"So you're the eco-terrorist," Nathan Silver said, handing Hank a tumbler full of Johnny Walker Black. "Greendozer, is it?"
"That's what the Globe and Mail calls me."
"I don't suppose you've read 'The Monkey-Wrench Gang'?"
The two of them clinked glasses and toasted: Confusion to the Enemy!
At length, Nathan added, "Her mother would rather Bernice marry one of the lads in my discussion group. A legal scholar. Someone who will make money."
Hank was sprawled in an enormous winged chair opposite his host. With a shrug he replied, "So it goes."
"Not at all. Make your move. Now."
"Neither of us want marriage."
"Who said anything about marriage?"
*
As a teen Bernice fantasized being swept away by Ari Ben Canaan.
A fictional hero.
Then she grew up a bit and began adoring the author himself. Leon Uris was phographed in the Negev for the book jacket. She began dreaming of meeting him and seducing him. Together they would make love in the land of milk and honey.
The nattering schoolboys with their dreadful schmooze gave her headaches. They were always trying to impress her with what they knew of the Law and Torah. Finally she began throwing up when accompanied by just one of them, especially on a date, and the dork would be reciting jokes from Playboy.
It was in defiance that she joined a Red Cell.
Within a month she had fucked three comrades.
*
Upon leaving the Silver estate Hank shook Nathan's hand again and confided: "I haven't blown up anything."
"Yet!" Guffaws. And the swallows were flying to Capistrano.
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