I got a cigarette out, but didn't light it, just rolled it between thumb and forefinger. "Michael Shamir doesn't deserve to be eviscerated in the paper."

Birnbaum inclined his bald head. "No? He killed a woman and stole a child. I think that's more than enough reason to disembowel him, figuratively speaking of course." He narrowed his eyes at me. "Why do you care about him?"

Because I owe him for rescuing me from Alon Davidson, I thought. But if I said that, Birnbaum would demand elaboration, and I did not want to get into that. I also couldn't tell him that I feared Mira's reaction when she read Birnbaum's column filleting her hero in the newspaper she hated.

I said, "Because he did some good things. As a soldier and in the Irgun."

"The latter won't do him any good as far as my editors at Davar are concerned. The Irgun is our political foe, Adam, you know that. They won't allow me to squander an opportunity to tarnish the Irgun's reputation." He cast a quick look around, then leaned toward me, lowering his voice to little more than a whisper. "Listen, Adam, despite being a supporter of Mapai, I don't hate the Irgun. In fact—and if you repeat this to anyone, I'll vehemently deny it—I rather admire them. They're fanatics, but you won't find tougher, more dedicated warriors. Without them, we might still have the British lording over us." He leaned back, examining my face. "I ask again, why do you care about Shamir? Some sort of camaraderie between soldiers?"

"Something like that," I said.

"Aha," said Birnbaum. "Somehow I don't think that's quite it, Adam. I think you're hiding something, which in turn makes me very curious."

"Stop digging, Shmuel. There's nothing to find."

"If you say so, Adam." He tapped his chin with two fingers. "Normally I wouldn't let it go at that, but today I'm feeling generous. This story you brought me has made me rather fond of you. Regarding Michael Shamir, I do plan on mentioning his role in the Irgun of course, and his military service. But I can tell you right now that neither would negate his crimes in the eyes of the public."

"As a favor to me, Shmuel, tone it down as much as you can."

He nodded. "Very well, Adam. For you, I'll do what I can." He turned his eyes toward the door and the street beyond. "Do you think she'll be all right? Now that she has found her son?"

I stuck the cigarette between my lips and lit it up. "You can help her become all right, Shmuel."

He turned his eyes to me. "How?"

"Use your influence to get the kibbutz to accept her as a member. That way she can be with her son without tearing him away from his friends and familiar surroundings."