cradles， nestled Yoshua， surface-to-surface cruise<br >missiles.<br > Nobody questioned the military look of things. The<br >guard towers， the barbed wire， the electrified fencing<br >had surrounded every major Israeli installation for<br >nearly fifty years.<br > The high whine of a jeep engine made Zvi turn<br >back toward the parking lot. He grinned. It was his<br >new driver. The dark-skinned figure braked to a halt<br >and Zvi got in next to him.<br > "Where to， Adonai?" the man asked.<br > "Installation Yoshua，" answered Zvi. "You can drop<br >that adonai business. We re very informal around<br >here. I am Captain Zvi Sivan. You can just call me<br >Zvi. And you?"<br > "Sergeant Major Ibrahim ..." The other grinned.<br >"Name s too lon~ to say in one breath. As long as<br >out before I d be here."<br > "I wasn t aware that Arabs worked at the Yoshua<br >installation，" said Zvi.<br > "My parents may have been Palestinians， but I am<br >Israeli，" answered the other. "My grandfather told<br >me that my people used to die by the thousands from<br >hunger， thirst， disease， and exposure. But that was<br >before the Jews came. My parents considered him a<br >traitor. They and the rest of my people cannot accept<br >your strange ways. You are too alien to them and<br >they don t wish to learn. The fact that my people no<br >longer die is what made me go to the university. My<br >father disowned me."<br > "I m sorry." answered Zvi.<br ><br >