“What could happen?” Tedi asked.
“Maybe you should ask one of them to marry you,” Leonie said, poking Tedi in the ribs.
“I’m done with you two,” said Shayndel, and she tried not to run on her way to the kitchen. She was determined to force Tirzah to tell her something before she lost what remained of her self-control, but she found the cook in a rage of her own.
“Those monsters aren’t going to let them come to the dining hall,” she fumed, filling a basket with hard-boiled eggs, olives, and bread. “They are going too far,” she said, thrusting a water pitcher at Shayndel just as Applebaum arrived.
“Can’t we manage something besides water for them to drink?” he asked. “Tea at least?”
“This is a question for your commander,” said Tirzah, without meeting his eyes. “I would need permission.”
He answered with undisguised contempt: “Perhaps the request would be met with success if you asked him yourself.”
Tirzah met his gaze. “No need,” she said icily. “I’ll get it ready.”
Applebaum shrugged. “I’ll come back for it.”
“Son of a bitch,” she muttered under her breath.
After helping Tirzah prepare the baskets, Shayndel slipped outside to look for Nathan, who, she was certain, knew how the arrival of the prisoners fit into the plans for the breakout. She found him standing near the eastern fence, deep in conversation with Bob and Uri.
“They asked each of them how they got over the border,” said Nathan. “They wanted to know who helped them, if they had contacts in Baghdad.”
“It’s good that none of them knows anything.”
“About what?” Shayndel demanded. “Why are these men being treated so differently? Why are they locked in?”
“You’re a smart one. Can’t you figure it out?” said Nathan.
“Are they being sent somewhere else?” Shayndel guessed.
“Not if we have anything to do with it,” Bob muttered.
“So this escape plan is all about rescuing them?”
“You see,” Nathan said. “I told you she was a smart girl.”
“What about the rest of us?”
“Listen, comrade,” said Nathan, draping his arm around her shoulder, “we are going to start a new calisthenics class this afternoon so it will appear that my friends here have an official purpose in Atlit. Bob will be making a special class for the girls, so see to it that we have a good showing.”
“Does that mean we’re all going?” Shayndel insisted.
But Nathan only chucked her under the chin and walked away.
Tirzah had put off her visit to Bryce’s office as long as she could. She dreaded the place, and not only because of the photograph of his wife and sons. She hated the old British map of Palestine on the wall, the locks on the filing cabinets, and the width of his desk, which seemed to measure the gulf between them. She forced herself to stand tall and pretend not to see the knowing glances—real or imagined—cast at her by the soldiers at the prison gate and then by the sentries at the administration building.
She relaxed a little at the sight of Bryce’s unfailingly polite clerk, who seemed young enough to be her own son. Private Gordon got to his feet and said, in halting Hebrew, “Good afternoon, Mrs. Friedman. He is telephone. He will be with you in moments five or six.”
Tirzah smiled. “Your Hebrew is improving.”
“Thank you. It is difficult with me. I study and talk in Haifa shopping. Here, no one will talk.”
Bryce’s voice grew loud enough to be heard through the wall. Tirzah and Gordon glanced at each other uneasily. A few minutes later, he opened the door, his neck and ears flushed.
“Mrs. Friedman,” he said, surprised to see her. “Is there some problem? Do you have everything you need by way of supplies?”
“I have run out of salt,” she said. “I would like to use the telephone to order more.”