Milligan’s face appeared to him with clarity. Young and beautiful, she was a brilliant attorney at the top of her career. She was a woman with a mission. Decker mused about the nature of her mission as he started the car and drove to the hotel.

In the daylight, the Tel Aviv apartments didn’t look any less slummy and the neighborhood didn’t look any less poor. The sun only highlighted the defects. Decker saw the years of wear on the buildings—the crumbling plaster, the two-tone patch-up jobs, the lines of drying laundry strung from window to window. Though the main roads of the city were smooth, many of the side lanes were dirt ruts. He clucked his tongue.

“What’s wrong?” Rina asked.

“The way the news reports Israel…it makes it seem like it’s this big fat cat of a country preying on its impoverished neighbors. I don’t know…it looks so poor itself.”

“It certainly isn’t a fat cat,” Rina said. “But it’s not poor. You’re just thinking like an American. I’ll bet almost every apartment here has a color TV and a VCR.”

“So do ghetto kids.”

She turned to him. “Even though the area where the Yaloms live is solidly middle class by Israeli standards, don’t expect too much.”

Decker said, “I’m just wondering, where are the homes and the yards and the playsets?”

“City living means apartment living—like Manhattan. There’s not enough room for anything else. There are parks…not Central Park, but little corner places. If you want real countryside, Israel has plenty of farms or moshavs—collective farms. You miss your horses, Peter. I’ll find some for you.”

“Are you being sarcastic at ten in the morning?”

Rina smiled. “I think of it as acculturating you.”

“You’re making fun of me. Like I’m this big, dumb goy who doesn’t know shit from shinola—”

“You’re not dumb and you’re not a goy—”

“I need you for this assignment, Rina. I’m the first one to say that. Can we have a cooperative, respectful, working relationship?”

Rina took his hand. “I’m sorry, Peter. I know you’re dealing with something very serious.”

The car grew quiet. Decker said, “I liked the breakfast buffet the hotel gave us this morning. You can eat enough to get by for the entire day.” He smiled. “Even if you don’t surreptitiously wrap rolls with tissues and hide them in your purse.”

Rina sighed. “Now who’s mocking?”

“Why do they do that?”

“They?”

“I mean the tourists—”

“You mean the Jewish tourists.”

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” Decker exclaimed. “You know, Israel may not be fancy, but it isn’t shtetl Poland. The country’s not going to run out of food. Not to mention the fact that the nefarious roll stuffer could afford to lose a few pounds.”

“It just gets thrown out anyway.”