Read Online Bamboo and Blood by James Church - Free Book Online Page B

foreigner. “Drink?” she asked in English.

    He took a cup of tea; the trolley moved on. I looked around the cabin and then settled back. I closed my eyes, pretending I was somewhere pleasant. An elbow nudged me.

    “I’d rather not be poked,” I said. “Please, don’t poke me like that, I don’t care whether we are tribesmen or not.”

    He paid no attention. “You might get up and stroll into the first class cabin. There are some interesting passengers beyond the curtain. You’ll find three more, just like that group behind us. Say ‘shalom’ to them and watch their eyes pop out.” I didn’t move. “Go ahead, have some fun, what can it hurt?” He poked me. “Eh?”

    I sat up. All of a sudden, existence was awash in Israelis. A few weeks ago, I’d never met one in my life. Now they had me surrounded on, of all places, an airplane. I wondered if they were planning to hijack the plane. These were the people who had carried off Entebbe. They were larger than life, tougher than nails. I didn’t like traveling by air in the first place; I hadn’t wanted to go on this assignment to Beijing; and now I was being poked relentlessly, surrounded by a commando flying squad.“I’m not going up to first class,” I said. “I never walk on an airplane when it’s aloft. It’s not right. Movement could disturb the balance, or the trim—whatever it is.”

    “You don’t go to the toilet?”

    “I make it a point to take short flights.”

    “How about standing? Can you at least stand?”

    “Standing is possible, as long as it is done gently,” I said. I stood up carefully and looked back at the trio seated three rows behind us. Business suits, European, but slightly off. They were reading papers in an alphabet I’d never seen.

    Jenö reached over and tugged at my jacket. “The papers are in Hebrew. They think no one can understand. Classified documents, I’ll bet.”

    I sat down again. “You know these people, I take it. And the ones up front, too?”

    “Not personally, I don’t know them.” His eyebrows went into the first few steps of a gavotte and then stopped, as if the orchestra had abruptly gone out for a smoke. “I heard them talking while we were in line at the check-in counter. They’re from the Foreign Ministry, apparently. Chatting away, making snide comments, convinced no one could possibly understand Hebrew. Can you believe it? What are they coming for, do you think?”

    “How should I know? And if I were you, that would be the least of my concerns. You’re in enough trouble. The real question is not why they are on the airplane.” Actually, that was a real question, it just didn’t bear on my immediate problem. “The real question is, why are you coming back? And why the hell didn’t you let on before that you knew Korean? It would have saved me having to translate through frozen lips when we were in that hut in the mountains.” I shut my eyes again. There were two questions that loomed, and I had no doubt that if I ever found the answers, they would be intertwined. First, exactly what I asked him—why was he coming back? And second, which was my problem more than his—who approved the visa after the trouble we had keeping him safe from the special section last time? A normal person wouldn’t want to come back. A normal visa request after what had happened would have been turned down instantly. It would have provoked gales of laughter before being stamped: DENIED. This return tripwasn’t normal in any respect. It even went beyond abnormal. So where did that leave me, other than accompanying a foreigner on the wrong side of unfathomable?

    Jenö unleashed the familiar smile. “No games, Inspector. I appreciate your coming to get me, but it was unnecessary. I don’t need an escort; no one is going to touch a hair on my head.” The pitch of the engines changed abruptly again, too abruptly for him, because he paled and gripped the armrest. Apparently, he hadn’t been at