“I’ll bet-”

“We’re not in America, Peter. While I’d place money that the boys weren’t rocket scientists, I’d also place money that they weren’t rapists. Repeat after me: We’re in a Levantine countr-”

“Rina, I know scumbags when I see them.”

“All right. If no one was looking, maybe they’d break into the car and steal the radio. They’d figure it’s just a rental car anyway, right?”

“Rina!”

“I’m just trying to explain the mentality.”

“You don’t have to tell me about people, all right?” He started the car. “Doesn’t the country believe in street signs?”

“Everything’s done with landmarks. You go to the market, turn left until you reach the post office, turn right, go straight until you reach Dovid’s cleaners-”

“I don’t know what possessed me to think I could handle an investigation here,” Decker groused. “Can’t you tell me where I am?”

“Haven’t the foggiest notion,” Rina said.

He drove a few blocks in darkness. A haze began to settle over the streets. Just what he needed to further confuse whatever meager sanity he had left. He spied another group of kids walking, but at least this one had two girls among three scumbags.

“Can I try them?” Rina said. “They have girls.”

“Ever see the damage that female gang members have done?”

“We’re not in America, Peter!”

“What if you’re wrong? What if they try to rob us? I don’t have my gun.”

“I’m not wrong,” Rina said, forcefully. “Pull over, please.”

Decker pulled over. “At least you said please.”

As soon as the car stopped, Rina opened the door and jumped out of the car, speed-walking her way to the pack. Decker bolted from the rental and caught up with her. He took her arm, but they both kept walking.

He whispered, “We’re going to have to have a serious talk.”

“When we’re not sleep deprived,” Rina whispered back. She pulled away from Decker as she yelled out another s’lichah to the group. They stopped walking and Rina went over to them, showed them her map, and spoke. They answered back en masse, a few studying the map, one of them pointing the way, two pointing in another direction. Decker couldn’t understand how any of them heard a damn thing because they were all talking at once. Finally, the whole group headed toward Peter.

Rina said, “They said it would be easier if they just rode along with us.”

“There’re five of them,” Decker said.

A boy with dark curly hair and a wispy mustache answered in broken English. “The girls sit on us.”

Involuntarily, Decker smiled at his misuse of the language. Under his breath, he said, “In your dreams, kiddo.” Out loud he said to Rina, “What are they doing? Bumming a ride?”

“Yes, I believe that’s exactly what they’re doing.”

Decker rolled his eyes. Up close, the kids looked less fearsome-like kids. They must have been around fifteen, sixteen. He waved his hands forward. “Come on.”

Excitedly, the kids piled into the backseat of the rented Subaru-boys sprawling their spindly, adolescent legs, girls giggling on their laps. Decker started the car. Three spoke at once, using their hands as well as words.

“You go straight,” Rina announced.

“For how long?”

Rina asked, then answered back. “Just go straight.”

Decker threw up his hands and drove.

“Where you from?” asked a girl in English. She was pretty-black hair, hazel eyes, and dimples. She had a cherubic face.

“Los Angeles,” Decker answered back.

“Ah, Disneyland!” she said, with admiration. “I…was…in…Orlito…” She knitted her brow. “Orlatto…”

“Orlando,” Decker filled in.

“Cain! Orlando!” The girl beamed at being understood. “That is Disney…world.”

Decker said, “I grew up near there.”

The girl nodded. “You…livid in Orlando?”

Decker smiled. “Yes. I lived near Orlando.”

“You go to Disneyworld?”

This time, Decker laughed. “It wasn’t around when I grew up.” He turned to his wife. “Will you please translate this?”

“She likes speaking English to you.”

A boy shouted something out.

Rina said, “Slow. You turn right at that gray building.”

Decker complied.

And so it went. The girl with the dimples practicing her English, the rest of the crew talking and shouting out directions at various intervals. Decker drove until he found himself looking out at a black expanse melding into a black horizon of nothingness. The Mediterranean Sea.

The boardwalk was teeming with people. The kids asked to be let out near a hot dog vendor, pointing them toward the Malon Melech HaYam-the King of the Sea Hotel-a couple of blocks away. They left, the girl saying thank you in English.

The car was silent for a moment. Then Decker said, “Don’t say it.”

“Say what?”

“I was wrong.” Decker shrugged. “They were nice kids just playing a little dress-up. I need some adjustment time, that’s all.”

“Couple of hours and you’ll be thinking like a native.”

He shook his head in wonderment. “I can’t believe we just picked up five teenagers and allowed them to ride with us in our car. If my daughter did that, I’d kill her. I also can’t believe that the kids willingly came into the car without a drop of fear.” He looked at Rina. “What happened to America?”

Rina smiled sadly. “The Jews in Israel, for all that’s written about the conflicts among them, are basically a homogeneous population. Just like everyone in Japan is basically Japanese. America is heterogeneous-many cultures, and lots of communication problems. But it also has the creativity and tolerance brought about by cultures residing side by side.”

“Israel has diverse cultures.”

“You mean the Arabs here? The Israelis and Arabs don’t mix. That’s why they’re carving out their own state.” Rina sighed. “Maybe they’ll come to some kind of cold peace. But I’m not holding my breath.”

“Hope springs eternal.”

“I suppose,” Rina said. “South Africa just crowned its first Black Miss South Africa. Ten years ago that would have been unheard of. I guess things can change…at least superficially enough to satisfy political ambitions.”

Immediately, Decker thought about Kate Milligan. He wondered if he and Marge were right about her. If she had dared to love a black…saw his plight. Maybe it had touched a rebellious spirit in her.

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.”