Damascus Gate Read Online Free PDF Page B

Ping-Pong,
payess
and shirttails flying, eyes ablaze with humor, satisfaction or rage. They were all good, and some were very good indeed. Their games were strenuous and violent. Most were speaking English, and from time to time one or another would cry out, "Christ!" or "Yess!" in the style of adolescent American triumph.
    The waiting room of Pinchas Obermann's office could be approached only through the center's table tennis parlor. It was a peculiarity of the complex, located in a new high-rise building in the expanding northern suburbs of Jerusalem.
    Two men sat in the waiting room. One was about thirty, in stonewashed jeans and a black shirt with a beige windbreaker. Although it was after ten at night, he wore Ray-Bans under Dr. Obermann's unsteady fluorescent light. A clarinet case rested by his chair.
    The second man was older, round-shouldered, melancholy and overweight. He had on khaki trousers, a white shirt with a plaid tie and a tweed jacket.
    The younger man was watching the older, unashamedly, never taking his eyes away. The older man, pretending to read a copy of
Jerusalem Report,
fidgeted under the other's scrutiny.
    After the two of them had waited for some time, a summoning voice sounded from Dr. Obermann's inner office.
    "Melker!"
    The voice was peremptory, without any suggestion of healing or solicitude, and projected through the closed door. Dr. Obermann did without a receptionist and a great deal else. The young man gave the elder a last glance and sauntered inside, taking his instrument with him.
    Dr. Obermann was red-bearded, crew-cut and thick-bodied. He wore a turtleneck and slacks and army-issue glasses.
    "Mr. Melker," he said. He stood to shake the young man's hand. "Or should I call you Raziel? Or should I call you Zachariah? What should I call you?"
    "You make me sound like a multiple personality," young Melker said. "Call me Razz."
    "Razz," the doctor repeated tonelessly. "I see you have your clarinet."
    "Like me to play it?"
    "That great pleasure I force myself to postpone," Dr. Obermann said, "until a more appropriate moment. How's the monkey? On or off your back?"
    "I'm as clean as the eyelids of morning," said Razz. "I'm happy."
    Obermann looked at him noncommittally.
    "Take off your sunglasses," he said, "and tell me about your spiritual life."
    "You have a nerve, Obie," Razz Melker said, taking a seat and removing his glasses. "Checking my eyes?" He said it good-naturedly. "If I was popping, you think I'd own these shades? Or these clothes? Want to see my veins?" He shook his head in a tolerant gesture. "By the way, with all those little
buchers
out there whapping the balls around, it's a little difficult to talk the spiritual life."
    "Think those kids don't have any?"
    "Hey," Raziel hastened to say, "they put us all to shame. No question about it."
    "I'm pleased that you're clean," Dr. Obermann said. "It's important. Happy is good too."
    "Maybe do the odd spliff. That's it." He smiled his pink-edged bad-boy smile and spread his long, jeans-clad legs out in front of him. He wore lizard boots from Africa.
    Obermann watched him in silence.
    "Want to hear about
my
spiritual life? I still have one. Is that all right?"
    "Depends," said Dr. Obermann.
    Razz looked contentedly about the office as they listened to the rat-a-tat of Ping-Pong balls. Eyes exposed, he had a blinky, myopic look. The place was decorated with posters from the Palazzo Grassi, the British Museum and the Metropolitan. The show themes were either primitive or ancient art.
    "Your patient out there," Razz said. "The elderly dude. Want me to tell you something about him?"
    "Mind your business," said Obermann.
    "He turned goy on us, right? He's a Christian convert. Or was."
    Obermann held Razz's gaze for a moment, then took his own glasses off and rubbed his eyes.
    "You know him," the doctor insisted. "You've heard about him somewhere."
    "I assure you, man, I never set eyes on him before."
    "Be so kind," Dr. Obermann said, "as to