De zoon van een gazzen

When he reached the hospital side of the Street he stopped abruptly and pulled out his pistol. He was no more than ten yards from Van Fried. His eyes wide in terror, Van Fried raised his briefcase as though to protect himself, pointing his cane. Ithamar fired. Van Fried cried out, his voice sounding soft and inhuman; a cry full of bubbles. The briefcase and the cane slipped to the ground. Ithamar fired again. Once more Van Fried cried out - even softer, as if in the high climax of lust. He swung his right leg, as though to turn and run, but his cry ceased abruptly as if he were out of breath and spent. For the third time Ithamar fired. Van Fried pitched forward to the ground, face downward, and lay still. He had accepted death.

After the lecture, in Ithamar’s room, we sat in the dark.

‘I didn’t know it was going to be as easy as that,’ he said.

‘What?’

‘I can’t explain it. I went through heil thinking about it, but now it’s nothing, j ust a feeling of emptiness.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘I thought, well... as if all human beings were connected to each other with some invisible string. I thought if I killed a man the invisible string would snap and I would feel actual pain. I was ready for it... I was afraid of it... very much.’

‘Don’t think about it,’ I said.

A sad smile appeared on his lips. He didn’t look like a hero nor did he think of himself as one.

‘It had to be done,’ he said, finally.

‘What are you going to do now?’

‘I’m leaving in the morning for Galilea.’

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