Kingfisher

Time to move. Isaac pulled himself up from the floor, holding on to the trolley for leverage. So bloody tired, his legs. And the baby still crying. No one trying to stop the little bugger's fury, letting it scream and yowl as if to batter at him personally. And all of them watching for his reaction to the noise, waiting for him to burst into p r o t e s t… or to capitulate and ask for milk to be sent. They would not wait much longer, but for now the bastards could wait. Even the American was quiet now, the one with the homilies to Rebecca, and the arrogance; should have chosen him, not the little frightened man he had dragged to the doorway: should have been the American. Not that it would have changed anything, only given greater satisfaction.

Down the aisle again, Isaac. Cat in a cage, with a circumscribed path inside the bars. Down the carpet, eyes to the right, eyes to the left, and watch them all squirm, look away, try to hide. He reached Rebecca, and his arm was round her shoulder, not with emotion, more to offer a faint degree of comfort.

They should not have brought her. It chilled him to think what would happen to Rebecca.

Perhaps he was strong enough to face the bullets- perhaps. But the girl, never. Without the muscle, without the mind. They should not have allowed her to come. Late in the day for that thought, though. In their eyes she'll be as culpable as the men, would be judged with equality, the same fate. What a screw-up! And how f a r from where it had started, and what had it started for?

A heap of cretins sitting in their excreta, that Babi Yar should be remembered. Babi where? Babi bloody Yar. Isaac laughed to himself, this time out loud.

Rebecca said, 'What you said to the man, Isaac, did you mean that? It is close to one o'clock, do we kill one more then? Do we have to?'

' If we believe that we are going to Israel, then we must kill another, and another till we have the fuel.' His voice was steady, and without anxiety.

'Are we going to Israel, Isaac?'

'Questions, always questions!'

'But now there must be answers, Isaac. David is dead, the Italian, the captain too. There have to be answers.'

'What do you want to hear me say?'

' I have to know what you think. I have the right to know what you will do. Are we going to Israel?'

'And you? What do you think? Do you believe we will fly from here?'

'Don't play with me, Isaac. Not now. We have been here too long for games. We have to have honesty now.'

'So, what do I have to say for you? Do I crawl to you and beg for your forgiveness?' He spat the words at her, and the hate was there again, the loathing not for her but the great sponge that hemmed in on them that they could kick against, but not hurt, not inflict pain. 'Do you want me to plead to you to forgive me and to forget where I have taken you? Of course we will not see Israel

… There, it is the first time that I have said it… I'll say it again for you only louder, so that all these pigs can hear me

… we will not see Israel. We will never see Israel We are like the herd of our people, the masses of the camps and the prison cells. No better than them, no worse than them. We are as ineffective as they are. We will never see Israel. You wanted me to say it, and I have satisfied you. It was for nothing, Rebecca. Nothing.'

'So there will be no more killing?' A small voice, almost a whisper, flattened by the enormity of what she had drawn from him. She pushed the hair back from his forehead, a quick movement of the hand so that he barely felt the texture of her fingers against his skin.

'No more of the passengers will die.' The smile regained, promising the girl a present, something she would like and be pleased to accept.

'Who else, who else other than the passengers? The soldiers, if they come… who else?'

'They will send us back, Rebecca. Remember when you and David talked to them, when he was defeated, when he wanted to end it, and they could not answer you. Remember that: they could not answer the question you asked them. They want to send us back. You understand that, you know what that means. It is not the way I can accept, Rebecca, and you could not go alone.

We will not go back, not together, not singly. They will not take us.'

'That was why David went?' She could not use the word that came to her tongue, a betrayal of David as great as if she'd gone to the window and stared down at his broken body. 'That was why David went. Because he knew. That was why you called him a coward

'

'Because he could not do it by his own hand. He needed others. We will ask no help.

Ourselves, together, we will do it.'

He felt her stiffen against him, driving her body closer to his, pressing with a ferocity as if to mould their two persons into one. ' I will be frightened, Isaac. I will need you.' He kissed her sofdy, full on the pale and greyed hps, stifling her words.

'We must hear what the man from Tel Aviv has to say to us. First we must hear that.'

He went to the doorway, for a moment was visible to the outside watchers before instinctive caution won through and he backed again to the side and shelter.

'Charlie,' he shouted. 'You can come now. Bring the man from Israel.'

Strong and clear and strident, his voice across the emptiness of the concrete. The burden thrown off, discarded. There were many rifles aimed at the general direction of his body till the hands that held them relaxed and the barrels were dropped. Charlie Webster and Arie Benitz started to walk towards the Ilyushin, a slow and careful step, and all the time the Englishman talking into the microphone close to his chin.

It seemed a great distance they had to go, a chasm to be bridged.

Summoned again from his exile on the lower floor the Home Secretary read the transcript of Charlie Webster's radio message.

'There has been a substantial change of mood on the part of both Isaac and Rebecca. After threatening that executions would recommence at thirteen hundred local, if they were denied fuel for the onward flight to Israel, they have now invited me to bring to the aircraft Col Arie Benitz of the IDF. They want to hear what message he brings them from the Israeli government.

The message will be that they should surrender. My assessment is that this represents a considerable weakening of Isaac's position. For personal guidance, is it likely that on surrender they will be returned to face Soviet courts? Over. Webster.'

The Home Secretary edged his glasses further down his nose. 'Has someone answered Mr Webster's query?'

'Yes,' the Assistant Chief Constable spoke with caution.

'What was the answer?'

'He was given guidance, not specific information.'

'Which way did you guide him?'

"We said that the position was not clear, but…'

'In heaven's name, man, what did you tell him?'

'He seemed to need some sort of answer, something that would help during the difficult negotiation stage he is embarking on.'

'Don't fool with me.'

'We told Mr Webster that there had been a change of approach by the Foreign Office-we told him they were unlikely to be returned to the Soviet Union.'

'Who told him that?'

' I did.' The Assistant Chief Constable stood his ground, aware the worst was over, that now he had only to confront the puzzlement and confusion of the politician. 'On my own authority. I judged his believing that this was the case would only help Mr Webster at this moment.'

" It's not true, simply not true.'

'Behind them they have a man shot in Kiev. The pilot of the aircraft is dead in the cockpit, a passenger is dead on the tarmac. More stand to die as the afternoon goes on. The truth of what Webster tells these people is frankly unimportant. They've forfeited the right to truth.' He saw the retreat, the change of tack, the Home Secretary backing away from confrontation. Stupid, bloody man, and what did he know of the scene anyway? Better off downstairs and out of the way.