The Pure

the darkness. He dialled her number. It rang off. He cursed and dialled again; again, no answer. A prickling irritation rose within him, spreading its tendrils across his scalp. He started to compose a text message but he couldn’t concentrate. There’s nothing for it, he thought; parents or no parents, I’m going in.
    Just as he was about to get out of the car, the door of the house opened. For a moment there was only a slim rectangle of light. Then a silhouette appeared and slipped out. The door closed. The irritation in Uzi’s body transmuted into something else, something equally potent. Gal looked young, sexy, reckless. Her hair was still raven-black, slightly longer now. She glanced up and down the street without seeing him. He opened the car door and caught her eye. She approached.
    ‘I can’t be long,’ she said in Hebrew. ‘I’ve got a lot to do.’
    ‘So have I. Get in.’
    ‘Is this a real sports car?’
    ‘No, kid, it’s a camper van. Get in.’
    She walked slowly through the parallel beams of the headlights. Then she was in the front seat, half an arm’s length away, her legs stretching out in two sleek lines to her trainers. The worried face of Gal’s mother appeared in the upstairs window. Uzi started the engine and started to drive. He turned the corner.
    ‘Where are you taking me?’ said the girl.
    ‘Out. I don’t know. I wanted to see you.’
    ‘Why?’
    ‘I felt like it.’
    ‘Is this your car?’
    ‘No, I stole it.’
    ‘It’s nice. You must be making money now.’
    ‘I must be.’
    ‘What’s your new job? Anything to do with Israel?’
    ‘You ask a lot of questions, you know that?’
    ‘So?’ she said testily.
    A pause.
    ‘Did you tell your parents about me?’ he said.
    ‘What’s to tell? That this random security guard came round for a smoke and left without saying goodbye?’
    ‘I thought you said I was an Israeli hero.’
    She laughed. He took a spliff from the glove compartment and tossed it on to her lap. She lit it and inhaled noisily. He was starting to realise why he had wanted to see her, and it was making him feel uncomfortable. Something about what she had said was creeping under his skin. But still he felt warm, energised.
    ‘Look,’ said Gal after a time, ‘enough with the bullshit. I can’t stand bullshit. If you want to fuck me just say so.’
    Uzi hesitated. ‘And if I did, what would you say?’
    ‘Who knows?’ said Gal. ‘I’d see what I felt like.’
    ‘You’re just a kid,’ said Uzi.
    Gal rolled her eyes. ‘I’ve got to be back in an hour.’
    The Porsche had found its way to Hangar Lane, and Uzi steered it on to the A40 towards Oxford. The traffic thinned and the car picked up pace, the speedometer ticking higher and higher. The engine settled into a comfortable purr. Gal smoked, looking out the window. Finally Uzi broke the silence.
    ‘OK,’ he said, ‘start by sucking me off.’
    ‘What, now?’
    He pressed the car to go faster. She looked at him through a roll of smoke, lights streaking past behind her, then she shrugged moodily and leaned into his lap, releasing her seatbelt as she did so. She was clumsy in loosening his trousers. He saw a little crescent of skin where her shirt pulled away from her skirt. Unblemished, pure skin. What a shame, he thought, what a shame. The motorway tunnelled past in chains of red lights, white lights, traffic cones, darkness. She found his penis and took it into her mouth; he felt lava welling within him, slipping down to his groin. The speed slipped past ninety. His fingers tightened on the wheel.
    Gal’s head was moving up and down now. Who knows what secrets her little skull contained? She had asked about his new job. She had asked whether it was anything to do with Israel. He adjusted his shoulders in the seat as she found her rhythm, the steering wheel behind her like a halo. Anything to do with Israel. Why would she have asked that? This wasn’t spy syndrome, he thought. This was real. The fact that she was sucking his cock so readily only confirmed his fears. After all, he had been at her house when the Office broke into his flat. And by the time he got home, they had been waiting for him.
    He reached into the glove compartment and took out a hypodermic needle. The Office might be watching, but there was always going to be that risk. The speedometer crept past a hundred. She moaned but didn’t break her rhythm. He raised the syringe then hesitated. The lava was pooling in his