound book and sighed as the bell above the door rang.
Can I help you? Arnauld said as a smartly dressed couple entered
the shop. The man, wearing a dark suit and tie with a neat trilby on his
head went to the shelves.
His partner, a tall thin woman with dark hair, black leather gloves and
a wide brimmed hat stood by the door.
Were you looking for anything in particular?
The woman looked out of the shop window into the street beyond as
the man stepped from the shelves towards Arnauld. There was
something about the couple that put his nerves on edge and looking
over the womans shoulder he saw another man in a dark suit standing
on the other side of the road.
They seemed to be together and this only served to heighten Arnaulds
sense of curiosity and anxiety.
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Do you have anything by Jewish writers? the man asked as the

woman turned the door sign from Open to Closed.
Jewish writers? Arnauld gasped dropping the leather bound book
and stepping backwards into the rear of the shop.
The man reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a small
handgun equipped with a silencer which he pointed at Arnaulds knee.
A pop sounded, the book seller let out a tiny gasp, and fell to the floor
clutching his shattered kneecap.
Obereichsfurhrer Arnauld Gunther. The man announced pointing
the gun towards Gunther as he tried to turn and crawl away.
You have been found guilty of murder and sentenced to death by a
jury of your peers.
What? Gunther shrieked. He peered around to see both of them now
holding silenced weapons which they pointed directly towards him.
The war is over, both sides did things they should not have; but its
all history now, we should forget and move on.
There are some crimes that cannot be forgotten. The woman said
firmly.
There are people who will never forget. The man added.
It was war, for god sake. Gunther cried as he tried to crawl away.
You lost people but so did I. My brother, he was innocent but he was
killed in the war. We all suffered, its time to forget.
The words left his mouth as Gunthers brain exploded, splattering
blood and brain material across the floor and up the neatly arranged
shelves of books.
Helena and Hiam placed their weapons away and threw a file, which
recorded Gunthers activities during the Warsaw Ghetto rebellion onto
his prostrate body.
We will never forget. Helena spat.
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Cairo 1951
Israel may have won the War of Independence... Hiam announced
to the assembled group.
But our enemies continue to develop other ways to destroy us.
Namely missiles. Helena said reaching into a file.
German scientists who were not poached by Russia or America after
the Second World War have now been hired by Egypt to develop long
range missile systems. We have been asked to identify and terminate
these enemy scientists.
Excellent. Solomon smiled. A bit of cloak and dagger.
Dont be so eager. Hiam said pulling some notes from his pocket.
Our first target will be very difficult.
Where is he? Myriam asked lighting a cigarette. I guess it is a he?
Yes he... Helena replied. ...Is holed up not very far from here at all,
hes on the top floor of the Pharaoh Hotel.
Albrecht Reich. Hiam continued. A physics professor is being
looked after round the clock by a professional security company. He is
currently working in the University but it would be impossible to get
to him there. Perhaps Rochim could fill us in on his daily activities?
Yes. Rochim said putting his snack to one side and wiping his
mouth. Hes protected day and night, even his lab. There are security
teams based inside and out.
I think the only way we can get through the security grid is by
infiltrating the kitchens of the hotel. They are always asking for temp
staff.
I thought he had his own chef and his food was escorted to his
room? Hiam asked.
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True. Rochim replied. But they get hotel staff to take it up to him,
theyre only escorted by his security staff. Somewhere on the route
we can get to it.
Right then... Helena smiled. ...It looks like Im going to become a
kitchen maid.
Later that week Solomon and Myriam were booked in as American
tourists in the Pharaohs Hotel. Helena had applied for and been given
a lowly role taking food to the rooms when room service was ordered.
Because she spoke Arabic fluently nobody paid too much attention to
the good looking but scruffy maid when she came on duty at 5am.
She already taken Reichs food up once that day and had tried
chatting to the security staff after they had tasted the food in the
kitchen.
This was met with sullen frowns and in the public elevator up to the
top floor she tried to chat again. But the security were bored by their
job and hardly seemed to notice anything she said.
On the 3rd floor of the hotel Solomon took a small aerosol spray from
a cardboard tube and broke the seal on the top. It was late in the
afternoon and the sun was sitting low in the bright red sky outside
their room window.
What is it? Myriam asked taking the inch long spray from him and
holding it up to the light.
Im not sure. Solomon replied. Its a variation of the small pox
virus. Its supposed to be totally inactive in the air and has to be
digested; once symptoms set in there is no known cure.
Horrible. Myriam snarled tossing the vial back to her colleague.
Do you know how long it takes to work?
Ive no idea. Solomon replied.
As long as we have enough time to get out of this hotel I dont care.
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What is the time? Myriam asked pulling on her jacket.

Almost Showtime. Solomon replied standing.
Now, are you sure you know what you are doing.
Dont worry. Ive gone over it a thousand times with Helena.
She smiled back. I think wed better get to the ground floor.
In the kitchen Reichs food was arranged on a plate and then placed
on a trey. The security man, a fat balding Arab in a dark suit, looked at
every item on the plate and then took a fork from the chef.
He used it to take a small amount rice and curry to taste. Satisfied that
they were fine the chef emptied a portion of dessert into a bowl and
gave a spoon to the security to taste.
What is it? The security man asked smelling the white coloured
cream.
Its sweet rice pudding. The chef replied. Its his favourite.
The security man tasted a little and smiled before using his finger to
clean the spoon and sticking his creamed finger deep in his mouth.
I can see why he likes it.
He looked over his shoulder and saw a group of waitresses standing
not realising that Helena had been waiting in the front for some time
and now stepped forwards to pick up the trey.
She followed the security man towards the kitchen doors and out to a
small lobby where the elevator would take them to the top floor.
Stepping inside the security man stood by the buttons and Helena
stood slightly behind him. He pressed the button for the top floor and
the door closed slowly.
The elevator burst into motion and soon the ground floor approached.
The elevator slowed to a halt and a bell dinged once as the doors
opened.
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A young couple stepped into the elevator and the man turned to the
security man and asked to be taken to the third floor. The security
was not happy to be treated like an elevator attendant but pressed the
bottom for the third floor anyway.
I can find the keys, Honey. Myriam whined in her best American
accent.
Look in your bag, woman. Solomon said turning to the man and
shaking his head.
The security man looked briefly at the young woman who was busy
pulling the contents of her bag out before turning back to the elevator
controls and tutting loudly.
Its not here, Hon. Myriam screeched. You look.
Solomon turned and blocked the security mans view of the trey just
long enough for him to spray the dessert with the contents of the
aerosol.
Whats that? He shouted pulling a hotel key from the womans bag.
Im sure you need your eyes tested.
Oh, you are a hon. Myriam whined as the door opened to let them
out on the third floor. Once the couple exited the security glanced
round at Helena and looked quizzically at her.
The stupid bitch should have taken off her dark glasses. Helena
smiled. This made the man relax and he nodded as the door closed
behind the couple. The elevator burst into motion again and shortly
after the doors opened to allow them access to the top floor.
The security man kept the elevator door open as Helena was met by
another security man who led her down a small hall and then tapped
on a door at the end.
He opened the door allowing Helena to enter. Another security officer
stood inside the room and he checked that only food was on the trey
and that the waitress was not armed, patting her down quickly, before
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allowing her entry. Reich was sitting on a sofa reading a newspaper as

she entered. A radio was playing softly in the background.
Mona Lisa, Mona Lisa men have named you
youre so like the lady with the mystic smile
is it only cause youre lonely they have blamed you
for that Mona Lisa strangeness in your smile
(Nat King Cole-Mona Lisa)
Put the food on the table by the window. Reich said glancing over
the newspaper at her as she stepped across the room.
I enjoy the call to prayer this time of night as it rings out from the
Mosque. Cairo is so mysterious at sunset dont you think?
Yes Sir. She smiled.
Helena placed the trey on the table next to the open window and
turned. She gave a small bow, left the room, and was walking towards
the elevator when the door opened again.
The security man who was inside Reichs room looked out and called
her back. Both the security man in the hall and the one holding the
elevator door open looked at her suspiciously as she turned and
walked back to the room.
The stepped back inside to find Reich was sitting at the table eating
his food.
Take the morning trey please. The security man who had recalled
her said pointing to a dirty breakfast trey. Helena sighed with relief
unseen under her breath. She collected the trey before taking it to the
elevator and delivering it to the kitchen.
Once she had shaken off the security man from the elevator Helena
went to the rear door of the hotel and dropped her apron on the steps
as she walked into the rear alleyway. A vehicle containing Hiam,
Rochim, Solomon and Myriam was waiting for her.
Lets get the fuck out of here. She said slipping into the rear of the
vehicle beside Hiam.
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Chapter 15
Buenos Aires is the sort of place people go to hide. It began as an
Indian settlement beside the mouth of the Rio de la Plata river in prehistory. The Spanish arrived in the 16th Century urged on by tales of
untold wealth told by returning conquistadors.
They were quickly followed by other Europeans and now the bustling
metropolis is home to every nation on Earth and, after Greater Sao
Paulo, remains the second largest metropolis in South America.
Following the Second World War many Germans fleeing the
Nuremburg trials arrived by steam ship from Europe in this place.
Knowing that from this base they could flee to any one of three
separate countries within an hour, Paraguay lay to the north, Brazil to
the south and Peru to the west. It was the perfect place for those
fleeing justice.
It was here that Solomon and Myriam found themselves early in
1949. They were there looking for information. Doing the
groundwork for an operation that could follow in the future dependent
on their findings.
There had been rumours circulating that a Nazi almost as infamous as
Mengela, was openly trying to set up an aviation business in
Montevideo, just across the mouth of the Rio De La Plata.
It was said that he was even using his own name and that recently
someone had ran into him quite innocently; although they were not
sure. Reuven had asked Myriam and Solomon to go and see if they
could meet the contact and report back.
It was an excuse to get away from the tense political situation in Israel
and gave them a few days sitting in the sun and walking on the
beaches.
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They did do some work. Finding out that their quarry was possibly
working for a small airline that transferred passengers back and forth
between Buenos Aires and Montevideo; even piloting himself when
the company was busy.
The Rio Del La Plata is actually an estuary which divides the
Argentinean mainland from Uruguay before flowing into the Rio
Uruguay river; one of South Americas major shipping destinations.
Its most famous city in situated on the Uruguay side of the estuary;
just at the bend where the river narrows and becomes the Rio
Uruguay. Fray Bentos is the source of the worlds favourite corned
beef. The city gives its name to this, the countrys famous export
brand.
One evening at sunset Solomon and Myriam sat on a set of rocks and
looked out over the estuarys mouth at the brooding Atlantic ocean as
the sun went down. He was tanned and wearing a white pair of flared
cargo pants and white shirt open to the waist while Myriam wore a
loose cotton dress that caught the breeze easily. They sky was dark
and heavy and in the late afternoon heat they sensed a storm breaking
out at sea somewhere.
Have you been to temple recently. Solomon asked sipping from a
cool drink.
You know, since youve lived in Israel?
No. She replied softly.
Im afraid God died for me in Auschwitz.
Dont say that. Solomon sighed reaching out to her. He ran his soft
fingers along the nape of her neck making a shiver run down her
spine.
I just dont believe in God anymore. She replied staring at him
intensely.
If He existed he would have stopped the evil that happened in that
place, surely?
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You cant blame God for the things evil men do. Solomon replied.
There will always be evil in this world, if not, how are we to know
Gods beauty, Gods mercy, when we see it?
A silence fell between them as they looked out over the ocean and the
sun descended in a blaze of red and orange a shock of lightening burst
across the dark clouds.
You know. Myriam said at last glancing towards her friend
momentarily.
My mother, just before they murdered her and my little brother,
Oscar. My mother asked me to say Kaddish for them. It was as if she
knew they were going to be killed.
There you go, then. Solomon replied softly.
If only for your mothers sake, you have to go to temple. To be a
Jew, a real Jew, you have to take part in the religious life.
When we get back. She smiled.
If you promise to come with me, I will go and say Kaddish for them.
For them and all the people we have lost.
Solomon leant across tried to kiss her. Myriam allowed him to lay his
lips gently upon hers but pulled away.
Im sorry. Solomon said apologetically realising hes misread the
situation.
No, its me. Myriam replied looking away and out onto the crashing
waves below them. The rocks were dark now and a cold wind blew in
from the choppy waves as thunder rolled over their heads.
Im cold, I want to go in now. She smiled without really knowing
why.
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Solomon helped her up and together they returned to the comfort of

the hotel and their own separate rooms. Each falling to sleep thinking
about the other.
Before they returned to Israel Solomon and Myriam gave in to their
passions and, the following evening made love on those rocks.
It was her first sexual experience since the evening she lost her
virginity on the kitchen floor with Sasha, all those years ago. Sex did
not seem to interest her like it did other women she met and spoke
too. It seemed their whole life revolved around this man or that, this
position or that liaison and hearing their stories had made her feel
inadequate; even less likely to want to meet a man.
Of course she had been romanced from time to time, particularly in
the years following the war when she had felt stateless, but she could
not reciprocate. She persuaded herself that she was waiting for the
right person, the right time, the right situation or a combination of
these.
She had been called cold, frigid, the ice queen. One time when she
was in Bucharest a man shes met, after an evening of drinks and
food, became angry and called her a prick teaser. As if a few drinks
meant she had to fuck him.
She had drunkenly screamed back that it was better than being a
prostitute; thats what she would have been if she had exchanged sex
for an evening of food and wine.
He stormed off and left her in the lobby of the small guest house she
was staying in; tears rolling down her cheeks and a feeling of
loneliness like a black shadow enveloping her.
The truth was she had actually like this particular person; if hed not
been so insistent they may well have had sex. It could have happened
but she was not going to be pressured into doing so.
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Laying in Solomons arms on that hot Argentinean beach; hearing his

sleeping breath in her ear. The scent of his strong body on her nose
and the warmth of his skin next to hers made her feel like the years of
loneliness had been worth it.
That now she had experienced intimacy, something she had fantasized
about for so long, it felt as good as she had wanted and hoped for.
Solomon kept his promise to escort her, when eventually she stepped
into the great temple in Jerusalem, on their returned to Israel.
Realising his prediction that she would say the Kaddish for them
supported by a man she had grown to love.
They were saying Kaddish for her loved ones and for all the people
who had died during the great ugliness that was Europe in the 1930s
and 1940s. But particularly, they were saying it for her mother, and
for her young brother Oscar.
Myriam stepped up to the altar with her head bowed and covered in a
fine black lace scarf Solomons grandmother had worn during their
families death rituals which had passed down the generations.
Now the soft curls and twirls of lace work cast her face in shadow as
the Rabbi lit a candle and murmured the first line of the prayer in
Hebrew.
Yitgadal vyitkadash shmei raba
Amen. Myriam whispered with tears flooding her eyes, glad for the
discretion of the veil.
May His great Name grow exalted and sanctified The Rabbi said
abruptly being returned with another amen from those gathered.
As he waved his hands over the candle the Rabbi chanted.
Balma di vra khirutei
in the world that He created as He willed.
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vyamlikh malkhutei bchayeikhon uvyomeikhon

May He give reign to His kingship in your lifetimes and in your days,
uvchayei dkhol beit yisraeil..
Amen Myriam replied. Solomon glanced across towards her. She
was so close he could have reached out and touched her; that veiled
beauty.
He saw the tears collecting on her chin and wished he could have held
her closer and wiped them. But in the conservative confines of the
temple could only look across and pray for their future.
Oseh shalom bimromav hu yaaseh shalom. The Rabbi uttered.
He Who makes peace in His heights, may He make peace,
aleinu val kol Yisraeil vimru
upon us and upon all Israel.
Amein
They walked in the Park after the service and it was then she told
Solomon that he was the father of the child she was carrying. He was
overjoyed and the sad morning turned into an afternoon with some
hope for the future embedded in it. It was as if his prayers had been
answered by their merciful God.
Of course they had to discuss work and marriage. There was no
question for it. She had to become his wife and as their work was so
demanding, it should be soon.
So it was that 2 months later they were in the very same temple. There
with the very same cleric and almost the same congregation but,
albeit, for a more joyous occasion.
The floral wreaths decorating selected areas of the temple and some
of those gathered wore a sprig in their hats or collars. The bride
looked resplendent in her shimmering white gown while Solomon just
appeared amazed by it all.
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He found his smile hurt by one in the afternoon and he wondered

where she got her energy from; secretly watching her socialize and
work the room after the ceremony when the guests had filed
respectfully out of the temple and into the huge Marquee his family
had provided.
From the first Mosaltov and Hurrah, the stamp on the glass, she was
off into dance mode. Myriam seemed to have super- supplies of
energy as he started to flag.
By the afternoon, Solomon was ready to go home but She was busy
meeting his family and bouncing here and there across the room;
dancing with the grandmas, chatting and singing; getting the party
moving along.
He wondered how she did it considering her condition. Not that it
showed yet. Around midnight he was much the worse for wear. The
juice had flowed and the room was swinging about him.
Solomon didnt even remember how they got into the backseat of the
vehicle his father had paid for, and only flashes of the journey to their
hotel. He could remember her kissing him wildly, like a wild animal,
in the back seat of that dark car as it wound its way through the sleepy
streets of Jerusalem in the early hours the following day.
Their sex had been frenzied as soon as the door closed and the bed
loomed large in the foreground. It all seemed a blur before he found
himself sticky on the bed and she was showering in the bathroom next
door.
It was only the following morning that he felt human again. The past
two months had been such a frenzy of organisation, and here it was.
What they had been working towards. Some intimate time together;
away from everyone else. With no responsibilities or duty; some quiet
time. Together.
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They sat and planned for the future. Solomon brushed her hair to one
side and told her she was beautiful. Myriam had responded wilfully,
giving herself to him. Only breaks for room service and phone calls to
family provided interludes for the three whole days they had together.
Then it was back to work.
Chapter 16
Soon they were in Panama city with Helena, Hiam and the others with
new instructions feeding into the information the received in Buenos
Aires. Helena stood in front of Myriam, Solomon and Rochim while
Hiam passed about photos of their latest target.
El Presedenta? Rochim gasped throwing the photograph towards
Solomon.
Since when have we become the assassinators of Heads of State?
Since our contact in Buenos Aires asked. Helena replied.
He has the identity and location of two people we are desperately
searching for.
Its a favour. Hiam interjected.
The people back home think the information we can get for this job
will be worth the risks.
Hang on, can we wish the happy couple many happy years together.
Helena smiled breaking into applause. The two others joined in.
Thank you. Solomon responded taking Myriams hand.
Right then. Hiam said.
The security around this man is going to be very tough and our backup team have identified only one weak point where he may be
vulnerable.
The race track. Helena added.
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He goes their once a month and sits in an open box where there is a
clear line of fire from the stands.
The guns will have to be assembled on site. Hiam said unfurling a
crude drawing of the race track and its stands upon one of the beds.
You... He said pointing at Myriam.
And Helena will be responsible for getting the weapons track side.
There is an exit here on the north stand which allows easy access to
the motorway. Rochim will be waiting in the vehicle for us..
At 1.45. We will all enter. Helena said. Myself and Myriam will go
to the ladies and assemble the weapons. At 2.00 the Presendenta
arrives for this Saturdays Darby.
He has a horse running. Hiam said taking up the instructions.
At 2.01 the women will deliver the assembled weapons to Solomon
and I in stand B, you see, we have clear sight of the presidential stand.
The women will leave to meet Rochim. At 2.10 we kill him in a
double cross fire, Solomon will fire from the east and Ill be slightly
to the north.
Well throw stun grenades into the crowd to create some confusion.
Helena added. This will hopefully provide the cover for you both to
leave by the north stand access.
Doesnt that mean Solomon will have to hold up the rear with
covering fire? Myriam asked looking at Helena.
Youre right. Hiam said nodding towards Solomon, Ill take the
East end of stand B, you remain in the north nearer the exit.
Its okay. Solomon replied. I dont mind...
No Myriam is right. Hiam said forcefully. I will provide cover for
our escape.
This information the guy in Buenos Aires has must be bloody
important. Rochim said pulling a frown.
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Believe me. Hiam said.

It is. Once this job has been done we will be in a position to take out
at least two of the most important war criminals still out there. Lets
make sure we dont fuck up.
Saturday 1.40.
Hiam had got the final O.K from the teams Qoph earlier that day and
as they pulled up beside the race track the team were ready for
anything. Rochim remained in the hire car while Hiam, Helena,
Solomon and Myriam joined the crowds to gain entry to the track.
As they queued in the mid afternoon heat they saw the men being
frisked as they entered the track. The women just had their bags
inspected and so before long they were mingling with the other race
goers in stand B waiting for the arrival of Presidenta Riccardo. Helena
gave Myriam a nod and the two women went to find a ladies toilet.
Eventually they came across a small prefabricated block with a
corrugated iron roof which served the purpose but were dismayed to
find it only had one working cubicle. No one else was in the block so
Helena went in first. As soon as she locked the door she lifted her
long skirt and hanging between her legs was a long hessian bag.
Helena pulled the draw string open and emptied the contents on the
floor. She assembled the sub-machine gun together from its
disassembled parts finally snapping the shoulder holder into the
breach and the cartage clip home. They had decided as a team that day
to leave the barrels off the weapons to enable better concealment.
They assumed the snub nose configuration would not be very accurate
but a triangulated cross-fire, sprayed into the tight confines of the
presidential box would have a better chance of hitting the target.
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They had decided to use the new explosive, ceramic tipped shells
introduced after the War of Independence and consequently only one
shell needed to hit home for an effective shot.
Helena pushed the assembled S.M.G into her shoulder bag with a
grenade which had also been hidden in the hessian bag and opened to
door to allow Myriam to enter.
Myriam latched the door and squatted down to empty her hessian bag,
which too had been concealed between her legs, across the cubicle
floor. She noticed that the firing spring for the weapon had become
entwined in the loose knit of the hessian fabric.
Myriam knew that if she pulled on the spring it may become
misshapen and that this could make the weapon misfire. She began to
turn it anti-clockwise and slowly unhooked it from the fabric.
Helena looked at her watche, it was 1.55, outside the small dirty
window she could see the crowds waiting expectantly for Presidenta
Riccardo to arrive; then a fat Spanish woman entered the toilet.
She looked at Helena and motioned as if to ask if she was queuing.
Helena shook her head and watched in amazement as the woman
banged on the cubicle door.
Hay lady! She shouted.
Theres a queue out here, can you hurry please?
Myriam still struggled with the spring and a bead of sweat formed on
her forehead. It rolled down to hang from the end of her nose as if to
punctuate her inner tension. Suddenly another loud rap echoed around
the toilets.
lady, please... The woman shouted. Im dying for a piss.
The fat Spanish woman looked around at an increasingly anxious
Helena who smiled back awkwardly and shrugged.
Its so fucking hot in here... The fat woman said in Spanish.
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Helena nodded and peered outside the window to see two uniformed
security guards strolling towards the toilet block.
Myriam finally managed to unhook the spring and push it into the
breach before slotting in the firing pin and snapping on the shoulder
guard. She pushed in the cartage case and was about to cock the gun
when the woman outside smashed on the door again.
The latch gave way and the door swung open giving the woman a
clear view of Myriam squatting on her haunches with the fully
assembled S.M.G in her hands.
The Spanish womans jaw dropped as Helena slipped the piano wire
noose she was carrying covertly over the womans head and pulled it
tightly around her throat.
Myriam ignored the two women and went back to folding her and
Helenas now empty hessian bags together before flushing them down
the toilet.
The fat woman tried to scream but the piano wire had already severed
her voice box and all she could manage was a hiss as her arms flayed
through the air.
Helena pulled with all her strength feeling the womans body go limp
on the wire and, as Myriam vacated the cubicle, Helena pushed the
lifeless womans body down onto the dirty toilet floor.
She closed the door as Myriam pushed her S.M.G into her bag along
with her grenade.
The bitch said she was dying for a piss. Helena quipped.
Now shes pissed her pants. Myriam replied looking down at the
pool of urine creeping from beneath the fat womans body. The two
straightened their clothing and went to join the men in stand B.
A cheer went through the crowd as President Riccado entered the
track on the back of an American jeep. He was wearing his formal
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Generals uniform and the diamond and gold insignia he wore

glittered in the hot afternoon sunlight. No one paid any attention to
the women as Myriam reached Solomon and Helena fought through
the crowd to join Hiam.
The Presedentas jeep, flanked by security guards reached the steps
that led to the presidential box directly opposite stand B. The
Presidenta was helped from the back of the jeep and stepped up the
grey stone steps to his box as the assembled crowd cheered and
hooted.
As he reached his seat the Presidenta stopped to wave and take in the
admiration of the crowd for a moment, the sun was in his eyes and he
could make out only the first few rows of people in the bright
afternoon glare.
Helena pulled her S.M.G from her shoulder bag and slipped it
between the folded newspaper that Hiam held in his hands. He
adjusted himself and placed his finger on the trigger as Helena walked
swiftly away.
Myriam passed her weapon to Solomon, who too carried a folded
newspaper, to shield the weapon from prying eyes. She saw Helena
swiftly crossing the crowd toward the exit and went to meet her. The
two women made their way to the exit before looking at each other
and smiling.
They both reached into the bags and retrieved their respective
grenades. Pulling the pins, the women waited a moment before
throwing them into the thick crowd of people; Myriam to her left and
Helena to her right.
The grenades exploded with an almighty crash which reverberated
through the crowd. Several race goers were killed at once and
mayhem broke out among the others.
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The Presidenta and his guards looked towards the direction of the
explosion and strained their necks to see as Hiam and Solomon used
this moment to open fire.
The presidential box was spayed in a hail of explosive fire and the
back of president Riccardos head splashed over the suit of his nearest
security guard before anyone could duck or draw their guns. Several
race goers were also hit in the initial spray of fire.
As Solomon and Hiam raced to the exit firing behind them all the
while some of the presidents security managed to squat and take aim
but their rounds just hit race goes who were running chaotically
around the stands.
Hiam spayed fire into the crowd as Solomon ran halfway to the exit.
He turned and provided cover for Hiam who ran to join him.
The security guards were firing back but the panicked crowd obscured
their view and all they managed was to kill more bystanders. Solomon
reached the exit and provided cover for Hiam who ran out of the track
and towards the vehicle.
The doors were open and the engine revving as Hiam slipped into the
back seat next to Helena. Solomon quickly followed and Rochim had
hit 40 MPH before the door was even closed.
Helena looked behind and saw only amazed faces looking at their
fading rear view window as they made a speedy escape down the
highway.
Police cars with their sirens blazing and blue lights flashing zipped
past in the other direction as Rochim pulled onto a dirt road and up
beside a small white van.
The team got out of their vehicle and clambered into the van before
Rochim tossed a grenade into the hire car and backed the van out onto
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the highway. Soon they were at the airport and climbing onto a prebooked El Al flight to Tel Aviv.
The S.M.Gs were thrown into a river from a bridge on the way to the
airport and as the flight took off the whole team relaxed feeling like
they had not slept for weeks.
Chapter 17
It was three days later that they found themselves back in Buenos
Aires. It had been decided by their controller that Rochim would take
the role of Qoph and so he left the group, as protocol dictated, at the
airport and made his way to a separate hotel. Only Hiam and the
controller back in Israel would have further contact with him.
Solomon and Myriam shared a room in the same hotel as Hiam and
Helena and later in the evening, after a shower and some food the two
couples met up in a room.
Youll be pleased to know. Solomon said with a small smile.
That our Panamanian excursion has done the trick. Today my contact
gave me two choice pieces of information. The address and current
name of Eichmann and...
Oh, my god! Solomon stuttered. Were going after Eichmann?
Calm down. Hiam said with a smile.
Another team has gone to get that bastard, were going after this
one!
He unfolded a small file and written inside was a note attached to a
photograph.
Ahhh! Myriam smiled. She recognised the picture of Herbert
Cukors immediately.
The Hangman of Riga.
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Thats right. Solomon smiled. I couldnt tell you before now

darling, because...
We didnt know ourselves. Hiam interjected.
This isnt the only lead we have been given but more of that later.
Well, we didnt know if our contact here was on the level. Helena
smiled.
But it seems he was telling the truth.
We are here to get justice. Hiam said firmly.
For all those murdered by this butcher.
Heres the plan. Helena said taking the lead.
Cukor is a pilot and flies between Buenos Aires and Montevideo
daily. Its just a short hop over the estuary, about an hour in total. He
has a small house on the outskirts of Montevideo, nothing special but
it has dogs and a sophisticated security system.
We have made contact with him already. Hiam said softly.
Just to ascertain if he is happy where he works and if hes interested
in a management position with our...
...Entirely fictitious. Helena interjected.
Ere, yes, entirely fictitious airline. Hiam said.
He is. Helena smiled.
And that gives us a window into his life. We have arranged to meet
at his house tomorrow to go over our plans with a view to offering
him a position as a senior pilot.
The airline? Solomon asked. Wont he check?

We selected the name of an existing small airline based in
Argentina. Hiam replied.
If he bothers to check he will see its still listed as a going concern
and still owns land and property down south.
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Because of Argentinas privacy laws... Helena said.

...He will find it difficult to investigate owners names, tax affairs
and other matters which may blow our cover.
He is expecting two women from the company tomorrow at two
pm. Helena added.
Once Myriam and I have subdued Cukors we will let you both in to
do the job.
Wouldnt it be better... Myriam asked with a smile.
...For us to take him out cleanly, no fuss, alone? The boys could wait
for us.
We want a show of force. Hiam said.
To show that we represent the thousands who died due to this mans
actions. Before he goes we are to read a declaration of intent to ensure
the target knows that he has been legally sentenced to death.
Also Helena added.
He may have the foresight to frisk us upon entry; that would really
mess things up so we will be going in initially unarmed. Any
questions?
She asked.
Right then.
Mr Carlo? Myriam asked the greying, middle-aged man who
opened the door slowly and peered from within. He looked at the
smiling woman and then noticed the other one who stood behind the
first.
You spoke to Mr Kunzel? Myriam continued while Helena
surveyed the scene and ensured the house was being watched by no
other.
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He has asked us to show you the contract. She saw him looking at
Helena suspiciously and pulled out a fake identity card with the name
of the Argentinean airline written across it.
We are from Argentina; about their job?
The old man took the identity card and examined it closely. The
womans photograph was small but her bright eyes looked back at
him so sincerely that his natural suspicion melted away.
Forgive me. He stuttered before closing the door slightly to remove
the security chain. He pulled the door open wide and both women saw
he was dressed in a grey vest and casual jeans. A large mastiff dog
panted at his side.
You cannot be too careful in this country. Carlo coughed as he
ushered both women into the modest house.
Generally speaking I rarely open the door unless I am expecting
somebody.
Like us? Myriam smiled.
They followed him through a dimly lit hall into a small room towards
the back of the house. They could see through the large window in the
far wall the garden in the rear was surrounded by high fences topped
with barbed wire. Two huge dogs jumped up to the window and
barked.
Dont worry about them. The old man wheezed. They do not like
strangers just give them a moment and theyll calm down.
I am Suzanna Lorento. Myriam lied placing her bag on a chair
beside the table the old man sat beside.
This is my colleague Madam Lidice.
Charmed. The old man replied before taking a cigarette from a
packet on the table and lighting it.
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Its been a long time since two beautiful women have visited this
house and like me its getting old and worn out, do you mind? he
asked gesturing towards the cigarettes.
I only have one vice, smoking, my doctors say it will kill me one
day, but hay, at least Ill die happy.
He looked carefully at Myriam and then towards Helena, she looked
uncomfortable and tense for some reason. Perhaps she had never done
a home visit, he wondered, or perhaps she did not speak German.
You speak my language beautifully. Carlo remarked blowing a puff
of cigarette smoke into the air. I can hear a slight accent, is it Eastern
European?
No. Myriam giggled. My first language is Spanish although you
are not the first German I have met who thought I sounded Latvian or
something.
Latvian, No.... the old man coughed.
Polish, I thought I heard a little Polish twang in your voice.
My mother was Polish. Myriam smiled.
Well done, you are the first person to notice.
I make a point of being observant. The old man said.
What about your friend, does she speak German?
Unfortunately no. Myriam lied. Only Spanish.
I see. The old man said taking another long toke on his cigarette.
His piercing blue eyes looked through the mist of faint smoke and
penetrated Myriams gaze. There was something about the way they
held themselves.
The contract. Myriam said taking a bundle of papers from her bag.
Mr Kunzel explained the terms we are offering?
Yes. The old man replied looking around at Helena momentarily.
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Something about the way she seemed to be detached from them both
made him uneasy. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on
end and became concerned about the situation he may have allowed
himself to fall into.
They were very reasonable. He mused watching Helena closely.
With a generous relocation package too. Myriam said picking up his
interest in Helena. She glanced around towards her friend.
Is there a toilet I can use, please? Helena asked softly in a crisp
English voice.
There... The old man nodded. ...Towards the end of the hall, next
to the street door.
He stood and smiled gesturing towards a small door in the direction
they had just come from. Helena threw him a small smile and walked
towards it. The old man closed the door and went to a cabinet which
sat near the window.
Would you like a drink? He asked turning his back to Myriam.
I find a whiskey helps in situations like these.
Situations? Myriam replied as the man poured a drink and knocked
it back in one gulp. Situations like, what?
Helena quietly opened the front door and peered outside. She saw the
vehicle in which Hiam and Solomon sat just across the street and
gestured for them both to join her.
She quickly flushed the toilet and adjusted her clothing before
stepping briskly to the room she had left Myriam in. She opened the
door and walked into the room and stopped dead in her tracks seeing
Myriam bound to the chair with duck tape. Her eyes widened and she
tried to say something through the gag in her mouth.
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Just then a thump smashed into the back of Helenas head and she fell
to her knees pole axed by the butt of the .32 revolver the old man
pointed at her.
Stay down there bitch. He spat circling Helena. He stepped to the
table and poured the contents of Myriams handbag onto the top of it.
There has been some sort of mistake. Helena mumbled as blood
began to trickle down her forehead. Youve made a mistake here.
No, the only people to have made a mistake are you two. He replied
looking through the womans purse and examining the credit cards
within. He found one in Myriams real name.
Is this you. He shouted throwing the card at Myriam.
Wolenska, I thought you were Polish. Argentinean, what a joke.
He saw another card, this one had her married Jewish name written
across the bottom.
Or is this you? He shouted throwing the card towards her.
A fucking Polock Jewess. They send a fucking Polack Jewess to do a
mans work. My god, I knew your people were stupid but sending a
fucking Polock Jewess; its an insult.
The old man picked up the duck tape and stepped towards Helena
before roughly taking her arms and binding them behind her back at
the wrists.
What do you know about me? The old man shouted.
Then he noticed the mastiff growling towards the door as if it sensed
something creeping up on the room. The old man glanced behind and
snarled before taking position behind the door once again.
The dogs growls became louder as the handle on the door turned
slowly and it was pushed open.
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Dont just stand there. The old man shouted stepping towards
Myriam and placing himself behind her with his gun pointed at her
forehead.
I wondered where your backup would be. he spat.
Come on, boy. Dont keep me in suspense.
Solomon peered into the room and saw Helena bleeding on the floor
with her arms bound behind her back. Glancing to his left he saw the
old man standing behind Myriam with his pistol at the shivering
womans head.
She looked up at him with an expression of terror across her face.
Come in boy. The old man said menacingly. Throw your weapon
across the floor. If you want her to live.
The old man shouted. Youd better do as I say.
Solomon threw the gun in the direction of the old man.
Okay. Solomon whispered raising his palms towards the man.
Lets all calm down a little.
Sit over there. The Old man coughed kicking Solomons gun away.
Now, is that it, or are there more of you fuckers waiting to make an
entrance.
Theres no-one else. Solomon lied. He looked towards Helena and
saw a stream of bright red blood trickle down her face and pooling on
the floor below her chin. Then his eyes darted towards Myriam.
Are you okay?
The old mans dog began to pull towards Solomon and would have
attacked had the old man not held it firmly in his free hand.
She nodded back as the old man tied the dog to Myriams chair and
picked up Solomons gun.
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No talking. He snapped clipping out the cartage clip and slipping it

into his back pocket.
Unless you tell me who you are, who sent you. What do you know
about me?
We know you are Herberts Cukors. Solomon replied softly. We
know you are a wanted fugitive.
Oh, so thats it. Cukors laughed. Ive stumbled across a Mossad
day trip. Well, well I am surprised.
The mastiff was growling at Solomon loudly and Myriams chair
rocked as it pulled upon its leash.
Really. Solomon huffed placing his hands on his head and turning
to face the old man. Why?
I thought you lot were supposed to be professionals. Cukors
coughed.
I spotted you straight away. Do you know how long its been since I
had a woman in here? Too long, I could see by that ones trepidation
that you were here under false pretences.
Well done, Old man. Solomon said softly watching Hiam creep into
the room with his piano wire noose ready to slip over the old mans
head.
The dog was going berserk but the old man was too busy playing to
his audience to consider what it was barking at. He shouted at the dog
to shut up before breaking into a loud fit of coughing.
Yes. Cukors said breathlessly. Youd have to get up pretty early in
the morning to get me like that. Im ready for anything.
It was at that instant Hiam slipped the noose around the old mans
neck and pulled. A shot rang out but it went harmlessly into the
ceiling as Solomon jumped up and, twisting the gun against the old
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mans thumb, relieved him of it. The first thing he did was shoot the
mastiff.
Not my dogs. The old man croaked as the dog fell limply at his
feet.. Hiam immediately reached down to relieve the old man of his
other weapon and cocked the gun.
Why did you have to kill little Berty? The old man choked and
wheezed. Now that he was disarmed Hiam released the wire throttle.
Ive had him for ten years. You bastards. Cukors fell to the dogs
side and started to weep loudly clutching his throat.
See to Helena. Hiam said as he used a knife to cut Myriam free.
You weep for a dog, Old man, but care nothing about the thousands
of Jews killed in Riga.
It was wartime, its all history now, ancient history. The old man
cried stroking the dogs head.
But this animal had done nothing, he was innocent.
Youre priorities are all wrong. Helena said standing to face him.
She pulled a hankie from her pocket and placed it on her cut head.
Oh, you fucking murdering bastards, just get on with it. Cukors
wept placing the dogs head in his lap.
Get on with it.
Taking into consideration the gravity of the charge levelled against
the accused, Hiam said reading from a note that hed been given
back in Israel.
Namely that he personally supervised the killing of more than
30,000 men, women and children, and considering the extreme
display of cruelty which the subject showed when carrying out his
tasks, the accused Herberts Cukors is hereby sentenced to death.
You fucking murderers, what are you waiting for? Cukors cried.
Come on, DO IT!
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Hiam pointed the gun at the mans head and obliged. His brains
splattered up the wall and the old man fell across the body of his
beloved pet.
Lets get out of here. Hiam said placing the piece of paper he had
read on top of the old mans twitching body.
Ive said sorry. Myriam explained again as the El Al flight from
Montevideo took off and rose above the ground. It was an
oversight.
There is no excuse. Helena spat.
The stewardess leant into the row of seats and looked squarely at
Helena.
Is there a problem here?
No. Helena smiled. Im sorry for raising my voice, it wont happen
again.
The stewardess walked off and Helena sighed loudly. She turned and
looked towards Myriam.
I know you are under a lot of pressure. She broke into a gentle
smile and reached out to touch her friends hand. What with the
pregnancy.
It was stupid of me. Myriam replied. I never go out with my real
identity papers, not when were working. Its something I am very
strict about normally.
Its okay. Helena added. You should never have come on this job.
Im going to tell control to leave you at home until the baby has been
born.
You cant. Myriam said turning to face Her. But she knew the
expression on her friends face was one of steely resolve. What about
Solomon?
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He should still work. Helena smiled. Just take some time, look
after yourself, you can always come back when you are ready.
Chapter 18
Helena and Hiam had been to Los Vegas and done the tourist thing
before. Theyd seen the fountains, watched the pirate show and
gambled in a casino.
Hiam seemed to be enjoying himself a little too much at the tables,
especially roulette, and she wondered what he would be like if he was
spending his own money.
Gambling had never interested her that much. She could play a little
but resented losing money for it to become a hobby. Even though they
had almost unlimited expenses Helena was careful with what she
spent. Hiam, on the other hand, seemed to get carried away with the
excitement of it all and became obsessed sometimes at the tables.
She stood back and watched the look in his eyes once and wondered
why he became so excited by the turn of a card. Especially if he kept
loosing; it was something she just could not understand.
Give me a hundred. He asked at one point during the evening.
Helena frowned and shook her head in disbelief knowing that he had
got through nearly a thousand dollars already that evening.
No! She replied making a point to close her bag as if to underline
the statement. Youve spent too much already and we are here to
work, not play.
Okay. Hiam sighed recognising the look in her eyes. To continue
asking would only cause a scene and she was right, after all, this was
a working trip.
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So, later in the week, he and Helena were in another hotel in another
American city facing Solomon who had made travel arrangements
with Rochim.
Once they arrived in St. Louis he had left Rochim, as their Qoph, to
book into another hotel so the team could work independently.
Rochim was going to be in daily contact with Tel Aviv over the public
telephone system, no doubt his calls would be monitored by the
American Secret Service so there had to be distance between him and
the Ayin team.
Hiam would call him from a public telephone every day to ensure
there had been no changes to their orders and it was shortly after one
of these calls that he, Helena and Solomon converged in their hotel
room.
Samara Mussa. Hiam said holding out a photograph of a pretty
woman in her mid-forties for everyone to see. Solomon was stretched
across the hotel bed in front of him and reached up to take the
photograph.
Very pretty. He cooed before passing it on to Helena who sat on the
next single bed.
This is going to be a very easy job. Hiam continued opening the file
he had taken the photograph from.
She taught physics at the University of Applied Mathematics in
Alexandria before focussing her skills on cold fusion and energy
application for domestic use.
Hiam flicked through a couple of sheets reading in silence for a
moment.
She claims to have found a revolutionary source of free energy
which she is going to use for the benefit of mankind.
Very brainy. Helena smiled. Its a shame we are going to kill her.
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Shes been working with the Arabs on their nuclear-rocket

programme. Hiam said closing the file abruptly.
Once she finishes here in St. Louis she intends to return to Egypt.
And the rocket programme. Helena interjected.
Precisely. Hiam sniffed.
What sort of security has she got? Solomon asked sitting up and
placing his hands on his lap.
Nothing. Hiam smiled. I guess she feels that, as her activities here
are purely academic, she is safe. Thats why its been decided to stop
her here in America. Rochim is our Qoph, I spoke to him this
morning and the orders are still valid; so we have a go.
I think Solomon should take this one. Helena smiled.
Especially after the abortion in Montevideo. Solomon quipped.
Thats not fair. Helena said with a note of frustration in her voice.
She stood and looked out the window. How is Myriam, by the way?
Good. Solomon replied. I spoke to her this morning, the baby is
due any day now. We moved to a kibbutz outside Tel Aviv, in the
country, so she can relax while Im away.
Give her my love. Helena smiled. Next time you speak to her.
I will.
Right then. Hiam said clearing his throat. Samara finishes her
teaching job this week and is booked to fly back to Egypt this coming
Monday. You should try to engage her Solomon.
Hows your interest in physics? Helena asked with a giggle.
I think I know enough to bluff. Solomon smiled. Im booked into
the hotel as a Dr. Dev Wilder, I guess it could be a doctorate in
physics.
No tell her youre a medical doctor. Helena said turning to look out
the window. That will impress her.
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You could invite her out for a drive. Hiam said softly. Theres a
range of mountains between here and California, only a single road
crosses them and its very isolated.
What? Solomon asked. Do you want me to drive her off the road?
They want it to look like an accident. Hiam replied. We have this.
He reached into a pocket and pulled out a small aluminium vial. It had
an spray cap under the flip back lid which Hiam replaced before
tossing it to Solomon.
We only have one. Hiam said as Solomon inspected the vial. So be
careful.
What is it? Solomon asked.
Some sort of knock out spray. Hiam replied placing his papers and
the photograph in the file. Apparently it works instantly and cannot
be traced in body fluids or organs. Its a strong opiate I think.
Knock her out. Helena smiled stepping over to join Hiam. Then
throw her off the cliff. Easy.
Ha Ha, very funny. Solomon replied.
Well follow in our vehicle and pick you up. Hiam said tucking the
file under his arm. Just let us know when you have made
arrangements to go with her, okay?
How am I going to do that? Solomon asked with a smirk.
Just use your charm and wit? Helena laughed. If you can dig it out
of your ass.
Okay. Solomon replied. Very funny.
Is this seat taken? Solomon asked the pretty girl sitting alone at the
breakfast table. She looked up from her newspaper and removed her
eye glasses.
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No. she smiled.. Please.

She indicated for Solomon to take the seat and he unloaded the trey of
food and drinks from the trey he was carrying.
You must be hungry? Samara smiled looking at the two bowls of
breakfast cereal and the plate of fried eggs and mushrooms.
I believe in a hearty breakfast. Solomon replied. Dr. Dev Wilder.
he said holding out a hand for her to shake.
Oh, Im Dr Samara Mossa. she replied.
Do you practice medicine locally? Solomon asked tucking into his
first bowl of breakfast cereal. In Phoenix, I mean?
Im not a medical doctor. Samara replied folding her newspaper and
leaning across the table. My doctorate is in Particle Physics.
How interesting. Solomon said. I have a friend who works in a
particle accelerator, in California.
All that colliding of very small bits and pieces to learn about the
fabric of time and space is very interesting. Much more so than
looking at broken bones all day.
Wow, nothing wrong with helping people Samara asked. She raised
her eyebrows and lent across the table excitedly.
Youre friend, does he work in Caltech?
Yes. Solomon smiled. Im going to visit him tomorrow, if you
fancy a long drive please feel free to come along.
I have a flight to catch early next week. The woman said glumly. I
dont think I have enough time.
Of course you do. Solomon smiled. I have to be in surgery early
Monday morning so Ill be coming back Sunday. Come on, what else
would you be doing?
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I dont know. The woman sighed. We have only just met, wont
your wife be upset about you spending three days with a strange
lady?
Unfortunately... Solomon lied. There is no Mrs Wilder, Ive never
been married, too busy with my career for all that.
Like me. Samara smiled coyly. Oh, what the heck. When are we
leaving?
Friday lunchtime. Solomon replied starting his fried eggs. Make
sure you get a good breakfast.
Later that week the two were in Solomons hired car heading down
interstate 70 towards California. On either side corn fields stretched
out from horizon to horizon and the blue sky above shimmered with
the afternoon heat. The radio in the car was playing a song which
Solomon liked. He leant forwards and turned up the volume.
Blue Spanish Eyes
teardrops falling from youre Spanish eyes
Please, dont cry for me
say you and youre Spanish eyes will wait for me
(Al Martino-Spanish Eyes)
Solomon could see the Rocky mountains ahead of them in the

distance; every now and then he caught a glimpse of Helenas hire car
far behind them in the rear view mirror.
Isnt this lovely. Samara sighed placing a dark pair of Ray bands
over her dark brown eyes and sucking in the view outside their
window. Solomon glanced around at her and the sight of her long dark
hair glistening in the afternoon sunshine made him feel very guilty.
Tell me. He asked softly. You said you were teaching, what
physics?
Oh, no. She laughed. Im not really enthusiastic about that; its just
something I do to pay the bills. No, my real interest is in free energy.
Surely free energy is a contradiction? Solomon replied.
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Theres no such thing as free energy.

Oh but youre wrong. Samara replied turning to face him. Ever
since Tesla we have been aware of boundless energy in the
atmosphere. Its just waiting to be tapped, clean and free and limitless.
It really is the philosophers stone; my work has been ground
breaking.
Really? Solomon gasped. Tell me more.
Tesla called it Zero-Point energy. She smiled playing with her hair
and collecting her thoughts.
Wasnt he the guy who invented the telegraph, or something?
Solomon said trying not to seem too ill informed about the subject.
Or was that Edison? I get confused.
They both worked together. She smiled finding his youthful charm
interesting and appealing. Looking across at him she saw his thick
black hair and boyish face flickering in the afternoon light and felt
herself swoon slightly.
He had trouble accessing the energy but knew it was out there. She
smiled broadly and looked out at the passing fields. Just imagine a
world where there is free electricity for everyone on earth. From the
smallest African village to the largest South American city, free
energy for everyone. Do you know what causes most deprivation in
the world?
Access to clean water? Solomon replied.
Well yes. Samara replied giggling. But if you ask people they will
tell you that not being able to access electricity causes most
deprivation.
With electricity you can read at night, have radios, televisions, water
processing, and vehicles. The whole modern world depends on
electricity. Its what makes us modern and its the thing most people
in third world countries want.
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I can understand that. Solomon replied. I guess it would be

difficult to do my job if I did not have access to electricity.
Ive discovered a simple process... She said proudly. ...that can
take free electricity from the Ionosphere. My new process will change
the world. It will have such an impact I get excited just thinking about
it.
They drove on towards the Rocky Mountains as the sun began to set
above the horizon and the road began to rise ahead of them. Solomon
looked in his rear view mirror and saw Helenas vehicle about half a
mile behind them and he knew it would soon be time.
As the car climbed the Mount Elbert road on the Colorado side of the
mountain range Solomon slowed down. The shear drop fell away
from them on every sharp mountain bend.
Wow, its a dangerous road. Samara said looking at the drop and
placing her seat belt around her and clipping it up nervously.
Look how high we are.
Ill be careful. Solomon replied reaching into his pocket, taking the
aluminium vial Hiam had given to him out of his pocket, he flicked
back the lid. The sun had gone down now and the unlit road was just
illuminated in the glare from the vehicles headlights.
Following their red tail lights a short distance behind Hiam gripped
the steering wheel and looked into the darkness only just illuminated
by his own beams.
Do it. Helena gasped softly. Do it now.
They should have put lights on this road. Samara said gripping the
side of her seat with her fingers as the vehicle swerved around another
tight bend. Jesus, that was close.
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She turned to face him and saw the tension etched in his face as
Solomon slowed down and readied himself. When one hand left the
steering wheel and rose up before her she instinctively sat back.
The spray missed her face and lingered in the air for a moment before
disseminating. Samara caught a small sniff of the chemical and
immediately felt sick.
What are you doing? She screamed.
Solomon looked around and attempted to spray her again but she
fought back and the spray again filled the empty air between them
making the air thick with a strong disinfectant like sink.
Do it now. Helena screamed watching the red tail lights in front of
them curl around another bend in the road.
Samara held her breath and grabbed the steering wheel, fighting for
her life with this man who only moments before, she had trusted.
They were both affected by the fumes released by the silver vial and
Solomons head became very heavy on his shoulders. Samara
screamed as the vehicle veered left towards the drop.
Following behind Helena reached out and grabbed Hiams hand
seeing the red lights in front swerve to the left and then disappear over
the edge of the drop.
Hiam put his foot down and soon they stopped next to a clear set of
tyre marks that led to the side of the road. Helena opened her door and
looked down into the darkness. Solomons car was still falling,
crashing, smashing, rolling and falling further down the incline. She
twisted her face into a painful grimace seeing the vehicle bounce here
and there as it fell to the road below.
Hiam joined her as they saw the vehicle smash into a rocky outcrop
and then roll lazily onto a stretch of the same road some five hundred
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metres below. They got back into their car and drove down to find the
crash scene.
There, among the twisted metal and debris, still strapped into her seat,
Samara was dead. A large hole had been made in her left temple,
probably by a falling rock, and looked stunned.
Hiam shone his torch up the mountain towards where the vehicle had
fallen and saw the twisted body of Solomon laying amidst the
crumpled car parts strewn here and there on the incline.
Hiam climbed up and shone his torch light into his colleagues face
before gritting his teeth and sighing at his friends injuries. Solomon
blinked and looked at him blankly.
Help me. Hiam called to Helena.
Just then they saw the bright lights of another vehicle coming down
the mountain road towards them. Helena scrambled up to Hiam and
together they lifted Solomon to their own vehicle and quickly drove
off, into the darkness, into the night.
Chapter 19
Myriam, heavily pregnant and supported in her grief by Helena,
ripped a black ribbon, a symbolic rendering of the garments and threw
it into the hole. The ribbon landed next to the brass plaque screwed to
the top of the casket and was caught by a breeze.
Dayan Haemet. The rabbi called to the wind. Blessed is the judge
of truth. May you be comforted by all the mourners of Zion
Where are they, these mourners? Myriam cried. Theyve all been
murdered, Murdered!
Come now, dearest. The rabbi replied softly. Lets pray for them.
Solomon! She screamed. Why you, why now?
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Hiam stared blankly at them both from the other side of the plot and
very slightly nodded towards the two black cars parked nearby.
Helena knew that it was time to lead her screaming friend away
before she said too much.
Look Helena. Myriam cried. Theres no one here to mourn with
us. Theyre all dead, all gone. If theres a God why is he so intent on
torturing me like this, Why?
Come. Helena whispered leading the hysterical woman to the first
vehicle and opening the door.
They slid into the long seat at the rear of the vehicle and it pulled
away. Helena looked back towards the grave and saw Hiam standing
between her and it. Dressed in a formal black suit, with a ripped back
ribbon pinned to his left sleeve, Hiam stared back ashen faced.
Myriam cried for the next three days until, in the midst of her grief, a
baby was born. Helena, who had not left her side, was pleased to see
the baby boy placed in Myriams arms and the effect this had on her
friends mood. Myriam gave a small smile and looked across the
hospital room towards Helena.
You look tired. She said weakly. You can go and get some rest
now, Ill be okay.
Hes a beautiful little boy. Helena smiled looking down at the baby
in his mothers arms.
Like his father. Myriam smiled back.
Yes, like his father.
Solomons pension was paid into a bank account for her on the first of
every month and Myriam moved away from Tel Aviv and into the
place she had spent her pregnancy.
She wanted to bring the boy up in the farm-land kibbutz surrounding
a small village called Kafar Chabad, where he would be safe, have
friends and go to a small school.
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It was an area she and Solomon had been happy once, a place where
he promised to build them a house and populate it with little ones.
The kibbutz in which the house sat serviced olive groves and each
summer students having a working holiday, or a gap year, would
come to stay. She enjoyed the company and as the boy grew she
became happy again with life.
Sometimes, when the shadows were long and the evening air thick
with the scent of lemongrass, Myriam would look across the veranda
towards her son; playing quietly with all the innocence of childhood
as the air grew thick with the noise of small insects and crickets.
He might have been wearing a loose cotton shirt and white cargo
pants like the ones she saw his father wear; his glowing olive skin and
thick black hair catching the summer sun.
Doing homework or reading a comic, like young boys do when
theyre at a loss for an activity. It was at these times she felt
Solomons fingers running through her hair and the soft sensation of
his breath upon her neck.
Solomon! she would whisper; only to open her eyes to see the
bright eyes of her son watching her quizzically.
Yes, mother? The boy stopped what he was doing and looked at her.
She had named him after, and in respect of, his father.
Now she had called his name absent minded and looked awkward for
a moment.
You look just like your father, sometimes. she replied.
On one particular hot summer night when the smell of olive trees
saturated the still evening air she looked up from a book. There was a
song on the radio which she had heard a lot recently and she closed
her eyes to hear the words.
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Are you lonesome tonight

do you miss me tonight
are you sorry we drifted apart
does your memory strey
to a fine summer day
when I kissed you
and called you sweetheart.
(Elvis- Lonesome tonight)
Myriam smiled and thought about Solomon for a moment before the
sound of a car engine caught her attention. She was intrigued to see a
black vehicle coming down the dusty road that divided the olive grove
towards her house.
As she was on the far side of the kibbutz vehicles rarely came that
close and if they did it was usually the mailman or some other service
delivering something.
The dust rose up behind the vehicle and she could see, as it
approached, that it wasnt a familiar car. It was only as the vehicle
slowed down and eventually stopped that she was actually sure the
driver was coming to see her.
It had been a long time since she had seen anyone other than foreign
students or the kibbutz manager and Myriam strained her eyes to look
through the veil of dust.
Hallo Stranger. Rochim smiled climbing out of the car and waving
a bottle of wine in her direction. How are you?
Rochim darling, how nice. she cooed really surprised to see him.
He slammed the car door and climbed the three steps to the veranda
waving the bottle of wine in the air.
Rochim reached out and threw his arms around his friend who he had
not seen for nearly three years. Just then her son walked from the
house and stood in the doorway looking suspiciously at them.
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Solomon? Myriam said stepping back from Rochim and facing her
son with a dazed expression. Come and say hello to a friend of your
father. Rochim, this is Solomon, my son.
Well, hello little one. Rochim smiled dropping to his haunches. The
boy looked at him awkwardly before running to stand behind his
mothers heels.
Hes very shy. Myriam giggled. We dont have much company out
here.
Its okay. Rochim nodded with tense lips. He sucked air through his
teeth and sighed loudly. Jesus, he looks just like...
I know. Myriam smiled.
An hour later they had discussed Hiam, Helena, Tel Aviv and Halfa,
Rochims family in the West Bank and the unusual heat for that time
of year. The last of the wine was drained from the bottle and the sun
began to set above the olive trees that surrounded the small house.
Little Solomon turned on the external lights and the veranda was
saturated in a warm orange glow calling the clouds of insects from
their daytime lairs to come and dance.
He sat on the floor nearby his mother and coloured in a book
surrounded by crayons.
Hes not wearing a kipper. Rochim said wistfully. You had a britmilah for the boy; I remember Helena mentioning it. Why no cap?
Well, Myriam replied playing with her wine glass and thinking back
to the day the boy was circumcised. It was difficult for her because
traditionally her husband would have organised and led this event in
the boys life. She was glad of the help given by an understanding
Rabbi and tried to make it a special day for the boy.
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There was no party after and instead she and Solomon had gone to the
temple to think about those loved ones she missed. Her thoughts had
been with her mother and Oscar on that day, having her son curled up
on her lap made her dead husband just that little bit closer.
I want him to be a proper Jew. Myriam said looking across the table
towards Rochim.
That said, we do not go to temple much, celebrate the Sabbath,
Passover or any of those other things. I guess Im not very religious.
You may not be. Rochim replied. But as a parent you have a
responsibility for your child. What would Solomon want, this is the
question?
I dont want to discuss this. Myriam said firmly. She emptied the
last of the wine in her glass and rapped her fingernails on the table
top.
Tell me. She said after a tense pause. Have you got a wife yet?
Oh no. Rochim smiled. His eyes widened and he leant in to whisper
to her.
That doesnt mean I havent any ongoing projects. he laughed.
You dog. Myriam giggled. When you have children you can
lecture me about child-rearing; until then...
You got me. Rochim laughed heartily.
A silence fell between them and only the sound of crickets chirping
could be heard between the distant mooing of cattle and the baying of
goats in the field behind the lemon groves. He reached across the
table and took her hands in his.
They want you to come back. He said softly.
Myriam nodded and turned her eyes towards the boy quietly occupied
on the floor. He looked so innocent and unaware of all the hideous
violence that had shadowed her life up to then. Only a year or two
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younger than the brother she once had who would now never grow
up.
I cant. She replied softly. Not yet.
Rochim took a packet of cigarettes from his breast pocket and lit one
up, He offered a cigarette to Myriam but she was deep in thought, her
eyes had glazed over and it looked like the weight of the world was
on her shoulders.
I got into that because of I had a lot of hate. Myriam said at last
turning to face her friend and touching his hand softly. Anger burned
inside of me, if I didnt do something I would have either gone mad or
killed myself.
I understand. Rochim said looking out towards the blood red sky
and the swarms of early evening mosquitoes buzzing around the
lights.
Do you? Myriam said. Solomon, go and get ready for bed please.
The boy sighed loudly but placed his crayon down and folded the
book obediently. He stood and approached Rochim before holding out
a small hand.
It has been nice meeting you, Sir. The boy said. Rochim smiled
broadly and giggled boyishly before taking his small hand and
shaking it.
And you too. Rochim replied. Goodnight son.
Now, things have changed. She looked at him and pushed a clean
glass ashtrey across the table.
I have Solomon! Myriam added before standing. ...Little Solomon
to think about now. Give them my love, the people at work but....
Myriam stood by the steps and looked out at the black sky. A sky so
full of doom and terror yet transient; but just a prelude to the
following days burst of summer sunshine. Myriam sighed and
turned to face Rochim with her shoulders back; defiant.
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Im not coming back. Thats official.

Im not here on any official business. It was purely social.
Im sure it was darling. She laughed heartily before adding
sarcastically.
But seriously; Im not ready yet. Please tell them; Im not retiring
but I have other commitments for now.
Okay. Rochim sighed and stood to face her.
...Is thats how you want it. Stay in touch though, please.
I will. Myriam laughed and walked him back to the vehicle.
Are you okay to drive?
Fine. Rochim replied flashing a wide smile. Just dont tell the
police.
Got cha! she laughed. Thanks for coming out here to see us.
It was my pleasure. He stopped by the door of the vehicle and
looked awkward for a moment. She affectionately pecked him on the
cheek with equal awkwardness. The both giggled and he climbed into
the car.
Tell Helena, my thoughts are always with her. Myriam smiled.
Rochim nodded and closed the car door. The vehicle started and
lurched forwards momentarily before Rochim wound down the
window and called out.
Ill call you.
The vehicle turned and drove back down the dusty road that had led it
there. Myriam stood and watched until the tail-lights were just red
stars in the distance. Glinting stars in a black sheet of glinting silver
stars.
Sometime later Myriam stood outside the small school in the village
on a hot summer day. Other mothers stood around waiting for the kids
to come out of the small white dusty building which was the
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municipal Hebrew school. She noticed a young girl, in her late teens;
looking at her intently one day.
The girl smiled and stepped over to her.
Hi, she said before smiling wider before adding. What is your
sons name?
Solomon. Myriam replied with a nod.
I have a little girl. Shes in your sons class.
Really?
If they want to play together one day. the girl added. You may like
to unload him on me one afternoon, I dont mind, were pretty
isolated where we are and she has no friends there.
Thank you. Myriam smiled and asked. Whats your name?
Im Iwona. The girl said. Its Polish, pronounced Yvonne. I was
born in Warsaw.
Myriam was a little surprised. She hadnt thought about Poland for so
long that meeting a fellow patriot was daunting.
Im Polish too, from a small village outside Gdansk. she said
loudly. Oh, wow. Youre the first Pole Ive met locally.
Id heard your accent. Iwona smiled. I knew you were from that
part of the world and had to say.
I dont actually feel Polish any longer. Myriam giggled. But you
cant hide youre roots.
My name is Iwona Bernstein, from Kracow. Iwona smiled and
looked towards the children emerging from the school.
Seeing a small girl with her hair in braid appear at the door, Iwona
waved. I came here five years ago.
Oh. Myriam replied. Thats not long; really.
No! Iwona replied.
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Myriam looked across and saw Solomon emerge just after the girl;
looking smart in his jacket and shorts. He was carrying a small book
case and a pencil box.
I love it here. Iwona added walking towards the girl. Anyway, its
been nice meeting you.
And you. Myriam smiled as she watched the girl skip off into the
warm sunshine, the bright sun and cool afternoon air on her skin.
It was much later that afternoon that Myriam, sat in her favourite
chair on the veranda remembered back to that day in the camp. When
she was working unpacking the cases and sorting valuables for the
Nazis, before she met Sasha Romanov, she remembered the
photograph of an old Jewish man. His long, white beard and trilby
hat. The case had said Bernstein, Kracow write large in white letters
on the top.
She thought back to that day and then about the girl she had met at the
school. Of course she was too young to have been in a camp, or even
to have experienced the horror of the war. But just suppose, this was
her grandfather, just suppose the coincidence.
About a week later she was waiting for Soloman outside the school
once more. Myriam had been reading in the newspaper that Israel had
new enemies to contend with and so the search for ex-Nazis would be
put on hold for the time being. She sniffed and looked up.
Hi. Iwona smiled walking towards her. Its a lovely day.
Is it? Myriam beamed closing the newspaper. I suppose the
weathers nice.
I try not to read newspapers. Iwona said taking a place beside her
friend. They just make me depressed.
Thats right. Myriam smiled. They do.
How is Solomon?
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Good. She replied. What is your daughters name? Shes a pretty

little thing.
Jo! Iwona replied. Its short for Joanne. We dont really go for
formal Jewish names like Ester, you know. Theres still too much
racism in the world and I didnt want her held back.
I understand. Myriam said softly. I called him Solomon after his
father; not for any religious reasons; thinking about it perhaps youre
right.
What does his father do? Iwona asked. This made Myriam tense,
she knew people would ask sooner and later and had rehearsed stock
answers but now the situation had arisen she had to stop and collect
her thoughts before answering.
Hes dead. She said simply; not elaborating on the statement.
Oh, Im sorry Iwona replied awkwardly looking towards the floor
for a moment.
The children began to emerge from the school and both women were
pleased for the distraction. Seeing their children emerging talking to
one another; Solomon looked up and smiled while Jo waved. The
children joined their mothers before asking if they can stay together.
I dont mind. Myriam said softly looking towards Iwona and
shrugging.
I dont have a vehicle. Iwona said looking over Myriams shoulder
towards her station wagon.
So, if you dont mind, Ill give you my address and you can come for
the boy later.
Just give me your phone number. Myriam said softly. Ill phone
you.
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In an hour or two. Iwona said walking off with both children

tagging behind. Ill be ready for bed by then.
Myriam walked to her vehicle and started the engine. She had
somewhere to go and had been wondering when she would have a
spare couple of hours free.
Now the opportunity had come she didnt have to think too carefully
about it and drove to the main highway heading towards Jaffa.
Shortly after she was stepping into the ordinary looking office
building in Ambrosia Avenue and taking the elevator to the fourth
floor. She had to steady herself as the elevator stopped on that floor
and took a deep breath before the door slid back.
Hello Stranger, what brings you to town? The secretary said looking
surprised as Myriam stepped from the lift.
Ive come to see the boss. She said simply. Sorry I didnt phone in
advance.
Its okay. The secretary pressed a button on her intercom and
gestured for Myriam to sit. You look well, youve really caught the
sun, hows young Solomon?
Hes doing very well at school. Myriam replied looking towards the
internal door. We have a nice life out in the middle of nowhere.
Thats nice. The secretary smiled. A loud buzz came from her
intercom and she looked at it before pressing another button.
You can enter now.
Thank you.
Her boss, Reuven, had not changed since she had first encountered
him by the marina so many years ago. He wore the same white jacket
and shirt, clean and smelling sweet of expensive aftershave, that he
had the day they first met.
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He stood as she entered the room and closed the door behind her;
gesturing for her to sit opposite his desk.
Myriam... He smiled. ...How very nice to see you again. You look
well.
Thank you. She replied.
So He sat back in his chair and smirked. I guess this isnt a social
visit?
It could be. Myriam beamed. She looked over his shoulder and out
through the huge window behind him. The blue sky looked vast and
was flecked with sea birds on their way, no doubt, back to their nests
with beaks full of small fish for their young. The irony did not escape
her.
I read that we would no longer be hunting German war criminals?
She said softly. Is that true?
Never say never. Rueven replied with a cocky smirk. Its just that
our new government sees this as a secondary concern.
Hmm! Myriam huffed. She took a deep breath and bit her bottom
lip before continuing.
What then is our primary concern? She asked. If hunting German
murderers has been relegated; who are our main target?
Myriam. The controller sighed. Our main concern has always been
present risks to our countrys security. You, yourself, have been on
missions tracking down and eliminating current targets.
Surely you must have noticed that most of them have been Arab. The
threats we face today do not emerge from Germany.
Of course we have to keep an eye on that part of the world but it is not
Germany who threatens us any longer. We are a long way from
Europe and surrounded on all sides by our enemies. They do not
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speak German but Arabic. Today our main concern is not Nazism; it is
Islam and the Jihadist movement.
I have a problem with that. She said firmly.
Really. The controller opened a small box which sat next to his
telephone and took out a cigarette. Smoke?
No thank you. She replied as he lit a cigarette and blew the smoke
towards an open window.
I joined the Institute with one aim. Myriam said thoughtfully.
Picking each word carefully to express herself properly.
I wanted justice for myself and for my family.
I understand. He replied taking another puff on his cigarette. We
all want justice. He said softly
.
I get no pleasure from killing really, but I do get satisfaction if the
target is someone I feel deserves to die. I can justify that in my mind
and so the actual act does not horrify me. It does not detract from my
innate humanity.
All our targets have been sentenced to death legally... The controller
said tapping his ash into the bin by his desk. ..., in a court of law. We
are not murderers. We act for a branch of the government and we do
law enforcement.
Precisely. She said.
That being so. The controller added. We cannot choose who we
want to go after, we have to be guided by our superiors and, at this
particular time, they want us to seek out threats emanating from
Egypt, Syria and the like.
Well, I guess its time I did something else. Myriam smiled.
Im sorry but that does not inspire me.
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Myriam! The controller smiled back. The buzzer on his intercom

made a loud sound indicating he had someone else waiting to see him.
The man raised an eyebrow, turned off the sound and stood. He
walked to her side of the desk and held out his free hand.
You are one of my best agents. he said.
Myriam stood and together they stepped towards the office door.
I know you feel like this now. He added softly.
We all have moments of indecision and doubt. Its natural,
particularly in this field. Take some time to consider your options and
if you decide not to return; so be it.
But if at any time in the future you change your mind; well, my door
will always be open. You have particular talents which make you very
special to me and to this country. Your talent cannot be taught in a
classroom. People have to have it in them from the start.
Thank you. She said opening the door. You make me sound cold.
Not cold. He replied. Lets say driven.
Outside the office sitting with the receptionist was a stuffy looking
Old Jewish woman wearing the tradition orthodox uniform of plain
black shoes, black tights, black dress and bonnet. She gave Myriam a
grim look as she entered the secretarys office.
Remember. The controller said again. My door is always open.
Chapter 20
A few weeks later Myriam sat opposite Iwona on the veranda of her
house on the kibbutz. Joanne and Solomon were playing on the grass
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verge between the steps and the dirt road upon a blanket that the
women had put out for them.
The sun was hot and the air dry and dusty so the women had been
drinking cool wine which Myriam stored in the refrigerator. They
looked down from the veranda at the boy and girl playing so
innocently; both without a care in the world.
Hes really grown. Iwona said taking a sip from her glass. In the
two years Ive known you he has shot up. How old is he now?
Hes nine now. Myriam smiled. Yes, he has grown.
Do you mind if I ask... Iwona said softly running her finger along
the brim of her wine glass. How did his father die?
Myriam pursed her lips and threw her friend a cold look. It was a look
Iwona had not seen all the time she had known her friend and the icy
stare filled her with fearful anticipation.
Forgive me. Iwona stuttered. I didnt mean to pry.
Its okay. Myriam lied. I suppose I am ready to talk about it now
although, for reasons too complicated to go into, I can only say this.
He died in an industrial accident.
Thats why you get such a good pension? Iwona stated thoughtfully.
I did wonder how you could afford the big house and nice car. My
husband , Joannas father, is in the army but we just about make ends
meet. I rarely get to see him these days.
Perhaps we see each other a couple of days in the week, late at night
or early in the morning. The odd weekend are spent together.
Thats awful. Myriam said squinting.
At least hes...
Alive. Myriam interjected.
I was going to say healthy. Both women laughed.
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I must stop doing that. Myriam smiled. I guess I havent got well
disciplined listening skills; it comes from living out here on our own.
Dont you get lonely? Iwona asked. I know I do but at least he
comes back sometimes. Boy, we screw like crazy people when we get
the chance.
You are funny. Myriam giggled
Were like dogs on heat. Iwona continued. In the kitchen, the
bathroom, Ive even demanded it in the back seat of our little Fiat.
That day I was so desperate for a fuck I could have ripped his pants
off as soon as he got in the car.
She hiccupped and looked at the wine glass.
This stuff has gone straight to my head. Iwona smiled. Excuse my
language, Im a little drunk.
Its okay. Myriam laughed. I needed a good laugh.
She became thoughtful for a moment and twisted her wine glass
between her fingers before looking directly at her friend.
I do want a man. She said. But all that singles scene, you know,
dating and going out to meet people. It all seems so cheap.
Myriam. Iwona said taking her friends hand.
You are in the prime of your life, a beautiful woman. You must have
men throwing themselves at you.
I wish. Myriam giggled.
Perhaps if you went back to work. Iwona suggested. Youre so
isolated out here. Its not healthy; one day youll wake up and regret
wasting these years; you wait and see.
I did consider going back to work but... Myriams voice trailed off
and her gaze fell onto the children quietly playing below them.
Iwona? she asked abruptly.
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Yes? Iwona replied. She could see the tense expression in her
friends face and the tightness of her lips made her sit up and pay
attention.
What Myriam, what is it?
If anything should happen to me. Myriam said with such a serious
inflection to her voice that Iwona became quite concerned.
What could happen? She stuttered. Youre healthy, young, dont be
so pessimistic.
Im being serious Iwona. Myriam replied firmly. Listen to me.
Okay. Iwona replied. Now you are worrying me.
Dont worry. Myriam replied before sucking a deep lungful of air
and exhaling loudly.
I just want to know that if anything should happen to me, anything at
all, you will take care of Solomon.
Without question. Iwona replied firmly. You didnt even have to
ask.
Thank you. Myriam smiled. I knew I could depend upon your
friendship. Of course, you will get his fathers pension and any
insurance Id leave.
Oh please. Iwona sighed. You think Id want paying? My god,
thats the last thing Id be thinking about should anything happen to
you.
I know. Myriam added. But we have to be practical.
You worry me sometimes. Iwona said shaking her head slowly.
Im going to make you a love match that will stop you from having
all these depressive thoughts. Girl! You need a good hard cock to
cheer you up a bit.
Yes. Myriam smiled widely. We were thinking about getting some
chickens.
Very funny... Iwona laughed.
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Sometime later, towards the end of the hot season when the sky is fit
to burst but rain remains an elusive dream, the women were standing
outside the village school as usual.
Several other mothers were standing with them, all clearly
anticipating the end of school and the journey home with their
children.
Myriam felt edgy for some reason. Something had been bothering her
all that week but this particular day seemed much worse. A sense of
foreboding filled her with dread and she couldnt shake it off.
Myriam put it down to the low air pressure and the sense that a storm
was brewing far out to sea and when it broke the heavens would crack
with thunder, lightning would streak the sky and rain would fall like
the dawning of Noahs flood. Only then would she feel relief.
Iwona was standing next to her as the school bell rang out in the
distance and children began to appear in the schools doorway. She
stepped forwards and craned her neck to see if Joanne was among
them.
Myriam, on the other hand, was looking towards a black four wheel
drive that had come around a nearby corner. It was being driven by an
Arab gentleman, dressed in traditional costume his head was swathed
in a long cloth which hed tucked behind one ear so that only his eyes
were visible.
This caught Myriams attention and she looked intently as the vehicle
stopped on the other side of the road. The Arab was talking to
someone behind him, in the rear seat, and his eyes were tense.
Suddenly the side door opened and another Arab emerged from the
rear of the vehicle carrying a small suitcase which he gingerly placed
beside the road next to a refuse bin.
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There she is. Iwona said stepping forwards into the crowd of
children. Myriam looked around and saw Joanne coming down the
steps from the school building and crossing the small playground
heading towards the gate. As she looked over the heads of the other
children she saw Solomon emerge from the school.
She glanced back to the four wheel truck and saw the driver furiously
waving for the other Arab to get back into the car. Myriam looked
towards the refuse bin and at the suitcase looking ominously out of
place there on the dusty road. The black four wheel trucks wheels
screeched loudly causing other parents to briefly look in its direction
as it sped away.
She looked back towards Solomon and lifted her hand to wave, to get
his attention, gesture at him. Solomons eyes lifted and their gaze met
in an instant of carnage. It was all in slow motion. The air being
sucked out of their lungs, the whirlwind of dust and debris enveloping
them all.
The children seemed to be exploding in a flash of deafening chaos.
School books and charred childrens clothing ripped apart in the flash
of white explosive heat.
Then only Silence.
A bird tweeted on the wing.
Myriam and Solomon stared into each others eyes, across the silent
playground, just the two of them.
Caught forever in a flash of time and space; a fracturing memory,
which was blazing white hot with fire.
BOOM!
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Myriams fingers reached out in that split second before her eardrums
burst, touching only dust on the afternoon air. Then the scene grew
dark.
Chapter 21
When she did eventually open her eyes the first person Myriam saw
was Helena. Her face was a blur of bright light before coming slowly
into focus.
Doctor. Helena screamed. Shes awake, her eyes have opened.
And then darkness descended once again.
She was on that beach in Buenos Aires again, looking out over the
Del La Plata estuary towards the Atlantic ocean. The black sky on the
horizon beyond was swirling.
It was ominous and brooding, almost evil in its intent, as she looked
high above her head a thunderclap rang out. Myriam saw rain falling
down about her. Filling up her vision with darkness and fear blood
was raining about her in thick red puddles of death.
She heard the sound of cattle trucks shunting, boots treading through
thick snow, the cry of a baby in the emptiness of a gas chamber.
Piles of human decay slowly smouldering, hair, clothing, childrens
toys and the charred books of exploded schoolchildren. Then through
the darkness she saw him.
Hello Stranger. Solomon smiled, his white cargo pants blowing in
the cool breeze, his tanned skin radiant and glowing with youth. He
smiled and his teeth were whiter than heavenly clouds, radiating with
blissful joy. Their fingers reached out across the abyss of time and
space and touched.
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I love you. She cried feeling tears roll down her cheeks.
I love you both. Solomon smiled as the steady bleep, bleep, bleep of
her monitor crashed her into consciousness.
Hello. Rochim smiled. He turned and Myriam saw Helena sitting in
a chair behind him reading a book. She froze briefly and looked
concerned. Suddenly she placed her book to one side and stood
crossing the room to stand beside Rochim.
How are you feeling. Helena asked gently.
Solomon? Was the limit of her verbal skills for that moment but
Helena knew exactly what she was asking and took Myriams hand,
squeezing it a little.
Solomon is fine. Helena smiled. He wasnt harmed at all. Some of
the other children were injured but no one was killed. It was
Hezbollah; the bastards.
No one was killed? Myriam said weakly; managing a small smile.
Helena smiled back and this gave her permission to close her eyes and
sleep again.
Hoping, beyond hope, to see him once more, a fleeting image of her
lost loved one in a dream. It was not to be, only restful blackness
accompanied that stage in her recovery.
Six months later Myriam had only a small scar on her forehead, the
evidence of shrapnel trauma, to remind her always of how close death
had come that day.
She had learned previously that Iwona was completely unharmed,
being shielded by the school gate post, and that Solomon was just
blown off his feet.
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It had been determined that the bomb, although powerful, was

constructed poorly and that most of the blast had gone upwards. If the
case had been laid on its side everyone, including the parents and
school children, would have been showered in a spray of Ball Barings
and steel nails.
When you asked me to look after Solomon... Iwona said one day
during a hospital visit. It was like a premonition.
These things happen for a reason. Myriam replied.
The Elevator door opened and Myriam walked with her shoulders
high, into the reception on the 4th floor.
Hello Myriam. The secretary said pressing a button on her
intercom. You can go through, hes been expecting you.
Myriam, my friend... Reuven smiled coming around his desk and
taking her hand.
...Its so good of you to decide to come back and help us again.
I understand the importance of our work now. She replied taking
her usual seat opposite him across the desk.
Your son, Solomon?
He is being taken care of very well and for as long as I wish. She
replied. By a friend.
Good... Reuven smiled. ...Very good.
An awkward silence fell between them and Myriam shifted on her
seat while she considered how to express herself properly. She could
see from his expression that the controller was not sure if she was
ready yet and was going to take some convincing.
I would like to create my own team. She said at last. This appeared
to come as something of a surprise to him and the Reuven looked
unsure for a second.
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Your own team? He asked.

I have a couple of people in mind. She continued. I would like to
be able to take the lead and oversee things from an operational point
of view.
Yes. He said softly. Are you really ready for that, at this stage in
your recovery?
I am.
We wouldnt like to overstretch you. He said tapping his fingers
nervously on the table. Not at this stage.
You wouldnt.
He sighed and rolled his eyes for a moment before placing his hands
on the desk and leaning towards her.
We have a new policy, Myriam. The controller tapped on the desk
again and continued.
Sikul Memukad!
Whats that? She said thinking about her Hebrew language skills.
Targeted, erm, targeted...
Foiling. He interjected. Hitting the enemy before they have a
chance to organise. Proactively looking at who could become a
problem in the future and striking before they do.
I see.
Our intelligence branch has been busy. Reuven said with a smile.
We have a list of targets which have been prioritised, teams have
been allocated already.
I see. Myriam said softly. So
So I would like you to return to Hiams team initially. He noted her
tense look and understood this was not exactly what she had in mind
so tempered the statement by adding.
Just for a short while.
Really? Myriam responded. You mean that?
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Of course. He smiled. Then, I will give you your own team. I

promise.
It was two weeks later that she found herself knocking on a hotel door
in the centre of Cairo. Booked in as an Italian tourist and travelling on
a visa issued in London. Hiam opened the door slowly before flinging
it wide.
Look everybody; heres my surprise.
She entered the room and found Rochim, Helena and Abraham., They
all looked flabbergasted to see her.
Ive been keeping it a secret. Hiam smiled. You know everyone
here; no introductions needed.
Abraham. Myriam smiled. Its been a long time.
It has. Abraham smiled.
Rochim. She nodded to her friend as Helena strode across the room
and held her in a tight hug.
How are you? She whispered. It seems like such a long time.
Hows Solomon?
Hes good. Myriam replied looking into Helenas eyes and noticing
there were newer lines that she hadnt noticed before. She thought
Helena looked tired and worried.
I have been thinking about you. Helena said softly. Every day.
I know. Myriam smiled.
Right ladies. Hiam said. The women sat on one of the beds and
looked at him expectantly.
And gentlemen. Rochim said placing a sandwich in his mouth and
chewing.
Yes, and gentlemen. Hiam smiled. Here is our target this week.
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He opened a file which had been under his arm and pulled out a
photograph. It was of an elderly Arab gentleman sitting in a
wheelchair beside a desk.
Dr Abu Sharif. Hes a fundraiser for Palestinian extremist
organisations here in Egypt... Hiam said passing the photograph to
Helena who then passed it to Myriam.
...Although he travels all over the world promoting Palestinian
suffrage and calling for the destruction of Israel.
Whats the security like? Helena asked passing Rochim a filthy
look as parts of his sandwich slipped out from between the bread and
dropped to the floor.
Sorry. Rochim said picking the mayonnaise and lettuce up and
wrapping it in a napkin.
Very tight. Hiam said. But luckily for us its based around his
working environment at the Cairo university. Theres plenty of scope
to hit him at home.
Any ideas? Abraham asked.
Yes. Hiam continued. Qoph have been monitoring his wifes
communications and it appears shes ordered a new bed. Its being
delivered tomorrow afternoon from a major department store.
Me and Myriam could make sure its diverted. Helena smiled
slapping Myriam on the shoulders.
The van as well as the bed. Hiam added.
Then myself, Abraham and Rochim will deliver it later after making
some very uncomfortable modifications. How long will it take you to
place a timed device in the bed base, Rochim?
Not long. It depends on the beds construction. Rochim bit another
piece of his sandwich and continued.
If its a metal construction it may be a little difficult. Anything else
will be easy.
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Caught between the Port Said road and Ali Bostah, Sednaoui is the
oldest department store in Cairo. Mostly filled with third rate tourist
junk, arranged around a central atrium, the locals use it to buy into
supposed Western luxury.
Many of the items are sold as luxury but in London would be
offloaded in cheap knock off stores that cater for the rich and stupid.
They have a cargo dispatch in the rear where old vans run to and thro
making deliveries to the shoppers who cant be bothered battling the
crowds and have the money to pay the modest delivery costs.
The Sharif family had arranged for their bed to be delivered early that
morning. As the van waited to turn off Ali Bostah into Ali Al Kasar in
the mid morning traffic the driver tapped his accompanying labourer
and giggled.
Standing on the corner just a few feet away a young woman was
trying to read a map. It was being caught by the wind along with her
flowing chiffon skirt and she was fighting to hold her hem down and
not lose the map along with her modesty.
Both mens attention was drawn towards her and they secretly hoped
the wind would reveal a glimpse of her underwear as the morning
breeze picked up the dust from the sidewalk.
It was at that moment that the drivers door was pulled open and
Hiam pushed a gun into the drivers gut.
Move over. He said in Arabic. Now.
Okay. The driver said holding up his arms and shifting along the
seat. Helena folded the map and opened the other door climbing up to
sit beside the labourer. She pulled a small handgun from her bag and
waved it under the labourers belly.
Dont move. Hiam said stepping on the gas and steering the van
away from the traffic.
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The team had already found a quiet back street where they could pull
the van into without being seen. Once there the two men were pulled
from the vehicle and made to climb out of their official overalls. Then
they were tied up before being locked in a disused buildings shed
nearby.
Rochim and Abraham opened the rear of the van and checked the
contents. Beside the bed they saw only a table and two armchairs
which were obviously going to be delivered elsewhere that day. They
were pleased to see the bed was a mattress and box-base which was
covered in felt and satin.
Abraham expertly opened the felt covering that hid the wooden
construction of the piece and then took a small metal box out of the
bag hes been carrying. He pressed a small bottom on the side of the
box and was pleased to see a red led light up showing the contraption
was armed.
Whats the range? Rochim asked as Abraham taped the bomb to one
of the bases wooden beams before using a staple gun to re-attach the
felt covering.
About five miles. Abraham replied.
Myriam pulled into the side street in a small hired car and Helena got
into the passenger seat beside her.
Well follow the boys. She said as Abraham and Rochim dressed in
the stores overalls and climbed into the van next to Hiam.
They drove slowly to the familys address followed by the small hire
car driven by Myriam. Eventually the van pulled up in an exclusive
part of Cairo next to a house which had a long gravel drive. The van
turned off the street and through the gate onto the drive before pulling
to a halt outside the large town house.
Hiam got out of the van and rang the doorbell. In a moment or two a
young woman answered the door. Two small children looked out
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behind her excitedly towards the van. Hiam explained in Arabic that
the familys new bed had arrived.
The woman went into the house and soon a man in a dark suit came
out and stepped up to Hiam. He looked at him suspiciously and asked
to see the paperwork. Hiam showed him the collection of delivery
notes which had been in the van and, satisfied, the man told him to
unload the bed.
Hiam shouted in Arabic for Rochim and Abraham to unload the bed
and mattress. The children appeared at the door with the maid again
as the two men struggled to carry the queen sized mattress into the
house.
The man in the suit accompanied them to the main upstairs bedroom
where they found an old bed waiting to be taken away. Leaving the
new mattress the two men took the old mattress and carried it back to
the van.
Outside Myriam watched from across the street as they unloaded the
new bed base and carried it into the house.
There are young children in the house. She said to Helena
anxiously. I didnt know they had children in the house.
Neither did I. Helena replied.
Once the bed base was in the main bedroom the two men placed the
new mattress on it and, guided by the maid, pushed it against the wall
in its usual position. Then they went back to the van and loaded the
old items in before Hiam got the man in the suit to sign the delivery
notice.
Then the three got into their van and drove slowly out of the driveway
into the main street. Myriam started the car and followed them slowly
back to where they had been earlier.
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They drove the van into a disused back lot and Hiam set fire to it
before the three of them joined the women in to small car. Myriam
drove them all back to the hotel in tense silence. She seemed to be
greatly bothered by something.
When they eventually got to Hiams room the atmosphere was tense.
Okay. Hiam said closing the door behind them. What is it?
Myriam is upset. Helena sighed. She looked at Hiam and shrugged.
No one said there would be little kids in the house. Myriam spat
looking at Hiam in disgust. What are you doing, you expect them to
die as well?
Theyre his grandchildren. Hiam said softly. They were not
expected to be there but as they as, well... his voice trailed off.
Well what? Myriam asked.
These things happen.
My niece was killed during the War of Independence. Abraham said
softly. She was only three.
Weve all lost someone. Rochim added to no one in particular.
Thats not the point. Myriam shouted.
Calm down. Hiam said firmly padding the air with his palms.
Helena walked to the room door and listened for a second before
locking it and turning to face the group.
Lets all just calm down.
No. Myriam replied firmly. Those children do not deserve to...
SHUT UP! Hiam shouted with acidic tone.
You must not allow your emotions to compromise this mission. I
wont allow it.
The room fell into a deathly hiatus where each party considered
Hiams statement knowing exactly the extremes he would go to if
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pushed. Abraham shook his head and laid back on the bed turning
away from the group.
Helena stood by Hiams side and they both looked at Myriam sitting
alone beneath them.
We have all done thing we are ashamed of. Hiam said softly.
Helena sighed and she tried to smile but the look was badly handled
and Myriam thought she was smirking.
Not like this. Myriam said softly.
Worse. Helena replied.
Myriam shifted on her seat for a second before getting to her feet and
staring at Hiam intently.
Worse? She said softly. How worse?
We were going to tell you. Hiam said looking back at her. Their
gaze met but suddenly he looked away embarrassed. He appeared
disarmed and vulnerable before adding.
But not like this.
Im sorry Myriam. Helena said biting her lower lip and shaking her
head.
What? Myriam asked almost hysterical, she managed to contain the
emotion in a tight hole in the centre of her stomach, and just
shuddered.
She looked at Hiam, who was looking anywhere but at her, and then
towards Helena who bit her lip and looked down.
What are you saying? Myriam asked.
He was almost dead. Hiam said in flat, emotionless drone which
washed over the room in waves. His gaze lifted and met Myriams.
We managed to get him away, it was dark and another car was
coming.
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We saw its headlights in the distance. Helena continued. We had to

get him away.
We couldnt take him to hospital. Hiam explained.
The mission, you see, we had to think about the mission.
Who? Myriam asked. Do you mean Solomon, my Solomon?
He had lost a lot of blood, Helena said reaching out and touching
Myriams arm but being rebuffed.
He needed to see a doctor; he was dying in the back seat of the car,
but we couldnt take him to anyone.
I had no choice. Hiam said. If we were not so far away from Israel,
here for instance, it would have been different. We could have got him
treatment, Im sure we could. But that was not the situation. I had to
decide on the spot what I should do.
So you killed him? Myriam said softly. Is that what you are telling
me? You killed my Solomon?
Im sorry. Helena whispered as Myriam sank to the bed.
He was unconscious and Im sure it was painless. Hiam said slowly.
Im sorry but there was no choice.
We burned the body in the vehicle. Helena whispered stepping to
the side of the room and looking intently at the floor. Her hands
reached up to cover her eyes and tears welled up in them.
But you couldnt have. Myriam said inquisitively.
We had a burial.
Rocks. Hiam stated. He sat on the bed next to her and tried to
comfort Myriam by stroking her hand. He placed an arm around her
shoulders but she shrugged his tenderness way with a growl.
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Myriam looked in Hiams eyes and slapped him hard across the cheek
leaving an angry red welt. Then she stood and collected her things.
Im going to my room. She said with a sniff before walking to the
door and looking back directly at Helena.
You can just get on with it. She said opening the door and leaving.
Just dont speak to me again.
Helena was going to go after her but Hiam reached out and held her
arm; telling her to stay.
Leave her. he said hesitantly. Leave her to think it over, its been a
shock.
Abraham looked up from his position on the bed and caught Rochims
eye. He raised his eyebrows ever so slightly and shook his head
slowly, unseen by the others, towards his colleague who shrugged in
return.
Myriam walked down the hall to a room at the end. She unlocked it
and stepped inside without bothering to turn on the lights. Sitting on
the bed she kicked off her shoes and lay back.
Myriam wanted to cry but threw a pillow across the room instead and
began to brood. Thinking about what had just happened. Solomons
death was over, she had grieved already and death, no matter whos,
did not hold the same hysterical emotions for her anymore.
She considered what they had said and how it was expressed, the
content of it. After a while Myriam concluded that they had been
callous; that they made a bad decision initially and had shown little
feeling for her in the aftermath.
Informing her of the dreadful last minutes of her husbands life like
this had been worse than not telling her straight away. If she had
known at the time she may have felt better about their decision.
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But knowing they kept it from her made Myriam think they felt guilty
about something they did. If they felt guilty then something had
happened that was wrong.
She flicked on the radio beside the bed and drifted into a deep nap to
the sound of an English language news station. The day caught had up
on her and as she relaxed on the soft cushion of the bed emotional
exhaustion removed her consciousness; away to a deep restful place.
Somewhere else, somewhere she felt safe.
She wasnt asleep, although she may as well have been, but Myriam
couldnt have been asleep or the faint sound of the radio would not
have woke her; but it did.
Her whole senses came alive when a live news item was read during a
break in the normal programme of sports and political messages.
There has been an explosion this morning in the exclusive south of
the city. We have a report from the scene...
Myriam sat up and looked towards the radio. She reached over and
turned it towards her face to read the imbedded clock. It was 12.25
am.
Yes Malik. The voice on the radio crackled. Im in a salubrious
neighbourhood nestled in the suburbs of Cairo. A little under ten
minutes ago this street was rocked by an explosion. Im standing
beside the ruins of, what used to be, a family home. In whats
believed to have been a gas explosion the whole house has been
demolished killing at least seven people; including two children and a
number of staff....
Myriam turned off the radio and laid back before falling into a deep,
dreamless sleep. When she did eventually rise it was almost the
hotels booking out time.
She showered, did her hair and makeup, before closing her small case
and going down to reception. The two uniformed Egyptian police officers
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caught her eye immediately as the elevator door opened on the ground floor.
One stood next to the reception counter while the other was behind it next to a
very nervous looking member of staff.
Myriam picked up her case and approached the counter without

missing a step; she smiled at the first policeman who just eyed her
suspiciously in return.
My passport, please. Myriam said to the hotel receptionist. All
guests were required to leave their passports behind the counter at
check-in and these were returned when guests booked out. I will be
leaving today.
While the staff member went to collect her printed bill and passport
from the hotel office Myriam looked across the reception counter and
saw the key to Helenas and Hiams room hanging on its hook. The
key to the room Abraham and Rochim had shared was also hanging
there so she knew they had already checked out.
The hotel staff member returned and began to pass Myriams passport
to her when the policeman behind the counter snatched it from him.
He flicked through the pages and examined the visa stamps before
opening to the photograph and peering at it intently. He looked at her
from behind his dark glasses and Myriam felt his eyes burning into
hers.
Italian, yes? The officer asked in broken English.
Yes. Myriam replied. She smiled broadly and asked. Is there a
problem?
No problem. The receptionist replied cheerily. There was some
terror incident last night, very bad thing.
Oh. Myriam replied with a shocked, concerned expression.
What happened?
We are looking for three men. The policeman said in a flat tone.
Did you speak to the two gentlemen who were booked in last night?
Two gentlemen? Myriam replied looking inquisitive.
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I did not know any of the other guests, why, were they involved?
The policeman ignored her and passed the passport across the counter
before turning to his colleague and speaking in Arabic. The
receptionist looked at a sheet of A4 and gave it to Myriam. She did
not even bother to check it and just gave him a credit card made out in
the same name on her Italian passport.
The reception staff ran it through a machine and asked her to sign a
counterfoil. She did this and was given the top copy.
Thank you for staying with us. The staff member said. Would you
like a taxi?
Thank you. Myriam replied.
The staff member called a driver, who had been sitting at a nearby
table, and gestured for Myriam to follow him to his vehicle. She
walked away from the counter and just put her hand on the door to
leave the hotel when someone called out.
Miss.
Myriam turned and saw the policeman behind the counter beckoning
for her to return. She cleared her throat and stepped back to the
reception counter.
Your credit card. The policeman said flatly passing the small square
piece of plastic to her across the counter. Their fingers touched as she
took it from him.
Thank you. She smiled before shrugging and letting a small giggle
break the tension.
Im always losing them. She lied before picking up her case again
and going to the taxi just outside the hotel.
The taxi took her to the Grand Central Station where she found a
telephone kiosk and shut herself inside. Myriam picked up the
receiver and placed some coins in the slot before dialling the number
all agents are given for emergencies. She was hoping to hear the
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familiar sound of one of their communications operatives; the socalled Qoph.

After a few seconds the ringing tone was answered and a voice she
did not recognise simply said. Yes?
Ayin. she replied simply. Cairo.
The line was silent for a few moments before another voice came on
the line.
Myriam? It asked. She thought it sounded familiar but was unsure;
hearing her real name put her at ease and so she replied affirmatively.
Yes.
The others have left. The voice stated. Following protocol.
I see. She replied knowing that this mean that their identities had
been compromised.
Shed had a feeling that locking up the drivers from the department
store, so close to where the van had been burned, was a bad idea. But
because it was her first mission after her break she had not the
confidence to voice these concerns. Myriam made a mental note never
to do so again.
The van driver and labourer had evidently been rescued quite quickly
and had told the police that three men and probable a woman were
responsible for hijacking them.
The police were probably visiting all the local hotels looking for three
men and a woman. She felt safe travelling alone especially as the
police had checked her passport and let her go.
Theres a small job available. The voice on the end of the line
stated. If you are up for it?
She had asked for more responsibility and perhaps this was how they
were going to give it to her although it was strange asking her to do
something, without back-up, on the heels of this emergency. She
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thought quickly and looked out the booth door across the station
forecourt before asking.
What about Bet? She asked giving the name of the backup team
who were usually assigned to help Ayin carry out their missions.
Have you a pen? The voice asked.
Myriam reached into her purse and pulled out a fountain pen and a
piece of paper.
Yes. She replied.
The voice reeled off instructions for a drop address which she jotted
down.
There will be a phone number with this package. The voice stated.
When you collect the package, phone the number; it will be your
next contact.
I see. Myriam replied.
Can it be trusted? Myriam asked but the line had already gone dead.
Chapter 22
Take the next train to Alexandria. The instructions said as she read
what she had hastily jotted down.
Go to Shallalat Gardens and find the Ladies rest rooms. Inside the
second cubicle will be a package. Phone the contact once you have
collected.
Myriam shrugged and opened the kiosk door. She went to the
ticketing booth and purchased a first class ticket to Alexandria on a
train which was leaving in ten minutes.
Myriam quickly found her compartment and was relieved to close and
lock the door on the world. She sat back on the big leather seat and,
very soon, the train bumped into motion.
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She found herself hypnotised by the sight of Cairo slipping by the

train window.
The dusty city streets soon gave way to a flat view of the Nile delta as
it snaked its way down to the coast. In the distance she could see the
fleets of small fishing boats, single sailed and made of Cain, that had
worked the delta waters for three thousand years or more.
Myriam could almost transport herself back, before Napoleon, further
back before even Cleopatra; to the time of the Ptolemy Philpate and
Alexander the Great.
Pharos, as the port was called in antiquity, was world famous for its
lighthouse. This fell down following an earthquake in the first century
and then Alexander The Great came and built a land bridge between
the small island of Pharos, which had held the lighthouse, and the
ancient coastal city of Rhakotis.
This inspired piece of architecture created one of the biggest harbours
in Asia and was renamed after Alexander in his honour. It is said that
the great general is buried somewhere in the city that took his name
but no one has ever found his tomb and today the site remains one of
historys outstanding mysteries.
The recreational park called Shallot Gardens occupies a large area of
land in the El Shatby area of the city. Part of the ancient wall is still
standing along one side of the park and people regularly visit the area
to escape the heat and dust rising up in the less landscaped and
modernised areas of the city.
It was nearly four in the afternoon when Myriam found herself
walking amid the bedded plants and towering palm trees that unfurled
alongside the gardens central path.
The sign posts were in Arabic and English so she had no trouble
finding the small one story building that offered women the
opportunity of relief should they get caught out during a picnic.
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She dragged her small case into the restroom and found the cubicle
Qoph had directed her to. Closing the door behind her and locking it
Myriam felt sweat collecting under her arms as the heat from the
afternoon sun beat down upon the flat roof above her.
She checked behind the cistern, along the pipe work and eventually
stood upon the toilet itself and peered into the water tank situated
above her head. It was here she found a sealed black plastic bag
which she removed and examined sitting upon the toilet.
The bag was fat and square, heat sealed at either end, with no
outwards markings at all. She carefully ripped open one of the end
seals and looked within. There was a passport, which was waiting to
have a photograph attached to it, in the name of Sylvia Melrose; a
British teacher.
Under that was a clip containing several thousand American dollars in
high denomination bills and a small card with a local phone number
and the name Raul scrawled upon it. There was an American Express
card in the name of Mrs S. Melrose and the key to a Hilton hotel
room.
Myriam took the Italian passport from her bag and tore out the
photograph carefully, she then destroyed the credit card in the Italian
identity and placed all of these bits inside the black plastic bag.
She then took the photograph and clipped it into the new passport
before slipping it, the hotel key and the money into her bag. The black
plastic bag which contained her Italian identity was placed back into
the cistern to be collected later by another undercover agent.
The following afternoon Myriam was walking amidst the
motorcycles, mopeds, street sellers, old cars and yellow and black
taxis down Al Sintee Binet towards El Tahrer square. She had phoned
the number and contacted Raul the previous evening and hed
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arranged to meet her at a small cafe that overlooked the square that
afternoon.
Tahrer Square was built in the middle ages as a monument to Ismail,
another of Alexandrias illustrious rulers, but has grown and
transformed along with the rest of the city over the centuries.
Now it serves as a roundabout for the growing traffic and is
dominated by several government buildings like the Mohammad
building and the Egyptian Museum. Myriam saw just one cafe which
had tables on the pavement and noted that just one was occupied.
The man sitting there was in his thirties, overweight, with jet-black,
greased back hair, a stained white suit and white loafers. As she got
closer she saw his clothes were heavily stained with grease and sweat
and that he wore a small thin moustache.
There was a paper carrier bag under the table between the mans legs;
he looked up as she approached and threw her a vague smile.
Sylvia Melrose, yes? he said with a thick Arab accent.
Yes. she replied taking a seat at the table.
You know what to do? Raul asked stirring the small cup of Turkish
coffee he was nursing. I mean, the job?
No. She replied looking at the stains around his shirt collar and at
his heavily nicotine stained fingers. I thought you knew.
Yes. He smiled showing a row of cracked, stained teeth. I just
wondered.
Myriam sighed and looked at the traffic cruising by, clogged up at one
end of the square, every car seemed to be moving in slow motion past
them and the mans attitude seemed just as slow and laboured.
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The air was heavy with the smell of carbon dioxide and she wanted to
get out of there as quickly as possible. He was beginning to irritate
her.
Well? She snapped.
Raul sniffed and took a cigarette from a packet next to his coffee cup
and lit one up from the match he had been chewing.
This is for you. He said kicking the paper bag across the pavement
towards her.
Look there. He said nodding towards the traffic. What do you
see?
Myriam sighed and shook her head before looking back at Raul.
Tell me. He said again. What do you see?
Slow moving traffic, buildings, and a fountain. She said
sarcastically.
What, what do you mean?
I mean, look. Raul sniffed.
There are just cheap cars and beat up taxis.
So what? Myriam said getting very wound up by the mans oblique
statements. She became aware of the thick smell of sweat creeping
from his body towards her and it made her feel sick.
Every day, its the same. Raul continued. The traffic goes around
this square at a snails pace; it would be quicker to walk.
Can you get to the point. She snapped.
Just old cars and taxis. He said leaning forwards.
Except, that is, at precisely 8.30 am every weekday.
What happens at 8.30am every weekday? she asked with a sigh.
Thats when he comes. Raul replied with a knowing nod.
What are you talking about? Myriam snapped.
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Dr Yehia El-Mashad, from the University... He whispered

cautiously. ...Every day at 8.30 his car enters the square there, it
drives by here, and exits over there. All at no more than 5 miles per
hour.
Hes the target? She said softly. How will I know its him?
Easy. Raul replied.
Hes always in a brand new yellow B.M.W. You can see it a mile
away. Bright yellow, like a canary; you know, the bird?
I know what a canary is. She spat.
Theres never any security, Raul continued. If you take him here,
you have several escape routes. The metro, the bus garage or even on
foot. The traffic is so heavy in the morning no police car will get here
for ages.
What about support? Myriam asked. Back up?
Youll be okay. He smiled. Just make sure you use the silencer and
get the driver. Ive thrown in a couple of grenade just in case.
I dont like it. She replied sitting back in her seat. Raul pushed his
chair back and began to swing on the two back legs throwing her a
wide smile.
Look, these people are stupid. He said nodding to the drivers
nearby. Theres a doorway over there which will give you a good
line of sight to his car, by the time anyone knows whats happened
youll be long gone.
Its not how we usually work. Myriam said quietly. There was
something about Raul and his plan which rang alarm bells in her head
but she put this down to nerves.
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These taxi drivers dont care. He giggled. As long as you kill the
driver and his boss they wont do anything. Just dont accidentally hit
their fare, now that would piss them off.
Raul let out a deep belly laugh which echoed out about the square and
his belly rippled under the sweat stained suit.
Hmm. she said looking over her shoulder towards the shop doorway
hed indicated.
Hay! Raul said swinging back on his seat.
How many Jews can you get in a taxi?
Myriam turned to look at him her face twisting into a snarl. The sight
of his stained teeth and the stink of body odour combined to make her
feel like throwing up; she glared at him.
Fifty five... He sniggered. ...Thats five in the seats and fifty in the
ashtrey.
Raul burst into laughter flashing those stained teeth at her again.
Whats that? She said tensely. Some sort of holocaust joke. Its not
funny. Its not funny at all.
Holocaust, what holocaust? He replied with a twisted grin.
Do you know how long it would take to kill six million Jews, even if
you did a thousand every day, three hundred and sixty five day a year,
it would take ten years....
Shut up. she spat.
...Then what six million are we talking about? He shouted back.
You know they said six million Jews were murdered during the First
World War.
So what six million, eh, what six million? Its a fucking lie to squeeze
money out of guilty gentiles, its a holocaust industry.
You pig. She shouted pushing the legs of his chair with her foot so
he fell backwards and spilled across the pavement.
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You dont know what youre talking about.

Fuck you. He shouted as she picked the bag up and walked away.
Fucking Jew, Whore, Bitch. Fuck you!
Myriam went back to the small guest house she had booked into the
previous evening and let herself into her room. Sitting on the bed she
opened the bag and found inside a small Lugar .33 with a silencer.
With the silencer attached the weapon was just over six inches long.
She would have to make a hole in her coat to enable the whole
weapon to be concealed properly.
There were two old Russian grenades, round tubes made from red
ceramic with steel caps. The tops had small rings on a spring clip
which, once pulled, would activate a ten second fuse.
There was a spare magazine for the hand gun loaded with seven
rounds. She checked the clip already in the Lugar and that also had a
full set of cartages.
She placed them all back in the bag and lay back on the bed. It was
hot in the room and the curtain over the balcony window was
shimmering in the light breeze. Lifting herself from the bed Myriam
stepped over to the balcony and looked out at the view.
The sun was setting over the ocean in the distance and the sky was as
red as blood. The stench of cooked food and traffic congestion wafted
up to her floor like a bad memory from the streets below and she tried
to ignore it being blinded by the beauty of the sunset.
She thought back to her time with Solomon in Buenos Aires again,
how theyd watched the sun set over the Rio Del La Plata from the
beach.
The huge rocks that they had climbed upon and the waves that were
crashing around them were natures way of confounding human
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beings; reminding them that this planet was infinite and their own
small part in it was just a moment. A fraction of time in the greater
scheme of things.
That night the sky was black and occasionally fierce streaks of
lightening shattered the darkness. It illuminated their faces with
electric blue flashes as they lay there on that cold rock.
The storm had been brewing all that day and in the moments before it
broke hed taken her. Savagely, like wild animals, they had copulated
upon that hard stone in the splashes of rain and thunderous lightening.
Pushing her shoulders against the stone theyd kissed like the world
was about to end, then Solomon had climbed onto her and they
danced together, their bodies hot with passion, temperate, like the
warm humid air that surrounded them.
Then, with the first thick splodges of rain, he fell limply onto her
chest and gasped for breath in her ear; their orgasmic sensation of
love shivering through her body as she recalled it once more. As
Myriam remembered that night she smiled.
Thank you. She whispered as Solomon kissed her ear lobe, tenderly,
brushing his lips against her skin.
She slept well that night and the following day was up, showered, and
in the zone. She got to the shop doorway near the cafe on El Tahrer
Square by 8.20. Raul had been right, the traffic was as snarled up as
any other time, a confusing mass of beeping horns and exhaust gasses.
Creeping onto the roundabout from three differing roads and curling
around it, the traffic moved like a snake. Each car had either a
frustrated Arab, smoking, picking his nose, cursing the traffic or just
tapping anxiously on the steering wheel waiting to reach their exit.
Then there were the taxis, each one in different states of decay, some
with no windscreen wipers, or side mirrors, patched up roughly here
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and there with brown filler. She touched the gun him her pocket and
looked in the direction from which the traffic was coming. At 8.30
precisely she saw it.
Raul had been correct in saying that you couldnt miss it. Like a shiny
yellow banana if stood out amongst the other traffic conspicuously.
She shook her head thinking about the Doctors arrogance.
Driving in a vehicle so distinctive when his life maybe threatened
seemed the height of arrogance. Perhaps he thought he was safe, she
mused, even though several other scientists had been killed over the
past few months and years. She shrugged and gripped the Lugars
handgrip placing her index finger along the breach over the trigger
cage.
The yellow BMW was almost at her side when a piece of masonry
from the doorway she hide in disintegrated; sending fragments of
white stone in all directions.
A piece clipped Myriams cheek and she turned inquizically to see a
small hole. Then another piece of stone exploded sending fragments
in all directions.
She turned and looked up, to the roof of the cafe, and saw their two
men with guns taking aim at her. She lifted her arm and aimed the
Lugar towards them. Letting off two bullets she turned and then saw
another man in dark glasses step from another doorway; his hand
pulled up and she saw a small gun aimed towards her.
Myriam fired instinctively hitting the man in one eye; he fell back
onto the pavement. She was skirting into the traffic as bullets from the
rooftop hit cars and smashed windscreens around her. Suddenly the
driver of the yellow BMW pulled his door open and aimed a gun at
her. She took aim at him and stopped dead in her tracks.
The scene stopped like someone had pressed the pause button on a
film she was watching. Silence and stillness for a fraction of a
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moment, which seemed to go on for minutes but in reality was just a

couple of seconds, enveloped her as she stared at a face from her past.
Myriam? The driver stuttered.
Sasha? She replied within the void.
He grabbed her and threw her across the front seat of the BMW
before jumping in behind her and pulling the vehicle round onto the
pavement. A bullet hit the rear window and it shattered into a million
fragments.
Quick Sasha, through the square! The man in the back shouted,
taking cover, ducking and hiding behind a small briefcase.
Yes boss. Sasha replied taking the vehicle right over the central
grass verge and past the huge round fountains forcing pedestrians to
jump out of the way.
Myriam, I cant believe it. Sasha stuttered never taking his eyes
from the windscreen.
Sasha, I thought you were dead. She stuttered.
I guess you two know each other? The man in the back asked.
Peering briefly through the rear of the car and relieved to see no one
was perusing them.
From the war. Sasha said to the man in the back. He looked in his
rear view mirror and then flung the vehicle into the traffic on the other
side of the square before turning into a side road.
Dr Yehia El-Mashad , this is my very good friend Myriam. Sasha
added.
Charmed. Dr El-Mashad said softly holding out his hand for her to
shake. She took his soft fingers in her own and squeezed them.
How very nice to meet you,.. He smiled before sitting back in his
seat and sighing.
...Even though the circumstances appear to be a little strange.
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He cleared his throat, looked over his briefcase and asked.

Werent you two a little young to have been in the war; fighting I
mean?
We were in Auschwitz together. Sasha replied. We escaped, me
and her, seriously. When we were kids we escaped together.
Really? The doctor said in amazement. You escaped, from the
death camp?
Yes. Sasha laughed. Me and her. This is the first time weve seen
each other after all these years.
Wow, and you saved her life again. The doctor giggled. What
providence. They were shooting at you, my dear, were they?
I think so.
Thats quite a weapon for a girl. Sasha said nodding towards the
silence Lugar. Were they police?
I dont know. she said softly emptying the breach and placing the
safety catch on the gun before putting back into her pocket.
Well. The doctor said sitting up and leaning forwards. Youd better
take us home Sasha. I will phone the university and tell them
something, Im not sure what.
Okay boss. Sasha said. He continued to drive with a gormless
expression stretched across his face. Every now and then her glanced
in her direction and shook his head.
Myriam looked straight ahead. She had lots to think about no less how
she would explain being rescued from an ambush by her target. Then
there was Raul, she snarled at the thought of his name.
She had had a bad feeling about him and knew her intuition was
sound. She should have listened to that voice in her head that had
been trying to warn her.
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The vehicle suddenly pulled a sharp left and in through and double set
of tall iron gates and down a drive towards a two story house. Sasha
pulled up in front of the house and the man in the back got out wiping
his brow with a clean white cloth.
Make arrangements for the car to be fixed, please Sasha. The man
said looking towards the two in the front seat.
Then you and your friend better join me in the drawing room.
Yes Boss. Sasha replied pulling the car forwards and driving into a
double garage situated at the side of the house. He turned the vehicle
off and then turned to Myriam.
Now, do you want to tell me what was going on back there?
I cant. She replied. Its complicated.
My boss, the doctor... Sasha said gripping the steering wheel tightly.
...Hes a nice man but he doesnt understand the world. If he did we
wouldnt be driving about in a big yellow target all day long.
Hmm... She smiled. ...Thats for sure.
Those guys? Sasha said looking at her intently.
They were not your usual cops, perhaps they were Secret Service,
who knows. Can you tell me why you were there, in that doorway, at
that time in the morning?
I cant. She said again. Please dont ask.
Are you in trouble? He said softly. Please, talk to me Myriam.
I cant stay here. She said. I need to get to my hotel room and then
out of Alexandria, today.
What, but you cant. Sasha said tensely. Every day since I lost
touch with you I have been praying to meet you again. This is a wish
come true Myriam. Im not going to lose you again.
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You will have to come with me then. She said opening the vehicle
door and stepping into the garage. Lets go and speak to your boss.
He led her from the garage and into the house through a side entrance.
They walked in silence down a long, cool hall and up to a doorway at
the front of the house, and during this Myriam looked at him. He was
much bigger now with broad shoulders and a thick mop of hair.
His skin and face were similar to how she remembered but that boyish
down that covered his top lip was now hard stubble. Sasha knocked
and a voice called from within.
He opened the door and they both strolled into a wide, airy room
which had bookshelves on either side and two great windows which
covered nearly the whole of the far wall. Dr El-Mashad was sitting
behind a desk in the middle of the room.
We need to talk. Sasha said taking a seat opposite the desk and
inviting Myriam to sit on the seat next to it.
Yes, we do. The doctor replied. Can you tell me why those men
were trying to kill you earlier?
Myriam said nothing and looked towards Sasha for some support.
Its difficult. Sasha said.
I want to know. The doctor said firmly. Come on, are you wanted
by the police?
Its a political thing. Myriam replied. I cant talk about it.
I should have guessed. The doctor sighed. This is why I chose to
avoid politics and concentrate on science.
The political world is so full of intrigue and deceit, some people enjoy
the suspense, but I couldnt live like that. Especially at this time in
history, in this place; not me Im afraid.
What do you mean by that? Myriam asked softly.
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I mean. The doctor replied. The Arab world is on the verge of

breaking out of its previous cycle of inter-tribal warfare. We are
taking our rightful place on the stage and our previous achievements
are now being widely talked about.
If it were not for us there would be no High Mathematics, no great
writing or poetry, you know our scientists discovered the distance
around the world long before the West but all this has been
suppressed. But...
He stood and came around the desk to sit on it near them.
There are forces at work that do not want us to progress. Political
forces that want us to remain peasants. They use our religion against
us and try to promote the idea that only the West has contributed to
the world; it makes me so angry sometimes,
It isnt the West that has held you back. Myriam said hesitantly. She
thought carefully for a moment before adding.
Hasnt religion been the problem? She looked at Sasha who
shrugged.
In the West we went through a period when the church did not allow
scientific study or philosophical argument; we called it the Dark Ages.
If the Catholic Church had not controlled these ideas so tightly
the West would have modernised centuries ago. Isnt the East going
through its own Dark Age right now?
Not quite. The doctor smiled.
Then theres the infighting between different Islamic groups.
Myriam continued. The Sunnis hate the Shiites and they despise the
Kurds; without the West these factions would tear themselves apart.
The doctor sighed and looked at Myriam intently. He could see by the
way she was dressed that she was a woman of means, the gold watch,
the smart suit; the haircut all came together to give her a certain class.
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But, he mused, class was not insight. That was something only
experience could give to you.
Come now. The doctor said gently. What is the difference between
Catholics and Luthorists; Baptists and Methodists. Havent they found
a way to work together for the greater good? We just want the same
chance.
Look at Northern Ireland. Sasha interjected. Thats not working
together, its madness.
Dont get me started on the British. Myriam laughed and her
companions laughed along with her.
They sat in relaxed silence for a few moments as each thought about
what the other had said. After a few moments of contemplation the
doctor looked at Myriam and smiled.
Tell me about you. He asked. How do you know my driver?
Well you already know we were in the camp together. She said
looking at Sasha with a small smile.
After we escaped we sort of lost touch in Warsaw, the uprising was
happening and it was chaos.
I went into the forest to join the partisans. Sasha added. I thought
she had been killed in the fighting for the city. A few years ago I ran
into someone who knew us in the camp and she told me you had
survived. I didnt believe it.
Did you? Myriam asked surprised. She turned to him with a frown.
Who was that?
Your friend Helena. He said with a smile. I met her in Cairo, shes
a buyer for a New York department store.
Is she! Myriam sniffed.
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Even though I did not believe her I hoped it was true. Sasha smiled.
Since then I have dreamed about you, more than once.
It seems like you both have a lot to catch up on. The doctor said
standing and returning to his seat behind the desk.
Yes. Sasha replied. Not least that I will have to leave your service,
Sir. Ive decided to go with her. Now Ive found my first love I am not
going to lose her again.
Oh! The doctor said with a smirk. Is that wise, considering...
I must go with her. Sasha said firmly. This is not up for
discussion.
Well then. The doctor smiled. I had better get your final wage
together and a reference.
The cash will be all I need. Sasha smiled. If I need a reference I
will write to you.
Chapter 23
Myriam collected her things from her hotel and left in a hurry meeting
Sasha outside where hed waited in his battered old car. She was
intent upon avoiding the train stations and airport so the only way out
of the city was via the port.
Of course there were no vessels sailing direct to Israel, not that she
had told Sasha that this was to be their final destination; but a friendly
fisherman was glad to palm a handful of American Dollars to take
them across the Mediterranean to the island of Crete.
Sasha was sad to leave his car, even though it was old and battered,
hed grown attached to it in the time hes worked in Alexandria. He
had thrown his only possessions, a few suits, shirts and some papers,
into the boot and driven with her to the port.
He stood for a while looking at it before shrugging and approaching a
newspaper seller who worked by the port.
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You have a car? Sasha asked the teenager in Arabic. The boy shook
his head with a frown which broke into a wide smile as Sasha tossed
him the keys.
You do now.
God Is Good! the boy screamed.
The couple climbed onto the small boat and put their cases in the tiny
cabin below deck as the crew set sail and the vessel lurched into the
oncoming waves.
Your Arabic is good. Myriam smiled as she changed into a loose
fitting dress and some sandals for the crossing.
Its amazing what you pick up. Sasha replied.
...When youre looking for a job.
As the sun set over the quite blue waters the couple sat on the bow of
the boat and looked at the blazing red sky. Myriam casually slipped
the bag containing two unused Russian grenades into the water and
smiled at Sasha. He shook his head and shrugged before lighting a
cigarette.
Gulls flocked above their heads and the sky was blood orange and hot
that afternoon. She lay back and looked up trying to put the anger she
had felt earlier that day out of her mind when, casually, he asked her a
question.
How did you get out of Poland?
Its a long story. She replied.
Well, we have time. He said leaning over, propping his head on one
arm, and listening intently. Im interested.
Lets just say I saw a lot of Europe. She sighed and turned her head
to face him. I travelled through Romania, then onto Bulgaria and
eventually found a home in Israel.
Oh. He said softly. Israel?
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Yes. She replied. I took Israeli nationality and have been very
happy there, well most of the time.
Is there a Mr. Myriam? He smiled.
There was. She said looking away for a moment. He was killed.
Im sorry. Sasha said sighing loudly. You have had a lot of pain
Myriam.
Its not all bad. She replied turning to face him again.
I have a beautiful son, he looks just like his father.
Why arent you with him; your son?
Myriam sat up and crossed her arms looking tense. She pulled a
grimace and shook her head.
I cant say just now Sasha. She replied. I will tell you everything,
but not just yet, please trust me.
Whatever you want... He replied.
...If you want to be mysterious, who am I to say anything?
So what about you? She smiled prodding him in the arm. Is there a
Mrs. Sasha, lots of little Sashas running amok everywhere?
No. He giggled. I have had flings, of course, but I have been
waiting for someone special.
Really? She smirked. A handsome guy like you; surely not?
Its true. He smiled. His teeth were white and straight and the thick
stubble around his nose creased up when he smiled.
I dont believe it. She giggled.
You know Sasha, you have grown into a beautiful looking man.
When I think back to that scrawny boy who could just about reach the
controls of the Captains car; Id never have imagined hed grow into
someone as handsome as you.
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Dont. He smirked. Youre making me blush. Anyway, I always

knew youd be as beautiful as youve turned out. I recognised it in
you at once.
Even though, back then, you needed a wash and a good meal. Was it
destiny, or what, us running into each other like that?
Fate, eh, its a wondrous thing. She sighed looked back towards the
stars that were appearing in the sky above their heads. Whod have
thought.
Ive been praying for this moment, Myriam. He said softly.
What? She said turning her eyes to him.
To do this. Sasha leant down and gently touched her lips with his.
She closed her eyes and felt the softness of his skin against hers and
remembered that night on the kitchen floor in the Captains house.
Placing her arms around his strong shoulders and pushed her mouth
onto his, allowing his tongue to brush against her teeth filling her
body with passion.
Oh, Sasha... She whispered. ...Ive missed you so much.
He picked her up and carried her down to their cabin, a little unsteady
as the boat rocked here and there but determined not to drop her. Then
pushing the door closed behind them he laid her on the bunk that was
the only furniture in the small room and ran his hands up the inside of
her shins.
Myriam looked back at him and smiled, panting, wanting him to take
her again. His fingers lifted the soft fabric of her dress and played in
that space between her thighs, just below her panties.
He was savouring the sensation, drinking it in and enjoying every
moment. She reached up and undid his shirt running her fingers over
his chest and pulling him down to her.
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The gulls were screaming when they woke the next morning. Sasha
rubbed the sleep from his eyes and threw the thin blanket that covered
him and Myriam to one side to look out of the porthole.
He could see Crete in the distance and it appeared the boat was
entering the small port of Agios Nikolaos on the east side of the
island. Mount Ida was in the distance covered in an early morning
mist and the small white houses which circled the port were
shimmering in the morning sunshine.
The port itself is very small with just a sea wall on either side of a
square quay. Fishing boat were either leaving or unloading their catch
and women wearing brightly coloured headscarves were busy running
up and down the steps beside the sea wall. Each with red faces and
round baskets of fresh fish on their heads; they piled the catch on the
quayside. There was a knock on the cabin door and Myriam opened
her eyes, reaching under her pillow for the Lugar, as Sasha pulled the
door ajar slightly,
Well be docking in a few moments. The Captain said looking
through the small gap in the door.
Theres no customs on this side of the island so you can just go
ashore.
Ask him if theres any boat that will take us to Jaffa? Myriam said
before Sasha closed the door.
The Captain heard her and shrugged.
You can ask, most vessels go that side if the price is right.
Sasha smiled and closed the door turning to face her. She pulled the
sheet up; to her face and peered over it wide eyed.
You still have skinny legs. She giggled.
And droopy balls. He smiled. She smiled and laughed comment as
she remembered their first night of passion again. Sasha sat on the bed
beside her and pulled down the bed sheet from her face.
Why Jaffa? He asked. ...We could stay here for a while.
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I have to get back to my son. She replied turning to locate her

handbag. She dug inside looking for a thick brown envelope which
she took out and emptied on the bed. I have some business to attend
to as well.
Myriam counted the thick wads of dollars which the envelope
contained. After shed counted five thousand and a few hundred loose
bills she turned to look at him. Sucking in her breath she pulled a
face.
We could spend a night here if you want. Myriam smiled waving a
thousand dollar wad of notes in his face. One night will not matter.
The port of Agios Nikolaos has three hills, each of which face the sea,
and it offers many attractions to the visitor. These include beautiful
views of the deep blue med, a tranquil inland lake and a small
residential area which has grown up upon the historical ruins of the
Minoan civilisation.
As the couple said goodbye to the crew and carried their cases up the
seawall steps onto the quayside the sun was beginning to beat down
onto the white painted houses making the town looked as pretty as a
postcard. They saw a line of small shops and cafes that climbed one of
the hills and took refuge at a table under a sun umbrella.
A waitress soon came out and beamed a bright smile at them as she
handed over two handwritten menus.
Coffee for me. Myriam smiled. And perhaps a couple of
croissants, with butter please.
Ill have the same. Sasha smiled handing back the menus.
They looked about them at the beauty of the place and smiled. Sasha
took a cigarette packet from his pocket and lit one up.
Do you mind? He asked. I try only to smoke in the morning, a
dirty habit I know but I am trying to give it up.
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Dont worry Sasha. She smiled. What a beautiful place, its really
lovely. I dont know why Ive not even heard of Crete before, it really
is paradise.
Lets hope no one tries to kill us here. Sasha giggled.
The waitress returned and placed two pots of coffee beside them and a
couple of cups and saucers before going back inside and returning
with a plate of hot croissants. She put a small plate and utensils beside
each of them and then went back inside the cafe.
You never did tell me. Sasha said pouring some coffee into his cup.
Tell you what? Myriam asked spreading butter on one of the
croissants and cutting it into manageable portions.
What you were doing in that doorway.
Oh, she sighed. Myriam sat up and thought for a while before
looking up at him.
Believe it or not, I was there to kill Dr El-Mashad.
What? Sasha gasped almost spilling his coffee.
Its true. She said matter of factly. Although now I realise it was an
excuse to get me out in the open so they could kill me. I was never
intended to be given the chance to kill the doctor.
Youre not serious? Sasha asked squinting his eyes with a look of
disbelief plastered across his face.
Deadly serious. She added taking a bite of the croissant.
Hmmm, this is divine.
So were they secret police of what? He asked taking a deep lungful
of cigarette smoke, expelling it before sipping the hot coffee.
Who knows, perhaps, perhaps not. She shrugged.
I was also told to kill you, can you imagine.
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Really? He said with a drooping jaw. Who told you to do this

thing, who?
It does not matter. She replied taking a sip from her coffee cup.
I will get even with them eventually. I realise that the whole thing
was a set up. I kinda knew before those idiots took their first shot.
Lets just say it was a terrible misunderstanding.
Some misunderstanding. Sasha said looking out towards the coast.
Should I warn the doctor that someone is out to get him?
I wouldnt worry. She replied taking another piece of her croissant
and savouring it. Like I said it was all a misunderstanding. I will sort
it out back in Israel.
Sasha thought for a while and smoked. Every now and then he took a
sip from his coffee cup and smoked some more. Eventually he looked
at her and said.
Youre an Israeli agent, arent you?
Please Sasha, Ive answered your questions. She threw him a cold
look.
No more please.
That explains the Lugar and silencer. He said tapping his ash into
the wind. I knew that was a specialised piece. Not the sort of thing
you can pick up on the street corner, and all the cash, it all makes
sense now.
So what? She said firmly. What if I am, are you going to tell the
police, inform on me. Or are you going to walk away. If you want to
walk away Sasha please, but dont look back, I couldnt bare it.
Im not going to leave you darling. He said reaching out and taking
her hand. I just want you to be honest with me. I hadnt handled a
gun since the war and when the Doctor told me to carry one for our
security I thought he was being dramatic; what a fool I must be.
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She shrugged and sipped from her coffee cup before looking at his
croissants.
If you dont want them, Im famished.
Eat them. He replied taking another cigarette from his packet and
lighting it on the butt of the last. Im not hungry anymore.
I thought you were trying to give up. She said nodding towards the
lit cigarette in his fingers.
Yes. He replied. Im giving up, giving up!
So, tell me. She said after eating his croissants and wiping her
mouth. How did you get out of Warsaw?
Well. He sighed. The fucking Russians were useless. They just
waited there on the other side of the Vistula and let the Germans
obliterate the city.
The Poles and Russians had always mistrusted each other but it was
as if Stalin was working with Hitler. I stayed until September when
the situation was hopeless.
The Polish Resistance Army was decimated and those who were still
alive, who hadnt starved to death, began to give themselves up. Not
me, Id seen the inside of a German camp before and I was not going
back.
I used the sewers to get back to the outskirts of the city and returned
to the forest. Eventually I met up with the Americans and was helped
to get to Italy. Italy was liberated by them and once the war was over I
was told to go back home to Russia.
Not me, no, Stalin had changed the Russia I knew as a child. There
was no way I was going back there. I went to Libya for a while and
then ended up in Cairo. Thats when I saw Helena.
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She looked really good, she was so skinny in the camp, white and
drawn. When I saw her in Cairo she was tanned and healthy. I was
amazed though that she was dressed like an Arab woman.
You asked her about me? Myriam said softly.
Yes, but she wouldnt say if shed seen you recently. He replied
taking a sharp intake of breath.
She said you were alive. That was all I needed to know. I was happy
that day for the first time since the war, I mean, really happy.
Myriam thought for a while about all the things that had happened
since theyd last seen each other and the incredible events that had
brought them back together. She finished the last of her coffee and
took a ten dollar bill from her purse, placing it under the cup and
saucer.
Lets find a room. She smiled reaching over to take his hand in hers.
Closing her eyes she could almost remember how it felt all those
years ago in the camp; his hand was no longer soft but now callused
and rough. It was stronger and she sensed that it would never let her
go; it would hang on and protect her for as long as they both had on
this Earth. That made her happy.
Chapter 24
The following day they discovered that no boats would take them to
Jaffa but there was a regular ferry to Haifa in the north of Israel. It
was an overnight journey but they would have their own cabin which,
after boarding, they stayed in the whole time; just emerging for food
and supplies once.
Haifa itself was once the gateway to Israel and after the British
mandate many of the first immigrants to Israel came through this port.
It went into a decline following the War of Independence and was
eventually over taken by Tel Aviv as the nations capital.
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The port was still a central part of the citys economy and much of
the local work was either directly in the port, unloading and loading
boats, or in a subsidiary field concerning shipping and import and
exportation.
When Myriam and Sasha got off the ferry at Haifa they had to wait in
the large customs area while the officials decided if they wanted
Sasha as a visitor. It was only her status as a national which finally
gave them the impetus to stamp his passport and allow them both
entry.
They hired a car and set about driving to Tel Aviv while Myriam
explained the local history and how she first arrived in the country,
stateless and in poverty. She told him about Solomon and their
whirlwind affair. Letting him know that they would have to drive out
to Kafar Chabad and the house on the Kibbutz where Iwona was
looking after her son.
Shes a nice girl. Myriam smiled. I was nearly killed there, a few
months back; Hezbollah planted a bomb right outside the childrens
school. The bastards.
Is that how you got the scar? Sasha asked tapping his forehead.
Is it that noticeable? She asked feeling self conscious for a moment.
Not really. He replied. But you can see its fresh. It will fade with
time.
Iwona looked after the boy while I was in hospital. She continued.
I thought he was happy with her so I decided to go back to work.
Fighting for Israel? He said glumly.
A country to which you owe nothing.
I owe this country everything. She said looking at him briefly. It
was Poland which had nothing for me after the war. I know Jews who
went home to their villages and their houses were taken by other
people. They were told to go away; that they should have died in the
camps. Why would I want to go back there?
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When I arrived in this country I was worn out and penniless. This
place gave me a home, passport, it gave me a living. It has made me
someone, someone who feels good about herself, Im still a little
damaged but feeling better.
Yes, lets not forget this country has given me Solomon; my son. I
owe it everything and will defend it with my last breath.
Shit. Sasha smiled. You got it bad.
Reuven sat behind his desk in Ambrosia Avenue and looked across at
her glumly.
Our Raul was killed. Reuven stated sitting back in his chair.
...Probably by the Mukhabarat, some days ago.
He sighed and lowered his voice to give it a sincere tone.
We had no way of contacting you, in the field. to let you know; so
you are lucky to be alive.
I had a feeling about him. The impersonator She replied rapping her
fingers on the desk nervously. I should have listened to my
intuition.
The rest of your team got back safely. The controller added before
saying quietly.
Ive read a report about how your husband died. It was the first Id
heard all the detail and was not happy. I have told Hiam that this
matter was dealt with very poorly.
Solomons death? She said glumly. Was reprehensible.
Of course. He replied. I am sorry.
So am I.
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A tense silence fell between them before Reuven stood and walked
around his desk to sit next to her.
I hear you have met someone?
Someone I was in the camp with. She half-smiled ironically.
We are like childhood lovers.
Can he be trusted? the controller asked.
Implicitly. She replied. I would trust him with my life; in fact I
want to work with him alone; as a team.
Myriam. The controller said firmly. He stood and hummed before
going back behind his desk. This may not be possible.
Why? She asked.
We do not know him. Reuven said looking out the window.
What are his skills, training and more importantly his allegiances.
Also theres the matter of Solomons pension.
What? She said slightly aghast. This was something she had not
thought about and did not quite see why it was being mentioned now.
Your husbands pension is paid while you are single. The controller
said. Its paid to you, not your son, so if your situation changes. Well,
you see...
Whatever. She sighed. I cant deal with this right now.
I understand. Reuven said. Look, I will make some enquiries. If
you leave the name and a brief history of your new partner with my
secretary I will do some checks and get back to you.
I will send something in the post. She said standing and stepping
towards the door.
In the meantime go home and spend some time with your son. He
opened the door and looked out towards Sasha who was waiting in the
outer office.
So... Reuven said walking over to Sasha and holding out his hand.
We own Myriams life to you.
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Not quite. Sasha replied standing and taking the mans hand and
gently squeezing it.
Dont be coy. Reuven said.
...Any volunteers are welcome at my door and Im sure we can work
together, in the future.
He turned to Myriam and smiled.
Take care of Solomon and send in that information. He said walking
them to the office door.
I will be in touch when the time is right.
Soon they were driving down the long dusty track that led to her
house in the middle of the olive grove. The house looked neat and
clean as they pulled up outside and Myriam was happy to see
Solomon waiting with Joanne on the veranda. Iwona stepped from the
house with a trey of lemonade.
Hello darling. Myriam called as she stepped from the vehicle and
knelt down to hold Solomon in her arms. Have you missed me?
Hes been such a good boy. Iwona smiled coming down the steps.
Joanne and he are such good friends.
Solomon. Myriam said standing and throwing Iwona a small smile.
I would like you to meet Sasha; he will be staying with us from now
on.
Very nice to meet you. Solomon said stepping forwards and
offering his hand.
Sasha bent down and shook the boys hand gently.
Very nice to meet you too. Sasha said with a wide smile.
Wow. Iwona said stepping up to hug her friend. On jest *hunk*,
rzeczywicie przystojny.
Poznaj, kocham jego z powodu tego. ? Myriam replied with a
smile.
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Both women giggled loudly which Sasha and Solomon both shrugged
and shook their heads in response too. Myriam noticed their
congruence and knew instinctively that her son liked this man.
Chapter 24
Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday dear Myriam, Happy
Birthday to you! The small group clapped and cheered. Myriam
looked around the room and blew out the 40 candles on her cake.
She smiled and lifted her glass.
Cheers everyone. Helena, Hiam, Rochim, Iwona and her husband
Uri drank from their glasses and cheered again. Sasha was standing
beside Reuven and smiled as Myriam joined them.
I hear you may be leaving us? Myriam said to Reuven as the others
mingled by the table laden with food.
Im sorry to hear this. She added.
So am I. He replied taking a bite from a salmon roll.
Its Mrs Meir, she heard about our activities and was not happy. It
seems I must be the head that rolls.
You and Myriam go back a long way? Hiam said to Sasha sliding
up to stand beside him. He was quietly having a cigarette at the
bottom of the veranda.
I heard about how you ran into each other again, pretty amazing.
Yes. Sasha replied. He watched as Myriam saw them talking and
made a bee line towards them both.
Your team is very tight and supportive. Sasha said.
I can see that from the way you all interact together. It makes me feel
a little like an outsider.
We try to be as supportive as possible. Hiam smiled.
Did you go on that job to get Eichmann? Sasha asked.
That was crazy, I saw it on television.
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Not me. Hiam replied as Myriam joined them.

That was another team.
How they got him back to Israel... Sasha said with a whistle.
That was just amazing. Not one agent was lost; wow.
Well... Hiam smiled. We like to get out people home.
Providing youre not injured. Myriam smirked.
In which case theyll just blow your brains out.
She grabbed Sashas arm and led him away towards Iwona and her
husband. Dont talk to him. She said. I hate that man.
Uri? Iwona smiled. This is Sasha, Myriams new man.
Oh, very nice to meet you. Uri replied. He was short and stout with
a tightly cropped head of hair and thick forearms.
Ive been with the I.D.F over in Golan for a few months. Ive got a
couple of days leave before I go back.
Youre in the army? Sasha replied.
Its compulsory. Uri replied. But I enjoy it. A lot of Israelis leave
the country rather than stay and defend it; but not me.
Glad to hear it. Sasha smiled.
Youre Russian? Iwona asked. Do you miss your homeland?
Im as Russian as you are. Sasha giggled.
I was born there but have lived most of my life elsewhere.
You still speak the language, though? Uri smiled.
Net! Sasha laughed.
But I bet you still like the vodka?
Now, you are talking my language. Sasha laughed.
Myriam looked out the corner of her eye and saw Helena standing
alone watching her. Her lips were pursed and she looked tense.
Myriam excused herself and stepped across the sunny stretch of
garden towards her friend.
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Are you okay? She asked slipping up to Helena.

I just feel so guilty. Helena replied.
Why? Myriam asked.
Not because of Solomon I hope. You know, I dont hold you in any
way responsible for his death.
No. Helena said softly touching Myriams arm. Its you and Sasha,
you both look so happy together. When I saw him in Cairo we were in
the middle of a mission. You know the one? The guy with the bit on
the side.
What? Myriam replied looking surprised.
When we told her that you were his wife and she ran off.?
Thats the one. Helena said softly. I saw Sasha about an hour
before then, if I told him everything it would have got very
complicated.
Then after when we could talk I didnt have the nerve to bring it up. I
thought that you were better off not knowing. Im sorry.
Its okay. Myriam smiled squeezing Helenas hand.
If I got to know him back then I would not have married Solomon.
Then little Solomon would not have been born.
So you forgive me? Helena asked.
Theres nothing to forgive. Myriam replied.
September 1972
On the night of the 14th September 1972 a small group of Israeli
athletes enjoyed a night out in Berlin; watching a production of
Fiddler on the Roof.
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They were in Germany to take part in the first German Olympics

since the 1936 Nazi games and had been housed in a particularly
isolated part of the Olympic village.
The organisers had told the Israeli team that special precautions had
been taken to provide for their security but these plans were
overturned when it was decided too much security would go against
the games Carefree attitude.
After their night out the team returned to their ground floor village
rooms and tried to sleep. At 4.30am eight heavily armed members of
Black September, a faction of the Palestine Liberation Army, dressed
in dark track suits and carrying duffel bags full of arms and explosives
climbed over one of the security fences into the Olympic village.
At the same time a group of Canadian athletes, who were slightly the
worse for drink, were also sneaking into the village by climbing over
the fence. They mistook the terrorists as other athletes and
unsuspectingly helped them into the secure area.
Yossef Gutfreund, a wrestling referee was the first to encounter the
group as they used stolen keys to enter two of the teams village
apartments. He threw a 300 pound weight at them and shouted to alert
other sleeping team members.
This action gave Tuvia Sokolovsky, time to smash a window to escape
but, wrestling coach, Moshe Weinberg was not so lucky.
After fighting with the masked intruders he was forced to lead them to
other members of the Israeli squad.
The world watched live on television over the next 18 hours as
negotiations failed and a botched rescue by ill-equipped and poorly
led German Police ended in what has become known as The Munich
Massacre.
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At Frstenfeldbruck Military Airport, eleven Israeli athletes and

coaches, a West German police officer, and five rebels were killed
during a gunfight aimed at killing the terrorists and freeing the
hostages.
Unfortunately a fire broke out in the helicopter which had brought the
group to the airport and most of the dead athletes were burned alive.
Afterwards teeth marks were found on some of their bindings where
the terrified burning hostages had tried to free themselves.
Myriam was at home on October 14th when the telephone rang. She
picked it up and immediately recognised Zvis voice on the end of the
line. He was Reuvens replacement in Ambrosia Avenue and was
behind the re-organisation and new direction for the squads under his
control.
Please make arrangements to be in Rome by tomorrow evening. He
said simply before hanging up. She looked across towards Sasha and
stated simply.
Its time. Were being called.
She was aware that the government wanted swift reprisals for what
had happened in Munich and that the old way of working was not
going to cut it any longer.
Helena had already explained that they were going to use smaller
groups to hit targets from now on. These smaller two man teams
would be known simply as Kidon.
They were to go where directed at a moments notice and act upon
specific information obtained from the Aman (Israeli Military
Intelligence).
Once each Kidon had acted they would be directed to another location
and wait for further instructions. Myriam and Sasha had already been
given two fake British passports and immediately went to the airport
to board the next flight destined for Rome.
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They used the passports to book into a guest house just across the
road from Villa Ada, the park in the North-Eastern part of the city
which was named after the wife of the Swiss Count, Tellfner. Who, as
well as King Vittorio Emmanuele II, was one of its many owners.
Lush and green, Villa Ada covers a huge space and makes a welcome
change from the traffic laden Roman streets that surround it.
Their target worked nearby in one of the government buildings
situated along the wide, oak and beech lined Via Nomentana. They
had a recent photograph, picturing a stocky middle-aged man with
pale olive skin and greying hair.
He was engaged as an interpreter and could speak several languages
including Italian, Flemish, Dutch, English and his own Arabic which
made him a valuable tool for diplomats in the city where he was
highly paid and kept very busy.
In his spare time he raised money for several Arab charities, one of
which was Palestinian, and it was this that had brought him into
contact with Black September.
Although it was claimed that he never raised money for the
organisation just having a link to them was enough to provide a
suspicion and make him a target.
One evening, following a busy day at work, Sasha picked the man out
from the crowd and followed him discretely to his home address. The
following evening Myriam and Sasha were waiting for him when,
after a dining engagement, the man stepped up to his front door on the
first floor of a central apartment block.
He placed his key in the lock, opened the door and paused, having
heard a male voice behind him.
Excuse me? Sasha said.
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The man turned and smiled seeing a stranger standing just a few feet
away holding a street map. It was at this point that Myriam shot him
twice in the temple from the corner that she was secreted in.
He dropped instantly and Sasha used the Beretta pistol the map had
covered to fire two more shots into the mans brain.
Fuck! Sasha spat as a spurt of blood sprayed over his new brogue
shoes.
I told you he had brains. Myriam smiled tossing him a tissue. Sasha
bent down and wiped the thick red goo from his toe and flicked the
tissue aside.
They removed the hot silencers from their pistols and, as Myriam
peered around to ensure no one had observed them, hid them in her
handbag. The couple walking down the apartment stairwell arm in
arm onto the street below fading into the night.
They had already checked out of their guest house and hired a sports
car which was parked in the next street loaded with their cases. They
had been directed to leave for Paris and had decided to drive directly
after the mission was accomplished.
It took over 25 minutes to get out of the city but once they were on
the coast road the E Type Jaguar they had hired ate the miles up
quickly.
They followed the signs for Livorno and onto Genoa. As the sun
began to come up at four thirty the following morning they were just
turning onto the A10 at Genoa; situated between Ligurian Sea and the
Apennine Mountains. The radio was playing and Myriam smiled as
Sasha began to sing along with a familiar song.
Why do birds suddenly appear
every time, you are near
Just like me
they long to be
Close to you...
(The Carpenters-Close to you)
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Genoa is one of the biggest cities in Italy and Sasha made sure to keep
to the coast road to avoid and early morning commuter traffic. The
A10 motorway took them straight to the border and into Nice, where
he caught the A8. By 9am they were pulling to a halt in one of the
leafy green vineyard towns of Provence.
I need some coffee. He said prodding Myriam awake.
She had slept from the small border town of Savona and as she
opened her eyes let out an almighty yawn.
Are we in Paris? She asked sleepily stretching her arms out.
The convertible roof had been down the entire journey and late the
previous night he had pulled a blanket over her as she slept.
This morning was hot and sticky and she reached into her handbag for
some dark glasses before turning to look at Sasha.
Give me a chance. He giggled. This looks like the kind of place we
could get some real coffee and Im hungry too.
They parked beside the cathedral in the centre of Aix-en-Provence and
stepped from the car. There was a cafe on the opposite side of the road
with a green canopy covering the tables on the street.
The smell of fresh coffee and bread called them towards it and they
sat outside taking in the breathtaking views of the medieval city. Once
they had ordered Myriam took a small mirror from her bag and
looked at her face for a moment.
I look like death. She said rummaging around for some moisturiser.
As she pulled a small tube from her bag one of the silencers dropped
noisily to her feet and rolled across the stone floor.
Sasha watched it roll to the feet of another diner who picked it up and
looked at them both awkwardly.
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Thank you. Sasha said stepping to the man briskly and taking the
silencer from him.
Your lipstick, Darling. He smiled passing it back to Myriam.
Id have to have lips like an elephant... She giggled.
...If this was the size of my lipstick.
She pushed the silencer back into her bag and turned to the other diner
giving him a broad smile before taking her powder out and dusting
her skin.
Men have it so easy. She said flicking some mascara onto her
eyelashes. Look at you, been driving all night and you still look
good.
You wouldnt say that if you smelt my dick. He replied as the
waitress delivered their drinks and sat a plate of eggs in front of each
of them.
I need a shower and shave. Sasha said softly. He took a pack of
cigarettes from his jacket and lit one up.
Jesus, it must be 30 degrees already.
Hmm. Myriam smiled after placing some bright red lipstick on her
lips. Its lovely. Have we got far to go?
Not far. He sniffed putting a hand down the front of his pants and
scratching discretely.
God, I need a shower and a shit.
Please! She said loudly before shaking her head.
Anyway, all that will improve once you get done.
What will improve? He asked with a frown. Sasha placed his
cigarette in the ashtrey and started to eat the fried eggs.
You know. She smiled. Youre personal hygiene.
Sasha looked at her with an amazed expression, the fork loaded with
egg poised halfway between the plate and his mouth.
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Whats wrong with my personal hygiene? He asked.

Is that a polite way of telling me I stink?
No, silly. She giggled. Down there, you know?
What? He said loudly, causing the other diner to peer over at them
both, with a intolerant expression.
When you get done. She said again trying to lower her voice.
You know, circumcised.
Who says Im getting circumcised? He replied loudly.
You have to. She said matching his tone and volume.
No I dont. Sasha replied indignantly.
Yes you do. She said firmly. If you want to convert. Youll have to
be circumcised.
Convert? He replied sarcastically.
What. Who said I wanted to convert into anything, let alone a
fucking, mutilated cock?
Sasha! She said shaking her head. Its part of our religion, you
have to be circumcised.
No! He replied angrily. Its part of your religion. I am an atheist
and very happy by the way.
But if we are to be married...She stuttered. ...You have to be.
You like it... He said placing the eggs in his mouth and then spitting
bits at her across the table.
...Then you have it done. I like my dick the way it is; thank you very
much.
I dont believe this. She sighed. Myriam reached across the table
and took a cigarette out of his packet and lit it up.
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After taking a moment to smoke she lowered her voice and said.
You know we cant get married unless you do.
Why. He replied loudly.
Is the fucking Rabbi going to check my prick before I say
mozaltov?
The diner at the next table lowered his knife and fork and glared at
them both. Sasha turned and glared at the man before Myriam said.
Its a matter of principle.
Fuck principle. Sasha replied.
What the fuck are you looking at? he shouted at the man.
The diner looked awkward and stood, threw a note on his table and
left.
What about Solomon? She said softly blowing cigarette smoke into
the air.
Dont you want him to be the same as you?
Myriam. He sighed. I am not getting circumcised, thats it. Finito,
finished; okay? Dont put me on a guilt trip by bringing your son into
this because it will not work.
My son? she replied glumly.
Ahhh. He sighed.
For gods sake. I am not his father, am I?
No. She spat. You could never be that, I wont allow it.
She stood, picked her bag up and stepped away from him.
Myriam! He shouted. Come back.
Sasha sighed and watched her go to the car. She climbed over the
door and into the front seat before unfolding the visor mirror and
combing her hair. Out of bloody-mindedness, seeing he still had the
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car keys, Sasha took his time to eat his food and drink the coffee
before joining her.
Soon they were back on the road driving through the lush green vine
groves of Provence towards Paris. The sun was high in the blue sky
and the wind was warm on their faces with the vehicles roof folded
down.
After a while Myriam looked across at Sasha. His hair was being
taken up by the slipstream and his skin was glowing with vitality in
the bright sunlight.
I am sorry. She said above the sound of the engine. I dont want to
change anything about you Sasha. I love you just as you are.
He took his eyes off the road for a moment and smiled at her before
shaking his head gently.
Im sorry too. He replied. I am tired, thats no excuse for being
unreasonable, I know.
Its not even as if religion is that important to me. She said gazing at
the neat rows of vines slipping by them.
I had Solomon done because his father and others wanted him to be a
good Jew. They wanted me to be a good Jew.
So youll be planning his Bar Mitzvah soon? Sasha smiled broadly.
Thatll be interesting.
We will be planning it together. She smiled. Ive been thinking
about it for a while and Ill be glad of some support.
Yes. He laughed. I guess Ill have to learn some Yiddish, what age
do you normally have it?
Traditionally its around the age of thirteen. She replied. But
beforehand the boy has to go to temple and read from the Torah
regularly. On his birthday he is expected to lead a service but I dont
go to temple regularly and Solomon is too young to go alone.
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I guess well just concentrate on the Seudat Mitzvah and have some
religious component of that; somehow.
Seudat Mitzvah? Sasha said frowning. Whats that?
Its a party. She laughed. We Jews know how to have a good
time.
Is that when he gets the money? Sasha asked. In the envelopes,
and does that thing where we carry him on a chair, you know, become
the top Jew?
Hayva; you are talking about the Hayva. She giggled.
Now you even sound like a Jew.
Only if I asked how much it was going to cost. Sasha laughed.
You got me. She giggled back.
Just after midday Sasha found a parking bay in Rue Magenta and
waited while Myriam rushed through the afternoon crowds turning
into Rue de Maubeuge.
She swept unseen into the grand entrance of Gare Du Nord and
quickly found the luggage lockers situated by the Metro entrance.
Reaching into her handbag she withdrew a small key that was given
to her by Hiam prior to leaving Israel and found the locker with the
same number.
She quickly looked around to ensure she wasnt being observed and
unlocked the locker. Inside Myriam found a thick brown envelope and
a small bag.
She removed both the envelope and the bag and replaced them with
the remains of the passports she and Sasha had been using, two
Beretta pistols and the two silencers used in Rome. She tucked the
envelope in her bag, closed the locker and made sure it was secure.
Carrying the small bag in her hands Myriam left the train station and
went to find Sasha still sitting in the Jag.
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Everything Ok? he asked as she jumped into the car.

Its fine... She replied. ...Lets go and get a hotel.
Inside the envelope, beside several thousand American dollars, were
two Swiss passports. They already had their photographs attached and
they used these to check into a small guest house near Sant Germain.
Sasha immediately turned the shower on and let it run as they
rummaged through their luggage.
Whats in the bag? He asked looking at the small bag she had
retrieved from Gare Du Nord.
Im not sure. Myriam replied.
She untied the pull string and tipped the contents of the bag onto the
hotel bed. It contained two .22 pistols, some ammunition, a small
cylinder with a copper lead attached to one end, a box with an Arial
and a booklet.
This looks interesting. Sasha said picking the cylinder up and
twisting it in his fingers.
Be careful. She smiled reaching up and taking it from him. Its a
small pipe bomb.
Youre joking. He smirked bending down and examining the
cylinder closer. Its tiny.
For a telephone. She replied.
This is the control. She added taking the small box and examining it
carefully.
It needs a battery but then... She smiled. You press here and
boom!
Wow. Sasha said blowing air between his teeth. He picked up one
of the pistols and cocked a shell into the chamber. Very James
Bond. He pointed the pistol at Myriam and put on a gruff Scottish
accent.
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Give me your body Moneypenny.

Stop messing around. She replied taking the pistol from him. This
means we will have to force entry to the targets house and place the
charge in his desk telephone. It will be difficult.
No. He smiled. Well be okay, just have to find out what time he
goes to work, have you got the details?
Only a name and address. She replied opening the small book.
This must be a photo.
Well, on that note... Sasha said.
...Im going to have a shower and get a nap before we go take a
look.
She opened the small book and saw a photograph of a middle aged
Arab, bald with thick glasses and a short moustache. It was a cutting
from a French newspaper which said his name was Mohamed
Hamsharithe, a doctor, and the PLO representative in France.
A fundraiser and spokesperson for the organisation, the notes
explained, someone had pinned a cutting on the photo which said he
had organised the Munich operation and was high in the groups
leadership.
Myriam closed the book and lay back on the bed listening to Sasha
singing in the shower. Her thoughts went back to Solomon all those
miles away in Israel and for some reason she started to think about
Oscar. If he had lived he would have been married with his own
family by now.
She remembered the last time she had seen him. He was wearing a
cloth cap that was too big for him and it covered his ears. The cold
was bitter that day on the station platform; he had only been wearing a
small jacket. How cold must he have been? She thought.
Her mother was wearing even less as they had not been given much
time to think about the journey; she had thought theyd be able to
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access to their cases if they got cold. It wasnt to be and they were left
frozen for most of the train journey.
Myriam got up and started to take off her clothes before joining Sasha
in the steamy bathroom. He was surprised to see her enter but noticed
her fragility and that she wanted some intimacy. He pulled her close
and they huddled together under the stream of steaming water before
eventually retiring to bed.
Dr. Hamsharithe lived in a modest flat on the Rue De Lyon not far
from their hotel. The next day they waited for him to leave and then
rang the door bell hoping there would be no staff at his home.
When no one answered Sasha used his lock picker to force the Yale.
He only needed to click it for a couple of seconds before the picker
was able to turn and they both entered the property.
Myriam went to find the doctors office while Sasha kept watch from
the front window to ensure no-one approached or entered the property
while they were there.
She found the office and picked up the telephone receiver. It was held
together with just a small screw so taking it apart was easy. Myriam
slipped in the small cylinder she had retrieved the previous day and
screwed the receiver back up.
She then took note of the telephone number and left the office. She
stood for a moment in the doorway to ensure it look exactly as it had
when she had entered.
They both slipped unseen from the property and closed the door
behind them before making their way back to their hotel. Later that
day they packed their belongings and checked out of the guest house.
They hired another vehicle and parked it just a few hundred feet from
the Doctors flat. Once they saw him return home Myriam put a
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battery in the radio device and went to a phone box situated

conveniently across the road.
She put coins in the slot and dialled his number. After a few rings
Myriam heard his voice at the end of the line and pressed the small
button on the radio device.
The line went dead and a muffled blast could be heard. It was so
slight no one paid any attention and not even the windows of the
property were blown out.
She smiled knowing that this was the way to bomb a house and hit a
target; with no others injured and no one alerted immediately. Not like
the bombing in Egypt where the house was full of staff and children;
it was not like one of Hiams disasters she thought.
Myriam went back to join Sasha who was waiting in the vehicle and
climbed in beside him.
Right then. She smiled. Lets go to the airport.
Chapter 25
On the flight to Beirut, their second destination, Sasha was reading a
copy of the London Times. Suddenly he sat bolt upright in his chair
and examined an article.
Bastards! He said under his breath. He folded the newspaper and sat
back looking tense.
Whats the matter, darling? Myriam asked softly; being roused from
the nap she had been taking. His sudden change of mood worried her.
Its Dr Yehia El-Mashad. Sasha replied sucking air through his
clenched teeth and sighing loudly.
Hes dead.
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Who? She whispered reaching out to touch his hand.

Not your friend from Alexandria.
Yes! He replied glancing at her with pursed lips.
The fucking bastards; theyve killed him.
Myriam mumbled that she was sorry and fell back to sleep again. The
following day, after a flying breakfast over the vast orange deserts of
Lebanon, the city of Beirut appeared below their aeroplane.
They landed, went through customs and as they left the airport Sasha
looked tense and agitated. Not even the beauty of Mount Sannine,
towering over the historic city, could lift his mood.
Beirut is Eastern Lebanons most historic city and has buildings from
its Ottoman past that install a sense of mystery and wonder in the
casual visitor. All this history was missed by the couple; as their taxi
drove through the dusty city streets they sat in silence.
Occasionally, through the thickly lined rows of three story houses and
multi-story hotels they caught a glimpse of the Mediterranean sea
glowing blue in the intense sunlight.
The harbour swept past on their left as the vehicle drove through the
busy Bon Hammod district and onto the Sea Side Road. They had
arranged to meet Helena in a small cafe down near the tourist beaches
away from the busy shipping port and its dirty streets.
The Sea Side Road eventually reached the suburb of Jall Al Dieb in
the eastern part of the city. Here, amid the grand government
buildings and white walled Fanar Campus, the vehicle pulled to a halt
on the corner of Emile Salhab Street; here sat a busy cafe which was
used by tourists and locals alike.
While Sasha threw the driver a few American Dollars Myriam
stepped from the car and surveyed the tables placed haphazardly on
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the corner. She saw Helena waving at her from table overlooking the
seascape and rushed to greet her.
Sasha was left pulling two large suitcases from the boot of the car and
dragging them over to the table.
You look well? Myriam cooed as she kissed Helena on the cheek
and sat down opposite her.
I must get some dark glasses, I accidentally lost mine in Rome.
Theyre so necessary... Helena replied calling a waiter over to the
table as Sasha joined them.
...This sun gives me headaches otherwise; Sasha, how nice to see
you again.
Sasha smiled and ordered coffee from the waiter for himself and
Myriam before lighting a cigarette and wiping the sweat from his
brow with a napkin. He placed the cigarettes on the table between
them and smiled toward Helena.
Its hot. He sighed. Have you been here long?
Three days... Helena replied taking one of his cigarettes from the
packet on the table and lighting it.
...Hence the tan.
I think he was asking if youve been at this cafe for long. Myriam
giggled.
...Waiting for us?
Oh, Im sorry. Helena laughed.
Not really, but what a beautiful place, Hiam suggested it to me. As
you probably know; hes been here a lot.
How is Hiam? Myriam asked courteously with a strained smile.
Hes fine, I guess. Helena smiled. Hes off to Lillehammer,
Norway, soon. So while we enjoy the heat he is out buying winter
coats and boots.
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Rather him than me. Myriam smirked.

So? Sasha asked after the coffee was delivered and the waiter had
gone.
Do you know any hotels for us to stay?
Didnt you know? Helena replied with a surprised look in her eyes.
What? Myriam asked shielding her eyes from the bright sun which
was reflecting off the sea into her face.
You two arent expected to stay in Beirut. Helena said. She took a
sip from her coffee as Sasha and Myriam exchanged glances.
No, we have a delivery job for you both. Helena said softly blowing
cigarette smoke between them.
Then it would be best if you both went back to Tel Aviv; theres a bit
of a do happening. Unless, of course, you want to stay...
What? Myriam replied with a broad smile. Are we getting a
break?
Didnt you have Solomons Bar Mitzvah to arrange? Helena smiled.
...Now the committee has promoted me to Reuvens old job, I
thought giving you some time off would be a nice gesture.
Controller? Myriam laughed. Oh wow. Congratulations.
So youll be based in Ambrosia House now? Sasha asked with a
smile.
A desk job, eh, how will you like that? He asked.
Its only temporary. Helena smiled. Im getting too old for the
rough and tumble these days.
The travelling really takes it out of me. I dont know how Hiam keeps
up, he only just got back from Egypt yesterday and now hes off
again.
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Whats he doing in Norway? Sasha asked casually. He took a puff

from his cigarette and looked towards Helena who did not reply. She
just frowned in his direction momentarily.
At least Ill be available for Solomons party. She said turning her
gaze towards Myriam.
I love parties and we get so little time to celebrate these days; dont
you think?
We should hire a car. Myriam said towards Sasha as she took a sip
from her coffee. Its not easy to fly from Lebanon to Israel but
driving is very nice.
Great idea. Helena beamed. Theres a Hertz rental just around the
corner. Once you get through Beirut its about 250 miles, weve done
it before in 5 hours and the coast road is wonderful.
What about the delivery? Sasha asked hoping this question would
not be ignored like his last. Helena smiled and dug around in her bag
before pulling out a square package wrapped in brown paper. On one
side was a name and address.
Bassam Abu Sharif
226 Hamra St
Its a book. Helena said softly. A very special book, apparently our
man is a bit of a scholar, we hope he will enjoy opening this particular
novel. Itll be a blast.
Oh. Sasha replied taking the parcel from her and placing it on his
lap.
In that case Ill be careful with it.
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Yes. Helena beamed. Im got to stay in town for a couple more

days; working, of course. But then Ill drop by you little kibbutz
when I get home. I promise.
Sasha? Myriam said turning to face him and leaning forwards. You
have our passports dont you?
Yes. Sasha replied. The Swiss ones?
Of course. Myriam said in a hushed voice.
Why dont you go to Hertz and get a nice car for us while I wait here
with the cases?
Why not? He smiled standing.
Helena, very nice to see you.
And you Sasha. She said standing and pecking his cheek.
Ill take this with me. Sasha lifted the book and smiled before
turning to leave them both.
The women watched him go and then looked out to sea for a moment
watching the waves crash on the yellow sand as the suns reflection
ripple on the incoming waves.
How are you two getting on? Helena asked pursing her lips.
Fine. Myriam replied wondering what her friend was getting at.
She had known Helena for so long that a vague question like that
could be loaded with intrigue and she wondered what her friend really
wanted to know.
Hes a little indiscrete; sometimes. Helena added.
Give him time. Myriam smiled. She reached out and touched
Helenas hand before placing her head to one side and shaking it a
little.
Ive known him for a long time and would trust him with my life.
You did not spend much time with him in the camp and only really
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got to know him on the journey to Warsaw. Whereas I was with him
every day for two years...
And the rest. Helena interjected.
...After our escape there was so much going on around us, so much
to worry about, none of us could relax. You did not have the
opportunities to study him like I did. Since hes been back in my life it
has been wonderful.
Myriam bit her bottom lip and look out to sea once again.
You know Helena. She said softly. After Solomon was killed I
never thought I would love again.
The camp made me hard, I thought I would never be close, never be
intimate with anyone. Solomon taught me how to love again and
when he was killed I felt my heart rip in two.
It was like life did not want me to be happy, to have anything special,
and to be loved by anyone; and then Sasha came back to me. He
healed the pain I felt after loosing Solomon. He healed it. He has
healed and made me whole again.
I am glad. Helena smiled.
I just wish you had someone to help you love. Myriam said with
tears building in her eyes.
Were both getting old; Jesus Ill be fifty in six years. Fifty, can you
believe that?
Yes. Helena smiled crookedly. Its baring down on me much
sooner than you, my dear.
Thats what I mean. Myriam continued. Why dont you find love
before it gets too late?
That boat sailed a long time ago. Helena said softly.
I dont bother even looking nowadays; but Im happy.
Are you? Myriam asked tenderly. Are you really?
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Yes I am. Helena smiled.

Suddenly a beep rang out and both women looked over to the road
beside the cafe and saw Sasha sitting behind the wheel of a
convertible saloon. He waved and smiled at them.
I guess thats your car? Helena smiled. Enjoy the ride back, its a
great journey.
We will. Myriam smiled. Ill make sure the book is delivered first
and then we will get going.
Goodbye. Helena smiled before leaning forwards and hugging
Myriam tightly. Im glad we had some time to talk.
So am I. Myriam said softly. She sighed and picked up the two
cases before leaving to join Sasha.
As she left the cafe, Abraham walked past her almost as if he didnt
want to be seen.
Abby? Myriam said softly, Abraham turned and smiled. He looked
around at Helena and an awkward look crossed his face.
Myriam. He said.
What a surprise. I cant stop, we have a job on, you know, hush hush
and all that.
Oh really? Myriam replied as Sasha bibbed the car horn again.
Its nice to see you.
And you, keep in touch. With that he turned and went to join
Helena at the table.
Myriam frowned and carried the cases towards the car. Sahsa got out
as she approached and took the bags, throwing them onto the back
seat, before they both climbed in and waved. Then they were off.
That was strange. Myriam said with a smirk.
What? Sasha asked absentmindedly.
Oh, its probably nothing.
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They found Hamra street easily as it was one of the main streets
through the central district. The house they were looking for had a
gated entrance and a single doorway which contained steps up to an
apartment off street level. Myriam left Sasha in the car a little down
Hamra street and walked up to the gate casually ensuring no one saw
her.
The gate had a letter box situated in its centre and she posted the
parcel through it making sure no one could fish it out of the box
without having the key.
Then she walked back to Sasha and jumped in the car. The sped away
and turned towards the harbour and the coastal road but before they
had even left the central district Myriam screamed for Sasha to stop.
He quickly pulled the vehicle over to the side of the road and watched
in silence as she jumped from the car and dashed into a nearby shop.
Three minutes later he laughed seeing her emerge wearing a big pair
of dark glasses which covered most of her face. She slipped in beside
him and Sasha started driving again.
Look what I bought. She smiled pulling a chiffon scarf from a paper
bag. She wrapped it around her head and looked at him. Now I look
like a local woman.
Enshala! Sasha laughed.
They both giggled as the car headed down to the coast and the long
double-lane freeway that hung alongside the harbour wall. Sasha
headed south towards Naqoura, one of the final cities on the Lebanese
border and todays headquarters of the United Nations Interim Force
in Lebanon.
In 1973, when Myriam and Sasha drove their hire car into Naqoura
the situation was tense. There was a feeling among the Lebanese
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people that they would be drawn into the retaliation by Israel for the
Munich incident.
Hezbollah were a vocal supporter of Black September and the P.L.O
even if ordinary Lebanese people just wanted to be left alone to get on
with life and raise a family.
Whatever these extreme organisations did seemed to rebound on
ordinary people and there was tension in the air that occasional
visitors did not quite sense like the locals did.
They pulled the car to a halt by a street cafe and got out to stretch
their legs before sitting at a table and looking out across the fishing
smacks that were tethered here and there along the harbour.
Unaware that out to sea an Israeli war boat was about to launch
speedboats which would, in a few hours, burst ashore as the first wave
of a invasion force.
As they ordered coffee, just a few miles away across the Israeli border
tanks, armoured troop carriers and infantry men were snaking their
way towards the town.
As Sasha lit a cigarette and blew smoke into the air, only fifty miles
away bombers were being fuelled, and attack aircraft armed in
readiness of a first strike against Hezbollah to gain air superiority.
As they drank their coffee and exchanged polite conversation with the
locals they missed the other Mossad teams who had been instructed to
infiltrate the city and act only at the start of what would become
Operation Spring of Youth.
That day the same locals would see the blood of their children run
cold for what had occurred in Munich; a city many of them had never
even heard of.
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Sasha and Myriam became aware of the situation once they had
crossed the border into Israel and saw the build-up for themselves. By
then the aircraft were in the sky, the speedboats in the water and tanks
were fast approaching the terrified border guards.
In Beirut, Israeli commandos raided heavily guarded apartment
buildings and killed Muhammad Youssef al-Najjar (Operations leader
in Black September),
Kamal Adwan (A Chief of Operations in the PLO) and Kamal Nasser
(PLO Executive Committee member and spokesman).
During the operation, two Lebanese police officers, an Italian citizen,
and Najjars wife were also killed.
Chapter 26
Here you are young man. Helena said passing a small envelope to
Solomon as he played with his school friends. Sasha was cooking a
barbeque and the sun was raining down heat upon the kibbutz.
Are you enjoying your seudat? Iwona asked as she too passed a
small envelope to the boy.
Its getting better. The boy smiled peering at the cash sticking out
from it as he tucked the envelope into his jacket pocket.
Kids love these parties. Helena smiled as she slipped beside
Myriam on the veranda. But its such a lot of work.
Yes. Myriam replied placing a bowel of potato salad on the table
next to the beigle and salmon treats.
Please help me with this.
She indicated a small table that needed to be assembled on the grass
by the veranda steps and Helena took one side as Myriam took the
other.
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Hows the job going? Myriam asked casually as they both carried
the table down the steps.
Dont ask. Helena replied casting her eyes upwards and shrugging.
After the incident in Norway things have been really intense.
She was referring to the Lillyhammer affair. Hiam and a small team
had gone to Norway to kill Ali Hassan Salameh, a High-ranked leader
in the PLO and Black September who was suspected of involvement
in the Olympic Games massacre. After following the wrong car they
accidentally killed Ahmed Bouchiki, an innocent waiter.
Although most of the team escaped it caused a great deal of
international outrage. Israels secret services were implicated much to
the condemnation of the United Nations.
It was widely felt that Resolution 415, which created the United
Nations Interim Force in Lebanon, was pushed through on the back of
the world-wide outrage after this event.
To be honest with you, Myriam. Helena said softly as her eyes
looked across the lush green grass towards Sasha.
People are saying we have a leak.
You cannot be serious? Myriam gasped.
She did not notice her friends interest in Sasha as he quietly turned
beef steaks on the barbeque and, instead, Myriam swigged from her
glass of wine which had been sitting on the steps.
Really? She asked.
Its just a theory. Helena said turning to face her. Please dont say
anything to anyone.
Of course. Myriam replied with a note of concern.
Seriously. Helena added.
Not even Sasha, not until we have more information.
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You couldnt think... Myriam stuttered; but Helena interrupted her

with a smile.
Of course not. She beamed.
But just keep that to yourself, Ill get into trouble otherwise.
The scent of steaks cooking and the cheerful call of childrens voices
faded into the background as Myriam held her glass of red wine to her
chest and looked across the warm garden. Her thoughts went back to
the camp and how she met her current lover, shoeless and hungry,
trudging through the snow.
That night of passion on the kitchen floor, following the sight of all
those children queuing up to die. She remembered the gun he had got
from someone, the fact he could get most things in the mists of so
much deprivation, no matter what went on Sasha always seemed to be
onto of it all.
Even the way he told her about his job in the captains house, what
was it, she remembered back to what hed told her. Hed stopped a
gypsy attacking the SS Haupscurfuhrer.
Hed prevented a prisoner, a prisoner like him, from striking out and
killing one of their oppressors; just to feather his own nest.
What of the gypsy boy, surely he would have been killed for such an
outrage and if Sasha could do that to another prisoner what else would
he be capable of. She bit her lip and looked across the garden in
Sashas direction and felt her blood run cold.
Sasha was placing pieces of charred meat on a platter and his apron
strings hung loosely from his back. Suddenly he turned and saw her
looking across towards him. His eyes lit up and he smiled.
Come and help me woman. Sasha shouted as the children started to
congregate about him.
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She was disarmed by his smile and the pleading of the children for
food and in that moment all her worries evaporated. Myriam pushed
the thought from her mind crossed the warm grass and kissed him.
Bruges, Belgium
September 1973
Located in the northwest of the country, Bruges is the capitol of West
Flanders, one of Belgiums Flemish regions. A World Heritage site,
this historic city has so many canals some refer to it as the Venice of
the North.
Most of the historic sites in this beautiful city date from between the
12th and 15th century when Bruges was going through a Golden
Period. The port earned so much money from trade the city fathers
were able to invest in great monuments, civic buildings and, of
course, the canal system.
After the 15th century silting of the Zwin channel, which had given
the area its prosperity, a depression started from which the city never
fully recovered.
Most of its income today is from tourism as people flock to
experience one of Europes, largely intact, last medieval cityscapes.
Rochim followed St. Pieterzwidstraat to the roundabout where
Veemark and Pietergroenestraats traffic flows into an orderly oblong
around and off in the direction of Graaf Visart Park; he had a meeting
to attend.
It was two in the afternoon and he was late. Feeling a little stressed
Rochim entered the eastern entrance to the park as the sky turned gray
and rain began to fall.
Looking through the light drizzle he saw his contact standing under
the small bandstand. Dressed in a dirty grey rain coat with a flat black
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cap the bearded Arab looked intently as Rochim stepped through the
rain towards him.
Youre late. The Arab said.
Rochim looked into the Arabs brown eyes and saw them dart here
and there betreying the paranoid internal state which he tried to cover;
pretending to be calm but not succeeding.
It was further than I thought. Rochim replied.
He looked over the mans shoulder and saw another Arabic looking
man standing in the shadows of the trees that circled the park.
Glancing to his left he saw another trying to fade into the background.
I thought you would be alone. Rochim stated softly.
Dont worry about them, my friend. The man smiled showing dirty
and cracked, tobacco stained teeth. He glanced over his shoulder and
then back towards Rochim. The mans expression fell into a tense
stare.
Have you got the key?
Have you got the weapons? Rochim asked.
I have, theyre nearby. The man replied digging his hands into his
pockets.
How about you, have you got it on you?
Its nearby too. Rochim replied straight-faced.
Nearby, eh? The Arab said twisting his face into a contorted snarl.
You were told to bring it with you.
So were you. Rochim said.
Shall we start again? The Arab asked softly with a small smile.
Have you got the weapons?
Have you got the key?
A tense pause passed between both men and Rochim felt the hairs on
the back of his neck stand on end as his body became saturated with
adrenalin.
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Lets stop playing this game. Rochim sighed. If you are just
fucking me around I will turn now and leave. You will not get the
money. Okay.
Youll only get the weapons once we have your key. The man spat.
Have you got it?
Its nearby. Rochim said softly.
The man shook his head and Rochim watched as if in slow motion as
his hand twisted an object with was hidden in the dirty grey overcoat.
A pop rang out as a bullet left the ,33 secreted in the Arabs pocket
and hit Rochim bluntly in the chest.
Then thats a problem. The man said as Rochim looked down and
saw a pool of blood leaching into his white shirt from the wound over
his heart. He placed his hand on the bloodstain and fell forwards,
landing in a pile by the Arabs feet.
The Arab looked at his two friends who ran over to join him as he
searched through Rochims pockets. In the inner breast pocket of his
coat the Arab found a numbered key for the left luggage lockers at
Bruges main railway terminal.
He smiled and placed this key in his own pocket before all three
disappeared leaving the warm body to be found by some unsuspecting
tourist later that afternoon.
Chapter 27
What was he doing in Belgium? Myriam said after hearing the
news. Abraham paused for a moment before sighing loudly.
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We heard. He said. That a group there were supplying weapons to

P.L.O agents all over Europe. He was undercover trying to identify
them.
And? Myriam asked.
They killed him. Abraham replied. Perhaps they found out he was
an Israeli, perhaps it was a rip-off; I guess well never know now.
Myriam put the telephone receiver down and stood in silence for a
moment thinking about what she had just been told. Rochim had been
a good friend and his death was going to leave another empty hole in
her life which, no doubt, she would push down to the pit of her
stomach with all the other grief and sorrow she carried.
It was only the sound of Solomon stomping up the veranda steps that
snapped her suddenly from that deep well of grief.
Hello darling. She said softly, turning to face her son as he burst
into the room; forcing a smile for him.
How was school today?
It was okay. The boy replied glumly.
He took off his rucksack and went to the kitchen and, after opening
the fridge, poured himself a drink of orange-aid.
I dont like that school. Solomon said firmly.
He turned to face his mother and she saw he had been fighting again.
Myriam saw an angry red mark above his right eye and a bloodstain
on his white shirt collar.
Whats happened this time. Myriam asked approaching the boy and
examining the injury. Didnt you learn last time; fighting is not the
answer?
The previous week she had been asked to visit his school and talk to
the headmaster about Solomons behaviour. Myriam had been told he
was a surly, rude young man who did not concentrate on his subjects
and flew into fits of rage if he felt wronged.
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No matter how trivial the issue Solomons first reaction was to hit out
with clenched fists and abusive language.
The headmaster had told her that he was being given a written
warning, having already received a verbal warning, and that any
further acting out would result in his exclusion from the school.
Its not me. The boy whined pulling his mouth into a theatrical
expression of exasperation.
Its those cunts. I fucking hate them all.
Solomon! Myriam shouted. Please stop using that language in this
house. I havent brought you up to swear like that and I dont like it.
Your problem is, mother... Solomon spat. Youve not brought me
up at all.
What? Myriam asked shaking her head as the boy stormed off to his
room. He slammed the door behind him. She followed but when she
tried to enter the room found the door locked. Suddenly music began
to blare out from the other side of the door.
Communication breakdown
its always the same
having nervous breakdown
drive me insane.
(Led Zeppelin-Communication Breakdown)
Open this door at once... Myriam shouted....and turn that music

down.
Fuck off, you bitch. Solomon screamed. I dont want you in here.
Open this door at once. Myriam shouted rapping on the door loudly.
If your father could see you now hed,
She stuttered and banged again hearing the loud music suddenly go
quiet and door lock opening.
Hed...
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He would what? Solomon asked looking through the gap in the

door. He scrawled his face up and looked like a wounded animal.
Beat me, send me away, what mother, what could that man do that
you have not done to me already?
Ive never beaten you. Myriam replied shaking with rage at the very
thought of it.
How dare you say such a thing.
No, but you are happy to send me to a place where my arse gets
beaten every day. Solomon shouted.
In my whole life Ive seen you perhaps ten times. You were always
sending me off to stay with this person or that person. Never there
when I needed you, never there when it counted; you must have really
hated me. How do you think I felt when you left me like that?
Ive always made sure you were looked after. Myriam replied
defensively.
Ive had to work. Someone round here had to pay the bills, clothe
and feed you.
Dont try to get out of this Mother! Solomon said sarcastically.
No one forced you to go off with your boyfriend for months; leaving
me with that Polish bitch and her cunt of a husband.
I fucking Hate you.
The slap was automatic and Myriam didnt even realise she had done
it until the sound reverberated around the hallway and a red hand
mark appeared on Solomons face. He touched his cheek and shook
his head.
You fucking bitch. He said turning and going to his bed.
Solomon. Myriam said shaking with a mixture of emotions. Regret,
anger and frustration all collided in her brain creating a state of total
confusion.
I didnt mean to do that.
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Just fuck off mother. The boy spat looking at her contemptuously.
Havent you hurt me enough?
Myriam stopped in the doorway and took a deep breath before
approaching him and taking a seat beside her son on the bed. They sat
in silence for a while before she sighed and touched his leg softly.
Can we start again? She asked with a softly. Myriam tried to smile.
Please?
You dont understand what its been like for me. Solomon said
emotionally; looking towards the floor flushed red with anger.
I miss having a father who I can talk to, someone who could teach
me to deal with the bullies at school. Someone to take me fishing or to
football. Someone I can confide in; I get so confused sometimes and I
have no one I can talk to.
You have Sasha. Myriam smiled. Hes here for you.
No mother. Solomon said turning to face her.
Hes here for you. My father is dead, remember.
Oh Solomon? Myriam sighed. She reached out, stroked his hair and
bit her lip. Suddenly she found herself thinking about Oscar and how
she missed him.
So much time had passed and yet in a moment of remembrance it was
all there again, the emotion, the terror, the turmoil of that cold winter
morning on the platform; it all came brimming to the surface. Myriam
fought back the tears and pulled her son close to her.
When I was your age. Myriam said softly. Perhaps a little younger,
but not much, my mother and I had to say goodbye. My little brother
Oscar held my mothers hand and she looked at me with tears in her
eyes; she told me to walk away.
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I had to walk away from them both and then watch while they were
taken to be murdered. My mother told me to go and live while she
chose to die. It was the hardest thing anyone could do; stand there and
watch the people you love go.
Imagine knowing that you may never see them again. But I think my
mother wanted me to live so that she and Oscar, my little brother,
would be remembered.
Myriam stroked the back of her sons neck and whispered in his ear.
I understand your loneliness son, perhaps more than you realise.
What about your father? Solomon asked looking at her with a
furrowed brow and pensive look. Did you go with him?
Grandpapa died when I was a small child. Myriam sniffed.
She took a sharp intake of breath and sighed. Grand mama, my
mother, did what she could for us before the Germans came; but
during the war things got very scary and out of control.
We faced our own bullies back then but instead of bruises and cuts we
got shot and gassed. Imagine that. The last time I saw my mother and
brother they were going off to a fate you could not comprehend; to
suffer unspeakable horror. Imagine that, my son.
How did you cope? Solomon asked sitting up and facing her. It
must have been terrible.
I met Sasha. She smiled. We were just children, back then, but
together we were strong. I lost touch with him after the war and met
your wonderful father.
We were very much in love, your father and I, and you were the result
of that love. When he died I was broken Solomon, I mean, really hurt.
I didnt think I could ever be happy again but then, just by accident, I
ran into Sasha again.
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It goes to show that no matter what life throws at you; one must never
give up hope. There is always happiness out there waiting to be
discovered, you may not feel it today or tomorrow, but its always out
there somewhere.
Ive been selfish. Solomon said softly, he hung his head and bit his
lip for a moment and, in that way most disheartened teens do,
unconvincingly added.
Im sorry.
Life is too short to be sorry, Son. She replied.
Just try to limit the bad language please, can you do that for me?
Yes mother. Solomon smiled I wish I had friends out here, were
so isolated in this house and my nearest mate is 20k away, thats why
I get so fed up.
When you get older. Myriam replied. You will realise that friends
come and go but your family will always be there for you. Remember
that.
I guess. Solomon replied before turning to her wide eyed and
excited.
I know...He smiled. If I work hard and get good grades will you
buy me a car?
Hang on. Myriam giggled standing and going to the bedroom door.
You should be getting good grades anyway.
Id need a car for collage. Solomon said expectantly. Come on,
mother.
Ill think about it.
Just then the telephone rang in the hall and she stepped towards the
sound leaving Solomon shaking his head.
But its a good idea. She shouted eliciting a final high-five from her
excited son in the bedroom. Lifting the receiver Myriam sighed
deeply, reassured herself and said.
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Hello, whos calling?

Myriam? The voice at the end of the line said simply. She knew at
once that it was Helena and that something important was happening.
Normally Helena would not call her unless it was important and today
the tone of Helenas voice was formal. Myriam recognised that at
once.
Can you come to Ambrosia today?
Yes. Myriam replied. The line went dead and she hung up the
receiver. She thought for a moment tapping her manicured fingers
against her jaw before turning to face Solomons bedroom.
I have to go out for a bit.
The following day she was on a flight to Cairo with Hiam following
an important lead. They had wanted her to leave immediately but
shed refused.
Myriam had explained to Helena that it was a little inconvenient.
Sasha was away visiting his aunt and Iwona was only available to
look in on Solomon from time to time.
When they told her that it was important for her and only her to go
with Hiam she felt she had no choice. Solomon was old enough to
look after himself and seemed to enjoy the chance to show he could
be left to look after himself.
Myriam trusted that he would make his way to school each day. He
was working at home on course work most of the time anyway, as six
formers do, and Solomon wasnt the sort of kid that would abuse the
trust his parent had placed in him to look after the house and not
wreck it.
Hiam sat stony faced the whole time they travelled. Neither he or
Helena had been forthcoming about the purpose of the trip to Cairo,
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or what the lead was about, expecting Myriam to trust in their

judgement.
Myriam was used to that from them both anyway. Helena was never
inclined to overdo the detail and Hiam kept things to himself
pathologically. Especially since theyd fallen out because of the way
Soloman had died.
Even pretending to be polite for the sake of their working relationship
was difficult for her and as soon as the plane took off Myriam had
found a seat at the back where she could sit alone.
Myriam was glad when the fight was over and they both reached the
hotel. They were travelling as business associates and thus had
separate rooms. Hers in the name of Miss S. OReily and his as Mr
Brian McCarthy; both of County Cork, Eire in Ireland.
Meet me tomorrow at 9.00am. Hiam said as he signed his
registration card collected his bag. He made his way to his room
without looking back saying.
Well have breakfast together.
Myriam watched him go and sniffed. She really hated him and was
glad to see him wander off; he obviously knew how she felt even if he
didnt say.
Having Hiam as her superior just made her even more angry, but she
thought, any role that she did these days seemed below her. Unless
she was leading a team of junior agents, where she could be in control
and actively plan operations, Myriam felt at risk.
She found it hard to be dictated to by others; particularly if she had
little faith in their judgement. She had no faith in Hiams judgement at
all and even being near him made her skin crawl.
That night the whole of Cairo shook under the assault of an electrical
storm. Deep booms of thunder followed instantly after flashes of
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bright, sparked tridents which split the sky in two. Myriam lay on her
bed, in the humid darkness, listening to the malevolence brooding
outside her hotel room window.
Seeing the scars of shadows stalk the rooms ceiling and hearing the
heavens shake made her feel tense. In those momentary flashes of
lightening which illuminated the room from time to time, Myriam
thought back again to 1945.
She turned her head slightly and saw beyond the balcony window,
slipping in and out of the brooding dark clouds, a violent moon. It
peered at her seriously like a peeping tom; full and hot bloodied.
Behind its cloak of shifting clouds all manner of violence can occur,
she remembered the captain saying. Once the night has descended the
gates of hell can open and the demons escape. The killing moon is
out, she thought, sharpen your swords and prepare to fight.
Chapter 28
I had to find out what went wrong in Lillyhammer. Hiam said as he
sipped from his coffee cup the next morning. He wiped sleep from his
eyes and looked about the hotel cafe furtively.
We know what went wrong. Myriam replied with a curt smile.
You fucked up.
Oh, thank you for the vote of confidence. Hiam replied sighing
loudly.
He rubbed his eyes again and leant across the table.
Its not that at all; actually.
I think killing the wrong target... Myriam snapped back in a hushed,
caustic voice.
...Allowing the real target to get away and then having two members
of your team arrested counts as a fuck up; dont you agree?
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We were working on photographic identification. Hiam explained

firmly. Once the target had been identified we went with it.
She looked squarely in his eyes and noticed he held her look for a
brief moment and then looked away. Beads of fine sweat were
appearing on his forehead giving her an indication of the pressure her
questions were causing. She began to enjoy watching him squirm.
You went with it. Myriam said after a tense pause.. Even though
you knew that to be wrong would mean the death of an innocent
bystander and compromise the whole operation; it was shoddy and
reprehensible.
Mistakes happen in this work. Hiam said with a small snarl. He
sipped his coffee and ate the last piece of bread on the table as a thick,
awkward silence fell between them.
Anyway. Myriam said with a sniff. She removed a packet of
cigarettes from her bag and lit one.
Can you tell me what we are doing in Cairo?
If you insist. Hiam sighed. He rapped his fingers on the table and
eyed her intently before saying.
We have a lead on the leak.
Thats it? Myriam replied bluntly. She took a deep draw on the
cigarette and blew the smoke across the table. Didnt you think I
should have been told before we got here?
We were worried, Helena and I, security should be protected at any
cost. The aims and objectives of this mission is purely on a need to
know basis and quite bluntly, till this point, you did not need to
know.
I see. Myriam replied.
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We felt only senior members of the organisation should be involved

and keep numbers small. Hiam tried to smile but the frosty look on
Myriams face made him feel uncomfortable instead.
We are here to identify the leak and...
Plug it. Myriam interjected.
Quite. Hiam replied.
He continued to eat as Myriam smoked and thought. Suddenly she
looked up at him and asked out of the blue.
What happened to Rochim?
He was set up. Hiam replied. He cautiously looked about the room
to ensure no one was spying on them before whispering.
In all likelihood by our quarry.
I see. She replied softly. The sun was now very hot and Myriam
was glad she had just worn a thin chiffon dress, a sun hat and sandals
this morning.
Even though the ground outside was still wet from the downpour the
previous evening she could feel the humidity rising in the room by the
second.
We are to follow an Egyptian Secret Policeman...
The S.S.I? Myriam asked.
No, the other lot. Hiam replied wiping his mouth with a tissue.
The Mukhabarat. I believe you had a run in with this man last time
you were here. The very reason theres a rat in Mukhabarat.
Raul? She sighed.
Precisely. Hiam realised he had her full attention now and relished
in the fact that he had the upper hand. He sniffed and flashed a smug
smile across the table towards Myriam and sat back in his seat.
Hiam was expecting her to enjoy the opportunity to kill Raul, at last,
but instead she shook her head and looked away with a pinched
expression.
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Who is informing him? Myriam asked after a long thoughtful

pause.
That... Hiam replied.
Is what we are here to find out.
It was a few hours later when they found Raul. Not that he was
hiding, how could he, the man managed a business on one of the
busiest streets in Cairo and was always in the area.
Raul worked for a shipping company in a small, badly built and
maintained, office block situated behind the main station. It had a
sister office in Alexandria and both provided the cover to import and
export all manner of dodgy items under the noses of the Egyptian
Customs and Border Service.
This work allowed Raul to slip in and out of work, routinely attending
to other matters which paid in cash; normally stuffed into brown
enveloped and passed under the table in dark coffee-shops.
It was to one of these coffee-shops that Myriam and Hiam followed
Raul later that day. Still wearing his dirty white suit, thick with greasy
stains around the neck-line and ingrained sweat around the armpits,
Raul was hard to miss; he did not appear to notice that he was being
followed.
In a suburb of Cairo, where the streets are lined with cheap backpacker hostels and unlicensed motorcycle taxi drivers offer bags of
grass to the tourists as they come and go, Myriam and Hiam watched
Raul enter a dingy coffee shop.
Painted a garish green with loud reggae music blaring from
loudspeakers by the door the shop was full of hippies smoking grass
and relaxing on long leather sofas.
They followed shortly after and, through the smoke filled room, saw
Raul enter a private suite of rooms at the back of the coffee shop.
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Hiam went to the bar and ordered two beers. This was one of the few
areas of Cairo where alcohol was freely available to tourists and Hiam
made sure he took full advantage of this.
Myriam felt distinctly overdressed. Although she liked the casualness
of tie-died tee-shirt, silk headscarfs and kaftans, she was wearing a
chiffon dress she had bought in Italy.
Topped with a floppy sun hat and gold jewellery she looked like shed
walked straight from the pages of Vogue magazine. Whereas Hiam
still had the shorts hes worn for breakfast and a sloppy tee-shirt
which was getting damp under the armpits.
They both went to a table and looked towards the door which Raul
had entered moments before to consider their options.
What now? Myriam asked with a raised eyebrow.
Hiam squirmed in his seat having as much an idea as her. She enjoyed
watching him feel uncomfortable and decided to up the pressure.
We cant just sit here. She said sarcastically. You think Rauls
going to announce who he is meeting back there; or what?
His contact should come in the same way. Hiam replied trying
quickly to think on his feet. Well see them come through and well
follow.
What if theres a back entrance? Myriam sighed.
Look. Hiam snapped. I dont want any fuck-ups today as much as
you. Lets just wait and see who comes through that door; when we
find out they both have to die. Are you ready for that?
Of course. She sneered. Myriam shook her head and looked around
the bar.
For Rochim.
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Yes! Hiam said nodding. He took a swig from his beer bottle and
added.
For Rochim.
After a few minutes sweat was beading on Hiams forehead as the
heat from the end of the day permeated through the bar. The bass line
of the beats throbbed low and intensely; making the glasses on each
table rattle and the wooden floor creak with vibration.
The other people in the room seemed to be trancelike as they smoked
their joints or chillums oblivious to anyone else around them.
Suddenly Myriam leant forwards and whispered.
I have an idea. She said. Follow me in a few minutes.
She stood and went over to the bar. The coffee shop owner watched
her sweep across the room and smiled. She smiled back as the young
Arab joined her across the bar.
Drink? The man asked simply. Myriam threw him a big disarming
smile and tossed her hair back before replying.
Is there a ladies rest room in here?
Of course. The man said with a thick accent. He nodded towards the
door Raul had entered and said Its through there, the first door on
the right.
Thank you. She said before giving him another teasing smile and
going to the door which led out back. She glanced round at Hiam as
she entered the small hall on the other side.
Closing the door behind her Myriam opened her bag and took out her
Beretta .22 pistol. She disengaged the safety catch and put a shell in
the chamber slipping the pistol back in her bag. Then Myriam listened
at the first door.
The sound of water flowing through pipes echoed out on the other
side. She stepped to the next door and heard the same sound. The next
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door along the hall was several steps away at the far end of the small
passage. Myriam slid up to it quietly glancing behind as the door at
the end of the hall shed entered opened and Hiam appeared. He
closed the door behind him quietly and joined her.
Shhh! Myriam whispered placing her index finger against her lips.
Hiam nodded and stepped to the door. The muffled voices of men
talking could be heard leaking through it and she reached into her bag
withdrawing her gun in readiness.
Myriam took a silencer from her bag and screwed it onto the pistol as
Hiam took a small silenced Beretta from his shorts.
When they were ready Myriam slipped her fingers over the door
handle and twisted it slowly. The door was unlocked and she opened
it silently allowing Hiam to enter. Myriam followed him into the room
closing the door behind her; they were both not seen or heard.
Stop what you are doing. Hiam shouted towards the two armchairs
which faced away from them. Raul was sitting on one; a large leather
armchair which had wings around the backrest. He peered around the
wing and reached for something in his breast pocket as Hiam shot him
between the eyes.
A loud pop echoed around the room which caught Myriam off guard.
Raul slumped forwards as air belched from his dead lungs as she
looked at Hiam in disbelief.
You. Hiam said firmly. Stand up.
Both he and Myriam stood either side of the door as the occupant of
the second winged armchair slowly stood.
Sasha! Myriam gasped. What are...
Hi guys. Sasha replied raising his arms.
You were supposed to be... Myriam stuttered.
In Geneva... Sasha explained. ...visiting my aunt. I can explain...
We know why you are here! Hiam said forcefully.
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His face went into a twisted snarl and he lifted the barrel of his
Beretta.
You infiltrated our organisation and have used us. For that you will
die a traitors death.
What? Sasha exclaimed. He looked towards Myriam and lifted his
hands higher above his head. Then he looked towards Myriam.
Wait. He stuttered.
Kill him. Hiam said firmly. He looked around and urged Myriam to
use her weapon.
Kill him, or I will.
Wait. Myriam said softly.
Her eyes were welling up with tears as she realised what the
seriousness of what was happening. In that moment her life could
change forever.
All the hopes and dreams she had for the future, all the comfort she
had gained from her relationship with this man. It seemed to have
been a lie, for nothing. Before she killed the man she loved Myriam
had to know why.
What are you doing here? She asked looking at Sasha with a pitiful
expression full of doubt and confusion.
You know what he is doing here. Hiam shouted.
Kill him and get this over. Do it, do it now; do it for Rochim.
Shut up! Myriam screamed. Her voice echoed around the room and
was tinged with agony while she desperately sought answers.
She looked back towards Sasha and asked again.
What are you doing here?
Oh, fuck this! Hiam shouted letting off a round which pierced
Sashas stomach.
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If you want something done, do it yourself!

No! Myriam shouted falling forwards and catching Sasha as he
bowed over. She looked at her palm and saw a thick smear of blood
which had leaked from the wound in his stomach. Myriam brushed
Sashas hair back out of his eyes and sat him down gently on the
winged armchair.
I was told to come here. Sasha explained breathlessly.
You know that over the past few weeks I have been trying to find out
what happened to Dr Yehia El-Mashad. I knew he had been murdered,
but, I wanted to know by whom.
Why didnt you tell me? Myriam asked looking betreyed and hurt.
She shook her head and caught her breath as she tried to make sense
of the situation. Blood was seeping though his shirt and Sasha put his
hand over the hole through which the bullet had penetrated.
I didnt think. Sasha replied.
Look, this is all very touching. Hiam interjected lifting his pistol
and pointing it at Sashas head.
But I want to get this done and dusted. Finish him now!
Shut the fuck up, Hiam! Myriam shouted.
Yes, Hiam... Sasha said sarcastically looking up towards Hiam with
a sneer.
...shut the fuck up!
I got a call on Wednesday saying that if I came to this coffee shop, on

this day, at this time... He said looking deep into Myriams eyes.
Yes? Myriam asked softly.
This guy would be able to help.
You know who he is? Myriam asked looking over towards Rauls
slumped body in the next armchair.
Ive never seen him before.
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LIAR! Hiam shouted. He stepped forwards and placed the silencer

against Sashas forehead. Myriam saw the barrel was shaking with
tension and watched as his index finger slid from the barrel onto the
trigger.
You are here selling information about the team. Admit it, traitor.
Its not true. Sasha said firmly. He looked towards Hiam and the
gun barrel as it hovered inches from his face. Then with a swiftness
that surprised everyone, Sasha reached out and in one, brisk, expert
movement took the gun by the barrel; twisted it against Hiams thumb
and flicked the grip into his own.
Ill have that, thank you very much.
Give me my gun. Hiam spat absolutely flushed with rage that hed
been disarmed so easily.
Shoot him Myriam, shoot the fucking traitor.
You have to believe me Myriam. Sasha said lowering the weapon
and pulling the barrel back to unload the shell from the chamber. The
shell was ejected out by the guns spring and landed at Hiams feet.
I was going to tell you but I didnt want to worry you.
But Raul? Myriam said softly.
Who? Sasha asked. He looked towards Rauls body and his face
screwed up.
This guy is Raul, the man who set you up in Alexandria?
Yes. Myriam replied. Its the Raul I told you about.
I didnt know I was meeting him. Sasha said looking confused. He
looked at Rauls body again, then at Myriam and then at Hiam.
And why are you both here?
We were following a lead. Myriam replied pushing her eyebrows
into a tight frown.
Weve had a leak in the organisation for some time now. Jobs kept
being compromised and people have died.
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Give me your gun. Hiam said reaching towards Myriam. She

looked around at him and saw the intense expression on Hiams face.
He was determined to finish Sasha off immediately.
Give me your gun. Now! Hiam screamed.
Dont listen to him. Sasha replied. His eyes darted from hers to
Hiams and then he opened his hand and examined the blood on his
palm before gasping.
I need help. If we dont sort this out soon it may be too late
Sasha looked deep into Myriams eyes and panted breathlessly.
Before I bleed out, tell me who told you to come here?
Someone. Myriam replied glancing up at Hiam.
Someone? Sasha asked quietly. He lifted his gaze and met Hiams.
Yes. Myriam replied vaguely. She looked around towards Hiam and
suddenly felt very confused.
This is a set up. Sasha replied. Im supposed to be a patsy.
Give me your gun Myriam. Hiam said bluntly.
Thats an order.
I get it now. Sasha replied. Someone is trying to cover their tracks
by getting me to take the fall.
The words left Sashas lips and hung in the air like a sentence of
death. As he looked into Hiams eyes he could see behind the tense
look, behind the darting pupils, Sasha could look right through the
man and he knew instinctively.
I wouldnt be surprised if it was you.
He stared at Hiam and shook his head slowly panting for breath.
We cant ask Raul here because hes dead; conveniently.
Sasha gripped Myriams free hand and reached over towards Rauls
body.
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Lets see what he was reaching for when you let him have it.
Kill him Myriam, Kill him. Hiam screamed. There was a sense of
real desperation in Hiams voice which shes never heard before,
something was not right, hes been emotional before but not like this,
it was as if he knew his time was up.
Sasha reached into Rauls breast pocket and took out a wallet, He
flipped it open and inside was a police badge.
The plot thickens. Sasha sniffed.
Give me your gun. Hiam said reaching for Myriams weapon. He
grabbed the silencer and tried to disarm her. Myriam instinctively
stood up and pulled back.
A sudden pop echoed around the room. Blood began to seep into the
white of Hiams shirt at the level of his heart; he looked down and his
face fell into a confused snarl..
What have you done? Hiam gasped falling to his knees.
Myriam stepped back and looked in disbelief as Hiams body slumped
across the floor. A thick red pool of blood began to seep from under
him and trickle across towards her.
Oh no. Myriam cried. What have I done?
Give me your gun. Sasha said. He held out his hand and looked at
her expectantly.
What?
Myriam, trust me. Sasha was panting for breath but she could see
from the look in his eyes that he was being truthful. Through the years
they had known each other she could tell when he was hiding
something or not.
Sasha had a way of looking through people instead of at them and this
was more apparent if he was being deceptive.
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She handed the warm weapon over without a sound. Sasha placed it in
Rauls cold hand and then put Hiams gun back in Hiams fist.
He stood up holding on to Myriam to steady himself, checked the
scene to ensure nothing was out of place, before taking her by the arm
and dragging her out of the room.
There was a back entrance which led to a dark alley at the rear of the
coffee shop which Myriam helped Sasha to navigate. Later she could
not remember the journey back to the hotel, the desperate flagging
down of a Cairo taxi, the drive through the noisy and dusty streets.
But it appeared almost in an instant that they were closing the hotel
room door and locking it on the bad deeds of the recent past.
He sat on the bed and removed his jacket and then his shirt. The blood
had seeped into the waistband of his trousers but was congealing into
a thick clot. Sasha used his shirt to mop the blood up from his
stomach and looked up at her.
Its gone right through. Sasha smiled.
Are you sure? She sighed sitting beside him. You may be bleeding
internally.
No. He replied. Ive been lucky, just a few centimetres on either
side and Id be dead. Hiam was always a rubbish shot.
He managed to stand and went to the mini bar on the other side of the
room. Taking a cigarette from a nearby packet he lit one up and
sighed loudly.
What had you been told? Sasha asked after pouring a strong drink.
Myriam looked across the room towards him and shook her head.
What did they tell you? Sasha asked again.
What does it matter? Myriam replied after a long painful pause.
I have killed one of my team, a senior team member at that, what a
mess.
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He was an arsehole anyway. Sasha spat knocking back his drink and
pouring another. He filled a glass with brandy and gave it to her.
Drink this.
She took the glass and tried to drink it but the Brandy was harsh on
her throat. Myriam placed it on the bedside table and pulled off her
ear-rings.
I need to call Helena.
No! Sasha said firmly. I have a feeling we were both being set up.
Did you notice the way he demanded that you shoot me, he had a gun
the whole time but wanted you to do it. What was going on in his
head, it doesnt make sense?
They said we were going to find a traitor. Myriam replied softly.
Like I said. For a long time things have been going wrong and they
thought someone was leaking information. Hiam said he had a lead on
the leak and brought me along to plug it. Youre right, it was a set up.
A very convenient set up. Sasha sneered. He sat on the bed next to
her and took one of Myriams hands.
You have to believe me, I was told this guy could help me find out
who had hit my friend.
When did you get told to go to Cairo? Myriam asked. She looked
into his eyes and felt confident that she would be able to spot a lie if
one was told but he seemed as honest as always.
Last week. Sasha replied squeezing her fingers. I should have told
you.
Yes. She replied.
You believe me dont you? Sasha asked. He brushed the hair from
her eyes and smiled gently. I would never do anything to hurt you.
I believe you. She replied.
Do you. Sasha asked squeezing her hand a little. Its really
important to me.
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Yes. She replied simply before adding through a deep sigh.

What a mess.
Chapter 29
Helena looked across her desk in the Ambrosia office towards Sasha
and Myriam. She had a thin file opened on her blotter pad and was
reading the notes on the top sheet glumly.
Sucking a deep breath through clenched teeth Helena shook her head
and glanced up at the couple.
Hiam was in a lot of debt. She said softly. It appears this made him
vulnerable to blackmail.
Not corruption? Sasha asked reaching out and holding Myriams
hand.
There are a couple of big payments into his account. Helena replied.
There was one just before Lillyhammer. This could be an
inducement, who knows, we cant find the source of the payment.
I feel confident that you both acted appropriately considering the
situation and that is all that matters. It is regretful that you, Sasha,
were injured and that Hiam will not be facing trial
What a silly man. Myriam said softly.
I told you. Sasha added. I knew he was playing us.
Obviously... Helena said looking towards the window deep in
thought.
...we should keep this information to ourselves. The government
denied that Hiam had anything to do with us when his body was
found and we should keep it that way. They think he was the victim of
a robbery which went wrong.
His family are making arrangements for a private funeral. The body
was returned to Israel last week and they are planning a big event.
Will you be going?
That is very unlikely. Myriam said through pursed lips.
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You two work together well. Helena smiled. I hope to be making

use of you both again in the future; if thats okay?
We have been speaking; Sasha and I. Myriam smiled. Were just
glad all this is over...
So are we. Helena smiled.
As I was saying. Myriam cleared her throat and looked towards
Sasha. We have decided that we do not want to do political work
anymore. Particularly Palestinians and Arabs; dont ask why.
It seems to us that they have been under the same pressure we were
under when the Germans came to Poland. I dont, we dont, feel
comfortable being a tool for political change or enforcement and we
both feel some of our recent missions have been ethically
questionable.
I understand the rhetoric, Sasha and I have discussed this for a long
time. We know about security and protecting borders, and all that, but
sometimes you have to decide what is important to you. To do what
you enjoy before life runs out. That means not doing what you dont
enjoy. So we are sorry.
I understand. Helena smiled. Our work is difficult and requires a
certain detachment; once you start analysing things youre finished.
Precisely. Myriam said simply.
You are wrong of course... Helena added curtly. ...the situation
today is nothing like Poland in 1939.
Sasha and Myriam looked across the desk at Helena and decided to let
this statement hang in the air for a moment before being forgotten.
Politics were always a divisive subject and best kept to oneself.
What will you do now?Helena asked after an awkward pause.
Oh, we have a few things planned. Sasha replied. He held a walking
stick between his legs which he bounced on the floor a couple of
times before using it to haul himself up from the chair. Myriam stood
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and held his free hand as Helena walked around her desk and stood
with them.
Myriam kissed her, once on both cheeks, stood back and smiled a
bright and hopeful smile that made her friend happy.
Weve all been through so much together. Helena sighed. Whod
have thought?
Lets keep in touch. Myriam whispered. She turned to Sasha and
squeezed his hand gently.
Of course. Helena smiled. She lifted her arms and hugged her friend
for a moment
Sasha looked at Myriam and noticed she had tears welling up in her
eyes. She never usually found saying goodbye difficult but it seemed
the recent events had changed her; made her more emotional.
It had taken almost fifty years but at last she could feel, really FEEL,
once again. The hardness that enveloped her previously and defended
her against the cruelty of life seemed to have vanished into thin air;
she was beginning to feel human again.
1979
Bertioga, So Paulo, Brazil
Baixada Santista is the official metropolitan area (Regio
metropolitana) on the coast of the So Paulo state originally centered
around the port city of Santos.
Bertioga is a small town, situated just along the coast, the population
of which shifts along with the seasons. Having resorts on either side
of the shore which fill and empty with each successive tourist season.
Its beauty lay in the endless beach of white sand that cradles the
Atlantic Ocean.
This runs endlessly between Mogi das Cruzes, Biritiba-Mirim and
Salespolis in the north, So Sebastio in the east and ilha de Santo
Amaro (opposite to the city) and Santos in the west. The beach is
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rather flat and can be prone to high winds in the winter but during the
hot season locals flock to it for the cooling sea breezes.
Wolfgang Gerhard had lived in Brazil for only a short time, travelling
a lot across the whole of South America but particularly across
Paraguay and Peru.
He recently had to leave Buenos Aires in a hurry and asked for funds
to be sent quickly from his familys tractor business in Germany.
He had, in the past few years, suffered ill health and had harboured
dreams of one day returning to Germany; if only to die at home. He
had watched his peers and friends die one by one and now he was
lonely and weary of life.
He missed the contact with nieces and nephews, who had only ever
seen old photographs of him when he was younger, and pined to be
with his family once again. There were few recent photos of him to
send back to Germany so his extended family were all unaware of
how hed aged.
He disliked having his photograph taken and would hold a hand over
his face rather than risk a photograph falling into the wrong hands. He
had seen what strey photographs had done to people like Cukors and
Eichmann; he was determined not to make their mistakes.
Gerhard placed his trilby hat upon his greying, bald head and wrapped
a scarf around his neck, not that he was cold, it was intensely hot, but
just in case a tourist should snare him in a photographic trap.
Then he would use the scarf to pull up over his mouth and nose so
that just his intense blue eyes could peer out and ensure continued
safety in that dangerous place he inhabited.
His breathing had been laboured for a week or so and Gerhard was
debating if he could risk seeing a doctor. Doctors had never been good
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at self-diagnosis and it had been so long since hed practiced medicine

anyway his skills had, like his body, become aged and weak willed.
He was lucky, the old man thought, that he had resisted having his
blood group tattooed under his left elbow like other SS officers but he
still had to be cautious with strangers. Particularly those in authority
like doctors and hospitals; especially now, because it was at these
places those that hunted him lurked.
Hello. The pretty middle aged woman smiled as she stepped
barefoot across the white sand to where he sat.
Its a beautiful day.
Very nice. Gerhard replied; he sat up and shielding his eyes from
the bright sun.
The woman towered above him, silhouetted by the sunshine, her
chiffon dress almost transparent in the warm afternoon glare. If he
was a few years younger Gerhard would have chased a woman such
as this but now in his twilight years he could only look and imagine
what wonders lay under that soft fabric.
Your English is good. He stuttered.
Im on holiday. She replied. Do you mind if I sit beside you for a
moment?
Gerhard did not reply and watched as the woman slide across the sand
and lay relaxed next to him. Now the sun was out of his eyes he could
see she was middle aged but still very beautiful.
Her skin was clear and looked tight over her bones, the hair was dark
with flashes of auburn as the sun caught it and he detected the aroma
of musky scent drifting in the air.
You have a slight European accent. Gerhard said as the stranger
rested her head on her arm and looked at him intently.
Is it Latvian, no, Polish perhaps?
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Very good. Myriam replied. And yours, German is it?

No.. Gerhard lied with an awkward smile.
I am Austrian. I was born in Vienna.
In 1911. Myriam stated quietly but not too softly for him to hear.
Yes, in 1911. Gerhard replied looking slightly amazed. He pulled a
hanker chef from his breast pocket and eyed her intently as he patted
the sweat from his brow.
In Ginzburg, Bavaria perhaps? Myriam continued.
Herr Doctor?
Who are you? Gerhard said rising to his feet and stepping away
from the woman.
You are mistaken, I have never been to Bavaria.
Myriam stood and stepped towards him. Crossing the sand as the old
man stumbled back toward the foaming surf. He tugged at his tight
shirt collar and gasped for breath. The long scarf hung loosely from
his shoulders and caught the breeze.
I dont think so, Herr Doctor. Myriam said, a note of malice in her
lowered voice, her eyes penetrating his.
You see, I was there; I saw you.
What in Bavaria? Never! Gerhard spat as the waves washed over
his trousers and his shoes filled with water.
Not Bavaria Herr Doctor. Myriam said softly.
But there, in the camp, that snow covered place of death.
I have no idea what you are talking about. Gerhard gasped as the
water baptised his weak and exhausted body. He tore at his necktie
and pulled the top button from his shirt as he felt the water rush over
his knees.
Get away from me.
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That place, Myriam continued in a flat monotonous tone. Following

him into the water until the crashing waves washed them both up to
the elbows.
Where the ground was dead with cold flesh and the air stank of
rotting bodies.
That place, where children became lab-rats, to be dissected and
experimented on, where death followed the living. That place where
acid was poured into a childs eyes in that perversion of science that
you called medicine.
No! Gerhard spluttered.
That Place... Myriam said softly. ...Where you were the camp
doctor, someone children trusted, and someone who had sworn to do
no wrong.
Her voice was like a knife tearing into his chest and ripping open his
heart. Gerhard felt a pain in his arm and chest as this beautiful
monster from the past pursued him into the foam
I saw you there in Poland. I know what you did. I know and it is time
for you to pay for those crimes.
No. Gerhard spluttered gasping for breath and reaching for his
chest. Not me, you are wrong. Ive never been to Poland.
The time has come to pay for your crimes. Myriam spat. Twisting
her face into a frightening grimace, he could see the hatred in those
eyes, and they filled him with fear. Myriam could sense his fear and
was excited by it, nourished by it, and almost intoxicated by her
power over him. She reached out and gripped the terrified man by his
shirt.
Gerhard realised that she was here to expose him for the beast that he
was. That the years of running and hiding and pretending and lying
were over; that they had all led to this moment.
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The long decades of pretence, saying he was this person or that

person, this or the other nationality. Living from one day to the next
and sometime absolutely forgetting who he really was; it had all led to
this moment of terror. A moment of understanding between two
people; strangers till that point in each others lives.
One the representation of all that was wrong with a particular political
system; a system so perverted by power and strengthened by
misguided science (so-called Eugenics) that ANYTHING was
possible in its name.
She was the other, the representative for a nation of the dead and
missing, one person in place of millions. In place of the millions who
were raped and murdered by the others regime. For them and those
who grieved for them. Myriam felt their hands on her shoulders and
their strength in her heart.
Herr Doctor Mengele... Myriam whispered pushing her face into
his.
...your judgement has arrived.
The doctor clutched his heart and fell into the foaming water; dead.
As the waves washed over his limp body they purified the flesh of sin
but Myriam wished his torment had lasted longer. Thinking that hed
got off lightly when she thought back to the crimes hed overseen and
what hed taken part in.
She closed her eyes and prayed to God, any God, that when his spirit
was met on the other side of the abyss only flames and eternal
gnashing of teeth would be its future reality; eternally.
Myriam felt inside the mans jacket and pulled out a wallet. Inside
were his false identity papers and a credit card. Tucked behind this
was a folded piece of damp notepaper which she palmed. Myriam
stepped out of the sea and up the beach to where Sasha had sat
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watching her. The body rolled in the foam and was eventually picked
up by the serf and beached motionless on the clear white sand.
She picked up a towel and examined the folded note as she dried her
hair. Sasha stood to join her.
I hope you enjoyed that? Sasha sighed flashing Myriam a benign
smile. Perhaps we can both move on, now.
I didnt even have to shoot the bastard. Myriam said taking her
pistol from its hiding place under her chiffon dress and emptying the
chamber. The round was ejected from the pistol and she caught it with
her free hand.
Guilt got him in the end. Sasha replied. He reached out and put his
arm around her and together they walked towards the setting sun and
their hotel.
Guilt you see, it always gets you in the end.
Sasha looked at the piece of paper in her hand and asked.
Whats that?
She unfolded the notepaper and looked at the ball-point pen legend
written in longhand across one side.
Im not sure. Myriam replied reading the badly written words
etched into the paper. It read:
Englestraat 143
Vienna
Hauptscharfuhrer H
Chapter 30
Three months later.
Austria is a land-locked country situated almost in the centre of
Europe. With Germany and the Czech Republic to its north, Hungary
and Slovakia to the east, Slovenia and Italy to the south, and
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Switzerland and Liechtenstein situated to its west. It is a land fought

over and renamed, occupied and invaded, many times through
Europes turbulent history.
Although once part of the Habsburg Empire, Austria formed a strong
relationship with Germany, after the Habsburgs fall in 1919. It even
adopted the name:
The Republic of German-Austria (later sterreich)
following the end of World War 1. This name was outlawed by the
Treaty of Saint-Germain-en-Laye (1919) after the fighting and the
defeat of Germany.
Following 1939 and the rise of the Nazi party, Austria was once again
annexed under the so-called Anschluss, which lasted until the end of
WW2.
After this Austrias democratic constitution was restored and ratified
making Austria a sovereign state and, following a 1955 treaty,
forevermore considered neutral
German is still Austrias native language and is spoken by over 80per
cent of the population, being a mountainous country most of its
population are crammed into the largest cities which lay on the flat
central plain; 500ft above sea level. Vienna is one of these cities.
After World War 2 and Austrias independence the population ignored
their governments complicity in Nazi war crimes. The new
democracy made an effort to highlight their vulnerability, bordering
the Iron Curtain, instead of focussing on past mistakes.
The fact that thousands of Jewish Austrians had died at MauthausenGusen concentration camp and that many camp guards were Austrian
(as well as many of the top Nazis including Hitler himself) was
conveniently forgotten.
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Because a high proportion of Austrian men had fought for Germany

during the war there was little effort made to track down supposed
war criminals and convict them of atrocities committed during
wartime.
Providing people kept their heads down, and did not stand out, many
of these war criminals lived sedately in the Austrian mountains and
even in some cities into their old age. Soon the past became history
and faded from peoples minds.
Sasha and Myriam arrived in Vienna on a warm summer afternoon
and, like the millions of other tourists who visit this historic city,
looked for somewhere they could stay. They were using the Italian
identities they had used previously together with reissued fake
passports and had travelled from Rome rather than Tel Aviv.
Changing their money into the local Schilling at the airport they
caught a taxi into the city proper speaking what little German they
knew to get along. Myriam looked intently at the buildings as they
passed by the taxi window recognising the influence of all the
previous regimes in their architecture.
Hungarian gothic here and German Post Modernism there, flavours of
the Habsburgs, Baroque and even of the Ottoman empire could be
seen in the buildings that had survived the war.
This is the Parliament Building. The taxi driver pointed out as they
drove past a collection of white stone clad government structures off
Dr Karl Lueger Ring into Innere Stadt.
We are proud of our democracy. He added flashing a toothy smile in
the rear view mirror.
Are you Austrian? Sasha asked noticing a slight twang in the
drivers accent which he couldnt place.
I am. The driver smiled. Although I was born in Serbia, I came
here after the war, Titos Yugoslavia is not my country. I did not want
to be a communist.
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I understand. Sasha smiled. I was born in Russia but left before the
war, Stalins Russia is not the country I know and love either. Italy
gave me a life and a beautiful wife.
Please darling... Myriam said through gritted teeth. You are
embarrassing me.
Sasha nodded and shut up, he knew when she gave him a certain look
it meant that he was talking too much, and should watch what he said.
He took one of her hands and rubbed her knee gently which made her
smile tenderly at him. He loved the softness of her skin against his
own and her scent in his nose was arousing.
The music on the taxis radio filtered into the rear of the vehicle and
Myriam hummed along with the song.
Let me put my arms around your head
Gee its hot, lets go to bed
dont forget to turn off the light
dont laugh babe itll be aright
pour me out another phone
Ill ring and see if your friends at home
perhaps the strange one in the dome
can lend us a book
we can read up alone...
(David Bowie- Drive-in Saturday)
Is there a hotel or guest house in Englestraat? Myriam asked

looking into the drivers rear-view mirror.
We have business there and want to be close.
Not a hotel. The driver replied throwing her a wide-eyed look.
Theres a Hilton Hotel nearby the Parliament, off Rathousstrasse, but
Englestraat is a residential area. I think I know a guest house. Itll be
cheap and cheery; if that will do
That would be fine. Sasha replied. The Hilton would be out of our
price range anyway, even if it is in Rat House Street. he giggled
quietly as Myriam nudged him in the ribs with her elbow.
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The guest house was situated at 141 Englestraat, a large converted

town-house on two levels; in a tree lined street of town houses. Both
Sasha and Myriam paid close attention to the house opposite the guest
house.
It was another two story structure in the 1930s Bauhaus style, set back
from the road by a long gravel drive, with large iron gates on the
front. They noticed a letter box set into the iron gates and the formal
beds of flowers on either side of the gravel drive.
They checked into the guesthouse and asked for a smoking room on
the second floor facing the road. The guest house owner was only too
pleased to let this room as most visitors wanted a room facing the
back garden where it was quieter.
Thats a nice house across the road. Myriam said as the clerk filled
in their check-in paperwork and logged their passport numbers.
Is Madam thinking of buying property in Vienna? The clerk asked
looking up briefly.
Yes. She replied as he handed her passport back.
The clerk filled out the details from Sashas passport and looked up as
he handed it back.
That house is owned by Herr Grozt and his wife. The clerk said
glancing through the open doors and across the road towards the
gates.
They have lived there ever since we opened, and long before; it is
unlikely they will sell.
Thats a shame. Sasha said tucking his passport into his breast
pocket.
I know a good estate agent. The clerk added. Would you like me to
ask him to see you?
Not at the moment. Myriam replied giving a polite smile.
Let us look around the city first.
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Of course. The clerk said. Your room is up that stairway, second

on the left. Would you like help with your luggage?
Were okay. Sasha smiled picking up their case and heading
towards the stairwell pursued by his companion.
Grozt! Sasha said walking to the window once they had closed the
door to their room. It was a simple double room, with a large bed, a
small TV and an en-suit off a door to the right.
The window gave a good view of the target house across the road but
Sasha noticed that all its front facing windows had thick blinds across
them making it impossible to view any internal activity.
It must be a non-de-plumb.
Why would Mengela have this address hidden in his wallet?
Myriam replied placing her bag on the bed and joining him at the
window.
I dont think Mengela had any Austrian relatives so I think we need
to visit the local library to do further research.
The following day they left the guest house and walked over the canal
and towards Hoffburg and the library in the university district to do
just that. Checking the land registry they were surprised to discover
the house was owned by a woman. Theyd expected the house to be
owned by a man or a couple at least. Their surprise was further
confounded upon finding this woman was not named Grozt.
The house was bought in 1950 by a Frau Brandon from the previous
owners; a company based in Germany. There were various formal
applications for adaptations to the property on file but because of their
limited knowledge of German legal phrases both Sasha and Myriam
found it difficult to understand what the adaptations related to.
Checking the local record of Births, Deaths and Marriages they found
only one record for a Brandon family but this related to a different
address. They checked for the name Grozt on the librarys microfilm
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records and found only one entry; a small local newspaper article
relating to their Herr Grozt.
It appeared that several years ago he had made a huge donation to a
charity for disable veterans of the O.C but the article was scant in its
detail and they both learned little from it except that their Herr Grozt
was indeed living at Englestraat.
Perhaps he and Frau Brandon are living in sin? Myriam giggled as
they left the library.
Elderly swingers, perhaps? Sasha laughed.
They walked through the smart streets of Herrengasse back to the
guest house but stopped for a moment in a small park in Jedenplatz to
look at a holocaust memorial theyd discovered.
The sky was an intense blue and flecked with bright fluffy clouds
which floated above the church spires and roofs of the Vienna skyline
like the ghosts of the past. As the clouds shadows fell over the
looming grey memorial Myriam felt suddenly at peace with the world.
Its a beautiful city. Sasha sighed sitting back on a bench and
putting his arm around Myriam. He held the stick he had to use to
walk after the shooting in Cairo loosely in his spare hand and smiled.
It reminds me of my childhood in Russia. All European cities have
the same flavour dont you think; if only there was an onion topped
orthodox cathedral; than it would really be like home.
Stop getting sentimental. She giggled. I hate being in Europe,
especially so close to Poland. When I think of what I went through as
a child I could burn the whole place down. All that hate the people
had back then, even after the war was over, when I returned home the
people who stole our house still wanted us dead. Can you believe
that? They seemed angry that the Germans had let me survive, let me
survive and go back home to cause trouble for them.
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The only consolation I have is thinking that those bastards have been
locked behind the Iron Curtain ever since. It must be the only good
thing Stalin ever did; punish those hypocrites. Now, that thought
makes me happy.
Havent you worked all that hate from your system yet? Sasha
asked stroking the back of her neck gently. You go on about them
being filled with hate but you are the same. I thought you had made
peace with the past.
Nearly. She replied throwing him a cheeky wink. But not quite.
The following morning Sasha was looking out of the guest house
window when he saw an old woman come from the house opposite
and lock the door behind her. She was wearing a blue suit and broad
rimmed hat. Her hands had white gloves over them and she carried an
expensive bag on her shoulder which gave her an elegant look.
After opening the gates the woman unlocked the letter box which was
attached to one of the gates. Sasha watched as she checked various
letters and tucked one into her bag, the others were replaced in the
box again as she stepped through the gates and locked them behind
her.
I wont be long. Sasha said kissing Myriam on the cheek as she sat
up in bed.
Where are you going? She asked as he closed the room door behind
him. Myriam lifted her eyebrows, tutted and lay back in the bed
drifting back to sleep while he was out.
Sasha found the woman walking along Englestraat towards the centre
of Vienna and kept her in sight. She crossed the canal and eventually
went into a small bank, opened her bag to withdrew the envelope that
she had taken from the post box earlier.
It appeared the envelope contained a cheque which she paid into the
bank before withdrawing some cash which she tucked in her purse.
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The woman adjusted her clothing and left the bank heading further
into town.
Sasha followed her into the pedestrianised Gothic splendour of
Stephenplatz where other tourists took photographs and posed next to
the fountains.
The woman ignored them and continued on to a small Kaffeehouser
which displayed a huge selection of cakes and patisseries in the
window. The woman entered, sat at a table, ordered some coffee and
patiently waited. Sasha entered the cafe and sat behind her watching
carefully.
Coffee, Bitte. He said to a waitress before lighting a cigarette and
taking a German newspaper from a nearby rack pretending to read it.
After a few minutes another woman came from a kitchen behind the
counter and joined the lady in the wide brimmed hat and white gloves.
They kissed each other intimately and hugged for a few moments
before the other woman sat with her friend and they chatted for a
while over coffee and croissant.
Sasha sipped his coffee and tried to hear what the two women were
talking about but found their German too fast for him to follow. He
caught the occasional word here and there.
It appeared they were discussing some medical problem as the word
Nurse was used from time to time. After they had finished their chat
the woman in the wide brimmed looked at her gold wristwatch and
got up to leave.
Both women kissed and hugged again before the woman left and her
friend made her way back to the shop counter. Sasha caught her eye
and called the woman over.
Yes Sir? The woman asked stepping to Sashas table. Can I get you
anything?
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I was just wondering? Sasha asked in his limited German.

I think I may know your friend, Frau Brandon; that is her name isnt
it?
My sister. The woman replied a little defensively.
Frau Brandon, yes, although that is her maiden name. She never uses
it these days. Where did you say you know her from?
I thought I knew her husband. Sasha said softly.
She is still married, isnt she?
Im sorry. The woman said stepping back. Her face became taught
with anxiety and she shook her head slowly.
I cant discuss my sisters business with a stranger.
Herr Grozt, thats her husbands name? Sasha asked.
Yes? he urged.
Who are you? the woman replied suspiciously. She looked toward
the window and then back at Sasha pushing her eyebrows together
tightly.
Just a friend. Sasha replied unconvincingly. The woman looked
behind her at the staff behind the counter and asked for the waitress to
bring the mans bill.
Please pay you bill and leave. the woman said sharply.
She is Frau Grozt, yes?
Yes. The woman stuttered.
Now please pay your bill and leave my shop.
Sasha smiled and threw some schilling notes on his table before
stubbing his cigarette out and leaving. When he got outside the shop
Sasha looked around but the woman in the white gloves had gone.
He made his way back to the guest house and up to their room,
Myriam was in the shower.
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Where have you been? She shouted above the sound of the running
water. Sasha did not answer and instead undressed and went to join
her.
The room was thick with steam as he pulled back the shower curtain
and looked at her naked body as soap in her hair ran over the neck and
breasts. The sight was both sensual and exciting, seeing the white
foam on her neck and running down her chest made him breathless,
he smiled and bit his bottom lip.
Room for one?
Later Myriam was drying her hair beside the dressing table in a crisp
white dressing gown as Sasha stood by the net curtains that hung over
the window.
While you were following the wife... She said looking at him in the
reflection of the dressing table mirror. I saw a nurse let herself in; the
old man must be ill or something.
Yes. Sasha replied. They were talking about nursing in the cafe.
Well, we have to get into that house. Myriam said applying some
mascara to her eyes.
I guess we could way-lay the nurse and act as a replacement or
something?
Not yet. Sasha said turning to face her. I want to look into the
records of this charity he made a donation to. Lets find out why he
thought it was so important.
They visited the Austrian War Museum later that day in the district of
Spittelburg and walked through the displays of old Austrian uniforms,
dud-bombs and displays of gas masks like they were totally
uninterested.
There were few other visitors and the place smelt like damp
cardboard. Both Myriam and Sasha could think of other places theyd
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like to be rather than somewhere which promoted historical

bloodletting.
Finding a museum worker they asked if the museum held any
reference material they could look through.
The reference library is on the third floor. they were told.
Once in the third floor library they asked if there was any information
regarding charities for disabled veterans.
Disabled veterans of the O.C? Myriam asked the clerk with a
frown. The clerk smiled and nodded.
Do you mean the Officer Corps? he asked.
Yes. Sasha smiled. I guess we do.
They were led to shelves of dusty old books and the clerk pulled one
down which was inscribed O.C 39-55. He took this to a table and
placed it down.
Our records only go up to 1955, anything more recent will be held at
the Ministry for Defence.
This should be enough for now. Myriam said sitting beside the huge
book.
These are for reference only. The clerk said. They must be returned
to me after you have inspected them; unlike a normal library we do
not lend books.
We understand. Sasha smiled. Thank you.
After the clerk had left they opened the book and found it was filled
with lists of Officers names, their age at commission and awards.
Each entry was followed with several code letters. There was a key at
the front that explained the codes meaning.
See if Grozt is listed. Sasha said as Myriam flicked through the
huge book. Turning page after dusty page she eventually came to the
G section.
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Here we are. She said passing her index finger down the page and
stopping at a line halfway down.
Grozt. M. 18 years of age in 1935. This is the only one, he was an
Oberfurher and the code is K.R.F 43.
What does that mean? Sasha asked impatiently.
Wait, Im getting there. She replied looking at the key in the front
of the book.
Here we are, KRF, presumed killed on the Russian Front; well that
cant be right.
If he was 18 in 35... Sasha said thinking aloud. ...Then he would
have been 27 in 1943. Hes just old enough to have become an
Oberfuhrer.
But if he is dead... Myriam asked looking confused.
Who is living on Englestraat with Frau Brandon.
Sasha shrugged and pulled a face. Myriam scratched her head and
thought for a moment.
That note. The one in the doctors wallet? She said looking intently
at Sasha. It said, Hauptscharfuhrer H didnt it, not Oberfuhrer ?
Thats right. Sasha replied.
Lets look through the Hs until we find one thats the rank of
Hauptscharfuhrer.
Myriam turned the pages until they came across the entries beginning
with H and then slid her finger down the page.
Heres one. She said Henner, O. 19 1936. Hauptscharfuhrer 1940,
MIA 42.
Missing in action. Sasha said. Even I know that one.
How about this one. Myriam sniffed following another line.
Heinrick, A, 19 commissioned in 42 and P.R.C 43.
Whats that P.R.C?
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Hang on. Myriam flicked to the front of the book and sighed.
Prisoner, of the Russian campaign. Hmm.
Hes dead. Sasha sighed. Out of the 25000 prisoners taken during
the Russian campaign only two thousand survived the war; its very
unlikely that this young man, 20 when taken prisoner, would have
walked away from it. He is dead.
Okay. Myriam said softly. Lets hope he died in agony.
Youre hard. He giggled shaking his head. Myriam turned back to
the H index and looked down the lines until she stopped by one.
Here we are, Houpman R, commissioned 1933, made
Hauptscharfuhrer 1939, I.O.S 45
She turned to the front of the book and looked up the code again
before turning back to look at Sasha with a small smile.
Invalided out of Service 45. This must be our man.
Why would he take the name of a dead comrade I wonder? Sasha
asked.
Unless...
He didnt want to be found. Myriam said throwing him a small
smile.
They stopped for something to eat on the way back in the Volksgarten,
a small park with a bandstand, where tourists and locals could walk in
the warm afternoon sunshine or stop to gossip over coffee and cream
cake. They sat at a table and ordered some coffee from a waitress.
Sasha lit a cigarette and looked across at Myriam who had been quiet
since leaving the museum. She looked blankly across the manicured
lawns.
Want a cigarette? He asked to break the ice. She frowned and shook
her head before biting her lip and announcing.
Were going to have to get into that house somehow.
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Sasha looked across the gardens and the women with small children
in pushchairs and old ladies dressed in black sitting on benches under
the shade of oak trees and sighed.
Theres a big gate, so it would be difficult to just burst in. I dont like
all that home invasion stuff anyway; its okay if theres a lot of you;
but small team needs to be more inventive.
The waitress returned and placed a small pot of coffee on the table
between them both with two cups on saucers. Sasha saw there was a
sugar bowl but no cream.
Cream frauline, Bitte
The waitress smiled and walked off returning moments later to place a
small pot of cream next to their coffee pot.
How about a delivery? She said tentatively. Flowers or something
similar?
Once that gates been opened and we have the front entry covered its
just be a case of overpowering the woman.
Anything could happen. Sasha replied blowing cigarette smoke
across the table. He sipped his coffee and sniffed.
They may have security in there, weapons, alarms, dogs, who knows
what? I dont like the idea of just bursting in blind; especially without
any back up.
Well? She said pursing her lips and staring at him intensely.
What do you suggest?
You always do this. He laughed and shook his head. Then, with a
wide smirk flicked his cigarette across the park and leant across the
table.
What? She asked.
You always come up with some crazy idea and then expect me to go
along with it, regardless of risk.
No I dont. Myriam replied defensively.
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Yes you do.

She looked at him intently and shrugged.
Well? Myriam tapped on the table top and asked angrily.
When did I do something risky and expect you to just go along with
it?
In Beirut, when we were dropping that book off. Sasha smiled.
What about that?
You said. Sasha giggled.
Pull over, and then, you were off. No discussion, no risk assessment,
nothing. Off you went and I had to sit there and wait. I just had to go
along with it.
Thats called being decisive. She smirked back.
Wed still be in Beirut otherwise.
Taking risks, Sasha said rapping his fingers on the table.
Thats what I call it. You could have been shot, arrested, or anything.
Perhaps if you listened to me properly Id...
Sashas voice trailed off and he looked away towards the flower beds
and the soft hissing of sprinklers which flicked across the green lawns
filled the air between them.
Youd what? Myriam asked sitting back in her seat.
Sorry. He added realising what he was about to say would upset her.
I didnt mean to say...
Look Sasha. She spat.
You cant blame me for what Hiam did to you.
I know. He said looking sheepish regretting for even mentioning the
subject.
I am sorry.
These things happen. She bit her lip and then brushed her hair out
of her eyes before adding. At least you can still walk and your dick
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works, imagine if you were left crippled? My god, then youd have
something to moan about.
I know. He said, reaching across the table and taking her hand,
smiled softly.
Say you forgive me, please.
Sasha. She smiled back. I could slap your face but that dozy look
of yours just melts my heart; I could never be angry with you for
long.
What dozy look? He replied, confused and hurt by the remark.
Sasha let go of her hand and sat back in his chair.
Dont worry. She laughed. All men look stupid when theyre
talking to woman. Particularly a woman whos decisive and strong, it
brings out the goon in some men.
Im not some man. Sasha replied with a sniff.
Oh. She cooed.
Have I hurt your feelings, my big tough Russian?
Youre asking for a slap now. He laughed.
Slap me. She said with a broad grin.
And Id break your arm.
True. He replied knowing that she meant every word.
The next day Myriam stood by window and watched as Frau Grozt
checked her mail at the gate and then leave the property as she had
every day since their arrival. The radio was playing softly and she
hummed quietly along with the music.
Theres a natural mystic floating in the air
if you listen carefully now you will hear
(Bob Marley- Natural Mystic)
Shes gone. Myriam said looking across the room towards Sasha.
He picked up a huge display of flowers he had had delivered earlier
from the bed and stepped towards her.
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I like this music. She said bobbing her head in tempo with the beat.
Its called reggae or something?
Youre so hip, darling. Sasha gave the flowers to Myriam and
followed her to the door before slapping her backside affectionately.
The nurse arrives in about fifteen minutes, make some excuse to her
to let you in and wait until the Frau gets back. I will watch for your
signal.
You dont have to tell me again... Myriam replied with a sniff.
...weve been through it several times already.
She walked through the guest house reception and crossed Englestraat
wearing a formal blue suit and casual fedora hat in bright blue felt.
The spray of flowers was so huge that she found herself looking over
and through it to make her way without falling.
Back in their room Sasha packed two Beretta pistols into his suit
pockets along with a spare clip of .22 slugs. Then he stood by the
window watching as Myriam waited by the gates of number 143.
He saw the nurse park her small Fiat motorcar near the house. She
locked the car and Myriam watched as the white clad nurse stepped
up to the gate.
Hello. Myriam smiled.
Yes? The nurse replied looking at the huge display of flowers in the
neatly dressed womans hands.
Can I help you?
Im a friend of Frau Grozt. Myriam lied with a wide smile.
Frau Brandon, Frau Grozts sister has made her a surprise.
Oh, I see. The nurse replied awkwardly.
Frau Grozt is not here at the moment, she goes out...
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Yes I know. Myriam interjected.

She is with Frau Brandon and they are both returning together. It will
be a surprise for her to find me here. Her birthdays today, yes?
Oh, her birthday? The nurse smiled.
Today? Well I did not know that.
If you could let me in. Myriam continued. I will wait by the door
for them to return.
Its been arranged, you say? The nurse unlocked the gate and
looked anxiously for a moment at the woman and the spray of
flowers.
Its a surprise. Myriam smiled. Frau Brandon arranged it.
Well. The nurse said breaking into a smile.
I wouldnt want to spoil anything but I wont be able to wait with
you as I have work to do.
Of course. Myriam smiled looking up furtively towards Sashas
window hoping he could see the woman letting her in to the property.
The nurse closed the iron gate behind them both.
Theres a nice bench in the main hall where you can sit. She
continued as Myriam followed her up the gravel drive towards the
house.
I have to get Herr Grozt up and washed ready for the day, you see.
Oh really? Myriam asked as the nurse unlocked the front door of
the property and let them both in.
Dont worry, I will just wait here. You can get on and Ill send Frau
Grozt to you when she returns. Dont mention it to Herr Grozt, its a
surprise.
She may be a while, you know... The nurse said closing the door
behind them.
...I will not say anything to spoil the surprise. If you need me I will
be upstairs in the back bedroom although please; only emergencies.
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I understand. Myriam replied. She watched the nurse walk across

the hall to a small door which had a button on the wall beside it which
the nurse pressed. The door slid open revealing a small elevator which
the nurse entered. She threw Myriam a small smile as the door slid
closed.
Once the elevator hummed into action Myriam placed the spray of
flowers on the bench and opened the front door. She lifted the rug to
stop the door closing behind her and walked onto the gravel drive;
waving her hand in the air towards the room from which Sasha
watched.
Sasha was already walking across the road as she reached the gate.
Myriam looked at the gate lock and shrugged.
Over there, by the letter box, on the wall. Sasha said. Theres a
button which opens the gate.
Myriam saw the small button he was nodding toward and pressed it
hurriedly. The gate clicked and opened a fraction allowing Sasha to
walk through. He closed the gate behind them.
They walked back to the house and into the hall closing the main door
hurriedly behind them. Myriam looked through the stained glass
windows which framed the door to ensure no one was following
them.
Take this. Sasha said passing her one of the Beretta pistols. Myriam
checked that the safety was off and that a round was ready in the
chamber before lining her index finger along the barrel and placing
the pistol at her side. Sasha went off to check there was nobody else
on the ground floor while she stood by the bench looking out across
the gravel drive.
A few moments later she saw Frau Grozt returning early. She let
herself in through the gate looking anxiously up and down the street.
The woman closed the gate and walked quickly to the main door
before fumbling with her keys and letting herself in to the property.
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She stopped in her tracks seeing the spray of flowers on the bench and
let the door go. It slowly closed and a loud thump echoed around the
hall.
Dont move. Myriam whispered. Or, by God, it will be the last
thing you do.
She had been standing behind the door and now placed her gun in the
small of the womans back.
Okay. Frau Grozt gasped lifting her hands into the air.
Lets not be rash now.
Sasha came from a room on the right and stopped when he saw the
woman standing by the bench with her hands in the air. She looked
across at him and pursed her lips.
You? Frau Grozt stuttered. My sister told me you have been asking
questions. Who are you?
Myriam patted the woman down and peered into the bag which hung
from her shoulder. She was relieved that the woman was not armed.
Sit down. She said pressing the gun into the womans spine and
then pushing her shoulder to direct Frau Grozt down onto the bench.
If you are here to rob us. Frau Grozt said examining the spray of
flowers.
You will be disappointed, my husband has not been able to work for
many years and we live on a small pension.
Shut up. Myriam snapped. Speak only when I ask you to.
She looked across towards Sasha and nodded towards the elevator
door. Sasha pressed the button and the trio heard the sound of the
elevator coming from the floor above.
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It then stopped, the door opened revealing that it was empty, and
waited for someone to enter.
How many people are up stairs? Sasha asked as he checked the
inside of the elevator.
Theres just a nurse and my husband. The woman replied.
She comes to help me in the morning.
Sasha pushed his free index finger against his lips and hushed the
woman. He then silently beckoned for them to join him while Myriam
urged Frau Grozt to walk to the elevator by pushing her pistol in the
small of her back again.
Theres nothing of value up there. The woman pleaded stepping
towards Sasha. Please dont involve my husband he is not well. The
nurse is here helping him to get out of bed and bathed.
Shut up! Myriam snapped quietly. She pushed the frightened
woman into the elevator and stood behind her. Myriam poked her
pistol into the womans back as Sasha stepped in and pressed the
upper of two internal buttons. The elevator door closed and the
contraption began to rise.
On the first floor the door slid back revealing a carpeted hall,
decorated with paintings on either wall above occasional tables and
vases adorned with floral arrangements; four doors led off from the
hall; two on either side. The trio stepped into the hall and walked to
the first door.
Whats in there? Myriam asked in a whisper.
Its a sitting room. Frau Grozt replied. Thats my bedroom over
there. That room is my husbands. She said nodding towards the
opposite door.
They walked past the first two doors and up to the second set.
This door is his bathroom... Frau Grozt said.
...The nurse is probably...
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Be quiet. Sasha spat as he listened at the door. The sound of a

shower running echoed through the door and into the hall.
He was about to open the door when the handle moved and the door
swung back. Suddenly the nurse stepped into the hall and she shrieked
in shock seeing the group standing outside.
Oh Jesus! She panted.
Then, realising Frau Grozt was with the two strangers, the nurse
sighed and smiled.
You gave me a shock Frauline.
The nurse then looked down and saw Sasha was holding a pistol and
that it was pointing in her direction. The nurses face drained of
colour and she stepped back. She froze with shock while taking in the
scene unfolding around her.
Sasha placed his index finger against his lips and indicated for her to
be quiet. They listened and, above the noise of water running in the
shower, they heard the sound heavy breathing emerging from the
bathroom. A strained voice called out, panting and breathless.
Nurse, where are you?
Myriam opened the door which Frau Grozt had said was a sitting
room and looked inside. It was unoccupied and empty except for a
desk, an armchair and a television.
There was a telephone upon the table next to which a thin notepad sat.
Myriam pushed her gun into the womans side and forced her into the
sitting room. Once she and Frau Grozt had entered Myriam tugged the
wire from the back of the telephone.
Please dont kill him. Frau Grozt whispered. Hes not well.
Be quiet. Myriam whispered firmly.
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Sasha used his stick to push the bathroom door open and looked into
the steam filled room.
Herr Grozt? He asked tentatively. Sasha squinted and peered
through the steam; he then used his stick to bang on the bathroom
door and listened.
Yes? A frail voice replied from within, the steam which filled the
room and swept into the hall in cloud-like fronds became thinner but
it was impossible to see clearly into the room. Sasha looked at the
nurse and bit his lip anxiously.
Come out with your hands showing. He shouted.
The nurse huffed and shook her head. She stepped towards the
bathroom door but stopped in her tracks when Sasha pointed his pistol
in her direction.
You dont understand... The woman said.
The steam began to clear as the open door allowed cool air to enter
the small room. Sasha looked through the thinning clouds of water
vapour and was amazed to see two elderly feet suspended off the
ground.
As more steam cleared he saw an old man hanging in a harness from a
steel frame; his red and crinkled skin goose bumped and livid.
If you are going to kill me, do it now... The old man snarled
breathlessly. ...before I die of embarrassment.
Whats going on here? Sasha asked the nurse.
The nurse shook her head and entered the bathroom pulling a crisp
white bath-robe over the shivering old mans withered body.
He is a paraplegic. The nurse explained.
I was hoisting him out of the shower after his morning evacuation.
Theres his chair.
The woman nodded to a wheelchair parked by a small table equipped
with rubber gloves and yellow plastic bags.
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Kill me now, you bastards. The old man wheezed.

Havent I suffered enough?
Get him down from there. Sasha said to the nurse before turning his
back on them both. He leant against the wall in the hall deep in
thought. Sasha placed the barrel of the pistol under his lip and sighed
while he wondered what to do next. Killing a man was one thing but
murdering a paraplegic during his morning ablutions was something
else entirely; something hes not considered or prepared himself for.
Ive known since Eichmanns capture that youd come for me
eventually. The old man continued. He was breathless and each word
was punctuated with deep pants and wheezes.
Then, when I saw Cukors killed in South America and the others, I
hoped youd come to put me down quickly. Rather than take me back
to stand trial; I am ready to go now. Just do it and save me any more
pain.
Shut up old man. Sasha said tapping the barrel of his pistol against
his chin. Im trying to think.
The nurse wheeled the old man out of the bathroom and both he and
Sasha looked at one another.
I know you? Herr Grozt said softly; pressing his eyes into a deeply
furrowed scowl and examining the stranger closely. His mouth turned
into a contorted crescent and deep, breathless wheezes escaped from
his lungs.
Push him in there. Sasha said to the nurse. He followed her as she
pushed the old man, now dressed in the white bath-robe and slippers,
into the room where Frau Grozt was waiting with Myriam.
Once Sasha stepped into the room the nurse pushed the old man next
to his wife and all three looked at Sasha and Myriam. Suddenly the
old man began to laugh hysterically.
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Whats wrong with you? Frau Grozt asked looking at her husband
with concern.
Have you gone mad?
Not mad. The old man wheezed.
Surprised! My dear Marlene, let me introduce you to the people who
killed your husband and left you with this worthless shell.
What? Frau Grozt stuttered. She looked across the room towards a
stunned Myriam and shook her head slowly.
Hes depressed, take no notice.
Captain Haupman? Myriam said softly; she wondered if her eyes
were deceiving her but it was really him.
It cant be.
These two, my dear... The old man continued with breathless fits of
laughter.
...killed the body but left the brain. They left this body to suffer
endlessly.
What are you saying? Frau Grozt asked looking at her husband and
then towards the two intruders.
I dont understand.
This is the skinny boy who saved me from a gypsys knife. The old
man said between coughs.
Only to kill my body three years later. Yes... He panted and reached
up for his wifes hand.
...it is you. How big you have grown Sasha, the years have been
good to that boy I remember.
Oh God! Sasha sighed. He lowered his pistol and looked at Myriam
with a lost expression which summed up her own feelings precisely.
Its him.
And you... The old man wheezed turning his attention towards
Myriam.
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That fresh faced young girl who brought my breakfast in the

morning, who cleaned the house during the day and even told me my
son deserved to die. This is that skinny, pale young girl, my cook.
Look now, she has bloomed into a beautiful woman.
Can someone explain what is going on here? Frau Grozt asked to
no-one in particular. She stood behind the old mans wheelchair and
shook her head with confusion.
Marlene, Darling... The old man replied squeezing his wifes
shaking hand.
Remember how sick you were, being witness to the cruelty of that
camp; how every day you stood by the kitchen window in tears seeing
the women and children queuing quietly for death?
In Poland? She replied softly.
Yes, of course in Poland. The old man continued aggravated by her
confusion.
This was the boy who helped you about the house. Its him, the
contradictory boy.
Sasha, is that you? She said aghast.
Yes, Sasha! The old man spat looking contemptuously across the
room towards the intruders.
The boy who saved me one day and tried to kill me the next.
The old man took two or three breathless moments before adding.
This woman is the girl who came to help out when I sent you back to
Berlin. The old man lifted a craggy finger and pointed at them.
...The two who later attacked me and stole our car.
But we thought you were Houpman? Myriam whispered.
Ah, yes. The old man smiled.
Houpman. A simple spelling mistake that has served me well through
the years... He looked up at his wife for a brief moment before facing
them again.
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...I was sure you would have got Mengela earlier. I even sent him my
address so that his killers would find me. Hoping they would come
and put me out of this; my living hell.
Never, in my wildest thoughts, Id imagine it would be you two. You
who would be sent to kill me. The old man gasped again. He let out a
small snigger and looked across the room.
How time likes to torture us; tell me... The old man asked.
...of all the killers in the world why did they send you?
No one sent us. Myriam replied with a bewildered look across her
face. Sasha shook his head and held his shoulders back as he stood
beside her.
Well I am glad it is you; just make it quick. The old man closed his
eyes and his face relaxed into a content smile.
I am ready.
Please, he is depressed, dont kill my husband. The old mans
sobbing wife cried. This only annoyed her husband and his face
flushed red with brewing anger.
Get on with it! He gasped as the anger turned into self pity and tears
began to flow uncontrollably from his eyes. His face twisted into an
impatient snarl and he began to raise his voice.
Please!
Ignore him. Frau Grozt pleaded. She placed her hands firmly on her
husbands shoulders and begged them to spare his life.
Hes depressed. Its his age and illness, over the past few months he
has not had the strength to fight it and has become depressed.
Finish what you started in 1945, The old man shouted.
When you left my body, a brain on a useless lump of meat, when you
stopped any enjoyment I got from life; that was when you really
killed me.
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Yes, you left enough of my spine intact for breath to continue, but life
stopped in that instant. I have known no sensations since.
Ive missed the pleasure of intimacy with my wife, unable to be the
man she married. Ive lost the joy of walking free in the country I
love. I could not even walk to my sons graveside after he was buried.
Imagine having to rely on your young wife to empty your bowel
every morning, to wash and to shave you. To have her cut your toe
nails and brush your hair?
Imagine that you could not comfort her in times of pain, reach out for
her in the dark. Imagine never being able to dance with joy again.
Imagine that?
Oh I have a nurse now but for most of our marriage I have relied upon
my good wife; too much in fact. Now, as the painkillers cease to
work, as that feeble self-worth I once mustered dissolves.
Now that even pretence is beyond my means; I admit to you; I am
ready to go and I am glad it is you here to release me. So finish what
you started all those years ago.
Dont listen to him. Frau Grozt said falling to her knees and placing
her head on her husbands lap.
Hes a good man. We never wanted to be posted in that awful place.
Every day since I have suffered the memories of what I saw. A young
woman, a stupid young girl with a child should never have to see
those things. We both hated it. You know this Sasha, dont you?
Yes. Sasha replied. I remember how you said you hated Hitler and
what was done in his name; the captain sent you away because you
could not keep your thoughts silent and he worried that they would
punish you.
You never told me that. Myriam said turning to look at Sasha.
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Did you?
She placed her gun in her bag and stepped towards the old man and
his sobbing wife. Myriam found that she too had tears in her eyes and
knelt down to touch the old mans hand.
Really, if Im honest, you save my life back then. Myriam
whispered.
I am so sorry for ruining yours.
The old man looked into her eyes and smiled gently as his wife put
her arm around Myriams shoulder.
I am sorry too, my child.
Herr Grozt brushed a tear from Myriams face and sighed loudly.
It was a terrible time for us all.
I never realised what we did to you? Myriam whispered holding the
captains hand in her hers. Then, through quivering lips, she looked
around to Sasha and added.
Can you ever forgive; forgive the both of us?
Theres nothing to forgive. The old man replied as his wife wailed
with grief and regret and a thousand other feelings that she had
bottled up inside since 1945.
We all have our cross to bear. Mine was guilt. Ive harboured the
thought that I deserved what you did to me.
No one deserves to suffer like you have. Myriam replied.
You and your wife did not start the war or order the death of women
and children; women like my poor mother and children like my little
brother. Like us, you were just players, actors, in a mad script written
by a group of lunatics.
My dear sweet Myriam; guilt has made us prisoners both. The
captain said as he gripped his wifes hand. His eyes misted over his
lips trembled a little.
Let us forgive, but never forget.
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Myriam? Sasha said placing his gun in his pocket.

We should go now.
Yes. Myriam replied standing and going to join him by the door.
They both held hands and looked across the room toward the old man
and his wife.
We wont bother you again.
I am glad to have seen you today; that you are both together still and
trying to be happy. The old man wheezed. His face broke into a pain
etched smile as he panted.
Even though I will remain in this chair, in pain and at the mercy of
this nurse, I can die happy now. I am at peace with the world and,
more importantly, able to face St Peter with pride when the time
comes to enter Heaven.
Thank you. Frau Grozt said as she looked across the room towards
Myriam and Sasha. Thank you for not torturing us further and
allowing my husband to die in his bed with his family at his side.
The old man wheezed and coughed but managed to sit up and push
his shoulders back proudly as his nurse stood beside the chair.
I feel some ghosts have been buried today. He said quietly.
Dont you?
I do. Myriam smiled.
I agree. Sasha added gently. They both looked awkward and
glanced at each other. Myriam leant forwards and placed a small kiss
on her lovers lips; feeling content and happy, perhaps for the first
time in her life.
You cant just let these people go. The nurse said loudly.
They invaded your home with guns. They came here to kill you
both.
Shut up, woman. The old man croaked. You dont understand.
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Obviously I dont. The nurse said watching Myriam raise her

eyebrows and led Sasha from the room without turning back.
They put their hands together deep inside Sashas jacket pocket and
gripped fingers as they went down to the ground floor in the elevator.
As they stepped to the front door Myriam picked up the spray of
flowers and sucked in their sweet aroma. She saw an empty vase
sitting on a table opposite the door and took her hand from Sashas
pocket to walk over to it.
Myriam arranged the flowers in the vase and stood back for a
moment, eyeing the arrangement in silence.
For the first time in my life... She said turning to join Sasha by the
door.
...I feel like whatever has been holding me back, the ghosts that have
accompanied me throughout my life, I think they are free now. They
are free to go into the light; happy, at last, that I have found peace.
She closed her eyes and remembered Oscar, his smile and small wave
seemed to have a different meaning now, and as the sweet scent of
flowers filtered through the room; she felt her brother close by and
sensed her mothers love joining them together across the abyss of
time.
She realised that over the years, through her pain and joy, as she
experienced great achievements and spectacular failures her mother
had always been there.
She had been that unheard voice of warning when dangers lurked, the
cool breeze in her hair when the day was too hot. She had been that
soothing ray of sunlight or the sweet sound of birds singing which
brightened the darkest moments. Myriam knew instinctively that her
mother watched over her.
You look happier. Sasha said putting his arms around her shoulders
and pulling her to him. Myriam placed her head on his shoulder and
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put her hand in his again. They left the house and walked down the
gravel drive towards the tall iron gates.
The sun came from behind a cloud and rays of warm, intense light
bathed them in an aura of peaceful contemplation.
You feel happier too. Sasha giggled squeezing her hand in his
pocket.
Chapter 31
Myriam got out of bed on a warm spring morning and ran the shower;
as she had a habit of doing since they moved into this new apartment.
Sasha was still sleeping when she dried her greying hair and rubbed
some moisturiser on her thin, wrinkled skin. Myriam liked to hear
music as she went about her morning routine and the radio was
singing gently in the background.
I wander into town
just like a sacred cow
Visions of swastikas in my head
plans for everyone
Its in the white of my eyes...
(Iggy Pop- China Girl)
Looking at her reflection in the mirror, at the bags under her eyes and
the slightly sagging neckline, made Myriam feel a little sad; but she
shrugged and smiled. She had discovered many years ago that the
very act of smiling actually made her feel younger.
She stood and took a brightly coloured dress from the wardrobe.
Wearing bright colours seemed to make her feel better too and once
she had dressed she looked in the full length mirror and smirked like a
schoolgirl.
In her 60s Myriam still had a good figure and felt healthy enough. Of
course she ached from time to time, the result of an active life, but
nothing she couldnt cope with. Life was good, she thought.
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Every day she passed other women of the same age dressed from head
to toe in black, without makeup or jewellery, their hair hidden under a
black scarf or hijab; and wondered what they were mourning. Perhaps
lost loves or even their fading youth induced them to dress like they
were at a funeral.
It had nothing to do with religion because both Catholics and Muslim
women wore the same modest uniform no matter how hot it was.
Myriam thought it might have been her European sensibilities which
made her feel so different from them.
There were others of course, the wealthy middle aged Jewish women
who wore loud and expensive clothes, and had stretched skins and too
much mascara. She saw these women regularly, driving expensive
European cars, as they spent their husbands money on tacky gems
and plastic surgery. Myriam could not relate to them either but did not
let this bother her.
She bent over the sleeping body of Sasha and smiled to herself, no
matter how grey, how infirm or how wrinkled his face got, she still
though he was handsome. It was all she needed to feel complete and
happy, knowing he was there, and that their life was uncomplicated.
She made sure his walking stick was near the bed, and that his
cigarettes were on the nightstand and within reach, before leaving him
alone. Hed want to smoke as soon as he woke and may injure himself
if he had to get up unaided.
Myriam opened the drawer in the main rooms cabinet and took out
two pension books and checked to ensure they were due today. She
slipped these into her bag and grabbed her keys. Before leaving the
flat she ensured there was nothing that needed attention and thus
satisfied opened the door and left.
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Morning Mrs. Romanov... Mrs Hodges from next door smiled as

she poured water from a can onto her flowering beds.
...Its a lovely day, isnt it?
It certainly is. Myriam smiled.
She walked slowly down to the small bank in the artists quarter of
Jaffa. They had moved here after Solomon had graduated and got
married. He and his wife now lived in America so the big house in the
olive grove was no longer needed. It was sad, she thought, that she
only heard from him occasionally but that was children for you.
It was upsetting selling the house on the kibbutz; it contained a
memory in every room; but Myriam and Sasha were getting quite frail
and needed to be nearer shops in town. Anyway they liked the smell
of sea air and to walk along the coast as the warm sun was setting; so
the move was better for them both in the long term.
Before entering the bank Myriam looked out over the harbour and
towards the small lighthouse that sat on the sea wall. It was a view
that filled her with pleasure, especially when the weather was warm,
and this particular day was perfect.
The clerk recognised her at once and exchanged small talk as he
stamped her pension books and counted out a weeks money for her
and Sasha. She tucked the money into her purse, smiled heartily, and
made her way back home.
Myriam stopped by the clock tower to buy some fish and vegetables
on the way. She did not notice the two youths who watched her count
three crisp notes into the fishmongers palm.
She slowly made her way back up the small hill to her apartment
without turning to look. If she had glanced around she would have
noticed the two were following her. They held back as she entered her
apartment block only catching up to the door as it began to close.
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They saw Myriam at her door fumbling with arthritic fingers to find
her key. Then as she opened the door to enter they made their move. It
took her quite by surprise as the two young men swept past her into
the flat. The taller one grabbed her by the arm and pulled her inside
before slamming the door behind them.
What do you want? Myriam said angrily looking at the two of them.
One was tall and thin with an olive complexion while the other was
squat and thick set with bad skin and body odour. She twisted her
nose in the air as his smell filled her nostrils.
Shut up you Jew Bitch. The taller one said with forced malice.
Suddenly a sound made him alert and he listened quietly, looking in
the direction the sound came from, as again the sound filtered
through. Myriam clearly recognised Sashas voice calling from the
bedroom; the boys were surprised to hear they were not alone and she
noted this disturbed them. The two became more edgy and intense.
Myriam, is that you?
Who is that? The smaller youth asked looking nervously towards
the bedroom. His eyes darted this way and that giving the notion that
he was unsure of himself and lacked confidence. The taller one
seemed more in control and he hushed his timid friend anxiously.
Its my husband. Myriam replied wondering what the youths
intentions were as her nerves calmed and she began to weigh her
options up.
She looked at them both and gathered that the taller one was more
sure of himself. He was the one leading cocky and appeared
experienced at this sort of thing; whatever it was.
Hes been ill and is calling me. She said calmly trying not to
antagonize the situation.
Go and shut him up, or there will be trouble. The taller one
demanded. He nodded to his friend who followed Myriam to the
bedroom as she went to see Sasha.
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They found him sitting up in bed smoking a cigarette. His face was
unshaven and his hair stood on end. Myriam normally washed him
each day at this time. He found it difficult to stand for long and he
was waiting eagerly for the routine to begin.
Oh, we have company. Sasha smiled seeing the squat youth with
Myriam at the bedroom door.
Why didnt you say we had guests?
Theyre not staying. Myriam replied.
She walked over to the bed and puffed up his pillows taking an
ashtrey from the side table and putting it within his reach. She did not
want to worry him and so tried to act relaxed.
Let me deal with them darling.
Myriam turned and examined the squat young man with pursed lips.
Have you seen enough? she snapped walking past him and into the
hall.
Make me a coffee darling. Sasha shouted with a cough.
Im sure our guest will have one.
What do you want? Myriam demanded meeting the tall thin youth
in the hall outside the kitchen.
Who sent you?
Look here old woman. The youth said abruptly.
We dont want to hurt you and the old man, we just want your
money.
Really? Myriam spat walking past him and putting water in the
electric kettle. She plugged it in and turned just in time to see the
small squat youth walk into the kitchen with her jewellery box which
hed taken from her bedroom table.
What are you doing with that? She asked stepping towards the boy
as he sat on the kitchen table and opened the box.
Very nice. The boy sighed.
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He took out Myriams thick gold neck chain and charm bracelet,
examining the individual charms closely. Then a bright gold ring with
a blue stone caught his eye.
Very nice. The tall youth said taking the ring from the box. The
smaller one removed the bottom of the box and found under it,
attached to a bright red ribbon, a medal.
It was the Medal of Courage, created in 1970 and awarded to her
husband Solomon posthumously in 1971. The two boys looked at the
medals decoration. Six swords in a chevron with a central olive
branch; they examined the medal with interest.
Is it silver. The tall one asked.
Maybe. His friend replied.
Please put that back. Myriam asked indignantly. She stepped
towards the youths and took the medal from them.
You can take the gold but that is all. I need our money for my
husbands medication.
Shut up, you fucking Jew Whore. The taller youth spat snatching
the medal from her thin fingers. He shoved her against the kitchen
cupboards and spat.
You dont seem to realise whos in charge here.
It must be valuable. The smaller one said holding the medal up to
the light and trying to see any hallmark impressed into the metalwork.
Or shed let us take it.
You stupid boy. Myriam said as she turned to spoon instant coffee
into two cups and filling them with boiling water from the kettle.
It has no value except sentimental. My husband won it for bravery.
Was he a soldier? The squat one asked.
Mind your own business. Myriam replied.
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Ive had enough of this. The taller youth said. He looked about and
saw Myriams bag on the table next to the front door; Myriam sighed
loudly as he left the kitchen and went into the hall. He picked it up
and started to dig around inside.
Ive told you once. Myriam said firmly.
You can have the gold as that can be replaced, but nothing else. Do
you understand?
Or what. The taller one said looking at her with shear contempt on
his face. She opened the drawer beneath where the kettle stood and
said coldly.
I will kill you both. Myriam said softly.
Both boys looked at her in silence for a few seconds before bursting
into laughter. The taller one shook his head and giggled loudly
stepping back into the kitchen with her purse.
Did you hear that, Mo? He sniffed.
The bitch is gonna kill us.
Yha. Mo laughed back.
She a tough old cookie.
It Mo, is it? She said taking her Beretta and slipping it into her
waistband under her jersey. Thats short for Mohammed isnt it?
You told her my name Mo said to his taller companion as Myriam
slipped past them both with a hot coffee for Sasha.
She placed in on his bedside table and went to join the boys again
giving her husband a wink on the way.
Put all that in your pocket. The taller one said sharply pushing her
purse into his jacket.
Mo poured the items from the jewellery box into his fist and began to
place them in his jeans pocket.
It was at that moment Myriam entered the kitchen. She saw what they
were doing and slammed her hand down onto the table.
Look, you pair of imbeciles. She said firmly.
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I have tried to reason with you both now I am getting impatient.

Give my husbands medal to me, please.
The pair looked at her in stunned silence. Mo, recognising the
determination in the old womans voice, took the medal out of his
pocket and was about to hand it over when the taller youth stopped
him.
Ignore the old cunt. The youth said.
Whats a fucking old Jew going to do?
I dont know Al, Mo replied looking at his friend with a dumb
expression.
She sounds just like my Granma and boy, you dont want to cross
her.
Hes right you know Ali. Myriam said using the boys full name
and looking him squarely in the eye.
His Granma and I are from a different generation. We dont get
pushed around.
Fuck you. Ali replied taking the medal and putting in his jeans
pocket.
Im sick of this game now. Myriam said. She took the Beretta from
her waistband and pointed it at the youth.
Put my husbands medal on the table.
Fucking, shit! Mo exclaimed. Ali looked around at the pistol
centimetres from his head and giggled.
Shes bluffing, its a fake.
It looks pretty real to me. Mo replied.
If that was real. Ali said.
The old bag would have shot me by now.
He turned around and looked at her with a contemptuous sneer. Then
he pushed her hand down and leant forwards.
For that. He said softly.
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Im going to smash the old mans head in before we leave.

Myriam sniffed and shook her head with a long sigh. She then
lowered the pistol and tapped it against her palm.
You know. She said looking at the taller boy.
Youve got balls. Before I decide whether to kill you or not tell me a
bit about yourself.
What? Ali said, a little disarmed by the question. He looked at his
friend and then toward the old woman.
What do you want to know?
Where are your parents. Myriam asked. She stepped past the two
boys and lean against the kitchen cupboards.
Why are two healthy, young men, with all their lives ahead of them,
trying to rob an elderly couple. What motivates you?
As if she cares? Ali sneered to his friend. Mo looked at the old
woman and cleared his throat.
Were from Gaza. He said softly.
Dont tell her anything, Man. Ali said throwing his shoulders back
and facing her defiantly.
Have you always lived in Gaza? Myriam asked softly.
Not always. Mo replied. He pursed his lips and looked away.
No! Ali said raising his voice.
We used to have a house round here, till the Jews came and forced us
out. Now our family live on fucking food aid, we lost everything
because of you.
So you are both family? She asked.
Cousins. Mo replied. My mother is his mothers sister.
Yes. Myriam said softly. I understand.
But theyre dead. Ali shouted.
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You wanted to know and now you do. They were killed by the IDF;
happy now, are you?
Im sorry. Myriam said. She stepped toward the boys and sighed
loudly.
Our Gran is looking after us. Mo added, Well she did, now shes
getting old.
And you are both trying to get money for her? Myriam said.
To repay her for the years that she looked after you both?
Something like that. Mo replied. He looked at Myriam and asked
gently.
Does the medal belong to him? he said nodding towards the room
Sasha was in.
Myriam smiled and reached into Alis pocket to retrieve it.
No. She grinned.
A handful of gold chains came out with the medal and she undid these
and handed the chains to Ali.
This one is 22 carat gold. She said holding up one of the thick
chains.
Sell it and give the money to your Gran, theres got to be a few
hundred there. Dont sell it all cheap, I wont report the loss to the
police.
You wont? Ali said softly. Why not?
Lets just say... Myriam smiled.
I want to do something for your Granma.
Youre weird. Ali sneered. Myriam held the medal to her chest and
thought back to the day when she collected the posthumous medal for
her husbands bravery and how proud she had been to get it.
Not that he was particularly heroic, but for Solomon Juniors sake.
Knowing that one day long after her death Solomon could look at the
award and remember his father.
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Everything else in the jewellery box was without real value now that
she was in the twilight of her life. Oh, they may have cost a lot, but
money meant nothing compared to memories. Only this medal held
any value for her now; sentimental value.
Are you okay? Mo asked seeing the womans eyes glaze over and
her vacant expression.
I am fine. Myriam smiled.
Never felt better. Now would you both like some juice before you
go; I have apple and orangeade?
Ill have some orange. Mo smiled.
Myriam went to the fridge and poured him a glass from the bottle that
sat within and she placed her Beretta in the drawer where it had sat
previously.
You know boys. She said handing the glass to Mo.
You have to let go of all that hate; it will destroy you in the end.
Thats easy for you to say. Ali said quietly. Every night I think
about my mother, how she was killed by a bomb dropped by a Jew
bomber. How can I forget that?
Life is hard sometimes. Myriam replied thinking about her mother.
Youll never forget but, over time, you find a way to live with it. To
celebrate the life that was taken from you and show, through your
conduct, a better way to live.
Youre not like other Jews. Mohammed said taking a sip from his
orangeade.
Where we live, in Gaza, theres a hill that overhangs our street. Some
young Jewish boys lean over the fence there and spit on us from it.
Granma says theyre idiots. Ali added, taking the glass from his
friend and taking a sip.
When I look up all I see are Jews.
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Not Jews. Myriam smiled ironically.

Youre Granma is right, they are idiots. Idiots who happen to be
Jewish. Not all idiots are Jewish...
Not all Jews are idiots. Mohammed said.
Now boys. Myriam said taking the glass and placing it in the sink.
I have to help the elderly gentleman to get up.
Well go, then. Mohammed replied. Ali looked at the old woman
and shrugged.
Are you sure about the jewellery? he asked.
Take it. Myriam said with a wide smiled. She sighed and thought
for a moment about her mother; what she would have done in the
same circumstances; concluding that she probably would have done
the same.
Buy your Grandmother a treat. Myriam said walking the boys to the
apartments street door.
Let her be proud of you both.
Thanks Lady. Mohammed smiled. He leant forwards and pecked
her on the cheek before leaving the apartment.
I might come back for more orange if thats okay?
As long as you dont mind doing some yard work. Myriam smiled.
I could do with a strong pair of hands sometimes and Id pay you.
No problem. Mohammed replied.
He walked down the hall towards the block exit and when he was out
of earshot Ali leant forwards and whispered.
That gun?
What about it? Myriam replied softly.
It was a fake, wasnt it? Ali said before breaking into a wide smile.
Myriam looked at his strong white teeth and bright brown eyes and
found herself giggling like a schoolgirl.
315
A Killers Moon
David William Kirby
She shook her head and returned the smile saying quietly:
You got me!
I knew it. Ali laughed before catching up to his friend. Myriam
went to the main door and watched as they both walked down the hill
towards the town centre.
It was after a few minutes that she saw her neighbour pruning a large
rose bush. The woman nodded and said brightly.
Very nice. The woman laughed and looked to the boys before
adding.
Does your husband know you have a young admirer?
Its our secret. Myriam said with a wink.
Have out guests gone? Sasha asked as Myriam placed another fresh
cup of coffee on the bedside table and picked Sashas ashtrey up from
the bed.
I scared them away. Myriam smiled.
Thats my girl. Sasha smiled back. He reached out and took her
hand.
What would I do without you?
Dont get me started. She giggled before helping him drink his
coffee.
The sun shone in through the bedroom window and a light breeze
blew in from the sea. Myriam looked out towards the sea beyond the
hill that had become their home.
It was just another day in an eventful life for two elderly killers; now
older but at peace with the world. Myriam had got all the anger from
those early days out of her system, all that hate was just like a cancer
eating away at her. It was only after meeting Captain Haupman again,
after so many years, that she realised that they were both victims of
the times.
316
A Killers Moon
David William Kirby
She understood that time being regretful could be time better spent.
She had exercised her ghosts and was now happy with her lot. Sasha,
although older, was happy to be with the woman he felt destined to
love and together they could endure anything.
The End
A Killers Moon
David W. Kirby
dwkglynrde5@yahoo.co.uk
kindly reproduced by
all rights reserved

Killers Moon

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The Dogbreaths Publishing

David William Kirby

David William Kirby

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David William Kirby

They demanded to be moved out, relocated somewhere then, out of

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Listen to me girl! Myriams mother replied urgently.

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My name is Helena, Helena Volska.

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It smells delicious. Myriam said as she tore a piece of meat from

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They have Jews in one place, Gypsies in another, Russian soldiers

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He stood and opened a nearby cupboard, inside Myriam saw a shelf

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They both chuckled.

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Come. A voice said from within.

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