The English Teacher (14 page)

“The receptionist greeted them politely, and later, after they had gone, she told Rachel that the bodyguard, or perhaps he was the driver, or perhaps both, looked at her as if she were for sale. Rashid acknowledged her with a nod and said he had an appointment with the headmaster. She said there was nothing in the diary and asked them to wait. The driver, or bodyguard, wiped one of the chairs with his handkerchief, and it was only then that the guest sat down. His aide stood beside him with arms folded and watched the main entrance, and both waited in a menacing silence.

“Rachel arrived in jeans and a T-shirt under a loose open blouse. She told me, in her particular way, exactly what she was wearing and what impression she wanted to make in the school—the proverbial girl next door, not someone you could expect anything from. Still, she was wearing a backpack and the straps stretched the T-shirt in a cheeky way that only young women can get away with. The bodyguard tensed when she opened the door and came hurrying in, and he put a hand under his jacket. Rashid didn't turn his head, but it was obvious he had noticed her, and Rachel had a moment of dread, the moment feared by someone who has something to hide, the feeling they had come for her. She was used to seeing only the receptionist at this time, and although she had a reason for arriving an hour before the start of the school day, she didn't talk about the regular route that she followed in the early morning hours, that passed by the Defense Ministry. In those days before satellites it was important for us to know that the routine was kept. At night she observed the Defense Ministry from her apartment, and in the day she passed it going to work and on her way home. A routine can be a dangerous thing, unless it's part of something that's easily explained, like the way you go from your apartment to your workplace. Rachel tended to arrive a few minutes after the receptionist and enjoyed chatting with her briefly, practicing her Arabic.

“‘And this was the first time I saw him,' she said. ‘He sat upright like a teacher but he was relaxed, and the strange thing is I remember the glass vase and the bunch of grubby plastic flowers on the table. It seemed he was looking at them, and although I was afraid he was from the Mukhabarat and had come for me, I felt embarrassed that the reception area looked so shabby. And I also thought, in that split second before I turned to the receptionist, if I'd known that today they were going to take me in for questioning, I'd have worn more comfortable clothing and had a change of underwear with me.

“‘I ignored them as best I could, though I had no doubt they were looking only at me. She gave me the day's class schedule. “Nothing special today,” she said, in English. This was the rule in the school—speak English—and she signaled to me that this was no time to be careless; the working day had begun and I needed to watch out. I heard a soft sound behind me and guessed the important-looking one had stood up. My body stiffened in anticipation and I went on talking to the receptionist as if the two men approaching me didn't exist. Needless to say, the receptionist would not stand by me if anything happened.

“‘He said, “Excuse me”—in an accented English and waited for me to turn around and face him. I didn't respond. I don't owe him anything, and I can use every extra second to prepare for what's coming. Again: “Excuse me,” and this time in a firmer tone, the voice of someone who knows what he wants and knows how to give orders politely. Something touched my elbow, and I thought, Here it comes, now he'll put his hand on my shoulder and tell me I'm under arrest. Hard to explain to you what I was thinking at that moment. I didn't even have time to feel afraid. I figured that even if they stripped me and saw me naked they would never know what I was thinking and what I had to hide, and this was some consolation. I couldn't ignore
him any longer. I turned around. I saw a smiling face, thick pink lips beneath the black mustache, and brown reassuring eyes.

“‘Without introducing himself he asked me my name. As if the suit, the polished shoes, and the bodyguard were his ID card. I said, “Rachel,” and already I felt different. In the movies the cop knows the name of his quarry. He repeated the name twice and then said it again with a more pronounced Arab pronunciation. I waited for him to say why he came. “I want you to teach me English,” he said simply, and then asked me, in a tone that sounded almost like a command, to tell him about the school and the method we used, instead of wasting his time waiting for the headmaster.

“‘I glanced in the direction of the muscleman, still standing motionless in the corner. “He's just my assistant,” he said, and still he didn't introduce himself. His English was simple and deliberate. I assumed that he had studied at the local school, and what he wanted from me was to become fluent, to use idioms, to become more confident in English. There wasn't much chance of getting rid of the accent, he was too old and I had no expertise in this area. Strange, to be thinking about my professional competence at a time like this. He radiated an air of pride and self-assurance: his poise, his clothes, the bodyguard at his service. And so I wanted to show him I wasn't just a young woman in jeans who knows English. “All right,” I said, “you want to join the advanced class? So let's go, see what you make of this, and I started speaking fast in a London accent, like some kind of a cockney bimbo. He looked disconcerted for a moment. “I'm sure you're a good teacher,” he said, as his right-hand man went on counting prayer beads in one hand and holding the Mercedes keys in the other, his eyes on the door.

“‘He finally held out his hand and said, “Rashid.” “Rachel,” I answered, and I'm sure I blushed.'

“‘And that's all?' I asked her when she finished. ‘Yes,' she said, and blushed.”

J
OE L
IT A CIGAR AND BLEW
a perfect smoke ring into the darkening sky. Logic told him he should give up smoking, but he had decided to allow himself this one forbidden pleasure, and he invited Ehud to join him. Ehud declined and asked Joe what he thought. Joe didn't answer and went on smoking placidly. Ehud's story reminded him of operatives who had been under his command, and the special relationship that evolved every time between the case officer sitting in Europe and the operative embedded in enemy territory. He believed Ehud and thought he was doing his best to clarify Rachel's image, but he wasn't sure that Ehud knew what was really happening in the field, or if things were really going as they should. A long life had taught Joe that in romantic matters there is no logic, and there are a lot of lies.

Ehud wasn't deceiving himself either. Not now and not then, when he sat facing her and heard the reports about Rashid. He listened to her and felt that although she trusted his discretion and his judgment, she was still keeping something to herself. She hadn't told him everything. No one tells everything, not even to a lover, especially not to a lover. Ehud was Rachel's case officer and her connection with headquarters staff. No one met her without his approval and with one word he could veto any project or request for information directed at her. The memory of the Eli Cohen debacle and the hanging of the operatives in Egypt had faded over the years, but the feeling that those operatives had fallen into the hands of the enemy because there had been too many demands made on them was always there, and if Ehud said that was enough, she could do no more, no one would put pressure on him or on her to go on. This responsibility had two
sides to it: there was the appetite to do more and more, and it was his job when to say enough, when things were getting out of control.

He closed the debrief meeting, sent Rachel to buy some essentials and meet a few people to back up her cover story in Milan, and then he tried to take stock of things. He believed that although he didn't know all the details, he knew the essentials: Rachel is loyal to the organization, and she won't do anything to jeopardize her assignments or endanger herself. So he decided not to ask what else was happening besides the friendship with Rashid, and ostensibly he took no interest in the minute details of what and how, even when she brought him the photograph that gave the go-ahead for her next mission.

Rachel too, he knew, didn't want to tell him how she felt, or what she thought of him, or about her life behind the mask. When she was out there, Ehud was in the distance. Reporting from the field was hazardous and she needed to be brief and precise, and she knew Ehud wasn't the only one reading her cables. In Europe it was different. They sat face-to-face, and Ehud asked not only what she had done but also what she was feeling. He asked and waited for her to tell him, and she, like anyone wanting to keep her beloved to herself, decided to conceal broad swaths of information.

R
ASHID WAS ALREADY SITTING AT T
HE
table, which was set for three, and she spotted the bodyguard, standing in the corner of the restaurant and watching the guests enter. Rashid stood up and came to meet her, shook her outstretched hand, pulled a chair out for her, and waited until she sat down. Rachel pulled her knees back. He wasn't a big man, but she wanted to avoid contact between their legs under the table. “Are there three of us?” she asked, and smiled when he explained, “You can tell anyone who asks that your girlfriend is on the
way, and I'll be spared unnecessary explanations.” She put her handbag down on the vacant seat and decided not to ask which number was she in the procession of foreign girls who sat with him in restaurants.

“Let's speak English,” he said, as if there were an alternative, and pointed out that he was counting this meal as a lesson. “And which official in your department clears your expenses?” she asked, and waited for him to tell her who he was working for. He grimaced and she repeated the question in a simpler form. “You see? It's a lesson,” he said, and he wanted to know the name of every utensil on the table, and how to order food. It was all so simple.

And all this time, while the conversation flowed and moved from place to place, she was thinking too of the things that must be kept hidden, and she was glad that English was a struggle for him and his questions were simple and asked slowly. “Tell me something about yourself,” he said, and she talked about her father, who left a hectic life in London behind and was growing old by himself in a remote corner of Canada, and she knew that she was telling him a truth.

“He doesn't care much about me. When I told him I was going traveling in Europe he just said, ‘Oh,' and when I got the job here I called him and he wasn't even interested in meeting me before I left. I'm paying him back in the same currency.”

“With us it's different,” Rashid said, and in his eyes she saw what she was looking for. “There's nothing more important than family.”

She thought about her cover-story family, and how she missed the father she once had.

Rashid seemed to notice the difference in her tone; he changed the subject and she was pleased by his sensitivity and admitted to herself that she liked him. She liked talking to him, although she had to stay on guard and not let his curiosity and his sympathy penetrate
her armor. She too wanted to gather information from him, exactly as other couples do on a first date. She tried to ask him something personal. Rashid said he was paying her for this lesson and so he had the right to choose the topic. She shook off the jab and struggled over whether it was the mission entrusted to her that kept her here at the table, or whether there was also something else. “Tell me what business you're in and something about your family,” she persisted. “This is what you'll need to do in any business encounter. Everyone wants to know about the guy sitting in front of him.” “Okay,” he said, “on condition that for every detail I give you about myself, you give me something in return.” Now she was ready and she responded to the challenge, and since she was lying most of the time she wondered if Rashid was telling the truth.