Monday the Rabbi Took Off

Chapter Ten

As Rov Stedman scrubbed his face dry with a towel, his friend Abdul walked around examining the large wall posters that were the principal decorations of the small room: the pig in a policeman's uniform standing on his hind trotters; the nun raising her skirt to her thigh to reach her purse concealed in her stocking; the nude couple facing each other, holding each other's sex organs, like two people gravely shaking hands on being introduced.

Over his shoulder. Abdul said. "The girls, when they see this, they do not object, they do not get angry?"

"No one's ever objected." said Roy with a leer. He didn't mention that so far he had not succeeded in persuading any girls to visit his room. "Maybe it gives them the right ideas."

"That's very clever. And if your papa, how do you say it, your daddy, comes to visit you, you will leave these in place?"

"Sure, why not?" Roy tossed the towel on a hook and then began to comb his long hair.

"He is rich, your daddy?"

"Rich? I wouldn't say he was rich. Comfortable. I guess, but I wouldn't call him rich."

"If he stays at the King David, he must be rich." said Abdul positively.

"Oh, yeah? Is it that expensive? Couple of times I was there, it didn't look so great."

"Believe me." said Abdul, "it is expensive. For one night, or for a week, maybe not; but to live there on a permanent basis..."

"Well, he might get reduced rates being a TV personality. Or maybe he won't be staying there long. In his letter he said he'd be touring the country, that he'd rent or buy a car and move around— you know, a few days here, a few days there. This book he's writing will take him all over."

"And you will go with him on some of these trips?"

"If he's going somewhere I want to go."

"And the car, you will perhaps get to use it sometime on your own?"

Roy smiled. "Look, if my old man gets a car. I bet I'll use it more than he does."

"Then you won't have any time for Abdul. All the girls, how do you call them— chicks?— you’ll have any you want."

"Nan." But Roy was obviously pleased at the idea. "The broads around here, they're like icicles."

"Icicles?"

"Yeah, you know, like cold."

"Ah. I see." Abdul nodded in wise understanding. Then he smiled. "Maybe I have you meet some different kind girls. Not cold. Hot ones."

"You mean the Arab girls around here? They're even worse than the Jewish ones. They're like on a rope and their old man's got a good grip on the other end."

"Ah, but there are other kinds— those who know how to act with a man. They know what a man wants. They make your blood boil." He patted his young friend on the shoulder. "You get a car and we get a couple of girls and we drive to a place that one of my relatives has for a couple of days, a weekend. I'll guarantee you a good time."

"Yeah? How about having me meet some right now?"

"You mean tonight?"

"No, not tonight, but you know...Why do we have to

take them to your relative's place? I mean what's wrong with right here?"

"Well, maybe. I'll think about it." He deliberately changed the subject. "He's a Zionist, your daddy?"

"Gosh, I don't know. I never talked to him about it."

"All Americans are Zionist." Abdul could not prevent some hint of indignation from showing in his voice.

"I'm an American, and I'm not a Zionist," said Roy mildly.

"I mean all American Jews."

"Well?"

"But you told me once that your mother was not Jewish. So even by the law of the Jewish rabbi, you are not Jewish."

"I don't know about that." said Roy. "I always thought of myself as Jewish, and that's how my friends thought of me. As a matter of fact, up until the time I went to college, all my friends were Jewish."

"And here."

Roy laughed. "That's right. In college and here, but this is college, too."

"That's right." Abdul glanced at his watch. "You're going to meet your father at eight; you don't have much time. You'd better get dressed."

Roy looked at his friend in surprise. "Why do I have to get dressed up to meet my own fattier? What's the matter with the way I'm dressed now?"

Abdul, who was twenty-six to Roy's eighteen, shook his head indulgently. Roy was dressed in a blue denim Eisenhower jacket and in faded blue jeans, frayed at the bottoms. His sockless feet were encased in open sandals.

Abdul could not understand why the American students chose to dress like poor workingmen. like fellahin, when they had the money to buy proper clothes. He had a smug satisfaction in the knowledge that he was properly dressed, even well dressed, in a tight-fitting suit of shiny black worsted with a shirt with a long, pointed collar and a wide colorful tie. Sitting with his legs stretched out in front of him. he rotated his shoes on their heels and surveyed them approvingly. They were Italian with large brass buckles and brilliantly shined.

"You don't understand, Roy. You will come into the King David where the women walk around the lobby in mink stoles even on hot days. Your daddy is probably planning to take you to the Grill for dinner. I'm not even sure that they will seat you without a tie, without socks. The hair, they will not like, but they can do nothing about it. But the jacket and no tie—"

"Well, this is the way I dress." retorted Rov, "and if they don't like it, they can lump it. As far as my father is concerned, is it me he wants to see or a suit of clothes? And as for the headwaiter. a man can't let himself be pushed around by those types. I'll tell you something. Abdul, a man has to be himself. That's the main thing."

Abdul shrugged. He didn't want to argue with this young American whose friendship he had gone out of his way to cultivate. "Perhaps you are right. Roy. Come. I'll walk you to the bus stop."

They stood in the lighted area of the bus stop until Roy had boarded, and then Abdul strode off into the darkness. Presently he heard footsteps behind him. He stopped. "Is that you. Mahmoud?" he asked in Arabic. "I thought I saw you behind us earlier. Are you spying on me?"

The other fell in beside him. "I was not spying. Who you want to be friends with is your business so long as the rest of us don't get involved."

"I know what I'm doing." said Abdul shortly.

"All right. I won't argue with you, but if you think you are fooling the Jews by being friendly with one of them—"

"Let me tell you something. Mahmoud. We are all watched because the Israelis know that we will do anything to defeat them. But they hope that by treating us kindly, by encouraging us to attend the university, for example, some of us will be placated and resigned to the idea that they are in control and likely to remain for some time. Now." he said to his friend, "which will they watch more closely, the ones who are resigned or the ones who remain stubborn? And remember, they want so much to believe that they have won some of us over." He smiled in the darkness. "So I help them a little. Roy is young and not very bright, but he is good camouflage. Now if you were not following me to spy on me—"

"I have some news I wanted to tell you."

"Yes?"

"We heard from Jaffa. There has been a shake-up in the Shin Bet, and Adoumi has been transferred to Jerusalem. He's here now. He was seen."

"So?"

"So maybe we ought to go easy for a while and see what happens." the other said softly.

"How long has he been here?"

"Who knows? Perhaps months."

They walked in silence, and then Abdul said. "After all. what difference does it make?"

"Plenty. If he's in charge here, then we'll soon see the same harsh methods that were used in Jaffa and Tel Aviv."

"No." said Abdul. "That kind of thing can't be done here in Jerusalem. There are too many people from too many parts of the world—"

"There are even more in Tel Aviv."

"But they are all businessmen there." Abdul pointed out. "interested only in their big financial deals. Here, in Jerusalem, it is the religious and the learned and the scientific people and the diplomats and the writers and journalists, the people that the Jews try so hard to persuade of their liberalism and democracy. It is here that you have the large Christian community with their ties to Europe and America. And it's a smaller town where everything that happens is immediately known, and cannot be concealed. Believe me, the methods he used in Tel Aviv and Jaffa— rounding up hundreds of our people and holding them for questioning for days— he won't be able to get away with it so easy here. Besides, if he's been transferred, he will probably be here for some time. Does that mean that we do nothing and just wait for the next shake-up when someone else is sent in? Are we to be made women by the reputation of one man? I for one am prepared to go ahead. Get word to the Swiss. Have him prepare the gadget. I'm ready to go ahead with the original plan."

"And the rest of us?"

Abdul smiled. "Proceed as we arranged, or better, get yourself a friendly Jew and arrange to be with him when it happens."