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cradlesï¼Œ nestled Yoshuaï¼Œ surface-to-surface cruise missiles. Nobody questioned the military look of things. The guard towersï¼Œ the barbed wireï¼Œ the electrified fencing had surrounded every major Israeli installation for nearly fifty years. The high whine of a jeep engine made Zvi turn back toward the parking lot. He grinned. It was his new driver. The dark-skinned figure braked to a halt and Zvi got in next to him. "Where toï¼Œ Adonai?" the man asked. "Installation Yoshuaï¼Œ" answered Zvi. "You can drop that adonai business. We re very informal around here. I am Captain Zvi Sivan. You can just call me Zvi. And you?" "Sergeant Major Ibrahim ..." The other grinned. "Name s too lon~ to say in one breath. As long as out before I d be here." "I wasn t aware that Arabs worked at the Yoshua installationï¼Œ" said Zvi. "My parents may have been Palestiniansï¼Œ but I am Israeliï¼Œ" answered the other. "My grandfather told me that my people used to die by the thousands from hungerï¼Œ thirstï¼Œ diseaseï¼Œ and exposure. But that was before the Jews came. My parents considered him a traitor. They and the rest of my people cannot accept your strange ways. You are too alien to them and they don t wish to learn. The fact that my people no longer die is what made me go to the university. My father disowned me." "I m sorry." answered Zvi.