The Marsh Angel by Hagai Dagan (best thriller books to read .TXT) 📕

r. Revelation

And then, he saw something. Yes, he saw something. Like a silent secret stream gurgling between two mountains, so were the massive mountains of clouds carved, and a rivulet ran through them; from out of the darkness, like a predestined manifestation, the gray Ultralight glider formed once more, dove down towards the troops, spitting fire as if in slow, suspended motion. Something rattled its gentle wind. It tilted to the side, diving, diving like a wounded bird in an agonizingly slow, unsteady diagonal, drifting further and further away from the troops, approaching the gaping expanse between Hassan Bek and Yarkon Street, flying straight at Tamir.

From the corner of his eye, Tamir could see the two combat helicopters suspended in the air like two praying mantes perched on a leaf of darkness. Why aren’t they firing? Not to risk hitting our troops? Maybe they’re worried about the houses on Yarkon Street in their line of fire. Further and further, the Ultralight feathered its way down, anticipatorily drawing nearer to the ground. The block of troops in the background slowly made its way from Hassan Bek, closing in on the Ultralight, closing in on Tamir; still, the forces were distant and the glider was close, very close, gliding sideways, valiantly struggling to retain a semblance of balance, faltering, smacking against the ground, but not crashing, no.

Tamir walked over dazed, as if in a dream. He thought he heard voices shouting from a distance. He kept on walking, allowing the voices to recede further and further into the background. Something stirred in the crumpled glider, someone wiggled their way free and emerged from the wreckage. Tamir came closer and closer— green uniform, leopard print, shirt torn, a cut running down the right pant leg, the oh-so familiar flag stitched to the side of the shoulder, a united Palestine, green, two rifles crossed. He couldn’t make out the words from where he was standing, but he knew them by heart— sacrifice on top, return to the right, liberation to the left.

She steadied herself with some effort and stood upright, as if she were stretching, her gaze directed at the mosque, at the sea, at the houses of Jaffa, her bundled hair all of a sudden coming undone beneath her black baseball cap, as if losing its grip, dimmed in a copper tone against the pale dawn light. Her head slowly turned, and her eyes rested on Tamir— there it was, the black, engulfing, bottomless lake in her eyes, the dawnless night, only now a distant light beamed from its depth, some kind of foreign flame. Her hand groped around the belt fasted to her waist beneath her torn shirt, and she pulled out a gun. She cocked it without taking her eyes off Tamir, raised it, her hand steady and secure, and pointed it at him, her finger resting on the trigger. But she did not fire.

al-Darija, he said, or maybe just whispered, incapable of taking his eyes off her.

She nodded, slowly, in confirmation. Her eyes nearly shut momentarily. His eyes were wide open, more than ever before. He couldn’t dream of closing them now.

God, she’s beautiful, he thought.

Two jeeps veered in, tires screeching, stopping some ten yards away from her. Several soldiers jumped out, crouched beside the jeeps and aimed their weapons. Only now did he close his eyes— but he heard no shots fired. He opened them again. A black sedan zoomed past the jeeps and pulled up next to her. Two men jumped out, grabbed her, dropped the gun from her hand and pulled her into the vehicle. Tamir recognized one of them. It was the young man in the mahogany-colored dress shirt who was there during his interrogation at GHQ. He now wore a short army-style windbreaker. Another man who sat at the passenger seat rolled down his window and surveyed Tamir with a cold but not uninterested look. It was the mustached man with a receding hairline who had intervened during the interrogation and ordered Tamir to drop his investigation. He did not wear a black polo shirt this time, but a kind of drab, gray jacket. The car sped away. More soldiers emerged from jeeps who were coming in in droves now.

Buddy, are you okay? a young captain asked. Tamir assumed he was a special-forces officer.

Yeah, I’m fine.

I saw you. From over there. In my binoculars. You looked at her like you knew her.

Really? No, I-I don’t know her, Tamir said, hoping he didn’t sound too pensive.

You can never know with you guys, the captain said. No one really knows what you’re doing in there, he gestured towards the Mole, which slowly inched its way to the scene.

Yeah, Tamir said, you never know with us.

So, who was she? Why did they tell us to hold our fire? the captain wondered.

Tamir remained silent, lost in thoughts.

What’s her name? the captain asked, looking at the place where the black sedan disappeared from view.

Tamir must have mumbled something.

What was that?

Polnochi, he said. You can call her Polnochi.

18.Kaze Café — A café located in Sheinkin Street which operated during the 1980’s and 90’s. At that time, Sheinkin was the beating heart of Tel-Aviv, and the name of the café is a reflection of the period: As Tel-Avivian culture grew increasingly unique, distinct lingual innovations developed in the city, among which were words of vague or unassertive effect, such as kaze and keilu, equivalent to the English “like…”

19.Yekke — A term for Austrian and German Jewry (and their descendants) who immigrated to Israel primarily in the 1930’s and 40’s.

4. TWILIGHT

I saw a bird of exquisite beauty.

The bird saw me.

A bird of such exquisite beauty I’ll never see again

until the end of me.

I felt the quiver of a sunray.

I uttered words of peace.

The words I uttered yesterday

I won’t repeat today.

— Nathan Zach, “A Second Bird”

a. The Wrath of God

By the end of the affair, five soldiers had died and twenty-five more were wounded. The