THRILLER: The Galilee Plot: (International Biological Terror, The Mossad, and... A Self-contended Couple) Read Free Page A

Catholic monk, with
financial support from American and other Jews, on land owned by the Trappist
monastery of Latrun. The monk wanted to unite the three monotheistic religions.
He worked day and night, travelled to countries all over the world, preached
sermons, delivered impassioned speeches, clarified specific points, showed maps
and plans for the construction of a multi-faith university, which would unite
once and for all, from a religious and spiritual perspective, believers in the
three monotheistic religions.
    On a bare hillside
buildings were erected and allocated to Jews, Arabs and Maronite Christians.
The whole enterprise soon collapsed, and services in the mosque, the synagogue
and the church no longer took place, and were not attended by visitors from all
over the world, as Father Bruno had hoped and believed.
    “Groves of Peace” died the
kiss of death. No one mourned it. The zealous Father Bruno, a convert from
Judaism of French origin, died along with the great project to which he had
dedicated the rest of his life. If I’m not mistaken, he is buried on the crest
of the hill. His rotting bones are all that remain of the brave dream.
     

Chapter Four
     
     
     
    At eight in the morning,
Swiss time, there was a call from reception. My wife took the call, heard
whatever she heard, turned to me and announced: “Someone called Shmulik Landau
from Israel wants to talk to you. The subject, he says, is urgent and pressing,
from any angle.”
    I picked up the receiver.
    “Who is this?”
    “Shmulik. Shmulik Landau.
The sergeant-major on the manoeuvres in Ze’elim, about ten years ago. You still
don’t remember?”
    “I remember!” I answered
him.
    “We need you, urgently.
I’m sure you’ve read the paper.”
    “I’ve read it,” I
confirmed.
    “When are we going to see
you here?”
    “In about a month. To be
more precise, twenty-eight days.”
    “I don’t think you’ve
understood what I’m saying,” he responded, adding, “We need you urgently!”
    “Who’s this ‘we’?”
    “Your homeland…
Incidentally, that song you composed, King’s Bride , is something unique,
it isn’t so much a song as a hymn.”
    “A hymn to the brotherhood
of the new Israel!” I filled it in for him.
    “As for the singer, your
wife has excelled herself with the new song: she’s proved that it’s still
possible to reach astonishing heights. If you’re sincere in your creations and
steadfast in what you’re conveying to your readers and listeners, you must
leave Switzerland at once and stand alongside us…”
    “Who exactly is this
‘us’?” I pressed him further.
    “Don’t play the innocent,”
he replied, “you know what I’m involved with.”
    “I know,” I answered him.
I sensed my voice dropping, and he noticed this. I had no desire to make him
plead.
    “So what’s stopping you
coming and playing your part, however modest it may be, in solving the big
problem that has been created… I’m sure you remember what you told us back
then… during the manoeuvres…”
    I remembered, but I saw no
reason to bring up the subject again and think it through…
    “I have obligations,” I
retorted.
    “To whom?” my interlocutor
wasn’t giving up that easily. A metallic voice, of someone used to giving commands
and not getting evasive answers.
    “My wife,” I replied,
firmly.
    “Your wife will be left by
herself for just two days. You’ll come here and go back. At the expense of the
homeland and for its sake. Explain it to her. I haven’t a shadow of a doubt
she’ll understand, and realise straightaway that you’re trying to evade your
responsibilities and in fact you’re turning into a defeatist, a typical
Diaspora Jew…” He tried insults as a way of undermining my stance but it wasn’t
working. I was too experienced to fall for that.
    “It’s out of the
question,” I declared, knowing how much this would annoy him.
    “Is that your last word?”
In the question there was a