“The thing is, Udi, that I was able to persuade the guard by the door to let us leave—”
“I don’t believe that for a second. There’s no way a policeman would violate a direct command… he had very clear orders.”
“Well, you see… he didn’t have a choice. Just listen, he’s in the kitchen, handcuffed to the refrigerator. Why don’t you tell the guys in the police car downstairs that they can come up and free him? We left the door open.”
Udi groaned in his office, but a dubious smile was on his lips. He knew why he appreciated Doron so much. Nothing would stand in his way when he arrived at a decision. Udi had to convince him to come back to the force. “When this is all over, we’ll have to sit down for a serious discussion, assuming the commissioner doesn’t throw your ass in jail and throw away the key over obstruction of justice.”
“Udi, I don’t care about my ass or obstruction of justice right now; all I care about is my daughter. You can tell the commissioner to go fuck himself. I’m headed to the yeshiva.”
“I heard that,” the commissioner’s voice reverberated through the speaker. “And once this affair is resolved, you will present yourself to me. I also have matters to settle with you.”
Udi and the commissioner looked at each there. They knew that if they could bring the case to a satisfying conclusion, they would have to persuade Doron to stay with the police force. They couldn’t allow him to quit for real.
The implied threats of his commander-in-chief didn’t seem to faze Doron. “Not a problem, sir,” he responded, then hung up.
Galia looked at him: “You’re crazy.”
Doron shrugged. Nothing mattered anymore: not what the commissioner had to say, not beatings on the side of the road. The most important thing was finding Shir as quickly as possible and bringing her home safe and healthy. He accelerated, leaving behind them the twinkling lights of the Carmel.
Chapter Thirteen
As Immanuel and Naama couldn’t fall asleep that night, they decided not to wait any longer for their passports. They would simply leave without them.
“Yes, Immanuel, that is a great idea.” Rabbi Elyashiv Bender patted his son, seated in his wheelchair, on the shoulder. “You cannot stay here one more minute. We will get the passports to you as soon as they arrive.”
The rabbi had just arrived to calm down his son, as they prepared to part for the last time. All he wanted was for his son to be happy. Elyashiv had known for days that he was about to lose Immanuel. In the previous two years overall, he had seen how the bitterness and rage had eaten up all emotion in his heart, but today Immanuel’s face had lit up again. Elyashiv knew the reason for this: as Immanuel had told him earlier, he and Naama had decided to take Shir with them.
“Rabbi, pardon me, but I don’t think this is a good idea,” Daniela insisted. “You’re going to take a child who isn’t yours? Who’s ever heard of such a thing? Rabbi, with all due respect, I cannot believe that you would support such an act,” she continued.
“Immanuel, if Mom thinks this is a bad idea, maybe we should rethink it?” Naama asked.
“Maybe you shouldn’t!” Elyashiv interjected.
Immanuel’s eyes darted back and forth, “You want me to come with you, right? Well, if you want me to come, then we have to live together as a family. I don’t want to spend my life consumed by guilt over your childlessness. Don’t you understand that?”
It was the first time Immanuel had ever raised his voice to her. Naama understood the great frustration her beloved husband was struggling with. When they had argued last night in the silence and dark, Immanuel had threatened that if Naama didn’t take the child with them, he would stay in the country. She loved him more than life itself; after all, he had saved her life more than once. She did not feel that she had repaid the debt by taking his place to shoot the minister. Immanuel had laid it all out for her: they would take Shir with them and go live as a family somewhere far away. As time passed, Shir would forget her real parents, and they would live happily in some distant location.
“Immanuel, Naama, I just cannot agree. This is a sin. This is utterly wrong. And your sister and her husband will never stop until they find you. What will happen then?”
The four of them looked at each other, as they stood in the kitchen. It was very late, but they all knew that there was no time to wait. They had to leave tonight. Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. Binyamin, one of the young men from the hilltop, who was supposed to help them escape, entered.
“I have your passports and your plane tickets,” he said to Immanuel, who breathed a sigh of relief. He flipped through the papers, looking at the passports and confirming that Shir was written in both. He looked at Naama. She knew exactly what he was checking. He identified in her eyes her lack of agreement. But from his viewpoint, he, Naama, and Shir could escape now — far away. “We’ve also learned that the police are on the way. The brigade at Camp Dotan is about to begin setting up roadblocks all around. You have to get moving,” he urged them.
“Yes,” Immanuel agreed. “We’ve got to get moving.” Their suitcases were packed and sitting by the door. The car was already parked outside.
Naama could not look her mother in the eye. She turned to the room where Shir was sleeping. Naama wanted to take the girl while she was still sleeping, to avoid superfluous crying. Shir had not stopped crying for two days now, and only Daniela could calm her down.
“I’m sorry, Naama, but I cannot allow you to do this…” Daniela stood in the doorway, blocking her way.
“Mom, I’m sorry too. I love you, but this is our decision. It would be such a shame for us to part like this.” She approached her mother, wanting to hug her goodbye, but Daniela, deeply pained, refused her embrace.
“Okay, wait just a moment, Naama. I’ll bring the girl to you. Go get yourselves ready, load the luggage into the car. I will wrap her up and bring her out to you.”
Rabbi Elyashiv had already helped Immanuel into the car and said his goodbyes. Naama and Binyamin heaved the suitcases into the trunk and closed it. It was dark and cold outside.
Naama waited next to the car, waiting for her mother to bring Shir. She still had her doubts about the decision. Daniela was dead set against it, but Immanuel, whom she loved and planned to spend the rest of her life with, had already decided the previous day that they had no choice.
“Naama, go see what’s holding up your mother,” Immanuel asked. “We can’t wait anymore.”
Naama tightened the kerchief on her head and went back into the house, which was totally silent despite the lights blazing away inside.
“Mom? Mom?” she started to call, but once she went into the room Shir had been sleeping in, the realization hit her like a thunderbolt: Daniela was trying to hide Shir and keep her from being taken. “Damnit!” she cursed as she ran outside. “Binyamin!” she whispered to her co-conspirator. “Come over here, I need your help.”
The yeshiva campus, which abutted the hilltop outpost, was frenzied with activity since the news had reached it, fifteen minutes earlier, that the police were on their way. Everyone knew their role. Some were supposed to stay in their beds feigning sleep, while others would be praying to the Creator. Some would be cleaning up the kitchen after a full day of activity, while others from the outpost volunteered to patrol at night, which was a matter of routine. But all of them, without exception, regardless of what they were supposed to be doing, were primed and ready for the arrival of the soldiers and cops.
Rabbi Elyashiv had advised against violent resistance, but he did stress that they should deny any request from the police, with the aim of stalling for as long as possible without giving anything up. Some were opposed to this tactic, as they were hoping to put into practice what they had begun to train for: active use of force against the police and the security forces. For many people, this was the beginning of the Disengagement, and for mon
ths they had been running drills to prepare. They were passionate and motivated to confront the law-enforcement forces who were coming for them; however, the dean of their yeshiva had ordered them to avoid violence and only to engage in passive resistance when it came to being questioned. The rabbi explained that they had to save their strength for the hour of truth.
At the outpost on the hilltop, the youths were primed and ready for any encounter with the police. They had a few firearms in their possession, and their plans and observation logs were wondrously hidden, while most of the young women had been sent off to neighboring settlements.
The headlights of the approaching law-enforcement forces could be seen from far away. Galia and Doron declined to join the convoy, preferring to travel in their car, bringing up the rear. As they approached the settlement of Ein Regev, Galia’s pulse quickened, as the terror and trembling began to overtake her. She wrapped herself in her coat, trying to draw comfort from its warmth.
Doron glanced at her. “When we get to the yeshiva, I’ll get out with the team while you wait in the car. It could be dangerous, and I cannot be worrying about you too while I’m trying to find Shir and Naama.”
Galia nodded. She had no intention of arguing with Doron. She knew that any such argument might easily deteriorate into an accusatory exchange which would rightly blame her for everything.
The police cars braked to a halt, and the cops spread out around the campus. The commander of the force, Chief Superintendent Yuval Kahana, signaled Doron to approach. “I’ve got the impression that they’ll be waiting for us here, and not with open arms…” he told Doron, hoping to explain the relative quiet.
“Don’t be confused, and don’t let the silence mislead you. They are ready for us, and they know exactly why we’re here. I presume they’re testing us. They want to see how we’ll react.”
“Yes, you’re right, of course. Okay.” He signaled a number of cops to approach him. “Good,” he said over the comm. “So we’re going to proceed now to the yeshiva, where we’ll request to speak with the dean. We’ll do this tactfully, but I want all of our forces over the campus to be listening, armed and ready, in case we need help.”
“I’ll be right alongside you,” Doron told him.
Yuval knew Doron — who technically outranked him— well. He knew that it was pointless to argue with him, and he would certainly need his assistance.
From her seat in the car, Galia could see Doron with the other cops, marching up to the yeshiva’s main entrance. In a few seconds, it was opened and they were allowed to enter without protest.
She looked around. This was where her sister had grown up, more or less. Perhaps this was where Shir had spent the last few days. Maybe she was still here.
I have to look for her, she decided. Silently, making sure her coat was closed against the cold, she eased herself out of the car and turned towards a path which led away from the yeshiva. The air was frigid, and the strong wind reminded her of the heights of the Carmel where she had been just a short time ago. Behind the black clouds, the moon was barely visible, and the darkness she encountered with each step was equally daunting and appealing. She kept walking on, walking fearlessly, noticing some prefabricated buildings on a hill not far away. Near the buildings she saw a number of tents and light which emanated from one of them. She walked towards the light. Rain had begun to fall, so she accelerated her pace, berating herself for forgetting her umbrella in the car. A dog suddenly appeared and began barking at her, frightening her. However, as its barks subsided, she relaxed, even bending down and petting his wet fur.
“What a cute doggy!” she exclaimed, as she tried to calm… either herself or the animal, it wasn’t clear. “Doggy, have you seen Shir? Have you seen my daughter?” she asked, as tears welled up in her eyes. The dog barked at her again. To Galia it seemed that the dog was replying to her, was beckoning her to follow it. She complied, hoping to find someone who might answer her questions.
At that time, Doron, Yuval, and the other security personnel were in Rabbi Elyashiv Bender’s office. They were trying to glean some information, some details of his involvement in the assassination attempt. Out of respect for Yuval as the commander of the force, Doron let him conduct the questioning. He impatiently sat to the side and watched everything that happened. He recalled the events of a few years ago, when the weapons cache had been found in the yeshiva’s courtyard. On that occasion, the rabbi had been less than cooperative… Doron remembered the hostile faces watching him and his staff, as they turned the location upside down looking for other firearms or inciting materials.
What has changed? he asked himself as he observed the rabbi, who was sitting in his chair casually. He had provided the cops with hot drinks, which had arrived just a few seconds after they’d entered his office.
The wheels were speedily turning in Doron’s mind as he analyzed the situation. He suddenly shot to his feet, startling the other detectives, who looked at him. He went over to Yuval and whispered in his ear, “The rabbi seems a little too relaxed. He’s too pleasant, and I don’t see any suspicious movement. They knew we were coming, and their behavior indicates they’re trying to buy time.” He looked straight at the rabbi, and their gazes locked. Doron knew that Elyashiv recognized him as the detective who had interrogated him for hours years ago. A cloud passed over the rabbi’s blue eyes, and Doron took note of it. There was something more there, a riddle Doron could not solve. Still, he had no doubt that he was right about the rabbi’s hospitality: he was trying to stall.
Yuval whispered back, “So what do you suggest?”
“You stay here, spend a few more minutes with the dean. That way you’ll keep him here. I’m going to snoop around outside. Then, ask him politely to accompany you to the police car, and take a couple of the yeshiva’s students with him. See if you can pick out his closest disciples. He definitely has an aide who sticks by his side. Try to locate him. I’m going to look for other suspects.”
The rabbi cleared his throat noisily, expressing his displeasure with Doron and Yuval’s side conversation.
“Anyway,” Doron continued. “I’m going out to survey the area. If there’s anything new, anything suspicious, I’ll update you. The main thing is to be ready for resistance at any moment.”
The dean’s gaze followed Doron out of his office. He admired his professionalism, but he felt no affection, only aggravation, at the embodiment of the law preparing to banish them from this plot of land. On top of that, Elyashiv was worried that Doron might catch his son Immanuel and Naama before they made their escape.
The gloom that had greeted the team when they arrived at the yeshiva vanished as dim lights went on in all the rooms. It was clear the students had anticipated the arrival of law enforcement. Their alert presence was apparent throughout the campus. Doron’s eyes surveyed each and every foot. He tried to locate any suspicious movement, but all he encountered were hostile looks from the various students.
He presumed that Naama and Shir were not around. He noticed some buildings in the distance, and he decide to head there and try to sniff out a clue. The rain was coming down heavily now. He pulled the hood of his coat over his head and stalked off. The path seemed to be long and muddy, so he soon decided to go back and take the car. He could ask one of the other cops to watch Galia while he drove off, he thought. Who knew what he might encounter? He didn’t want to put her in danger.
However, as he approached the car, the headlights were off and the engine was silent. Strange, he had left it on to keep the heater going. He peeked inside, but Galia was gone. He looked around, dumbfounded and infuriated. Maybe she had gone off for a moment and would shortly return? But there was no indication of her presence anywhere around. Motherfucker, what is wrong with that woman! he cursed to himself. He started to walk away from the car. Unfortunately, he couldn’t call out her name, because he had to avoid undue attention.
He still
couldn’t see a trace of her. Now worry was eating away at his heart… perhaps she had been taken by force? Maybe she had gotten out just to walk around, only to slip and fall in the mud and murk? Was she injured? He strode away from the car, straining his ears and eyes for any sign, any sound, or movement around him, but the silence was absolute.
***
On the hilltop, Galia suddenly encountered two figures. They were coming towards her and exchanging glances. Galia opened her mouth to say something, but in a second they were upon her. A hand was clamped over her mouth as she was dragged to one of the buildings.
She struggled, but to no avail. She flailed with her hands, trying to fight back; she tried to kick the man holding her, but he overpowered her. She was dragged into a darkened room. Her heart pounded in fright, as awful thoughts ran through her mind. She feared for her life, but more than that she feared what might happen, feared that she would never again see Shir and Doron. The hand over her mouth loosened a bit.
“I’ll take my hand away if you promise not to scream,” a male voice said.
Galia nodded her agreement.
The hand disappeared, and she took a deep breath. She looked around the room, as her vision adjusted to the dimness. The room was utterly empty except for a desk, a chair, and a mattress on which she lay.
“Who are you?” she asked as the two young men went over to the window and looked out.
They did not reply.
“Do you know Naama?” She was hoping to get some information, but they were preoccupied. Still, she noticed that they exchanged glances, so she persisted. “Do you know where she is? I’m her sister. I’m looking for her.”
One of the young men turned around. “Look, lady, we’re not going to answer you. If you can’t be quiet, we’ll have to shut you up again.”
Forced Silence Page 20
