Hatchet Read online

  She got up, dressed, tried to straighten her skirt as best she could, and decided not to bother with her bra and just put on her blouse, its fabric pleasant to the touch against her relaxed body. She walked to the car, shaking the sand off her feet. The blues music emanating from the car speakers was no longer compatible with her mood so she switched the CD to Shlomo Artzi. She knew she needed to make a decision. Once on the road she called the office. “Yael, I need to talk to Mr. Leibowitz please.”

  She told him she’d rather not return to the office today. She had a lot to think about and wanted to give it proper time. He agreed.

  “I understand. Take your time. See you tomorrow.”

  Inside her house, she didn’t turn on the lights but sat down on the living room sofa and grabbed the remote control. It had been ages since she had a chance to watch those early evening programs and she flipped through the channels aimlessly. She got up and moved to the bedroom still without turning on lights. She lay down, her head against the pillow, and grabbed the book that was waiting on her nightstand. “The Monk Who Sold His Ferrari”. She’d bought it for Reuben but never had the chance to give it to him. (“Oh well, I’ll just keep it”) she turned to the first page and started to read.

  Chapter 3

  The noise of the neighbors’ TV filtering through the other side of the wall woke her. She was lying on the bed, still in her work clothes. She got up drowsily, undressed, letting her clothes drop to the floor on her way to the bathroom (“Path of the Woman’s Peels”). She allowed the warm water to wash over her body, conjuring up the feel of Moshe between her legs. She switched the showerhead to spray mode and directed it inside her, washing herself from within, her eyes closed as she savored the moment. She hung the showerhead on the highest notch and slowly turned on the cold water, letting it flow all the way down from her head to the rest of her body, feeling her skin shiver and relax.

  She was drying her hair with a towel when the phone rang. “Good evening, it’s Moshe,” she smiled at the sound of his rolling accent. “I just wanted to say I had a wonderful time with you today. Check your email, I sent you something too. Good night.” He didn’t even give her a chance to answer before hanging up. She hit call back, but the number was blocked (“I bet he’s still pretty roused up by our shared experience”).

  She opened the computer and saw four new messages. Two were from Reuben and she deleted them straight away, one was from Shuli – a slideshow about the beaches of Thailand – which she also deleted after watching about half of it, and the last was from Moshe.

  “What I feel towards you is something I’ve never felt for any woman before. Thank you for existing.” A smile spread across her face and she felt her heart swell with warmth. She opened the attached file and saw a drawing of a flower in black, with a spot of red (“That’s beautiful. I wonder if he drew it”).

  She called Shuli. “Want to hit the Victoria? I feel like going a little wild.”

  Shuli sounded a bit surprised. They either went a whole month without talking to each other or were meeting almost every day. “You’re going to bankrupt me with all these babysitters… Well, ok, wait for me, I’ll be there.”

  Naomi took a seat at the bar, staving off two or three local partygoers who were out on the prowl. “Noomik, Hi!” Shuli waved at her from the entrance, when Naomi was already on her second beer. Hugs and kisses.

  “Let’s sit in the corner over there, I’m dying for something to eat” She ordered the beer-battered lamb chops and a large salad. “Wow, that’s a seriously big meal! What’s up with you?”

  “I’m just hungry.” It took another beer for Naomi to tell her about the sex on the beach.

  “Get out! You screwed Moshe? You hardly even know him! And what about a condom?! What’s the matter with you?! And what about the pill?! Are you out of your mind?!”

  “You know I’m on the pill, just in case.”

  “You’re seriously crazy. Forget about the pill, you don’t know this guy. He could have AIDS or all sorts of stuff, for all you know.”

  “Stop it, Shuli, you sound like Mom. Why can’t you just be happy for me that I had such a great time? The greatest…”

  “Good for you. It’s actually very cruel of you to tell me this when I’m in the worst dry spell of my life, but I’m happy for you, I really am. So, what’s he like?” she burst out laughing. “I hear South American guys are super passionate.”

  Naomi punched her in the shoulder, “Stop it, you idiot. And yeah, you heard right,” they both erupted in uncontrollable laughter.

  It was past midnight when they left the pub (“I need to get some sleep if I want to make a good impression at tomorrow’s meeting). She slept like a baby.

  “Excuse me, could you tell me the way to Yirmiyahu Street?”

  The female officer standing by a scooter in the corner of Ben-Yehuda and Nordau stuck her head inside her car. “What number?”

  “Twenty two.”

  “Ok. You can’t get there from Ben-Yehuda. You need to take Zecharia, then make a turn at Yirmiyahu. Number twenty five is right past the corner of Dizengoff.”

  The look on Naomi’s face revealed her surprise at the detailed directions. “There’s just this Yemenite restaurant there that I really love,” the officer explained with a smile.

  She found a parking spot right outside the house. It was 08:20. The house was a typical Tel-Aviv building from the fifties, four stories high, with a sign that read ‘Gem of Yemen’ hanging over ‘the officer’s restaurant’ (“A pretty shabby place”).

  At the front door she read the names on the mailboxes. There were no names next to the intercom buttons so she just randomly pressed one.

  “Yes?” said a metallic-sounding woman’s voice.

  “I’m sorry, I’m not sure I have the right house. My name is Naomi, I’m looking for someone named Abraham.”

  The door buzzed and she rushed to push it open, finding herself in the building’s tired looking lobby. A door opened on the ground floor and a voice called out to her, “Come in, Naomi.” She walked in and the door closed behind her.

  She was in a tiny hall (“Typical of these ‘old Tel-Aviv’ apartments”) with barren walls, two chairs in the corner next to a dresser that had some magazines on top, which looked to be several years old. A bare light bulb hung from the ceiling and there were two doors that she assumed led to other rooms. One of the doors was open and she peered in to see that the room was empty except for a large desk with a computer, printer and a few scattered papers. At the desk sat a middle aged woman (“She looks like a teacher”) with her hair in a bun, wearing thick glasses. The woman got up, walked around the desk and stood in front of another door, which was closed.

  “Hello, Naomi. I’m Leah. Please come through here.” She opened the door which, to Naomi’s surprise, revealed one of those metal detector devices you usually see in airports (“This looks weirdly out of place”). She passed through to the other side and set the detector off.

  “Please remove all metal objects from your pockets.” She emptied her pockets of all loose change, removed her earrings and necklace and placed them on the tray, then passed through once again, this time without setting off the alarm. Leah rummaged through the tray’s contents.

  Naomi placed her earrings and necklace back on and was handed a form by the quiet woman. “What’s this?” she asked. “They’ll explain later, hold on to it for now.” She was directed to the second door, opened it, and found herself in an elevator. As she walked in she noticed there were no floor buttons. The elevator door closed but she could sense no movement and did not know if she was going up or down. After a few seconds she felt the slightest jolt and knew she had come to a stop.

  The door opened. She stepped out into a modern office corridor. The walls were painted a light shade of grey and bright fluorescent lights illuminated the space, which was swarming with people,
running in and out of doors along the corridor. In front of her stood Abraham, a smile on his face.

  “I’m glad you decided to come. Welcome to one of Israel’s top secret locations.” He took her hand and led her to one of the doors. They stepped inside and as the door closed behind them, she saw that there were three men and two women in the room, sitting on chairs placed in a circle.

  All present, apart from Abraham, looked as if they weren’t sure what was going on. They stared at Abraham and Naomi. No one spoke and they clearly did not know one another.

  “Have a seat, Naomi,” he pointed to one of two chairs in the circle that were free, and sat in the other.

  “Before we begin I’d like you all to fill out the forms you were given.”

  Naomi checked the form in her hand entitled ‘Confidentiality Agreement’. They took out their pens. The form was extremely detailed and she could detect by the phrasing that it must be Leibowitz’s handywork. She smiled to herself, filled in the blanks and handed her form to Abraham.

  “Friends, the very fact that you are sitting here in this circle is proof that you have decided to join us in the mission we are about to undertake. I’d like everyone to introduce themselves, first name and occupation only, that’s all we need to know about each other. You’ve all been chosen to be part of a team we shall, from now on, refer to as ‘Hatchet’. We’ll start with you,” he turned to a curly haired man by his side.

  “Aaron, computers.”

  “Gila, designer.”

  “Ziv, Lieutenant Colonel serving in the…”

  “No need to elaborate,” Abraham stopped him.

  “Naomi, lawyer.”

  “Yaniv, El Al pilot.”

  “Karen, architect.”

  She tried to get a sense of the team members she was going to spend the next few months with. Her eyes met theirs as they too tried to gauge one another. Their expressions broadcast agitation and excitement.

  “Before we proceed, there are two essential things you must do. The first, is to take the Mossad’s oath of fidelity and secrecy. And the second, fill out your employment forms. After all, you will want to get paid too, yes?” said Abraham, succeeding in lightening the heavy atmosphere a bit. The door opened and Naomi was no longer surprised to see Leibowitz enter, carrying a stack of bibles. They were each handed one.

  “Hold the bible in your left hand and place your right hand on top of it. Repeat after me: I swear on this bible and on my people’s legacy, to do anything in my power for the good of this country and its people. I swear to stay true to the government of Israel, to the Mossad and to the people in it, and to keep secret anything and everything about it. I so swear.”

  In perfect unison and with the utmost respect they repeated the oath.

  “I so swear” (“There’s no denying, this is indeed moving”).

  “We’ll be in touch with you over the next few days. Remember, any mention of the code word ‘hatchet’ will mean a connection has been established. You will understand later on,” said Abraham in response to the group’s quizzical looks and he and Leibowitz left the room.

  The group remained seated for a few more minutes, clearly trying to wrap their heads around what had just occurred. First to come to his senses was Ziv. “Ok, guys. Looks like the meeting is over. See you, good luck to everyone.” They all rose from their seats, polite smiles on their faces, shook hands, went back to the elevator and emerged in the room with the metal detector.

  “Please place your employee forms here and leave one at a time. Please go separately to different sides of the street. Do not walk as a group,” said Leah. They shook hands once again and left, following her instructions. Naomi walked to her car, then turned back to look at the building she had just left. There were two men having lunch at the restaurant and a boy riding his bicycle in the adjacent park. No sign whatsoever indicated the true activity that was taking place inside the edifice at that very moment. Her knees shook slightly with excitement, as if everyone was watching her, knowing she had a huge secret to protect.

  The next day was scheduled for the follow-up meeting with the family. She tried to avoid making direct eye contact with Abraham. She spent those next few days deep in the case files, working long hours with the rest of the legal team and in cooperation with the firm’s European extension in Belgium, searching for relevant international treaties. Michal turned out to be a big help with that task. Nirit dug deep into the court library for useful information and Rami did excellent work at the firm’s library.

  The meeting at Yirmiyahu Street disappeared from her mind given the important case on her desk. Each morning she woke up early, hopped in shower, applied a touch of makeup, dressed in her tailored clothes, and did not return until late at night, when she checked the messages on her answering machine.

  “Noomik, did your forget you have a mother? How’s everything? Why don’t you ever call?”

  “Hey, Sis, I could kill for a beer. Call me, I have some really juicy news.”

  Those messages repeated themselves throughout the week, until Thursday finally arrived. She pressed the incoming messages on her answering machine.

  “Noomik, it’s Mom. I’m really starting to get worried.”

  There was another message from a friend from law school saying she was in town, but that was it. She was on her way to the shower having tossed all her clothes in the hamper (“Maybe I will go out for a drink, we’ll see”), and had just turned on the water when the phone rang (“Let it ring, I’m going in the shower, they can leave a message of they want to”).

  “Good evening, Naomi,” she heard Moshe’s familiar voice and her heart skipped a beat. She ran for the phone, stark naked, nearly slipping on the bathroom floor, rushing to get to it before he hanged up.

  “I was thinking, if you’re not doing anything, we could meet up tonight…” she picked up the phone, out of breath.

  “Moshe, don’t hang up.”

  “Hi. So you’re home?”

  “Yeah, I just walked in. What’s up? Haven’t heard from you for a while.”

  “Yes, I’ve been busy. I was calling to let you know I’m going on a work trip with my boss, to Europe.”

  “I’m really glad you called.” She smiled to herself. It was so pleasant, listening to the melody in his words, so different from the style of speech native Israelis had.

  “So as I was saying, I’m going to Europe in three days to check out an aluminum factory for the cladding of the new building we’re working on, and I was wondering if we could get together before I leave.”

  “Of course we can, silly” (“Why did I say that? He’s anything but silly”).

  There was a pestering call waiting on the other line.

  “Hold on a second, Moshe, let me just get rid of whoever that is.”

  It was Shuli, asking her to join her at the Victoria, saying she wanted to tell her about someone interesting. “Hold on a second, I might be able to come and to bring Moshe,” she put Shuli on hold.

  “Sorry to keep you waiting,” she told Moshe. “I’d love to meet up. Do you maybe want to go out? Remember I told you about the Victoria? It might be really fun and my sister might join us too, and then maybe later we can continue the evening at my place?” she stopped talking only once she realized the only response on the other end of the line was Moshe’s breathing.

  “Hello, Moshe? Are you still there?”

  He said if it was alright with her, he’d rather spend the evening alone, just the two of them and skip the pub this time. He wasn’t really feeling like meeting people and he’d love to come by her place. Then he added he’d be happy to meet her sister, just maybe another day, when he’s back from his trip. They agreed he would bring wine.

  “Shuli,” she got back to her sister who was still on the line. “He isn’t in the mood. He says he wants to be alone, just the two of us, and I k
inda feel the same. Let’s go out tomorrow, I’ll have a lot to talk about by then.” It wasn’t until after she hung up that she realized she hadn’t given him her address. She waited for him to call back any minute.

  She decided to skip the shower at that point and threw on a bathrobe. If only her mother could see her now, running around picking up clothes from all surfaces of the apartment, tossing them in the hamper (“My god, I have loads of laundry to do!”), vacuuming the sofas, mopping the floors, washing the pile of dishes that filled the sink, until, after two hours, she was slumped on the couch, exhausted but deeply satisfied (“Come on, get up, you still need to shower and get ready”). She stumbled to the shower (“Lucky timing, I’m supposed to get my period in two days”).

  She was caught off guard by the door buzzer (“No way, he doesn’t even have my address”) just as she lit the candles on the set table and dimmed the lights. She opened the door and there was Moshe, holding a bouquet of yellow roses in one hand (“I don’t remember telling him yellow’s my color”). He wore a pair of jeans, a white Chinese-collared shirt and red Converse shoes (“My god, he’s hot. That’s a great look for an architect”). He had a bottle of Yarden merlot in his other hand. She gave him a hug and a kiss on the lips and received the flowers and wine.

  “Nice! A 1986 Yarden merlot! Where did you get that? It must have cost a fortune!” He smiled but did not answer. His eyes scanned the room.

  “By the way, how did you know where I live?” she asked him.