THE GREEN KING (part 67)
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The Candlesticks
of Bogota
Then there were
suddenly alone, or rather, three, trudging through the reddish sand. The third
man was Eliahou, who normally wouldn’t have accompanied them. They walked
together for two hours, until they were in sight of Telashoh. Eliahou stopped.
‘We are going
to separate here,’ he said. ‘You have certainly been told where to go and how
to get there.’
He hesitated.
Much smaller than Klimrod, and even smaller than Bainish, he was staring at
Klimrod’s face in the semidarkness. He finally shook his head.
‘I could killed
you ten times, with my machine gun.’
‘You didn’t,’
answer Reb.
‘Two step
further to the right or left, or forward, and you would have been in my direct
line of fire. Did you know?’.
‘Yes.’
Eliahou shook
is head again. ‘And I believe you; that what amazes me the most. How old are
you?’
‘About a
hundred years old,’ said Reb. ‘Give or take a few weeks.’
‘Who taught you
to use a grenade like that? Dov Lazarus?’
The grey eyes,
very light in the night, looked down.
‘I don’t know
anybody by that name.’
Eliahou began
to laugh. ‘OK.’ He started to walk away, stopped, turned around.
‘Try not to get
killed right away.’
‘I’ll try,’
said Reb. ‘You have my words.’
He and Yoel
left together. A truck from a kibbutz came for them, as planned, at four
o’clock in the morning, to take them, as planned, to the north of Ashod. They
were in Tel Aviv before sunrise, having crossed many checkpoints without
trouble, eating fruit they had picked during the night.
TO BE CONTINUED
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I LOVE YOU…
I LOVE YOU…
I LOVE YOU…
I LOVE YOU…
I LOVE YOU…
I LOVE YOU…
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