“She said it was all right?”
“It was her idea.”
Woods shook his head. “I don’t like it, Boomer. Why’d you tell me all this?”
“You’re my friend. If you see me doing something really stupid you’ll tell me.”
“Okay. I see you doing something really stupid. I don’t even know if we’re allowed to visit Israel on our own. I don’t know if it’s on the list—”
“It’s not. I asked Pritch.”
“Don’t do it,” Woods said.
“Why?”
“It’s illegal. It’s not the safest place in the world. You’re going to lose your wings if you get caught.”
“I’ll be back before you know it.”
“I’m telling you not to go.”
Vialli was taken aback. “Telling me meaning what? An order? You gonna order me not to go?”
Woods had hoped it wouldn’t come to this. “That’s exactly what I’m doing. I’m ordering you not to go.”
“Oh please. It’s my skin.”
“It’s mine too, now. If something happens they’ll be all over me for not stopping you.”
“You can say you didn’t know about it.”
“Just lie?”
“Sure. They won’t know the difference.”
“I sure will. I’m telling you, don’t go.”
“I hear you, and I’m going anyway.”
“I can’t let you—”
“You’re really something,” Vialli said, the veins in his neck straining. “You follow the rules when it suits you. But when you want to have a little fun, like thumping my ass in the middle of the night from a cloudbank, that’s fine! Right? You’re fine with breaking a few rules when it’s you, and you think it’s clever, or funny, or shows how adventurous you are. And I’m just supposed to look the other way, not report you for a flight violation, like I should have. But when it’s someone else who wants to bend one, and not one that’s gonna get us killed, just one to go visit a girlfriend, then you get all high and mighty.” He was angry. “That’s bullshit, Trey!”
Woods was stung. “It’s completely different.”
Vialli got up. “Maybe. But I’m going. If you want to tell the CO and get my ass in trouble, feel free. And if you do, I swear to God I’ll write you up for a flight violation for thumping me. Just try me.”
Before Woods could stop him, Vialli was on his feet, turning his back on his roommate and walking out of the wardroom.
8
Vialli stepped off the El Al Airbus 320 at the Tel Aviv airport. He looked at the California-like terrain through the huge windows and was instantly charmed by the brightness of the sunshine and the blue sky. He was in a mood to be charmed. He felt his stomach tighten when he saw Irit waiting for him. She walked up to him slowly, smiling her perfectly shaped smile. She was wearing tight jeans that just touched her black shoes and a black long-sleeved T-shirt sharply outlining her shape, its sleeves pulled up to the middle of her forearms. Her black leather belt had a silver buckle that Vialli immediately noticed. On it, in English, were the words Israeli Defense Force as well as some Hebrew writing and the figure of an Israeli fighter.
“Hi,” he said softly as she approached.
She kissed him on the lips, her right hand still in her pocket. “Shalom,” she said.
“Oh, oh,” he said. “Do I have to learn Hebrew?”
She smiled. “Of course not. Most people speak English.”
“That’s lucky,” he said. He glanced around the terminal, taking it all in. “Lot of soldiers around here,” he said, stating the obvious. There were uniformed soldiers with submachine guns every fifty feet.
“You’ll get used to them. They’re everywhere. I like having them around.”
“Thanks for inviting me,” he said, picking up his bag. He was trying hard not to look like a Naval officer, to look like any other twenty-something man. He had even let his hair get a little longer, a little shaggier than he normally would have to soften his otherwise military look. He felt very athletic in his loose-fitting jeans and running shoes, with a T-shirt and baggy shirt over it.
“I’m glad you’re here. You have any other bags?”
“I’m used to traveling in an F-14. One gym bag.”
“Great. Let’s go.” Crossing over to his right side and walking next to him, she asked, “Did you have any trouble getting time off?”
Vialli hesitated. “Yes and no.”
“What do you mean?”
“Time off, no. The Ops O — he’s sort of my boss — thought it was cool I wanted to take leave in port. Trey recommended he approve it. He said I needed the time off. But they think I’m in Naples.”
“I don’t understand.”
He had hoped he wouldn’t have to tell her, especially not first thing. “The Skipper wouldn’t have let me come. He’d have told me to wait until we come here on our port call. But I wanted to come now. So I told him I’d be in Naples.”
She stopped. “You shouldn’t have to lie to him about it.”
Vialli squinted at her. “You’re one to talk.”
She lowered her head.
“Sorry. That was a cheap shot.”
“I deserved it.”
“I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings…”
“We both probably did something we shouldn’t have done,” she said, smiling conspiratorially. “At least it was for a good cause.”
“That’s the way I see it. And what are they going to do if they catch me? Cut my hair? Send me to sea?”
She laughed and they started walking again.
He shifted his bag to his left hand and held her hand as they walked. “So how do we get to Nahariya?”
“Train. It runs right up the coast. You’ll like it. It’s very pretty.”
“Then what?”
“My father will pick us up at the train station and take us home.”
Vialli looked at her at the mention of her father. “What does he think about you having a U.S. Navy officer come visit you?”
She shook her head slightly. “He likes the American part, and the Navy officer part, it’s the goyim part he has trouble with.”
“The what?”
“Goyim. Gentiles. Non-Jew, but broader. Um, outsider, I guess. Foreigner, with a touch of unwelcomeness to it.”
“Is it a big problem? I thought it didn’t matter to you.”
“It doesn’t matter to me, it matters to him a lot.”
“Is he one of those Orthodox Jews who wears a funny hat and has curls around his ears?”
“Tony,” she said in a low tone.
“What? What did I say?”
“They aren’t ‘funny’ hats. Orthodox Jews take their dress very seriously. They think the Torah says very specifically what they are to wear, and they comply with it. They think all Jews should. They think the way I’m dressed is disgraceful.”
“It is disgraceful. You should be ashamed of yourself,” he joked. “I wasn’t trying to make fun of them, I was just wondering if your father was one of… of… those.”
“No. He is not. He isn’t even very religious.”
“Then what difference does it make? I’m not very serious about being Catholic either. I take it you’re not very serious about being Jewish.”
“Of course I’m serious about being Jewish, what kind of talk is that?” she asked, slightly offended.
“I don’t get it. You told me you weren’t very religious.”
“I’m not very religious. Being Jewish means a lot more than being religious.”
“Like what?”
She looked up at him with a pained expression that he had never seen before. “Maybe later we can talk about that. It’s complicated. Come this way,” she said pulling him.