Barak's face changed. "General, that's illegal detainment—"
"Illegal?" Hassan's voice suddenly raised, "Colonel, the shepherd you detained, he grazed sheep for thirty years on the Golan Heights, never held a gun, never wore a uniform. He just crossed the border, walked 200 meters. You jailed him for ten years. What do you call that? Legal?"
Barak said nothing.
Sanchez tapped the table.
"General, Colonel, the matter of prisoners of war can't be settled today. Today, we only discuss one thing—exchange. Exchange or not?"
Hassan looked at him. "Exchange."
Barak also looked at him. "Exchange."
Sanchez nodded. "Then exchange. Details, we'll discuss next time. If not settled next time, then the time after, until it's settled."
He collected the two lists and put them back into his briefcase.
Outside the window, the sun had begun to set. The golden hue on the lake slowly turned to silver, distant outlines of Tiberias City became blurred.
