“By the way,” said Liora, “I have the key.”
“To
what?” I asked, my voice sleepy.
“You
know,” she replied, “the question we’ve been asking ourselves, what Moron is
doing here.”
“You
mean Eli Miran?” I asked. “Don’t be nasty.”
“Geez,
Rona,” she said with a sigh, “sometime you’re such a goody two-shoes.” She
sucked on her cigarette, and rushing rings of smoke into the air added,
“Anyways, I’ve got it.”
“Okay,”
I said, distracted by the sunrays dancing on my face, and shut my eyes to
maximise the effect.
It
was a summer evening, the squadron was finally quiet, the pilots wouldn’t swarm
in until tomorrow morning, and I was indulging in my favourite activity: worshipping the sun I missed while slaving
away in
the operations room all day.
I
could feel the air beyond the squadron shifting into relaxation mode. Airbase 27, a large and clumsy
creature, had its offices locked up for the day, the mass of soldiers done with
their daily toil, showered, changed into T-shirts and jeans, smoking and
drinking soda in the cafeteria. At least I hoped there was a cafeteria
somewhere on that goddamn base.
Tucked
at the corner of the Airbase’s maddening
crowd, the four squadrons bordered with the Ben-Gurion International Airport,
with Squadron 122, in which I was stationed, bridging the bustling base and the
other three squadrons.
Slumped
on the wide ledge that hung about
a meter aboveground, wrapping around
the inner flanks of our pi-shaped squadron, I relished the remains of
the day, savouring the last rays as if they
were a lover’s tender fingers.
“So,”
I said, “what is it, genius?”
“You
mean where is it,” she spoke slowly
as if to a daft child. “Right here!”
I cracked opened my eyes to a silver key
swinging in the air between us.
“Oh,”
I said. “You meant a real key.”
She
looked at me perplexed. “What else?”
“And
what does it open?”
“A
drawer? A special one,” she said with
a sly grin, her eyebrows dancing up and down. “Con-fi-dential.”
“I
… I don’t know,” I mumbled. “We’ll get in trouble.”
“Nonsense!”
she said, squashing her cigarette on the floor, then flicked it a few yards
crossways into the murk under the ledge. She was an expert cig-butt flicker. “Nobody
will ever know. Besides, I was never told not
to use this key, so it’s perfectly fine.”
“Hmm
…” I emitted.
She
sprang to her feet, her jade eyes sparkling like a child on her birthday. “Come
on!”
