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Exodus by Leon Uris

CHAPTER ONE

NOVEMBER 1946

WELCOME TO CYPRUS

The airplane plip-plopped down the runway to a halt before the big sign: WELCOME TO CYPRUS. Mark Parker looked out of the window and in the distance he could see the jagged wonder of the Peak of Five Fingers of the northern coastal range. In an hour or so he would be driving through the pass to Kyrenia. He stepped into the aisle, straightened out his necktie, rolled down his sleeves, and slipped into his jacket. “Welcome to Cyprus, welcome to Cyprus …” It ran through his head. It was from Othello, he thought, but the full quotation slipped his mind.

“Anything to declare?” the customs inspector said.

“Two pounds of uncut heroin and a manual of pornographic art,” Mark answered, looking about for Kitty.

All Americans are comedians, the inspector thought, as he passed Parker through. A government tourist hostess approached him. “Are you Mr. Mark Parker?”

“Guilty. ”

“Mrs. Kitty Fremont phoned to say she is unable to meet you at the airport and for you to come straight to Kyrenia to the Dome Hotel. She has a room there for you. ”

“Thanks, angel. Where can I get a taxi to Kyrenia?”

“I’ll arrange a car for you, sir. It will take a few moments. ”

“Can I get a transfusion around here?”

“Yes, sir. The coffee counter is straight down the hall. ”

Mark leaned against the counter and sipped a steaming cup of black coffee … “Welcome to Cyprus … welcome to Cyprus” … he couldn’t for the life of him remember.

“Say!” a voice boomed out. “I thought I recognized you on the plane. You’re Mark Parker! I bet you don’t remember me. ”

Fill in one of the following, Mark thought. It was: Rome, Paris, London, Madrid (and match carefully); Jose’s Bar, James’s Pub, Jacques’s Hideaway, Joe’s Joint. At the time I was covering: war, revolution, insurrection.

That particular night I had a: blonde, brunette, redhead (or maybe that broad with two heads).

The man stood nose to nose with Mark, gushing on all eight cylinders now. “I was the guy who ordered a martini and

they didn’t have orange bitters. Now do you remember me?” Mark sighed, sipped some coffee, and braced for another onslaught. “I know you hear this all the time but I really enjoy reading your columns. Say, what are you doing in Cyprus?” The man then winked and jabbed Mark in the ribs. “Something hush-hush, I bet. Why don’t we get together for a drink? I’m staying at the Palace in Nicosia. ” A business card was slapped into Mark’s hand. “Got a few connections here, too. ” The man winked again.

“Oh, Mr. Parker. Your car is ready. ”

Mark put the cup down on the counter. “Nice seeing you again,” he said, and walked out quickly. As he departed he dropped the business card into a trash basket.

The taxi headed out from the airport. Mark rested back and closed his eyes for a moment. He was glad that Kitty couldn’t get to the airport to meet him. So much time had passed and there was so much to say and so much to remember. He felt a surge of excitement pass through him at the thought of seeing her again. Kitty, beautiful, beautiful, Kitty. As the taxi passed through the outer gates Mark was already lost in thought.