"No. I gave clear instructions for her not to. It was better that way, so if the British caught any of them, they would not be able to give her away."
"How can you be sure she followed your instructions?"
Mira hesitated for a second and answered cautiously, "I can't be absolutely sure of it, of course, but Esther was a serious girl. I think she did as she was told."
I nodded, accepting her answer. But I knew that if I hit a dead end, I would need to talk to the other
"Not that I know of," Mira said.
"You did not keep in touch after she moved to Tel Aviv?"
"I ran into her once and asked her how she was getting along. She said she was fine, had found work, that Willie was growing up okay. She said she'd never heard from his mother."
"She said nothing else about her life in Tel Aviv?"
"No."
This was not what I wanted to hear. It meant that Mira basically had no knowledge of Esther's final months, which was when her killer had decided to end her life. I needed a clearer picture of those months, and it was apparent I was not going to get it from Mira.
"You say Esther and Willie stayed for a few weeks with the Klinger family. How did she get along with them?"
"Fine. Esther told me they were treating her well. They all seemed friendly."
"Do you happen to know if they kept in touch after she moved?"
"No. Afraid not."
"All right. I'll ask them about it when I see them."
I was disappointed with my visit. I had expected to learn more from Mira, and I ended up learning almost nothing. The paltry number of contacts she'd provided me with was discouraging. But along with disappointment, I was also feeling a blend of discomfort and something I had not felt in a long while. Desire. My fingers were tingling. I wanted to reach over and touch Mira, to cup her cheeks, to run my hand along her calves. A fluttery heat had settled in my stomach and my mouth had turned dry. Those glimmerings of passion had grown to a low fire.
I felt like I should say something more, but could not decide what. I looked at Mira, but in my mind's eye I was seeing Deborah, my wife. I knew that here was a line and that crossing it would mean a break from my past, a rupture between my life as it was and as it had been. I did not want that. Not yet, anyway.
"Are you all right, Adam?"
Mira was peering closely at my face, a frown of concern notching a crease between her eyebrows. She had leaned toward me, and there was a gap between her thin lips. Through that gap I caught a glimpse of her teeth, small and white and straight. I forced some saliva into my mouth, swallowed hard, and cleared my throat. I couldn't let my mind wander. I needed to remain focused. Because there was still something I didn't understand here, something that had bothered me since shortly after my previous visit to Mira's apartment.
"One more question, Mira."
"Yes?"
"How many Jews would you say you had a hand in helping to immigrate to Israel?"
She looked puzzled, wondering what my question had to do with the murders. "Several hundred. Perhaps as many as a thousand."
"And with how many do you keep in touch?"
"None that I can think of. Why do you ask, Adam?"
"I was just wondering why you care so much for two of them."
A muscle in her cheek twitched, and she seemed unsure of how to answer. I let the silence stretch. Just before it transitioned from awkward to outright uncomfortable, she said, "It's just that I don't like the idea of their killer remaining free."
"I get that," I said. "No one likes to see people they know get murdered. And I get that you liked Esther. But why do you care enough about her and Willie Ackerland to spill your guts to me? Word is you Irgun members are a tight-lipped bunch. Yet here you are, giving me names of other members, telling me all sorts of things, and I don't understand why you're doing it."
"I feel responsible."
"Why would you? Did you have anything to do with their deaths?"
"Of course not," she said vehemently. "How can you think such a thing? It's simply the fact that I had a part in bringing them here, to Tel Aviv, where they ended up dying."
"And you're willing to break the law, act the vigilante, perhaps go to jail for many years just to avenge them? It's more than most people would do."
"Maybe I am not like most people."
That I could believe. But I was still not satisfied with her answers. I leaned forward, elbows on knees, my eyes glued to hers. "That's all it is, Mira? Just some vague sense of responsibility? Nothing more?"
She answered without hesitation. "Nothing more."
I searched for a tell, some sign she was not being truthful. There was nothing. She looked completely honest. I held her gaze for a minute more, and when she didn't flinch or avert her eyes, I gave up. "Okay. I need to get going."
Mira nodded and rose to her feet with me. At the door I turned to her. "If you're keeping anything from me, Mira, now's the time to tell me."
