The Sea of Aaron (10 page)

A gentle tropic breeze caressed the sea, billowed the sails, and caused the graceful schooner to surge forward.

Standing on deck, Valerie recalled her magical childhood days on Rhode Island and the sheer delight of being on an open body of water, riding the waves, becoming a part of nature far more powerful than any human—a part that compelled even the most rebellious to follow her commands.

Aaron knew these commands intrinsically. If he had not encouraged her to work along with him raising the sails, setting the ship in motion, she would have been content just to sit back and watch him handle the lines and rigging.

They were not going very far. He had told her they would be visiting one of several atolls that dotted the coast of Belize, but the destination was not important; it was the journey that mattered.

“You've somehow managed to maintain your sea legs over the years,” he said. “Are you sure you haven't been out sailing since childhood?”

“I haven't,” she admitted. “But some things you just never forget. Like riding a bike, swimming, or even your first love.”

“Who was your first love?” Aaron asked.

Valerie laughed. “Never mind me. I want to hear about you.”

He took his place at the helm as the boat sailed effortlessly now, caught on the breeze. “Where do you want me to start?” His tone was serious.

“Most stories start at the beginning,” Valerie said slowly. “Jasmine told me you were born in Africa to a Jewish father and an African mother, and that your mother died when you were very young. Is that part true?”

“Yes. But I'll start with my father, David Weiss. Contrary to what some people think, Weiss is not a Jewish name, it's German. My father's people were German Jews from Munich, and most of them died during the Holocaust. My father and his older brother, Gabriel, survived because they were living in the United States with an uncle who'd immigrated long ago.”

“How did it come about that your father and his brother were living with their uncle?” Valerie asked.

“His parents, my grandparents, didn't like what was shaping up politically in Germany. They sent both of their sons to live in the United States and they planned to join them later. They waited too long.”

Valerie flinched visibly. “Could you tell me more?”

“My father's uncle was involved in the diamond industry, and he often traveled to the Middle East and Africa, taking his two nephews along with him. He later moved to Africa, and that's how my father came to be associated with Cielo Vista, which was pretty much ruled by Spaniards.”

“You're referring to the Arias dynasty, Noah's people,” Valerie said.

“Yes.”

“My father grew up there, met and married my mother, and, after she died, he left Cielo Vista and went to Israel to join his brother, who'd moved there years ago. That's where I grew up and….”

“Wait,” Valerie said. “Could you tell me how your mother died?”

“She died hours after giving birth to me,” Aaron said emotionlessly. “I don't know the specifics because my father never told me, but I will say that Cielo Vista was very much a third-world country back then and medical standards were primitive. It was common for women to die from childbirth-related complications.”

“I'm sorry,” she said.

“Don't be. It happened a long time ago,” he replied in an offhand way, indicating that he was ready to move on with his story.

“Is your father still living?” she asked.

“No. He's been dead for five years now, but you're jumping way ahead. My father married again, an Israeli woman. I was raised from the age of six on a kibbutz.”

“That's sort of like communal living, isn't it?”

“Yes.”

“Why didn't you live with your father and stepmother?”

“I chose not to.”

“At the age of six? I didn't know six-year-olds were capable of making such decisions.”

“I wasn't your typical six-year-old.”

“Your father wanted this for you?”

“He agreed to it. He was away on business a lot, plus he had other children with his second wife, and she and I didn't bond very well.”

Valerie was alert for any signs of emotion from him, but she saw and heard nothing.

“I suppose you then joined the military as soon as you were old enough.”

“I didn't join. In Israel, military service is compulsory, but I learned a lot from it. I flew bombers when the country was in conflict with Lebanon. Not too proud of some of the events that happened there.”

“I heard you were outstanding.”

“As a pilot and a strategist, maybe, but I was not a good soldier. Soldiers take orders. I prefer to give them, and I hated that in following orders of others, far too many civilians died.”

Nothing surprising about that revelation,
she thought,
especially the part about not liking to take orders.

“Why did you leave Israel and become an American citizen?”

“I didn't leave. I was deported.”

She flinched. His words were as cool and emotionless as everything he'd said thus far. “You must have done something…or been accused of something pretty terrible in order to get deported from your own country.”

“I almost murdered another soldier and I was accused of treason. The treason part wasn't true.”

She sighed. “Why would you attempt to kill a comrade?”

“He murdered a girl I loved.”

Finally, she saw it—a miniscule flash of emotion that appeared and disappeared so quickly from his face that she almost imagined having seen it.

“She was an American citizen of Palestinian origin who lived in New York with her mother and stepfather. It just so happened that on that day she was in Lebanon visiting her biological father and her uncle. The uncle, Abdul Aziz, was a PLO terrorist. She was innocent and had no clue what he was involved in.”

Valerie could see the conflict even without hearing the rest of the story. Aaron was an Israeli soldier in love with a Palestinian girl. Romeo and Juliet of the Middle East. Their story could only end tragically.

“Our assignment was to take out Abdul Aziz, and I had no problem with that. However, I didn't know that she was there with him. She survived the rocket attack on their home, and while we were on ground patrol, she ran out. She called to me and I recognized her. Ben Levy of my commando unit shot her in cold blood. She died in my arms.”

Valerie covered her mouth with her hand. “He didn't know. It was an accident.”

“It was no accident. He knew she was innocent.” Aaron took a deep breath. “He
claimed
she had a weapon and was going to shoot. He made it look as if he killed her to protect me. He also claimed later on that I was a traitor and a double agent for the PLO. It didn't help that I am biracial and that I look more Arab than Jewish.”

“Why? Why would he do all those horrible things?”

“The short version is that Levy and I grew up on the same kibbutz and from childhood there was bad blood between us. He didn't think I should have gotten as far up in the military hierarchy as I did. According to him, I wasn't Jewish enough.”

She reached out and touched his shoulder “I'm so sorry, Aaron. That's awful. I…I'm almost afraid to ask. What exactly did you do to Levy?”

“After the raid, which was considered successful, by the way, there was a victory celebration in some bar. I went berserk and nearly beat Levy to death. After he was down, I just kept beating him. It took nearly ten others to get me under control. Levy was in a coma for nearly a month and suffered some permanent brain damage.”

Valerie remained silent for a long time, listening once more to the sound of the sails and feeling the motion of the ship cleaving the pristine waters. The violence appalled her. She couldn't condone what he had done, yet she could understand his raging outburst. “How old were you then?” she asked.

“Nineteen. My girlfriend was only seventeen.”

“What was her name?” Valerie had an eerie premonition even before she asked.

“Saniyah.”

And now she knew. He hadn't built a shrine to her, but he'd crafted a ship and set her free on the seas.

“Could you go back a little? How did you and Saniyah first meet?”

“I met her a year earlier in New York. We were both taking classes at NYU.”

“So your meeting Saniyah was really ironic…I mean in a bittersweet sort of way. Who would ever believe that of all the people in New York, you, an Israeli, would wind up falling in love with the niece of—”

“A terrorist,” Aaron finished. “Obviously the fates have a twisted sense of humor.”

Valerie sighed. “You don't really want to talk about Saniyah, do you?”

“No. But my reason for not going into detail has nothing to do with grief over a long-lost love. In reality had she lived, I'm sure Saniyah and I would have drifted apart. It's just that I don't believe in rehashing events that occurred years ago.” He squinted in the bright sunlight and put his sunglasses on. “When someone dies, tears and mourning won't bring them back. If I were to dwell on all the senseless tragedies I've witnessed, I would be locked away in a sanitarium babbling incoherently.”

Despite the warm breeze, Valerie shuddered involuntarily. His words made her remember the agony she'd felt when she'd learned of her father's death.

“God remembers,” she said. “He will bring all the innocent ones back.”

Perhaps it was the effect of his sunglasses, but Aaron looked even more distant. “I suppose some take comfort in that belief.”

“And you don't?”

“In their weakness, people are willing to suspend belief in logic and turn to the supernatural as long as it sounds comforting.”

Valerie was appalled by his comment, and she definitely had a comeback, but she was in no mood to start debating religion with him, although she was sure her father would have had the perfect faith-based response. She almost heard his voice, and the voice, minus the agnosticism and the accent, sounded bizarrely like Aaron's. The realization rattled her.

“Have I lost you?” Aaron asked.

“No. It's just something you said. I started thinking about my own past. Nothing anywhere near as dramatic as what you just told me, but we all have our stuff.”

“Tell me.”

“Not now. This conversation is supposed to be about you, remember? We'll get to me later.”

“Not letting me off the hook, I see.”

“Sorry. So, after you were deported, you went to live in the United States?”

“No. I returned to Cielo Vista, because I was offered asylum there by the president, my father's old friend Diego Arias.”

“Noah's father.”

“Yes.”

“He gave me a job in security during his ill-fated regime. I didn't stay in the position very long because he didn't let me do my job.”

“Meaning?”

“I warned him over and over again that members of his own family were conspiring against him…that they were the most ominous threat to his government. Noah believed me and tried to warn his father, too, but he was just a boy. Diego refused to take us seriously—wouldn't allow me to do what should have been done.”

“How did you know about the conspiracy?”

“During my IDF days, I learned a lot about surveillance and covert ops through connections with Mossad, the Israeli version of the CIA.”

The scary stuff,
Valerie thought. “Were you still in Cielo Vista when Noah's father was assassinated?”

“No. I got fed up and went to the United States to live. A few months after I left, Diego was murdered. As you know, Noah and two others survived because they escaped to the mountain area. Later, I was able to sneak them out of the country.”

Valerie nodded. Jasmine had told her that part of the story. “How did you happen to get involved in the United States military?”

A wry smile crossed his face. “They got involved with me. First of all, I no longer work directly for the U.S. or any government, unless I choose to, but in the beginning there were certain people in high places who found my skills useful. I was offered an assignment that corresponded with a need that both the U.S. and Israel had. I found the terms agreeable. I was paid well, and because this assignment was carried out to their satisfaction, I was reinstated with Israel and I can return whenever I choose.”

Valerie's imagination ran wild. She knew he wasn't going to tell her just what that assignment was, and she didn't even want to hear that he was some kind of mercenary or hired assassin. But if that indeed had been the case, there obviously had to have been some justification. Even though there were things she did not know about him, she couldn't see him as a cold-blooded murderer.