Chapter Ten
Doron threw the cigarette out his car window. He could not believe for one second that his wife had transferred money to the yeshiva he had investigated, where years ago arms had been seized, even though the staff there had claimed the weapons were for self-defense. He remembered the day quite clearly: everything that had happened, the yeshiva itself, and the rabbi who was its dean, with the fearless blue eyes.
He turned the car’s engine back on and eased back into traffic carefully, as the unceasing rain made other vehicles on the road practically invisible. From Ha-Mesilla Road he turned on to Sheshet Ha-Yamim Street, repeating the names to himself based on the map he had memorized before setting out.
The car behind him made the same turn, but Doron was not paying attention. He had too much to think about, the shocking revelations he’d just learned. Even when the car behind him drew closer, accelerating to match his speed, his head was pulsing with his own thoughts. He tried to explain, to elucidate, to explicate — but no matter how he approached it, the situation made no sense to him. If only he could talk to Galia, he was sure he could put everything in order. He called Roni, who was supposed to be by her side. He did not want to have the conversation with her in earshot of all the eavesdroppers.
“Roni, put Galia on for me.”
“Of course, Doron, just a moment. I’ll go get her. Since we got back an hour ago, she’s locked herself in her room. I’ve been trying to convince her to come out, but she’s not prepared to do so.”
A moment later, he heard her voice. “Doron?”
“Galia, I’m on my way back from the bank…” He was cut off by static on the line.
“Doron, I couldn’t hear you. What’d you say?”
Doron pulled over on the side of the road. He had to speak with her, had to hear her voice. He wouldn’t demand explanations over the telephone. He was angry, and he wanted to look her in the eye as they hashed it out. He got out of the car and stood next to it, leaning on the driver’s side door. Perhaps the reception would be better this way.
“Galia, do you hear me?”
“Yes, Doron, I hear you much better now. Where are you?”
Doron was about to answer when a bright light blinded him. He looked for the source and saw the car which had been behind him. Now it had also pulled over to the side of the road, and the driver was poking his head out his window.
“Hold on a sec, Gali.”
He approached the other car, in which two young men wearing kippot were sitting. “Guys, it’s okay. I didn’t break down, I’m just making a phone call.” He then turned on his heel and headed for his car. “So can you hear—”
Suddenly, he felt a sharp pain on his neck. Doron was caught off guard. He turned around only to be kicked in his stomach, which knocked him onto the wet earth of the roadside. His cell phone went flying.
Galia, on the other end of the line, heard the sound of the cell phone as it hit the ground. “Doron? Doron, answer me!”
Doron heard her screaming into the phone, but he was doubled up painfully on the ground.
“Stop sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong! Did you hear me? We’re not joking around. The next time you’ll end up bleeding to death in a ditch.” The words were whispered directly into his ear. One of the attackers bent down and kicked him again in the stomach. As he heard them walk back to their car, get in and speed off, he reached for his cell phone. “Doron, Doron…” he heard.
“Gali, can you hear me?” he whispered.
“Yes, yes, Doron, What happened? Are you okay?”
Doron struggled to a sitting position and leaned back on his car, wiping the raindrops off his face. His hand trembled a bit as he brought the phone to his ear. His ribs were aching, and he was worried they might be broken from the kicks. His hand was covered in blood, but it seemed uninjured. He took a wet wipe from his coat pocket and wiped his nose. The wet wipe came away bloody, and Doron realized his nose was bleeding. He inhaled deeply. “Galia?”
“Doron, thank God you answered! What happened?” Galia was scared half to death. Her body shook, and Roni supported her, urging her to find out what had happened.
“Nothing, just some thugs, they probably wanted to mug me. They saw that I pulled over on the roadside and got out of the car…” Doron didn’t want Galia to worry, even though he was determined more than ever to understand the meaning of what had just happened to him.
“Doron, don’t lie to me. Are you all right? You’re groaning, you must be in pain. Did they hit you? Did they beat you? You have to tell me what’s going on.”
Doron tried to get up. His clothing was wet and dirty, and his whole body writhed in pain. He opened his car door and sat down gingerly. “Motherfuckers!” He was enraged. He was used to being in control. He always knew what was going on around him, and he was always ready ahead of time for any potential development. This time he felt more than a little impotent. The woman whom he loved and would always love, the woman whom he still hoped to live the rest of his life with, had hid from him her own life. Worse, she now found herself in quite a bind, and Doron had to admit that he had no idea how to extricate her from her predicament.
Doron was angry about Galia’s secretiveness, but also about his inability to uncover the truth while he could still help. A suspicion began to gnaw away at him: What if Galia was guilty? Were these her accomplices? What would happen if it turned out that she really had acted out of political and ideological motivations? He knew that he could not forgive her for acting in such a manner, not to mention the years-long prison sentence that awaited her. He knew that once the detectives made it to the bank, it would certainly be the end of it for her. The instant they revealed the preauthorized payment and the monies transferred to the yeshiva, Udi would not hesitate to toss her in prison. It was doubtful whether she would ever see the light of day again.
The headlights of passing cars blinded him, forcing him out of his reverie. Galia was on the line, calling his name, begging him to swear that nothing had happened to him.
His voice recovering some of its power, he reassured her, “Galia, relax. I’m fine. We’ll see each other when I get back to Haifa. Give me Roni in the meantime.”
Galia was taken aback by the forceful obstinacy of his voice. She handed the phone to Roni, saying, “He doesn’t want to talk to me. You have to find out what happened to him.”
Roni took the telephone and wandered out to the balcony. “Doron, are you all right”
“Yeah, yeah, just listen up, Roni. I’m on my way back from the bank, and it turns out that Galia was transferring funds to some fucking yeshiva in the West Bank. I can’t believe it! The cops will probably pick her up today and throw her in prison. I just hope I can make it back before they do…”
Roni’s mouth was agape at this unexpected news. Now, he feared, Doron and the police would inevitably end up at Naama’s door, while in the meantime she hadn’t yet made contact to return Shir.
Doron threw out an accusation in response to Roni’s silence. “Why do I think you’re not surprised by this at all?”
“Whoa, trust me, I’m as surprised too!” Roni responded. It wasn’t a lie, because Doron was getting at the truth with unanticipated speed.
“Why don’t you talk to Galia about it? I have to go visit Grandpa first, and it looks like I’ll need to drop into a medical clinic for some first aid,” he admitted.
“Why? What happened? Are you injured?” Roni looked at Galia, who sat in the living room. He was glad that he had stepped out and shut the sliding door.
“Yeah, some guys with kippot followed me. I don’t know who they are, but they knew who I was. They made threats. They really got the jump on me and beat the shit out of me. I mean, I’ll live, but I have to make sure I don’t have a broken rib.”
“Yeah, you do that. We’ll see you later.”
Galia didn�
��t love the look in Roni’s eyes when she opened the door to the balcony. He seemed concerned, angry, and more. He grasped her elbow and brought her back to the living room. Once she had sat down on the sofa, he stood in front of her. “Doron went to the bank,” he told her.
“And…?”
“What do you think he found? This is your life which is being exposed now, bit by bit, with all of your little secrets and lies. You ought to have known that Doron would not give this up, that he would continue to investigate…”
“Roni, don’t just give me dribs and drabs. Tell me what happened with Doron!”
“He knows about your payments to that yeshiva.”
“Shit, fuck… what else?”
“What else?! Galia, I’m starting to wonder about your sanity. Wait a minute, think about your poor husband, who is convinced that you’re not involved in this incident at all. Do you understand what you’re doing? Doron will never forgive you for what you’ve been hiding, and what he has to go through now because of your secrets.”
“Roni, I have no choice…”
“Aside from that, this is just a matter of time now. In an hour or two, they will come to lock you up. You really think you’ll last one night in a cell — especially when it’s unnecessary?”
“I fully understand how serious the situation is, there’s no need—”
“I don’t think you do understand, Galia. You know what? You’re not the only one in danger, you’re putting Doron in jeopardy too!”
“What? Why?”
Galia knew that she could not bear putting Doron in danger. It was bad enough thinking about Shir — it was driving her crazy! But if something were to happen to Doron, she’d never be able to forgive herself.
“Yeah, it looks like they’ve been following him. They must be your dear sister’s friends. He has no idea who they are, but it’s clear to him that they’re trying to impede his progress. They threatened him a few minutes ago.”
Galia was alarmed. “Threatened him? What aren’t you telling me?” Her voice was rough.
Roni was in a quandary. Doron would be angry if he told her, but he was sure that this would disturb her, perhaps enough to cooperate with Doron at least, if not with the police as well.
“No, it wasn’t just threats. They beat him up.” He saw Galia pale and continued, “He’s going to the nearest hospital; he’ll make sure that he doesn’t have a broken rib.” Now she was white as chalk.
“Sons of bitches,” she hissed quietly, swearing that she would avenge herself on each and every one of them, every one of her sister’s accomplices. The second Shir was back in her arms, she would reveal everything, every detail. If it was the last thing she ever did, she would spare no effort to expose them and put them in prison for the rest of their lives.
Roni said, “I just hope that you won’t regret leaving Doron in the dark about all this.”
They looked at each other. Galia hoped, too, with all her being, that she would not regret her decision. Roni sat next to her. They didn’t have much to do anymore, except watch television. Channel 2 had a report on the government meeting at Metzudat Ze’ev in Tel Aviv that day. Galia quickly changed the channel. Hearing about a government meeting would not be an efficient way to release the tension she felt. Roni, who sat next to her, grabbed the remote control from her. “Maybe you’re indifferent to what’s going on around you, but I’m your attorney. I need to be up to date on your case.”
Prime Minister Ariel Sharon was speaking on the television. He talked about the shocking recent events in the country. He spoke of the attempt to assassinate a minister in his government. He emphasized that throughout his life he had refused to give in to threats, and that he would not start doing so now. He stressed that a comprehensive investigation was taking place, identifying the accomplices to this crime, and he promised that he would not allow public figures to be intimidated. “I utterly condemn any violence of this sort or any other. I will uproot these wild weeds, and I will prosecute, to the fullest extent of the law, any provocateur who dares to take the law into his hands and trample the values of democracy.”
When Sharon had finished, Roni turned to Galia to gauge her reaction. He imagined that she agreed with everything that had been said. Onscreen, the reporter noted that the PM had never seemed more forceful. She also noted the massive investigation into the attempt to assassinate Minister Ettinger. She noted that a number of suspects would, in the next few hours, be taken to administrative detention, while others would be held for questioning.
Chapter Eleven
The detectives arrived just after the bank closed for the day. Without hesitating, they shoved the security guard aside and demanded to see the branch manager. He was happy to cooperate, and he sent them to Dalia, the last account manager left that day.
Dalia had been on her way out, at the end of the work day. She hoped to leave before the detectives arrived, as Doron had warned her they would. She frowned as the three men approached her. They shook her hand, and she had no choice but to lead them to her desk. She knew that she would have to tell them everything she’d discovered about the account, and she only hoped that Doron was managing to keep a couple of steps ahead of them.
When she told them the details, she noticed that they were exchanging glances. They seemed to be pleased by the results. They did not seem to have any notion that Doron already knew all of this, nor did Dalia trouble herself to tell them. She merely shook their hands once again as they left, glad that she could now finish her work day and head home.
It was raining outside. The wind was blowing fiercely, so she couldn’t even manage to open her umbrella. Luckily, her car was parked nearby. She hurried to her vehicle, but her face darkened as she saw that two of her tires had been punctured. She looked around for help, but no one was near — except for an older car which was speeding off. Her knees wobbled, as fright threatened to overcome her. She spun around on her heel and hurried back to the bank.
She sat down heavily on one of the armchairs for clients, trying to stop the shaking, which had spread from her knees to her whole body. It was clear that it could not be a coincidence that this had happened after Doron and the detectives visited the bank. Only the branch manager, in his office, was left as the bank was totally empty otherwise. What should she do? She decided to call Doron back.
Doron was at a local clinic, in the small vestibule next to the X-ray room, when his cell phone rang inside his coat. He couldn’t answer while the X-ray technician was working. Luckily, his ribs seemed to be unbroken; one of them had a slight crack. The doctor prescribed a few days of rest. Doron thanked the staff of the clinic with a smile and promised that he would be going home to rest. His cell phone rang again, and Doron answered this time.
“Doron, it’s Dalia from the bank.” She sounded terrified.
“Dalia, what happened?”
“I’m not sure, but I thought it would be best to call you first of all. The detectives were here a few minutes ago. Now they have all the details you do. You know I couldn’t conceal anything from them.”
“Yes, I know. You’re doing a great job. But something else must have happened, you sound like a nervous wreck.”
“Yeah, I tried to go home, but when I left the bank, I found my tires slashed — the two front wheels. I have a bad feeling about this.”
Doron sighed. He thought that his assailants had come back to the bank to scare Dalia.
“Dalia, listen to me. You need to call a cab. Don’t go near the car. Call a cab and go to the nearest police station. You’ll be safe there. Find the commanding officer there, and tell him to call Deputy Commissioner Udi Fleischer. Write that name down. He’s the head of the Department of Investigations, my boss. I’ll give him a heads-up. Have you got that?”
“Yes, Doron, thanks so much. I’ll call a cab.”
“Okay, and don’t worry. You’re in good hand
s. I’ll be in touch.”
Doron felt utterly exhausted, with weariness permeating his entire body. The last few days had drained him absolutely, on a mental level as well as physically. He had a sterling reputation as a detective with ice water in his veins, handling every case which came across his desk with consummate skill and maximum objectivity. Being personally involved was killing him, even though he couldn’t avoid it where Galia was concerned. The worry, the revelations, the exhausting drives all over the country — it was crushing him. Nevertheless, he believed that he was close now, that just a bit more effort would yield the key to everything, the solution to the mystery. So he hoped, at least.
He shoved aside thoughts of waiting until the morning to visit Grandpa Yehuda. He had to take advantage of his proximity and try to talk to him while he had the chance. He hoped that he would get the same generous cooperation he’d received at the bank.
The parking lot of the seniors’ residence was almost empty, except for a few cars that apparently belonged to staff. Doron was happy that he had another shirt in the car. He changed and hoped that his roughed-up appearance, complete with bandaged nose, would not alarm the staff and whoever might open the door. He loudly rapped on the door. After a few moments, it opened and a large man wearing the uniform of a security guard emerged, looking at him threateningly.
Doron, used to such situations, did not shrink back. “Good evening,” he said, presenting his police ID.
The guard smirked. “What an interesting evening it’s been...” He led Doron to the office. “At last, some action around here.” Doron barely smiled in response. He could do with a little less action and everything surrounding it. He noted how unenthusiastic the director of the facility was when he was led into her office.
“I don’t know why they had to send another police officer today,” she complained. “You’re here because of Galia Yellin’s grandfather, right? Well, the detectives who were here already left more than an hour ago, emptyhanded. Why would you think you’d fare any better? Don’t you people understand that he’s uncommunicative? He doesn’t react to anything or anyone.”
Forced Silence Page 15
