The Last of the Wise Lovers Read Free

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chrome nose and two completely different shadows in the front seat, but I had a
clear sensation that it was them , and that by some mysterious means they
had been following me the whole time.
       I didn't feel fear, just a kind of
unpleasant curiosity, probably like what the rabbits or the robots or the
Russian planes feel in those computer games.  After one relatively empty
street - for the length of which the blue Chevrolet was practically stuck to my
back bumper - I was in the lane that led to the tunnel.  Further on there
was a small barrier that took up half the width of the street.  The
traffic was forced to one side, in order to make way for five or six buses that
drove in a row down the ramp that led out of the Port Authority Bus Terminal.
 I glanced in the mirror, feeling somewhat better: I was at the entrance
to the tunnel, beyond the border of darkness, and they were still bathed by the
light of the headlights outside.  But just then I realized that only one
man was sitting in the Chevrolet - the driver.  Before I could look again,
the window of the door behind me had been broken.
       It wasn't a rock, or a hammer, but
something sharp and precise. He had hit exactly in the center of the glass and
transformed the window into a web of shards that a gloved hand swept aside like
a curtain in order to unlock the door.  A second later someone was sitting
in the back seat, saying in heavily accented English, "Don't turn around.
 Keep driving."
       I tried to say something, but I
forget what.  He immediately added, "... and don't talk."
       It took all the strength I had for me
to nod my head up and down once, as a sign that I understood.  I'd heard
plenty of times about people getting robbed in their cars, in elevators, or
just plain in the street.  I had several plans worked out for such
situations.  But just then I couldn't remember any of them.  The car
in front of me started to roll forward.
    "Drive," he said. "Drive."
 My foot trembled on the gas pedal. "Don't worry," he said,
"just drive."
       Two workers stood by the barrier.
 They didn't even glance at the broken window.  I thought of the
three dollars that were in the change compartment, and I tried to remember if
there was anything in the glove compartment I could offer him.  Then it
dawned on me that he might not be a thief at all, that he might be interested
in something else, like rape for example, and that my costume had fooled him.
 I gingerly raised one arm, wondering whether I should pull the wig off
all at once, or just move it a little, as a hint.
       "Two hands on the wheel,"
he said quietly but firmly.
       I tried to catch his face in the
mirror.  He was smart enough to have positioned himself in the right-hand
corner of the back seat.  All I managed to see was the wide front of the
Chevrolet, which was still hugging my back bumper.  He said: "We're
not going to have any trouble, are we?"
       I shook my head and thought about the
fact that he was sitting on a pile of glass shards from the window he had
broken.
       He relaxed and said,
"Good".  Underneath the wig my head started to itch something
fierce.  Again I raised my hand and snuck a finger underneath the wig.
 This time he didn't stop me, he just leaned forward and said in Hebrew,
all of a sudden, "Now that we understand each other, I've got news for
you, Mrs. Levin."
        The Hebrew was, without a
doubt, a surprise, but there was an even bigger surprise than that: he wasn't
talking to me.  He was talking to some woman, maybe to Mom.
       I
opened my mouth to say something, but again he commanded: "Quiet."
 Then he waited a minute and added, "The news is, you've got to
stop."
       I was silent.
       "You must stop," he said
again.  "And break off all contact, if you know what's good for
you."
       "Stop," I said over in my
head, thinking I would have to report it all to Mom, "and break off all
contact."  Water was dripping in through the