The gambit'' is an anthology of twenty five short stories. This third anthology of mine incorporates three groups of short stories based on my imagination, experience and knowledge. As an army officer and a civil servant I've served home and abroad at the very beginning of my career. I've met with different people of various nationalities, and learned to appreciate customs, traditions and culture, which broadened my horizons and enhanced my capabilities; and enabled me to express vividly my views on three main themes: on daily life, art and my dreams. Below are displayed short paragraphs of one of the anthology's short stories, which serves as a glimpse of what kind of stories expects the reader in this anthlogy: So how can they fool us you'll ask? We do know all about their ties with North Korea, that's what we believe, right? But there's one fact we didn't take into account, where their bombs are going to be built.' He made another short break on purpose now, to enhance the dramatic atmosphere. But he didn't have to explain it anymore, the surprising riddle was solved by all the session participants, they didn't interrupt him though and he summed it up in one more sentence. 'So they'll supply the North Koreans with enriched uranium and the North Koreans will build their bombs.' 'Your paintings are, how should I define it? Impressive, yes that's the right term, absolutely impressive.' She said opening her car's door, far from the danger of any commitment. 'I'd like to have a second look at them, before reaching any decision.' She added with a polite smile and understanding. 'I'll keep in touch.' She went on talking behind the steering wheel, and started the car's engine. 'Listen to me, this kind of degenerate art isn't marketable nowadays, and if I Tsvika Pleshet defines what you're doing as tolerable art, you may refer to it as a compliment. For between us, what are you really doing, copying snap shots?' 'You accusing me of copying snap shots?' Ahiram repeated; his ex friend's last words, hurt and humiliated. 'I've never used photos or prints; I've painted models or relied on my memory.' 'So what, ' retorted Tsvika sending a furtive glance at the museum director and the electrician who were getting nearer. 'Models, photos what difference does it make, and whom does it interest anyway? Listen to me and listen to me carefully, update yourself and do it fast if you want to see me visiting you studio, capish?' Without any intention to wait for an answer he went on: 'You'll have to move now.' He noted when the museum director and the electrician were by his side. 'And who's that old hag you've brought along with you? He asked all of a sudden, turning his eyes towards Ahiram's wife, 'your aunt?' The electrician who was bent over the mike, burst out with wild and loud wave of laughter that resounded all over the hall through the numerous speakers, which were hanging all around. The museum director's face reddened up to his hair roots, and a broad embarrassed smile covered his red face.
