The Pure

smiling slightly and resting her head on one side. Her mahogany hair fell over one shoulder; her eyes were the colour of coffee.
    ‘Save me from myself,’ said Uzi. ‘This is some strong shit. Or you can carry on and meet your friends. I don’t care either way.’
    The woman shrugged and sat down, and Uzi passed her the spliff. She felt familiar somehow, in a way he couldn’t place. This was reckless, Uzi knew that, but he didn’t care. Death, that’s all anything could bring, and so what? Anyway, as Avner had reminded him, he wasn’t on operations any more. He took a drag and passed the spliff to his new companion, smoke threading between his fingers and disappearing into the greyness of the atmosphere.
    ‘Thanks,’ she said, propping herself up on her elbow and drawing heavily, professionally, on the spliff. She adjusted her position, and Uzi noticed a diamond-encrusted watch on her wrist, a Versace handbag in the dirt beside her. He was surprised that such a woman would be sitting here beside him in the grass like a teenager. But his head was too fogged to make sense of it. ‘Just what I needed,’ she said suddenly. ‘Hits the spot.’ She inhaled again, deeply, then passed the spliff back. ‘You got any to sell?’
    Uzi shook his head. His mouth was numb and he couldn’t be bothered.
    ‘Where you from?’ said the woman.
    Uzi was about to say Russia, or France, or Canada, but he didn’t have it in him any more.
    ‘Israel,’ he said.
    ‘Oh?’ the woman replied, coughing into an almost-closed fist. Uzi thought he saw a strange expression flit across her face, one that he couldn’t define; but it may have been his paranoia, he may even have imagined it. ‘I was there only a month ago,’ said the woman. ‘Whereabouts?’
    ‘Tel Aviv,’ Uzi replied shortly. ‘What were you doing there?’
    ‘Visiting family.’
    ‘You have family in Israel?’
    ‘Sort of. You know, not close family.’
    ‘You’re Jewish?’
    ‘Half Jewish.’
    ‘The right half or the wrong half?’
    ‘I hate that question. The wrong half.’
    There was a pause, and Uzi became aware of the background noise, the constant ebb and flow of the traffic that he only noticed when stoned. The occasional call of a bird. Without any reason, he smiled. This woman was obviously from a rich family, or married to a rich husband. And she wanted to rebel.
    ‘They call me Daniel,’ he said dreamily.
    ‘That makes me the lion,’ said the woman. ‘I’m Eve. This is some good shit. How did you come by it?’
    ‘Here and there,’ Uzi replied, ‘you know how it is.’
    ‘What do they call this stuff now? It’s new, isn’t it? Stronger.’
    ‘Fuck knows. I smoke it, I don’t make love to it.’
    There was a pause.
    ‘Come on,’ said Eve again, ‘tell me where you get it. Or do you grow your own?’
    ‘Just smoke if you’re going to smoke,’ said Uzi.
    She snorted and pulled on the spliff with her mouth, closing her eyes as if she were in a hot bath.
    ‘I just love this shit,’ she said, half to herself. ‘I want to buy shiploads of it. I want to go to sleep with it every night.’
    ‘Look,’ said Uzi, raising himself on his elbow and glaring at the woman, suddenly disproportionately angry, ‘are you police?’
    ‘Do I fucking look like it?’ Eve replied.
    ‘Then smoke and be happy,’ said Uzi. ‘I don’t like the way you’re talking. You’re asking too many questions.’
    ‘Take it easy,’ said the woman. ‘I’m only asking.’
    For a while they smoked in silence. Uzi was stoned, and he didn’t give a shit. He was ready to die, and he didn’t give a shit.
    ‘I think you’re the dealer,’ said Eve suddenly. ‘I think you’re selling this stuff.’
    Uzi finished the spliff and tossed the butt into the canal. Then he sat up slowly and tried to get his bearings. For a moment he couldn’t remember where he was. He had the idea that he was on operations somewhere, Moscow perhaps, or Beirut. Then it came back to him and he checked his watch. Twenty to seven.
    ‘Look, I’ve got to go,’ he said.
    His companion made no reply. The world tilted slightly as Uzi got to his feet, but he steadied himself and lumbered off along the towpath.

 
5
    ‘You did well,’ said the Kol – the younger voice again – out of nowhere. ‘You did well with that woman.’ There hadn’t been an itch. Why hadn’t there been an itch?
    ‘How many times do I have to tell you?’ said Uzi. ‘You’re supposed to be