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crisis after another. On the surface, it appeared—and she believed—that she survived every Cabinet shuffle because she was exceedingly good at whatever she did. Her enemies said that she survived at least in part because of her striking good looks. In fact, she survived in the high-mortality world of parliamentary politics because she was an instinctive survivor. She was not consciously aware of this side of her character, and if she were ever confronted with a synopsis of her political machinations or a list of the people she had politically eliminated, she would not have recognized that it was Miriam Bernstein who had done those things.
    Whenever she thought back on Mrs. Meir’s help and support, it was always the small things that stood out, such as the times the Prime Minister took her back to her apartment after an all-night Cabinet session and made her coffee. Then there was the time the Cabinet requested that she adopt a Hebrew name in keeping with government policy for office holders. Mrs. Meir—formerly Mrs. Meyerson—understood her reluctance to sever the only thread she had with the past and supported her resistance to the change.
    There were people who thought that Miriam Bernstein was being groomed to fill Mrs. Meir’s old job someday, but Miriam Bernstein denied any such ambitions. Still, it had been said that Mrs. Meir was appointed Prime Minister
because
she didn’t want the job. The Israelis liked to put people in power who didn’t want power. It was safer.
    Now she held a job that she coveted more than Prime Minister: Peace Delegate. It was a job that hadn’t existed a few
months before, but she always knew it would exist someday.
    There was much to do in New York, and there was personal business to attend to there, also. Yosef had been missing for three years now. She wondered if she could find out something about his fate from the Arabs when she got to New York.
    Jabari noticed a small disturbance outside and instinctively put his hand in his pocket.
    Miriam Bernstein seemed not to notice. She was caught up in what she was saying. “The people have elected a government ready to exchange concessions for solid guarantees, Abdel. We have shown the world that we will not go under. Sadat was one of the first modern Arab leaders to understand that. When he came to Jerusalem he was following in the footsteps of countless others who have come to Jerusalem since the beginning of recorded time to find peace, and yet he shattered a precedent of thirty years’ standing.” She leaned forward. “We have fought well and have won the respect of many nations. The enemy is no longer at the gate. The long siege is ended. The people are in a mood to talk.”
    Jabari nodded. “I hope so.” He looked over her shoulder at the crowd gathered in the street as she continued to talk. He felt her hand over his. “And you, Abdel? If they founded a new Palestine, would you go?”
    Jabari stared straight ahead for a long moment. “I am an elected member of the Knesset. I don’t think I would be welcome in any new Palestine.” He held up his mangled hand. “But even so, I might take that chance. Who knows—I might be reunited with my family there.”
    Miriam Bernstein was sorry she had asked the question. “Well, we will all have decisions to make in the future. What’s important now is that we are going to New York to discuss a lasting peace.”
    Jabari nodded. “Yes. And we must strike now while the mood is in the air. I have this fear that something will happen to break the spell. An incident. A misunderstanding.” He leaned forward. “All the stars—social, historical, economic, military, and political—are aligned for peace in the Holy Land as they have not been in millennia. And it’s spring. So it can’t hurt to talk. Right?” He stood. “But I wish we were in New York already and the Conference were under way.” He looked into the street. “I think our planes are coming in. Let’s have a