“Yup.”
“And my husband isn’t so bad either.”
“Yup.”
She looked at him lying on his back with his eyes closed, a half smile on his face. “Remember what I said in the kitchen?” she asked.
“About polishing each other off?”
“No! About being the world’s smartest woman. I take it back.”
“You do?”
“I do. I’m the world’s luckiest woman.”
His eyes opened, and raising himself on an elbow, he kissed her. “Remind me to thank you properly some time. In half an hour or so.”
She kissed him back, and this time did another impression. “Any time, pilgrim, any time.”
* * *
Ben lay bemused. Lee could be playful on occasion, but this evening . . . First a recognizable Bacall, and now what had surely been John Wayne!
Mentally he grinned. The most inspired thing I ever did, he told himself, was to marry her. And I got her daughters in the bargain.
* * *
It was midnight when Lee went to sleep. She awoke in the morning aware of having dreamt, but not of what. Only that the dream had been long and rambling. She was also aware that she was comfortable with her decision of the night before.
55
Headline News
Atlanta, GA, May 6
April economic figures are mildly encouraging. For the second month in a row, unemployment has held at 24 percent. The May level is expected to be down, as new public works projects get under way. The number of businesses failing decreased again. Economists are generally in agreement that the more susceptible businesses had already failed.
Meanwhile, people continue to make adjustments. The number of families living with relatives or friends reached 40 percent, 2 percent higher than in March. The number of rental vacancies was up again. Meanwhile, the federal moratorium on home mortgage foreclosures by lending institutions has kept many other families in their homes.
* * *
This just in. A light plane made an emergency landing this morning near Hartsburg, Ohio. It carried a footlocker loaded with explosives and fitted with a detonator. When the pilot refused to dive into the federal building, his passenger shot him, then shot himself. After radioing authorities, the pilot managed to land on a country road. He has been hospitalized in serious condition. His passenger was pronounced dead on arrival at the Hart County hospital.
The new Mossad had moved its headquarters to another Riverside warehouse. There the Wrath had called in six of its soldiers, including Rafi Glickman. He didn’t want to go. The old Mossad had been vital to the morale and survival of Israel. The new was a malignancy, a festering abscess of psychosis. Two members no longer attended. Rafi assumed the Wrath had had them killed.
He’d suggested to his “true” organization that he be pulled out of the Mossad. Turn in the Wrath to the FBI, and the outlying groups would wither. But they wanted him to stay, hopefully to learn who supported it financially, and see them bagged, too. The FBI, they believed, could never get the information out of the Wrath, and it was doubtful they’d get anything out of the Wrath’s computer. Probing would cause a system meltdown.
At any rate, there he sat. Reports and assignments were made. Aside from skinheads, most of their victims now were Jews—both refugees and American. Jews, two as distant as London, with whom the Wrath was angry. They were easy targets, and their deaths were intended to intimidate other Jews.
The phone rang. It was Moishe Baran who answered. “Yes?” he said, then listened intently. “Good!” Smiling, he disconnected, and looked at the other two of the Wrath. “The bird has flown,” he announced.
The statement jerked Rafi, though he sat as motionless as before. He felt sure it referred to the Ninja Junior. He’d heard nothing more of the cruise missile since the dry run on that soggy winter night, but that needn’t mean the Wrath had given up on it. Personnel were often switched at different stages of a project. His greater uncertainty was whether Ngunda Aran was still the target, though that too seemed probable.
The meeting returned to business. After a minute, Rafi stood. “Excuse me,” he said. “I need to use the restroom. A touch of the flu.”