LEON URIS
PUBLISHER'S NOTE
We are happy to assure readers that all Bantam editions of EXODUS, like
the great majority of Bantam Books, are complete and unabridged
the original book, word for word.
"A swift, savage story .. . searing in its intensity and illuminating
in its insight."
NEW YORK HERALD TRIBUNE
"Tremendously exciting ... a giant of a novel; one that takes a
Tolstoyan grip on the struggle of the
Jews for a homeland .. . heartwarming."
SAN FRANCISCO EXAMINER
"A superlative storysuperlative indeedof a people in pursuit of a
dream two thousand years old."
CHRISTIAN HERALD
"A rich novel of Israel's birth .. . Written at white heat."
CHICAGO TRIBUNE
"Passionate summary of the inhuman treatment of the Jewish people in
Europe, of the exodus in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries to
Palestine and of the triumphant founding of the new Israel."
NEW YORK TIMES
The lowpriced Bantam Book has been completely reset in a type face
designed for easy reading, and was printed from new plates.
It
contains the complete text of the original hardcover edition.
NOT ONE WORD HAS BEEN OMITTED.
&
Inc.
30 printings through 1964
Bookof theMonth Club edition published September 1959 Bantam edition
published October 1939
2nd printing October 1959 3rd printing October 1959 4th printing
October 1959 3th printing October 1939 6th printing October 1939 7th
printing August 1960
8th printing September 1960 9th printing October 1960 10th printing
November I960 11th printing January 1961 12th printing February 1961
13th printing April 1961
14th printing June 1961
15th printing August 1961
16th printing September 1961 17th printing November 1961 18th printing
May 1962
38th printing 39th printing 40th printing 41st printing 42nd printing
20th printing November 1962 21st printing November 1963 22nd printing
June 1964
26th printing September 1963 27th printing September 1963 28th printing
July 1966
31st printing July 1967
32nd printing August 1967
33rd printing October 1967
34th printing April 1968
37th printing September 1969
Copyright 1958 by Lean M. Uris.
This book may not be reproduced In whole or In part, by mimeograph or
any other means, without permission.
For Information address: Doubleday & Company, Inc.,
277 Park Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10017.
Published simultaneously In the United States and Canada
Bantam Books are published by Bantam Books, Inc."
a National General
company.
Its trademark, consisting of the words "Bantam Books" and
the portrayal of a bantam.
Is registered In the United States Patent
Office and In other countries.
Marca Reglstrada.
Bantam Books, Inc."
666 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10019.
FEINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
MY DAUGHTER, KAREN
AND THEIR MOTHER
Most of the events in Exodus are a matter of history and public record.
Many of the scenes were created around historical incidents
for the
purpose of fiction.
There may be persons alive who took part in events similar to those
described in this book.
It is possible, therefore, that some of them
may be mistaken for characters in this book.
Let me emphasize that all characters in Exodus are the complete
creation of the author, and entirely fictional.
The exceptions, of course, are those public figures mentioned by name,
such as Churchill, Truman, Pearson, and the rest who were related to
this particular period.
book 2 The Land Is Mine, 189
book 3 An Eye for an Eye, 309
book 4 Awake in Glory, 453
book 5 With Wings as Eagles, 555
A NOTE OF THANKS
The space covered in my gathering of material for Exodus was nearly
fifty thousand miles.
The yards of recording tape used, the number of
interviews, the tons of research books, and the number of film
exposures and vanished greenbacks make equally impressive figures.
During the course of two years, tens of dozens of people gave me their
time, energy, and confidence.
I was twice blessed every foot of the
way with uncommon cooperation and faith.
It is unfortunate, but the sheer weight of numbers precludes my
thanking everyone here.
Such listing would fill a volume in itself.
1 would be less than grateful if I did not acknowledge the efforts of
those two men who were truly instrumental in making Exodus a reality.
I hope I am not setting a dangerous precedent by publicly thanking my
agent.
Exodus evolved out of a conversation at lunch and became a
tangible project because of the dogged persistence of Malcolm Stuart.
He refused to give up the idea despite a dozen setbacks.
I most humbly thank Ilan Hartuv of Jerusalem.
He made my arrangements,
and traveled with me over every foot of Israel by train, plane,
go.
Mainly, I thank Ilan for sharing with me his vast knowledge of the
subject.
BOOK 1
"Tbeyond Jordan
Until the Lord ha we given rest unto ycmr brethren, as will as unto
tjtm, awl until they alsojjossess the.
land whicU The Lord if our God hath given them beyond Jordan: and then
shall ye. return every man.
unto his possession, which I have, qiven you..
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE
The airplane plipplopped down the runway to a halt before the big
sign: WELCOME TO CYPRUS.
Mark Parker looked out of the window and in
the distance he could see the jagged wonder of the Peak of Five Fingers
of the northern coastal range.
In an hour or so he would be driving
through the pass to Kyrenia.
He stepped into the aisle, straightened
out his necktie, rolled down his sleeves, and slipped into his
jacket.
"Welcome to Cyprus, welcome to Cyprus .. ."
It ran through his head.
It was from Othello, he thought, but the full quotation slipped his
mind.
"Anything to declare?"
the customs inspector said.
"Two pounds of uncut heroin and a manual of pornographic art," Mark
answered, looking about for Kitty.
All Americans are comedians, the inspector thought, as he passed Parker
through.
A government tourist hostess approached him.
"Guilty."
"Mrs.
Kitty Fremont phoned to say she is unable to meet you at the
airport and for you to come straight to Kyrenia to the Dome Hotel.
She
has a room there for you."
"Thanks, angel.
Where can I get a taxi to Kyrenia?"
"I'll arrange a car for you, sir.
It will take a few moments."
"Can I get a transfusion around here?"
"Yes, sir.
The coffee counter is straight down the hall."
Mark leaned against the counter and sipped a steaming cup of black
coffee .. . "Welcome to Cyprus .. . welcome to Cyprus" ... he couldn't
for the life of him remember.
"Say!" a voice boomed out.
"I thought I recognized you on the plane.
You're Mark Parker! I bet
you don't remember me."
Fill in one of the following, Mark thought.
It was: Rome, Paris,
London, Madrid (and match carefully); Jose's Bar, James's Pub,
Jacques's Hideaway, Joe's Joint.
At the time I was covering: war,
revolution, insurrection.
That particular night I had a: blonde,
brunette, redhead (or maybe that broad with two heads).
The man stood nose to nose with Mark, gushing on all eight cylinders
now.
V
they didn't have orange bitters.
Now do you remember me!
Mark sighed,
sipped some coffee, and braced for another 01 slaught.
"I know you hear this all the time but I really enjo reading your
columns.
Say, what are you doing in Cyprus The man then winked and
jabbed Mark in the ribs.
"Som thing hushhush, I bet.
Why don't we get together for a drink?
I'm staying at the Palace in Nicosia."
A business card w slapped into
Mark's hand.
"Got a few connections here, too The man winked again.
"Oh, Mr. Parker.
Your car is ready."
Mark put the cup down on the counter.
"Nice seeing yoi again," he said, and walked out quickly.
As he
departed dropped the business card into a trash basket.
The taxi headed out from the airport.
Mark rested back am closed his
eyes for a moment.
He was glad that Kitty couldn' get to the airport
so much to remember.
Hi felt a surge of excitement pass through him at
the thought o seeing her again.
Kitty, beautiful, beautiful, Kitty. As
th taxi passed through the outer gates Mark was already lost ii
thought.
. Katherine Fremont.
She was one of those great American traditions
like Mom's apple pie, hot dogs, and the Brooklyn Dodgers.
For Kitty
Fremont was the prover bia "girl next door."
She was the cliche of
pigtails, freckles, torn boys, and braces on the teeth; and true to the
cliche the braces came off one day, the lipstick went on and the sweate
popped out and the ugly duckling had turned into a gracefu swan.
Mark
smiled to himself she was so beautiful those days, so fresh and clean
. and Tom Fremont.
He was another American tradition Tom was the
crewcut kid with the boyish grin who couk run the hundred in ten flat,
sink a basket from thirty feet out, cut a rug, and put a Model A
together blindfolded.
Tom Fremont had been Mark's best pal as long as
he could re member for as far back as he could remember.
We must have
been weaned together, Mark thought.
. Tom and Kitty .. . apple pie and ice cream .. . hot dogs and mustard.
The allAmerican boy, the allAmerican girl, and the allAmerican
Midwest of Indiana.
Yes, Tom and Kitty fitted together like the rain
and springtime.
was a tinge of sadness in her eyes.
Perhaps it was only Mark who
detected that sadness, for she was joy itself to everyone around her.
Kitty had been one of those wonderful towers of strength.
She always
had both hands on the rudder, always had the right words to say, always
decent
id thoughtful.
But that sadness was there..
.. Mark knew if no one
else did.
Mark often wondered what made her so desirable.
Maybe was because she
seemed so unreachable to him.
The ed champagnethe look and the word
that could tear a nan to pieces.
Anyhow, Kitty had always been Tom's
girl nd the most he could do was envy Tom.
Tom and Mark were roommates at State University.
That irst year Tom
was absolutely miserable being away from Sitty.
Mark remembered the
hours on end he would have to is ten to Tom's mournful laments and
console him.
Summer came, Kitty went off to Wisconsin with her
parents.
She was still a highschool girl and her folks wanted to
dampen the fervor of the affair with a separation.
Tom and Mark
hitchhiked to Oklahoma to work in the oil fields.
By the time school started again Tom had cooled down considerably.
To
remain in Mark's company one had to sample the field.
The times
between Tom and Kitty's letters lengthened and the times between Tom's
dates on the campus shortened.
It began to look like a strikeout for
the college hero and the girl back home.
and generally make a name for himself as one of the worst journalism
students in the university's history.
Kitty came to State as a freshman.
Lightning struck!
Mark could see Kitty a thousand times and it was always as exciting as
the first.
This time Tom saw her the same way.
They eloped a month before Tom's graduation.
Tom and Kitty, Mark and
Ellen, a Model A Ford, and four dollars and ten cents crossed the state
line and sought out a justice of the peace.
Their honeymoon was in the
back seat of the Model A, bogged down in the mud of a back road and
leaking like a sieve in a downpour.
It was an auspicious beginning for
the allAmerican couple.
Tom and Kitty kept their marriage a secret until a full year after his
graduation.
Kitty stayed on at State to finish her prenursing
training.
Nursing and Kitty seemed to go together, too, Mark always
thought.
Tom worshiped Kitty.
He had always been a bit wild and too
independent, but he settled down to very much the devoted husband He
firm. They moved to Chicago.
Kitty nursed in Children's Hospital.
They inched their way up,
typical American style.
First an apartment and then a smalplete
inability to find h routine reporting cut that crc home.
A new car,
monthly bills, big hopes.
Kitty becamfman and the Am!fV ie to attempt
the life of a creative pregnant with Sandra.
ativity. Yet he had no
uc nam would not take the_ de Mark's thoughts snapped as the taxi
slowed through the writer.
He knew mat mA f^ ^^ .q limbo being neitner
outskirts of Nicosia, the capital city that sat on the fla man ds on a
noveiis .
brown plain be ween the northern and southern mount ai fish nor fowl.
from Tom> and it would be
" *"E'sli'hr M'k *ked
MS^j^SAW'is 3 "They've got a sign at the
airport, Welcome
to Cyprus The letters were also What is the full
quotation?" their baby girl, Sandra.
^ A calm appraisal of
"As far as I know," the driver answered, "they're just try Mark
remembered toy Mark posted on it to be polite to tourists."
Tom's
effervescence. Kitty away' v
They entered Nicosia proper.
The flatness, the yellow Ellen's
whereabouts ^ Al for Mark Parker.
Th ere was stone houses with their
red tiled roofs, the sea of date palms In 1938 uthefi'WA ;n Sn with
American News Syndicate, all reminded Mark of Damascus.
The road ran
ancient Venetian wall which was built in a perfect circl< and Mark was
suuu J f & foreign correspondent, and surrounded the old city.
Mark
could see the twin min
burn" into the re spe aD j^ ^ ^ & talented
journey arets that spiraled over the skyline from the Turkish section
In his capacity and his desire for creatmty oy of the old city. The
minarets that belonged to St.
Sophia's, man.
He wasjawe u> f^ him ^
aQ individualas MarK that magnificent crusader cathedral turned into
a Moslem developing a styiei ui* ^ ^ no means a worldbeater mosque.
As they drove along the wall they passed the enor, Parker and no one
else..^.^ rf a crack foreign mous ramparts shaped like arrowheads.
Mark remembered but he did Have " to smell out a story in the maKing.
from his last visit to Cyprus that there was the odd number
correspondent: a n aw i y ^ covered Europe, Asia, and of eleven of
these arrowheads jutting from the wall.
He was The world was a otfaer
Re had a tltie> he was about to ask the driver why eleven but decided
not to.
Africa from one enu ^^ ^ gQod at joses uar.
In a matter of moments they were out of Nicosia and mov
doing work e J
.
,s Hideaway, and he had an ing north on the plain.
They passed one
village after', ?amess P.l!r y^of candidates for his blonde,
brunette, or another, monotonously similar, made of gray mudbrick
cottages. inexhaustible i
Each village had one water fountain which
war ?"
fa London for a few days where a Majesty, the King of England.
In the colorless fields the!
was good to sit and Kitty would be
waitingpeasants labored with the potato crop, working behind those sta
pounds f 5^/942 Tom Fremont enlisted in the Marine Corps.
"a^yA5SSS^ii*As^dhdflf
P M ark took emergency leave to 2 S'nfsea^d time he arrived Kitty
Fremont had disi^ppeared. ^
^Sttf^<gsgs Z S. %s^zs ss*' ^on
r* magnificent beasts, the Cyprus
mules.
The taxi picked up speed again and Mark sank back to his reveries.
. Mark and Ellen had gotten married a little after Tom and Kitty.
It
was a mistake from the first day.
Two nice people not made for each
other.
Kitty Fremont's quiet and gentle wisdom held Mark and Ellen
together.
They both could come to her and pour their hearts out. Kitty
kept the marriage intact long after time had run out.
Then it broke
wide open and they were divorced.
Mark was thankful there had been no
children.
After the divorce Mark moved East and began banging around from job to
the world's worst newspaperman.
was not stupidity nor lack of talent, but come in a brilliant series,
until the top Nazis were hanged, only few months back.
ANS granted Mark a muchneeded leave of absence before transferring him
to Palestine, where it appeared local war was brewing.
To spend his
leave in the accepted Mark Parker fashion, he chased down a passionate
French UN girl he had;
met earlier, who had been transferred to the United Nations^ Relief in
Athens.
It all happened from a clear blue sky.
He was sitting in the American
Bar, passing the time of day with a group of fellow newsmen, when the
conversation somehow drifted to a particular American nurse in Salonika
doing fabulous work with Greek orphans.
One of the correspondents had
just returned from there with a story on her orphanage.
The nurse was Kitty Fremont.
Mark inquired immediately and discovered that she was i on vacation in
Cyprus.
The taxi began to move upwards, out of the plain, on a twisting little
over to the side.
He stepped out and looked down at the magnificent jewel like little
town of Kyrenia nestled against the sea at the foot of the mountain. To
the left and above him stood the ruins of St.
Hilarion Castle, haunted
with the memory of Richard the LionHearted and his beautiful
Berengaria.
He made a mental note to come back again with Kitty.
It was nearing dark as they reached Kyrenia.
The little town was all
white plaster and red tiled roofs, with the castle above it and the sea
beside it.
Kyrenia was picturesque and remote and quaint to a point
where it could not have been more picturesque or remote or quaint. They
passed the miniature harbor, filled with fishing smacks and small
yachts, set inside two arms of a sea wall.
Onone arm was the quay. On
the other arm stood an ancient fortress rampart, the Virgin Castle.
Kyrenia had long been a retreat for artists and retired British Army
officers.
It was, indeed, one of the most peaceful places on earth.
A block away from the harbor stood the Dome Hotel.
Physically the big building
seemed outsized and out of place for the
rest of the sleepy little town.
The Dome, however, had become a
crossroads of the British Empire.
It was known in every corner of the
maze of public rooms and terraces and verandas sitting over the sea.
A
long pier of a
hundred yards or more connected the hotel to a tiny island offshore
used by swimmers and sun bathers.
The taxi pulled to a stop.
The bellboy gathered in Mark's luggage.
Mark paid off his driver and looked about.
It was November but it was
warmish yet and it was serene.
What a wonderful place for a reunion
with Kitty Fremont!
Mark darling:
I am stuck in Famagusta until nine o'clock.
Will you ever forgive
me??? Dying with anxiety. Love.
Kitty
"I want some flowers, a bottle of scotch, and a bucket of ice," Mark
said.
"Mrs.
Fremont has taken care of everything," the room clerk said,
handing a key to the bellboy.
"You have adjoining rooms overlooking the sea."
Mark detected a smirk on the clerk's face.
It was the same kind of
dirty look he had seen in a hundred hotels with a hundred women.
He
was about to set the record straight but decided to let the clerk think
anything he damned well pleased.
He gathered in the view of the sea as it turned dark, then he unpacked
and mixed himself a scotch and water and drank it while he soaked in a
steaming tub.
Seven o'clock .. . still two hours to wait
He opened the door of Kitty's room.
It smelled good.
Her bathing suit
and some freshly washed hosiery hung over the bathtub.
Her shoes were
lined up beside the bed and her makeup on the vanity.
Mark smiled.
Even with Kitty gone the empty room was full of the character of an
unusual person.
He went back and stretched out on his bed.
What had the years done to
her? What had the tragedy done?
Kitty, beautiful Kitty .. . please be
all right.
It was now November of 1946, Mark figured; when was the
last time he saw her?
Nineteen thirtyeight .. . just before he went to Berlin for ANS. Eight
The excitement and tension caught up with Mark.
He was tired and he
began to doze.
The tinkle of ice cubes, a sweet sound to Mark Parker, brought him out
of a deep sleep.
He rubbed his eyes and groped around for a
cigarette.
accent said.
"I knocked for five minutes.
The bellboy let me in Hope you don't mind
me helping myself to the whisky."
The voice belonged to Major Fred Caldwell of the British Army.
Mark
yawned, stretched himself into wakefulness, and checked his watch.
It
was eightfifteen.
"What the hell are you doing on Cyprus?"
Mark asked. |
"I believe that is my question."
i
Mark lit a cigarette and looked at Caldwell.
He didn't like the major
nor did he hate him.
"Despise" was the suitable word.
They had met before twice.
Caldwell
had been the aide of Colonel, later Brigadier, Bruce Sutherland, quite
a good field officer in the British Army.
Their first meeting had been
in the lowlands near Holland during the war.
In one of his reports
Mark had pointed out a British tactical blunder that had caused a
regiment of men to get cut to pieces.
The second meeting had been at
the Nuremberg war crimes trials which Mark was covering for ANS.
enter the BergenBelsen concentration camp in Germany.
Both Sutherland
and Caldwell had come to Nuremberg to give testimony.
Mark walked to the bathroom, washed his face with icy water, and fished
around for a towel.
"What can I do for you, Freddie?"
"CID phoned over to our headquarters this afternoon and told us you
landed.
You haven't been issued credentials."
"Christ, you're a suspicious bunch of bastards.
Sorry to disappoint
you, Freddie. I'm here on vacation
en route to Palestine."
"This isn't an official call, Parker," Caldwell said; "just say we are
a bit touchy over past relationships."
"You have long memories," Mark said, and began dressing.
Caldwell mixed Mark a drink.
Mark studied the British officer and
wondered why Caldwell always managed to rub him the wrong way.
There
was that arrogance about him that stamped him as a member of that
quaint breed, the Colonizer.
Caldwell was a stuffy and narrowminded
bore.
A gentleman's game of tennis, in whites ... a bashing gin and
the utter lack of it that bothered Mark.
The meaning of right and
wrong came to Caldwell through an army manual or an order.
"You boys covering up some duty work on Cyprus?"
"Don't be a bore, Parker.
We own this island and we want to know what
you want here."
"You know .. . that's what I like about you British.
A Dutchman would
"A girl named Kitty Fremont."
"Kitty, the nurse.
Yes, smashing woman, smashing.
We met at the
governor's a few days back."
Freddie Cald well's eyebrows raised
questioningly as he looked at the connecting door to Kitty's room,
which stood ajar.
"I've known her for twentyfive years."
"Then, as you Americans sayeverything's on the up and up."
"That's right and from this point on your visit becomes social, so get
out."
Freddie Caldwell smiled and set down his glass and tucked the swagger
stick under his arm.
"Freddie Caldwell," Mark said.
"What in the devil are you talking about?"
"This is 1946, Major.
A lot of people read the campaign slogans in the
last war and believed them.
You're a dollar short and an hour late.
You're going to lose the whole shooting match .. . first it's going to
be India, then Africa, then the Middle East.
I'll be there to watch
you lose the Palestine mandate.
They're going to boot you out of even
Suez and TransJordan.
The sun is setting on the empire, Freddie .
what is your wife going to do without forty little black boys to
whip?"
You have that terrible American tendency toward being over dramatic
Corny is the word, I think.
Besides, old boy, I don't have a wife."
"You boys are polite."
"Remember, Parker, you are on vacation.
I'll give Brigadier Sutherland
your regards. Cheerio."
Mark smiled and shrugged.
Then it came back to him.
The sign at the
airport..
.. welcome to cyprus: william shakespeare.
The full quote
was"Welcome to Cyprus, goats and monkeys."
CHAPTER TWO: During the hours in which Mark Parker awaited his
longdelayed reunion with Kitty Fremont, two other men awaited a
reunion of a far different sort in a different part of Cyprus.
Forty
miles away from Kyrenia, north of the port city of Famagusta, they
waited in a forest.
It was cloudy, sockedin with no light from the sky.
The two men stood
in utter silence and squinted through the dark toward the bay a half
mile down the hill.
f
They were in an abandoned white house on the hill in the ' midst of a
forest of pines and eucalyptus and acacias.
It was still and black
except for a wisp of wind and the muffled unsteady breathing of the two
men.
One of the men was a Greek Cypriot, a forest service ranger,
and he was
nervous.
The other man appeared as calm as a statue, never moving his eyes from
the direction of the water.
His name was David Ben Ami.
His name
meant David, Son of My People.
The clouds began to break.
Light fell over the still waters of the bay
and on the forest and the white house.
David Ben Ami stood in the
window and the light played on his face.
He was a man of slight build
in his early twenties.
Even in the poor light his thin face and his deep eyes showed the
sensitivity of a scholar.
As the clouds swept away, the light crept over fields of broken marble
Broken stone.
The mortal remains of the oncegreat city of Salamis
which stood mighty in the time of Christ.
What history lay beneath
this ground and throughout the fields of marble!
Salamis, founded in
times barely recorded by men, by the warrior Teucer on his return from
the Trojan Wars.
It fell by earthquake and it rose again and it fell once more to the
Arab sword under the banner of Islam, never to arise again.
The light
danced over the acres and acres of thousands of broken columns where a
great Greek forum once stood.
The clouds closed and it was dark again.
"He is long overdue," the Greek Cypriot forest ranger whispered
nervously.
"Listen," David Ben Ami said.
A faint sound of a boat's motor was heard from far out on the water.
David Ben Ami lifted his field glasses, hoping for a break in the
clouds.
The sound of the motor grew louder.
A flash of light streaked out from the water
toward the white house on
the hill. Another flash. Another.
David Ben Ami and the forest ranger raced from the white house, down
the hill, and through the rubble and the woods till they reached the
shore line.
Ben Ami returned the signal with his own flashlight.
The sound of the motor stopped.
A shadowy figure of a man slipped over the side of the boat and began
to swim toward the shore.
David Ben Ami cocked his Sten gun and looked
up and down the beach for
signs of a British patrol.
The figure
emerged from the deep water and
waded in.
"An," he answered back, "this way, quickly."
On the beach the three men ran past the white house and onto a dirt
road.
A taxi waited, hidden in the brush.
Ben Ami thanked the Cypriot forest ranger, and he and the man from the
boat sped off in the direction of Famagusta.
"My cigarettes are soaked," Ari said.
David Ben Ami passed him a pack.
A brief flame glowed over the face of
the man who was called Ari.
He was large and husky, in complete
contrast to the small Ben Ami.
His face was handsome but there was a
set hardness in his eyes.
He was Ari Ben Canaan and he was the crack agent of the Mossad Aliyah
Betthe illegal organization.
CHAPTER THREE: There was a knock on Mark Parker's door.
He opened it.
Katherine Fremont stood before him.
She was even more beautiful than he remembered.
They stared at each
other silently for a long time.
He studied her face and her eyes.
She
was a woman now, soft and compassionate in the way one gets only
through terrible suffering.
"I ought to break your damned neck for not answering my letters," Mark
said.
"Hello, Mark," she whispered.
They fell into each other's arms and clung to each other.
Then for the first hour they spoke little but contented themselves with
looking at each other, with quick smiles, occasional pressing of hands,
and affectionate kisses on the cheek.
At dinner they made small talk, mostly of Mark's adventures as a
foreign correspondent.
Then Mark became aware that Kitty was steering
all the conversation away from any talk of herself.
The final dish of cheeses came.
Mark poured the last of his Keo beer
and another of the many awkward silent periods followed.
Now Kitty was
obviously growing uncomfortable under his questioning stare.
"Come on," he said, "let's take a walk to the harbor."
"I'll get my stole," she said.
They walked silently along the quay lined with white buildings and onto
the sea wall and out to the lighthouse which stood at the narrow
opening of the harbor.
It was cloudy and they could see but dim
outlines of the little boats resting at anchor.
They watched the
lighthouse blink out to sea, guiding a trawler toward the shelter of
the har
r bor.
A soft wind blew through Kitty's golden hair.
She tightened
the stole over her shoulders.
Mark lit a cigarette and sat on the
wall. It was deathly still.
"I've made you very unhappy by coming here," he said, "I'll leave
tomorrow."
"I don't want you to go," she said.
She looked away out to *' the
sea.
"I don't know how I felt when I received your cable.
It k opened the
door on a lot of memories that I have tried aw
f fully hard to bury.
Yet I knew that one day this minute would come ... in a way I've
dreaded it ... in a way, I'm glad it's here."
"It's been four years since Tom got
killed.
Aren't you ever going to
shake this?"
"Women lose husbands in
war," she whispered.
"I cried for Tom.
We were very much in love, but I knew I would go on
living.
I don't even know how he died."
"There wasn't much to it," Mark said.
"Tom was a marine and he went in to take a beach with ten thousand
other marines.
A bullet hit him and he died.
No hero, no medals .. .
no time to say, 'tell Kitty I love her."
Just got hit by a bullet and
died .. . that's it."
The blood drained from her face.
Mark lit a cigarette and handed it to
her.
"Why did Sandra die?
Why did my baby have to die too?"
"I'm not God.
I can't answer that."
She sat beside Mark on the sea wall and rested her head on his shoulder
and sighed unevenly.
"I guess there is no place left for me to run," she said.
"Why don't you tell me about it."
"I can't .. ."
A half dozen times Kitty tried to speak, but her voice held only short
disconnected whispers.
The years of terror were locked deep in her.
She threw the cigarette into the water and looked at Mark.
He was
right and he was the only one in the world she could confide in.
"It was pretty terrible," she said, "when I got the telegram about Tom,
I loved him so.
Just .. . just two months after that Sandra died of
polio.
I ... I don't remember too much.
My parents took me away to Vermont and put me in a home."
"Asylum?"
"No .. . that's the name they give it for poor people .. .
they called mine a rest home for a breakdown.
I don't know how many
months passed there.
I couldn't remember everything.
I was in a complete fog day and night.
Melancholia, they call it."
Suddenly Kitty's voice became steady.
The door had
opened and the torment was finding its way out.
"One day the veil over my mind lifted and I remembered that Tom and
Sandra were dead.
A pain clung to me.
Everything every minute of the
day reminded me of them.
Every time I heard a song, every time I heard
laughter .. . every time I saw a child.
Every breath I took hurt me. I
prayed ... I prayed, Mark, that the fog would fall on me again.
Yes, I
prayed I'd go insane so I couldn't remember."
She stood up tall and straight and the tears streamed down her
cheeks.
"I ran away to New York.
Tried to bury myself in the throngs.
I had
four walls, a chair, a table, a swinging light bulb."
She let out a
short ironic laugh.
"There was even a flickering neon sign outside my window.
Corny,
wasn't it?
I'd walk aimlessly for hours on the streets till all the
faces were a blur, or I'd sit and look out of the window for days at a
time.
Tom, Sandra, Tom, Sandra ... it never
left me for a moment."
Kitty felt Mark behind her.
His hands gripped her shoulders.
Out in
the water the trawler was nearing the opening between the arms of the
sea wall.
She brushed her cheek against Mark's hand.
"One night I drank too much.
You know me .. . I'm a terrible drinker.
I saw a boy in a green uniform like Tom's.
He was lonely and crewcut and tall .. . like Tom.
We drank together
... I woke
up in a cheap, dirty hotel room .. . God knows where.
I was
still half drunk.
I staggered to the mirror and I looked at myself.
I
was naked.
The boy was naked too .. . sprawled out on the bed."
"Kitty, for God's sake ..."
"It's all right, Mark ... let me finish.
I stood there looking in that
mirror ... I don't know how long.
I had reached the bottom of my life.
There was no place lower for me.
That moment..
. that second I was
done. The boy was unconscious .
strange ... I don't even remember his
name.
I saw his razor blades in the bathroom and the gas pipe from the
ceiling and for a minute or an hour ... I don't know how long I stood
looking down ten stories over the sidewalk.
The end of my life had
come but I did not have the strength to take it.
Then a strange thing
happened, Mark.
I knew that I was going to go on living without Tom
and Sandra and suddenly the pain was gone."
"Kitty, darling.
I wanted so much to find you and help you."
"I know.
But it was something I had to fight out myself, I suppose.
I
over in Europe I took on this Greek orphanage it was a
twentyfourhouraday job.
That's what I needed of course, to work
myself to the limit. Mark
... I ... I've started a hundred letters to you.
Somehow I've been
too terrified of this minute.
I'm glad now, I'm glad it's over."
"I'm glad I found you," Mark said.
She spun around and faced him.
"..
. so that is the story of what has
become of Kitty Fremont."
Mark took her hand and they began walking back along the sea wall to
?!
CHAPTER FOUR: Brigadier Bruce Sutherland sat behind a big desk as
military commander of Cyprus in his house on Hippocrates Street in
Famagusta, some forty miles from Ky renia.
Except for small telltale
tracesa slight roll around his middle and a whitening of the hair
about his templesSutherland's appearance belied his fiftyfive years.
His ramrod posture clearly identified a military man.
A sharp knock
sounded on the door and his aide, Major Fred Caldwell, entered.
"Good evening, Caldwell.
Back from Kyrenia already?
Have a chair."
Sutherland shoved the papers aside, stretched, and put
dipped it into a humidor of Dunhill mix.
Caldwell thanked the
brigadier
for a cigar and the two men soon clouded the room in smoke.
The Greek houseboy appeared in answer to a buzz.
"Gin and tonic twice."
Sutherland arose and walked into the full light.
He was wearing a deep
red velvet smoking jacket.
He settled into a leather chair before the
high shelves of books.
"Yes, sir."
Caldwell shrugged.
"On the face of it we certainly can't accuse him of anything.
He is on
the way to Palestine .. .
here to see that American nurse, Katherine Fremont."
"So I say, sir, it all appears quite innocent .. . yet, Parker is a
reporter and I can't forget that trouble he caused us in Holland."
"Oh, come now," Sutherland retorted, "we all made
blunders in the war.
He just happened to catch one of ours.
Fortunately our side won, and I
don't think there are ten people who remember."
The gin and tonics arrived.
"Cheers."
Sutherland set his glass down and patted his white walrus mustache.
Fred Caldwell wasn't satisfied.
"Sir," he persisted, "in case Parker does become curious and does
decide to snoop around, don't you think it would be wise to have a
couple of CID men watching him?"
"See here, you leave him alone.
Just tell a newspaperman 'no' and
you're apt to stir up a hornet's nest.
Refugee stories are out of
style these days and I don't believe he would be interested in their
camps here.
None the less we are not going to run the risk of arousing
his curiosity by forbidding him to do anything.
If you ask me I think
it was a mistake for you to see him today."
"But, Brigadier .. . after that trouble in Holland .. ."
"Bring the chess table, Freddie!"
There was something absolutely final about the way Sutherland said
"Freddie."
Caldwell grumbled under his breath as they set up the
chessmen.
They made their opening moves but Sutherland could see that
his aide was unhappy.
He set down his pipe and leaned back.
"Caldwell, I have tried to explain to you that we are not running
detained on Cyprus until those blockheads in Whitehall decide what they
are going to do with the Palestine mandate."
"But those Jews are so unruly," Caldwell said, "I'm certainly in favor
of some good oldfashioned discipline."
"No, Freddie, not this time.
These people are not criminals and
they've got world sympathy on their side.
It is your job and mine to
see that there are no riots, no outbreaks, and nothing that can be used
as propaganda against us.
Do you understand that?"
Caldwell didn't understand.
He damned well thought that the brigadier
should be much tougher with the refugees.
But no one wins an argument
with a general unless he happens to be a bigger general and it was all
so deepso Caldwell moved a pawn forward.
"Your move, sir," he said.
Caldwell looked up from the board.
Sutherland seemed completely
withdrawn and oblivious of him.
It was happening more and more
lately.
Sutherland's face was troubled.
Poor chap, Caldwell thought. The
brigadier
had been married to Neddie Sutherland for almost thirty
years, and suddenly she had left him and run off to Paris with a lover
ten years her junior.
It was a scandal that rocked army circles for
months, and Sutherland must still be taking it hard.
Terrible blow for
the brigadier.
white face of Sutherland was lined with wrinkles, and little red veins
on his nose turned bright.
At this moment he looked all of his
fiftyfive years and more.
Bruce Sutherland was not thinking about Neddie, as Cald well believed.
His mind was on the refugee camps at Caraolos.
"Your move, sir."
"What did you say, sir?"
CHAPTER FIVE: Mark led Kitty back to the table, both of them
breathless.
"Do you know the last time I danced a samba?"
she said.
"You're not so bad for an old broad."
Mark looked around the room filled with British officers in their army
khakis and navy whites and their high and low English accents.
Mark
loved places like this.
The waiter brought a new round of drinks and
they clicked glasses.
"To Kitty .. . wherever she may be," Mark said.
"Well ma'am, where do you go from here?"
Kitty shrugged, "Golly, I don't know, Mark.
My work is finished at
Salonika and I am getting restless.
I've got a dozen offers I can take
around Europe with the United Nations."
"It was a lovely war," Mark said.
"Lots of orphans."
"Matter of fact," Kitty said, "I got a real good offer to stay right
here on Cyprus just yesterday."
"On Cyprus?"
"They have some refugee camps around Famagusta.
Anyhow, some American
woman contacted me.
Seems that the camps are overcrowded and they're
opening new ones on the Larnaca road.
She wanted me to take charge."
Mark frowned.
"And what did you tell her?"
"I told her no.
They were Jews.
I suppose Jewish children are pretty
much like any others but I'd just rather not get mixed up with them. It
seems that there's an awful lot of politics connected with those camps
and they're not under UN auspices."
Mark was silent in thought.
Kitty winked mischievously and waggled a
finger under his nose.
"Don't be so serious .. .
"You're acting tipsy."
"I'm starting to feel that way.
Well, Mr.
Parker, I was in Famagusta
seeing my boy friend off.
You know me ... one lover leaves by ship
while another lands by airplane."
"As long as you brought it up ... who was this guy you came to Cyprus
with?"
"Uhhuh."
"Anything dirty between you two?"
"Dammit, no.
He was so proper it was disgusting."
"Where did you meet this guy?"
"Salonika.
He was in charge of the British mission in the area.
When
I took over the orphanage we were short of everything .
beds,
medicine, food, blankets .. . everything.
Anyhow, I went to him and he cut wads of red tape for me and we became
friends for ever and ever and eVer.
He really is a dear man."
"Go on. It's getting interesting."
"He got notice a few weeks ago that he was being transferred to
Palestine and he had leave coming and wanted me to spend it with him
here.
You know, I'd been working so hard I'd completely forgotten I
haven't had a day off in eighteen months.
Anyhow, they cut his leave
short and he had to report to Famagusta to sail to Palestine today."
"Future prospects as Mrs.
Hillings?"
Kitty shook her head.
"I like him very much.
He brought me all the way to Cyprus to find the
right setting to ask me to marry him .. ."
"And?"
"I loved Tom.
I'll never feel that way again."
"You're twentyeight years old, Kitty.
It's a good age to retire."
Mark, you're going to Palestine too.
There are a lot of officers here
leaving for Palestine."
"Why .. . ?
I don't understand."
"Oh, lots of reasons.
Lot of people around the world have decided they
want to run their own lives.
Colonies are going out of vogue this
century.
These boys here are riding a dead horse.
This is the soldier
of the new empire," Mark said, taking a dollar bill from his pocket;
"we've got millions of these green soldiers moving into every corner of
the world.
Greatest occupying force you've ever seen.
A bloodless conquest . but
Palestine .. . that's different again.
Kitty, there's almost something
frightening about it.
Some people are out to resurrect a nation that
has been dead for two
\l thousand years.
Nothing like that has ever happened before, f
What's more, I think they're going to do it.
It's these same Jews you
don't like."
"I won't debate with you now.
Think real hard, honey .. .
since you've been on Cyprus.
Have you heard anything or seen anything
that might be, well, unusual?"
Kitty bit her lip in thought and sighed.
"Only the refugee camps.
I hear they are overcrowded and in deplorable
condition.
Why do you ask?"
"I don't know.
Just say I've got an intuition that something j very
big is happening on Cyprus."
"Why don't you just say you're naturally nosey by profession?"
"Terrible bore.
I met him at the governor's."
"He met me in my room before you got in.
Why would a general's aide be
sitting on my lap ten minutes after I landed on a matter that is
seemingly trivial?
Kitty, I tell you the British are nervous about
something here.
I ... I can't put my finger on it, but five will get
you ten it's tied up with those refugee camps.
Look .. . would you go
to work in those camps for me for a few weeks?"