Eagle in the Sky - Smith Wilbur (бесплатные версии книг .txt) 📗

He wore uniform casually cut, and open at the throat with cloth insignia

or rank and wings at the breast pocket.  He was slightly

round-shouldered, probably from cramming his lanky body into the cramped

cockpits of fighter aircraft, and his head was brown and bald with a

monk's fringe of hair and a fierce spiky mustache through which a gold

tooth gleamed richly.  His nose was big and hooked, the nose of a

biblical warrior, and his eyes were dark and snapping with the same

golden lights as Debra's.  He was a man of such presence that he

commanded David's instant respect.  He stood to shake the General's hand

and called him sir completely naturally.

The Brig subjected David to a rapid, raking scrutiny and reserved his

judgement, showing neither pleasure nor disdain.

Later David would learn that the nickname The Brig was a shortened

version of The Brigand, a name the British had given him before 1948

when he was smuggling warplanes and arms into Palestine for the Haganah.

Everyone, even his children called him that and only his wife used his

given name, Joshua.

David is sharing the Sabbath meal with us tonight, Debra explained to

him.

You are welcome, said the Brig, and turned to embrace his women with

love and laughter, for he had seen neither of them since the previous

Sabbath, his duties keeping him at air bases and control rooms scattered

widely across the land.

When Joe arrived, he was also in uniform, the casual open-necked khaki

of summer, and when he saw David he dropped his slow manner and hurried

to him, laughin& and enfolded him in a bear hug, speaking over his

shoulder to Debra.

Was I right?

Joe said you would come, Debra explained.

It looks like I was the only one who didn't know, David protested.

There were fifteen at dinner, and the candlelight gleamed on the

polished wood of the huge refectory table and the silver Sabbeth

goblets.  The Brig said a short prayer, the satin and gold embroidered

yamulka looking slightly out of place on his wicked bald head, then he

filled the wine goblets with his own hand murmuring a greeting to each

of his guests.  Hannah was with Joe, her copper hair glowing handsomely

in the candlelight, and she greeted David with reserve.  There were two

of the Brig's brothers with their wives and children and grandchildren,

and the talk was loud and confusing as the children vied with their

elders for a hearing and the language changed at random from Hebrew to

English.

The food was exotic and spicy, although the wine was too sweet for

David's taste.  He was content to sit quietly beside Debra and enjoy the

sense of belonging to this happy group.  He was startled then when one

of Debra's cousins leaned across her to speak to him.

This must be very confusing for you, your first day in such an unusual

country as Israel, and not understanding Hebrew, you not being Jewish

The words were not meant unkindly, but all conversation stopped abruptly

and the Brig looked up, frowning swiftly, quick to sense an unkindness

to guest at his board.

David was aware of Debra staring at him intently, as if to will words

from him, and suddenly he thought how three denials finalized any issue,

in the New Testament, in Mohammedan law, and perhaps in that of Moses as

well.  He did not want to be excluded from this household, from these

people.  He didn't want to be alone again.  It was good here.

He smiled at the cousin and shook his head.  It's strange, yes, but not

as bad as you would think.  I understand Hebrew, though I don't speak it

very well.

You see, I am Jewish, also.

Beside him Debra gave a soft gasp of pleasure and exchanged quick

glances with Joe.

Jewish?  the Brig demanded.  You don't look it, and David explained, and

when he was through the Brig nodded.  It seemed that his manner had

thawed a little.

Not only that, but he is a flier also, Debra boasted, and the Brig's

mustache twitched like a living thing so that he had to soothe it with

his napkin while he reappraised David carefully.

What experience?  he demanded brusquely.

Twelve hundred hours, sir, almost a thousand on jets.  Jets?  Mirages.

Mirages!  The Brig's gold tooth gleamed secretly.

What squadron?  Cobra Squadron.

Rastus Naude's bunch?  The Brig stared at David as

he asked.

Do you know Rastus?  David was startled.

We flew in the first Spitfires from Czechoslovakia together, back in 48.

We used to call him Butch Ben Yak, Son of a Gentile, in those days.  How

is he, he must be getting on now?  He was no spring chicken even then.

He's as spry as ever, sir, David answered tactfully.

Well, if Rastus taught You to fly, you might be half good, the Brig

conceded.

As a general rule the Israeli Airforce would not use foreign pilots, but

here was a Jew with all the marks of a first-class fighter pilot.  The

Brig had noticed the marvelous man and thrust which that other

consummate judge of young men, Paul Morgan, had recognized also and

valued so highly.  Unless he had read the signs wrongly, something he

seldom did, then here was a rare one.  Once more he appraised the young

man in the candlelight and noticed that clear and steady gaze that

seemed to seek a distant horizon.  It was the eye of the gunfighter, and

all his pilots were gunfighters.

To train an interceptor pilot took many years and nearly a million

dollars.  Time and money were matters of survival in his country's time

of trial, and rules could be bent.

He picked up the wine bottle and carefully refilled David's goblet. I

will place a telephone call to Rastus Naude, he decided silently, and

find out a bit more about this youngster.

Debra watched her father as he began to question David searchingly on

his reasons, or lack of them, for coming to Israel, and on his future

plans.

She knew precisely how the Brig's mind was working, for she had

anticipated it.  Her reasons for inviting David to dinner and for

exposing him to the Brig were devious and calculated.

She switched her attention back to David, feeling the tense warm

sensation in the pit of her stomach and the electric prickle of the skin

upon her forearms as she looked at him.

Yes, you big cocky stallion, she thought comfortably, you aren't going

to find it so easy to escape again.  This time I'm playing for keeps,

and I've got the Brig on to you also.  She lifted her goblet to him,

smiling sweetly at him over the rim, You're going to get exactly what

you are after, but.  in trumps and with bells on, she threatened

silently, and aloud she said, Lechaim!  To life!  and David echoed the

toast.

This time I'm not going to be put off so easily, he promised himself

firmly as he watched the candlelight explode in tiny golden sparks in

her eyes.  I'm going to have you, my raven-haired beauty, no matter how

long it takes or what it Costs.

The telephone beside his bed woke David in the dawn, and the Brig's

voice was crisp and alert, as though he had already completed a day's

work.

If you have no urgent plans for today, I'm taking you to see something,

he said.

Of course, sir.  David was taken off balance.

I will fetch you from your hotel in forty-five minutes, that will give

you time for breakfast.  Please wait for me in the lobby.  The Brig

drove a small nondescript compact with civilian plates, and he drove it

fast and efficiently.  David was impressed with his reaction time and