Raisins and almonds - Poisoned Pen Press (UK)

Raisins and Almonds 01
than American. Going to the lengths of having you circumcised
sounds like Russian lunatic thoroughness. That must have stung.
You nearly got away with it,’ she told him. ‘You cleaned your shoes
before I could find any of Mrs. Katz’s china in your soles. You had
a getaway car arranged when you failed to snatch my handbag.
I wonder if, when we search you, we’ll find your other passport?
You can’t have come here just because of Yossi. You must have
been here all along.’
‘Yes, yes,’ snarled Isaac Cohen. ‘My name is Ivan Vassiliov.
Of course I was here. Four years I have been here. I was sent
to infiltrate the Jews in Melbourne, the young counterrevolutionaries,
the Zionist conspiracy to overthrow the revolution.
I learned the language, I learned the customs, I read Torah. I
was a very good Jew. When I found out about the compound, I
received my instructions. I had orders to kill the inventor when
I had his invention. The revolution needs it.’
‘You were going to kill me?’ asked Yossi, bewildered. ‘You
were going to kill me?’
‘Of course. With you dead and the formula in my hands,
who was to say where it came from?’ asked Isaac reasonably. ‘I
tell you, the New Russia requires it.’
‘But, Isaac,’ he protested, and Ivan Vassiliov turned in the
policeman’s grasp and spat in his face.
‘Filthy Jew,’ he snarled.
‘That’s quite enough of that,’ said Robinson. ‘Come along.
Immigration’ll want you after you get out of jail,’ he said to
the young man. ‘They’ll deport you smartish and I hope the
Russians have joy of you. Nasty piece of work,’ said Robinson,
and shoved the struggling ex-Cohen from the room.
Yossi was led away to wash his face. Julia Abrahams said
helplessly, ‘But he seemed so nice.’
‘Zeeser Gottenyu!’ Mrs. Grossman fanned herself. ‘Sweet God,
a Russian! In my house, yet!’
Mr. Abrahams went to the cupboard, poured busily, and
passed around small glasses of strong sherry. Everyone sipped