by Erez Aharoni
He was closed inside the restroom stall, facing the wall. A large, scary bump had grown on his head, his pants and underwear were pulled down and a strange and powerful man stood behind him holding a gun against his temple.
“Who are you? What do you want?” asked Ofer.
“Are you Ofer Angel?” the man asked in a deep voice.
Ofer didn’t have the chance to decide whether it was wise to answer the question when the man grabbed him by the back of the neck and pushed his head towards the toilet.
What does this pervert want? A rattling thought passed through his mind. While his body advanced towards the toilet bowl, he tried to glance back in order to get some identifying marks, an item of clothing or something of the madman’s profile, but his excruciatingly painful position did not allow him to do so.
“Where is test tube?” Ofer heard.
He had a Russian accent. Numerous questions popped into Ofer’s mind. Was this man sent by Igor Harsovsky? Did he know Ofer suspected he was responsible for the murders of Rodety and Natalia? Interesting how rumors spread so quickly in this town. And what important test tube had caused him to send his hired assassin to commune with Ofer in a filthy restroom stall?
How can I get out of this one? What story should I invent? Ofer tried to think fast.
“What test tube?” asked Ofer, in an attempt to gain some time.
His attacker bent him further, as if he were the accordion-like part at the top of a plastic straw.
His back nearly broke. His legs remained straightened, his buttocks were raised up and his back was bent almost all the way to the floor.
Without a word, the stranger shoved Ofer’s head into the toilet bowl. Clearly, the man preferred actions to words. When Ofer was close to the surface of the water, the other man flushed the toilet. Water washed over Ofer’s head and covered his nostrils and mouth. He wasn’t bothered with thoughts of all the sickness, filth and germs the dirty water contained, just with the thought of when he would be able to breathe again.
After about a minute, the man drew his head out the toilet bowl.
“Well, man, now you remember?” His throaty R’s left no room for doubt regarding his origin.
The filthy water dripped from Ofer’s neck and trickled into his clothes. He filled up his lungs with air.
“Remember what?” asked Ofer, trying to gain a few more seconds and a few more gulps of air.
The stranger didn’t hesitate before shoving his head into the depths of the toilet bowl and flushing the water again. This time, Ofer’s head remained there for what seemed to be an eternity. When the man lifted his head again, a fountain of water gushed from Ofer’s mouth. Ofer coughed as hard as he could to clear the water from his windpipe.
It’s better to die from a deadly smallpox virus mutation, thought Ofer.
“Last time. Where is test tube?”
A moment before losing consciousness, Ofer came to the realization he wasn’t going to get out of the restroom stall unless he could satisfy the thug’s demands.
In a moment of clarity, he quickly moved his hand back between his legs. He felt the other man’s testicles and penis compress and squeeze into the size of a fist. His fist.
His assailant screamed loudly. A scream that came from the lower parts of his belly. A scream mixed with surprise and pain. Ofer didn’t care at all. He wasn’t about to let go.
He held the man’s testicles and penis as if they were a life belt in the middle of a stormy ocean. He held them as if they were the thread by which his life was hanging. He squeezed them as hard as he could, knowing he could barter his life only for the goods he was holding and deciding he wouldn’t let go even if the stranger returned him to the water of the toilet bowl or even if he fired his gun. Ofer felt like Archimedes, who asked for a lever and a place to stand so he could move the Earth.
The stranger huffed and puffed and attempted to release himself but to no avail. Ofer immediately realized the man needed him to stay alive until he got what he was looking for. He intended to use this information for his own personal interests.
Ofer turned around with deliberate slowness. He lifted one of his feet in a circular movement and positioned himself in front of his attacker, not letting go of the three precious objects he was holding in his hand.
He straightened up until he could see the Russian’s face. Not a delightful experience.
They were about the same height. The other man’s shoulders were broad and almost touched the sides of the stall, his head emerging from them like a stalk. His dark coat was open, and underneath it he wore a black shirt. A long diagonal scar crossed his low forehead. His eyes were cold and penetrating. It was clear that he was in the habit of clenching his lips, even when he wasn’t in pain.
His dark coat brought up forgotten memories from the depths of Ofer’s subconscious: This is the same coat the unidentified man was wearing in the hotel when I found Rodety. This man has a lot of explaining to do.
“Fuck your mother…” the goon said, once Ofer was finished with the gymnastics and stood in front of him, so close that he could feel his breath. Alcohol fumes rose from his quickened breath. Ofer took comfort in the fact that the brute could enjoy the fumes of Arak and grapefruit juice that emerged from his own mouth.
“Do you know Rodety?” Ofer asked and squeezed the soft members in his hand.
“Don’t know.”
“Do you know Natalia?”
“Don’t know.”
“Do you know Caucasian carpet from apartment?” Ofer tried to use the Russian’s dialect.
“Leave… leave dick alone… or I shoot you in head…”
Ofer had only a brief moment to reach the conclusion he was facing a man whose heart was the equal of his mouth.
He didn’t doubt the brute’s words, neither did he hesitate. Ofer leaned his head back carefully, seeing the gun in front of him following his every movement. Then he quickly slammed his head with all the strength he could muster into the man’s nose, while his right hand did not let go for an instant of the family jewels, perhaps even intensifying its frightful grip.
Blood spurted from both nostrils of the Russian’s flat nose. His eyes widened. He released his grip on the gun a bit, but the barrel was still frighteningly close to Ofer’s temple. The man didn’t move and didn’t say a word for a long time. Very carefully, Ofer opened his hand and let go of the man’s private parts. He moved his left hand beyond the stranger’s wide body and slowly pushed at the door. It barely moved, and when it did, the Russian’s body was dragged along with the motion.
When the door finally opened, Ofer understood the strange physical phenomenon.
On the stall door, exactly at the height of his head, there was a long steel hook, intended for the hanging of coats or hats or God only knew what.
Ofer’s head butt had rammed the man’s skull straight into the hook; it was embedded right in the middle of the small bald patch on the crown of his head. He remained hanging on it, like a jacket on a coatrack. Blood gushed from both his nose and skull and covered his shirt with dark red stains. Bits of skull and brains were splattered round the metal hook in a geometrically precise circle.
Ofer gently removed the gun from the Russian’s hand, lifted his pants and underwear and dropped the gun in his pocket.
He left the body, pinned to the stall door like a calendar, without even a shred of remorse. Just a few moments ago, the dead man had tried to send Mansherov to the afterlife with a frozen chicken and then he had intended to send Ofer to the exact same address by drowning him in a toilet bowl.
Ofer escaped to the busy pedestrian mall, wet and bruised, shivering from cold and terror. Things had gotten much scarier. A deadly virus was burning inside his body and might yet bring about his collapse. But it turned out that was the easy part. A stranger had invaded his apartment and his life and had tried to kill him.
Who was the mercenary now hanging on a hook? Who had sent him? And what test tube was he talking abou
t?
From the chaos of the questions that ran through his head, a clear and shocking realization arose, “I took a man’s life,” he mumbled to himself with growing disbelief. “I… Ofer Angel… have killed a man.”
Chapter 35
The brimmed hat Dr. Friedman was wearing did not draw the attention of the passersby along Ben Zion Boulevard in Tel Aviv, even though there wasn’t any sunlight. Evening had fallen, and the streetlights made it difficult to identify his face.
He sucked on an e-cigarette and occasionally glanced at his watch. As was his habit, he was early.
The man he was supposed to meet was fifteen minutes late, as was his habit. People our age don’t change, Dr. Friedman comforted himself.
When he finally arrived, Dr. Friedman could hardly recognize the man. He was wearing warm ups and a baseball cap. Not the sort of clothes Dr. Friedman was used to seeing him wearing.
They walked down the boulevard slowly.
“What was so urgent?” asked his guest. He seemed completely at ease. The light uniform flattered his figure. “I had to miss my practice to come and meet you.”
“That lawyer is a real bitch. She scheduled an appointment with me yesterday, using some lame excuse. After the meeting, she somehow managed to stay in the factory and possibly infiltrated the laboratory. The security cameras only show her coming into the meeting with me, and then exiting the building only the following morning.”
“Are you putting me on? Where were your famous security measures?”
“It’s shameful and we will deal with it harshly. But that’s the easy part… a test tube is missing from the laboratory. It has the new vaccine we’ve been developing. There’s a good chance she stole it.”
“What are you saying? A lawyer breaking the law so many times? In one day? She must be out of her mind!”
“What should we do? She has a virtual nuclear bomb in her hands. She might just bring everything out into the open. The damage to the country would be irreparable. She has clear proof that the virus wasn’t destroyed. I don’t believe we’ll be able to manage the shitstorm that will be caused by such an event.”
“Are you sure she has the test tube that’s missing? Maybe the laboratory people simply don’t know what’s going on under their own noses and failed to count the test tubes properly.”
“She has it. She has it. Or maybe attorney Gideon Geller’s intern has it, he’s her friend apparently.”
“What do you mean? How do you know that?”
“I know. There’s a connection between the two. I asked our security officer to conduct an initial investigation into who she is and where she comes from. They are childhood friends. There’s a chance he’s helping her hide the test tube.”
“But he works for a law firm that represents a client opposed to her organization. How can he be cooperating with her?”
“You’re looking for loyalty with lawyers? You know them better than I do.”
“Tell me, if your security level is so miserably low, how do you know she didn’t take a test tube with viruses as well?”
“God forbid. But we have not completely ignored this possibility. I ordered a thorough and meticulous inventory count,” Dr. Friedman fumed. “Do you understand the meaning of this? Do you realize that if, God forbid, you are right, she is moving about with a few fucking cc’s… pardon my language, of a substance that could send half the population of this city to the next world?”
“I know.”
“Maybe she transferred what she stole to Harsovsky?”
“That would be an apocalypse. You know what the man is capable of and what his plans are. Do you think she’s working for him?”
“He’s her sponsor. And he’s a man who knows how to buy people. Why should she continue to fight for environmental issues if he’ll line her pockets with a few shekels?”
“She needs to spend the rest of her life in prison, for treason. Do you hear me? No less than that. The younger generation nowadays has no values. They also have nothing between their ears and nothing beating in their chests. What do you think drives her? Publicity and money. I think she should be severely punished.”
“And in plain language? What do you suggest that we do?”
“I suggest that we think outside the box and find a solution.”
“Do you have something in mind?” Friedman asked.
“No. And you?”
“We have a lead we can follow. The lawyer certainly knows things she shouldn’t know. She visited me and she’s acting suspiciously, to say the least. Why don’t we start with her? But this time professionally and without silken gloves.”
“Good idea. Suits me like a glove,” his companion repeated Dr. Friedman’s words, emphasizing the word “glove” and gradually falling in love with the idea that had just came into the world.
They parted with a firm handshake.
Chapter 36
Ofer went up to his apartment. His revulsion at the terrible mess in the rooms had not diminished. He knew that the sense of disgust would remain with him even after he straightened up, but first he wanted to look and smell like a human being again. At long last, he took a shower, cleaned up the vomit and changed his clothes. When he was done, he felt slightly better.
He called Yoav. “What’s up, man? Any results?”
“Not yet. You need to be patient, my friend.”
“I thought of going out to have a drink. I’ve got a lot to tell you. And more importantly, I’ve got a lot of riddles to solve. I need a sharp mind like yours on my side.”
Yoav hesitated at first. “I had other plans. But you know what, you sound so depressed that I just have to cheer you up a bit. It won’t hurt for me to use my head a little bit. God knows I used the rest of my body parts last night.”
Jealousy flooded Ofer; he preferred not to ask for the dirty details.
“Perhaps you should come here first. The results may arrive any moment now,” Yoav suggested.
Ofer liked that idea and drove to the Forensic Institute.
The guard had been told about his arrival in advance and allowed him to enter. Yoav’s work environment wasn’t really arousing. On the contrary. The strong scent of formalin made it impossible for the senses to concentrate on anything else.
Yoav ushered him into a large workroom. Strong fluorescent lights glittered. The walls were lined with shelves laden with jars. In the center of the room stood two stainless steel gurneys. The floor was made of light colored tiles and appeared to be frequently cleaned.
“Come on. Talk. What riddles do you have for me?” asked Yoav.
“Look, things are much more complicated than I first thought them to be,” explained Ofer.
“The riddle goes like this:
“The dwarf with the mustache was found dead in the Dan Panorama Hotel.
“The intern’s father had died in exactly the same way ten years earlier.
“The dwarf, before dying, had tried to send a text message to the Russian oligarch. The message was ‘The fire is burning.’”
“The intern’s apartment was broken into by someone who stole, among other things, a Caucasian carpet.
“The Russian chambermaid was rolled into the Caucasian carpet in Holon.
“The oligarch’s business card was found with the chambermaid, who had her braid stuffed into her mouth.
“The owner of the Caucasian carpet found both bodies by himself.”
“Are you making this all up, or is there some truth in there?”
“It’s all true. They broke into my apartment. They killed the chambermaid. The guy who broke into my apartment chased me—”
“Hold on, man. That’s too much information. Let’s go at it step by step. Now tell me, what’s the question we need to solve at the end of the puzzle? And what is the reward?” Yoav was losing his patience.
“I’m fed up with you. You’re not taking this seriously, please try to concentrate. The first question is very simple in my opinion—Why was the Eng
lish kangaroo in contact with the Russian oligarch, and what does ‘The fire is burning’ mean?”
“All right, I see that you’re not in the mood for black humor. Tell me what you saw on the English kangaroo’s cell phone. Let’s start with something specific.”
“I saw he claimed that ‘The fire is burning.’”
“What is the ‘fire’?... Wait, I have an idea. Perhaps it’s the name of the disease? Smallpox was also called ‘The Great Fire.’”
“What does that have to do with anything?” Ofer remembered with dread the last article he had read on the internet.
“It has everything to do with it. Rodety died of a viral infection. The virus is a mutation of the black plague. Why isn’t this a good direction? But in my humble opinion, that’s not the question. The question is—Whose body will the intern come across next, isn’t it?”
Ofer gave him a terrified stare. How did Yoav know? “The stranger was found hung from a hook in the public restrooms…” said Ofer.
“Ofer, what is wrong with you? Are you feeling well?” Yoav looked concerned.
A short, bald man, dressed in a green gown and wearing gold-framed glasses, entered the room.
“Professor Zissou, this is a friend of mine, Ofer Angel,” Yoav introduced him to his boss.
To Ofer’s shock and disgust, the professor was holding something that looked like a chunk of meat in his gloved hands.
“Look at this spleen,” he said to Yoav. Ofer was glad he hadn’t tried to shake the professor’s hand.
“I see the tumor, according to the size and color,” said Yoav.
For a moment, Ofer regretted coming there. A sickness overwhelmed him and a lump was stuck in his throat.
“This is the friend from whose father’s grave we took tissue for examination,” said Yoav.
“Welcome. It’s a good thing that you brought your father for examination,” said the professor. “The bones were in excellent shape. There were more than enough tissue and hair remains. I even identified some tooth fragments. Apparently, the soil there has good qualities that preserve whatever’s buried in it. Luckily for you, the microbes I was looking for were absorbed into the bones. Must have had enough of it in the body. In short, we’ve discovered your father was carrying what may have been a highly dangerous virus mutation in his body.”
