The Righteous One

by Neil Perry Gordon

Moshe shrugged. “I don’t know. It seems my life is not my own anymore. I feel like I’m part of some story from Greek mythology where the gods manipulate the humans for their amusement.”

  “You mean like Hercules?” Arnold said with a grin.

  Moshe tried to manage a smile. “If only I had one tenth of his strength.”

  Chapter 71

  “The damn thing was too big,” Myron complained, sliding the recorder across his desk.

  “The bureau is working on some smaller prototypes, but that’s the best technology we have for the time being,” said Agent Michael Malone.

  “There’s nothing on it that we can use, Malone?” Frank asked.

  “I’m afraid not,” said Malone.

  “Once Niko gave him the heads up, he barely spoke to me,” Myron said.

  “I guess we know where her loyalties lie,” Frank said looking at Myron with a shrug.

  Myron stood up from behind his desk and stepped toward the window with the view of the Brooklyn Bridge. He pulled on the cord and lifted up the wood venetian blind, providing an unobstructed view of the traffic, which was backed up in both directions. He turned and pointed a finger at Malone and said, “Is this the best you can do?”

  “Mickey Coppola is a clever son of a bitch,” Malone said.

  “Come on now, are you saying you have no other plans to nail him on something?” Frank asked.

  “Our wire taps on his phone have come up with some interesting conversations with the Teamsters,” Malone said.

  “What’s that about?” Myron asked, and moved back to his desk and sat down.

  Malone looked over to Frank and then to Myron. “They’ve been talking about the Columbus Circle Coliseum project.”

  Myron leaned in, his elbows resting on his desk and asked, “What are they saying?”

  Malone shrugged slightly and said, “They are going to start with the project managers for each trade and pressure them.”

  “What are we going to do?” asked Myron.

  “We need to play dirty too,” Frank said with a mischievous grin.

  “Now you’re talking. What do you have in mind?” said Myron, rubbing his hands together.

  “Go ahead and tell him,” Frank said to Malone.

  Malone leaned in. He glanced over to Frank and back to Myron and said, “We’re going to set up a surveillance.”

  Myron shook his head. “We just tried that, Malone.”

  Malone ignored the comment, pointed to Myron, and said, “You’re going to need to convince Mickey that you made a mistake by awarding the Coliseum contract to a non-union shop. He’s going to say that you can change your mind and find some reason to make the contract null and void, which in itself may be illegal. But that wouldn’t be enough to convict Mickey for any serious time.”

  “So what do you have in mind?” Frank asked.

  “First you need to gain his confidence by giving him what he wants, which is the Coliseum contract. Then, in a casual conversation, you’re going to need him to confess to organizing the thugs that beat up those subcontractors,” Malone said.

  Myron nodded. “That sounds doable.”

  “That’s just the first part.”

  “What do you mean, Malone?” asked Myron.

  “You’re going to complain about your Police Commissioner,” Malone said, cocking his head over to Frank.

  “Complain about what?”

  “That he has been making things difficult for you to do certain things that Mickey and his friends want.”

  “He’s just going to tell me to fire him and replace him with someone who will listen,” Myron said.

  “You’re right. But you’ll say that he’s been holding some leverage over you, that prevents you from dismissing him.”

  “Which is?”

  Malone smiled, leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms on his chest and said, “He knows about your affair with Niko, Mickey’s daughter.”

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” Myron blurted out.

  Malone shook his head, and said, “I’m sure Mickey already knows you’re fucking his daughter, so I wouldn’t be too worried. But he will want to do something about Frank.”

  “Yes, like kill me,” Frank said.

  “Exactly!” Malone said, pointing his finger at Frank. “At least that’s what we are counting on. What we need is for him to say the words, so we can record them.”

  “So are you going to tape that thing to me again?” Myron said pointing to the recorder sitting in his desk.

  Malone shook his head. “Not on you, but in a room. We need to record him in a space he feels comfortable in. Where he will speak freely without worry. Do you have an idea of where such a place would be, Mr. Mayor?”

  Myron scratched the back of his head for a minute, and then smiled. “Antonio’s in the Bronx is the perfect place. He’ll never suspect anything there. Except, how will you plant a bug without being noticed. He owns the damn place.”

  “Leave that to the FBI. That’s what we do best.”

  Chapter 72

  Solomon found Rebecca walking on a beach alone. She was wearing something soft, allowing the breeze to flutter it behind her. Her hair was loose and mimicked the motion of her dress.

  “Rebecca,” Solomon called out.

  The waves were softly lapping at her bare feet. She reached down to pick up a shell, and as she stood up, she turned and saw Solomon.

  “Is it you?” she asked.

  Solomon ran over. His body was young and strong and in no need of the cane he had become dependent on. “It’s me, Solomon.”

  She ran into his arms and they kissed.

  “This feels so real,” she said.

  “You’re lovely,” Solomon said, gently stroking her face.

  “How did you find me?”

  “I can find anyone in the dream world. Now that you’re lucid, we can experience our lovemaking together.”

  “Solomon,” she said running her hands across his bare chest, “you’re so fit and so young.

  “And you’re incredibly beautiful, Rebecca.”

  They embraced and their bodies intertwined and floated high above the beach and soared across the vast ocean.

  The next morning when Solomon awoke, he did his best to get his aching body out of bed. The first thing he wanted to do was to go to the library and see Rebecca. It took the better part of an hour to get himself ready. Finally he grabbed his cane and he sat himself on his front porch waiting for the cab.

  Planting his cane firmly on each step, he ascended in between the two powerful lion sculptures and into the grand entrance of the New York City Public Library. The moment he entered he needed to maneuver himself around crowds filling the large gallery. He pushed people out of his way with his cane as he cut a path toward the main reading room where he would find Rebecca.

  The second he saw her eyes without their usual sparkle, he knew something was wrong. Solomon offered a brief wave but she ignored him. He made his way around the rows of large wooden tables where people were sitting, whispering and reading. When he finally got to her desk, she looked up and stretched out her right arm and pointed behind him. “Go wait for me downstairs. I’ll be there soon.”

  Solomon squinted and cocked his head and said, “Sure, take your time.”

  Two hours he waited. Every time someone entered through the large wooden doors, Solomon looked up. He thought about finding something to read while he sat there, but he figured what was the point, she could show up any minute.

  The next thing he remembered he was being shaken awake by Rebecca.

  “Solomon, wake up.”

  He opened his eyes and rubbed his forehead. “Where am I?”

  “It’s me, Rebecca. You’re at the library. I’m sorry to have you wait so long. It’s been one of those days. I think every school district in the city sent a class or two.”

  Solomon pushed himself up from the deep slouch he ended up in after dozing off.

  “Okay, I’m glad yo
u’re finally here,” he said.

  “Come, let’s sit over here where it’s more private,” Rebecca said, pointing to a cluster of chairs in a small alcove, partially hidden by a bookshelf.

  Solomon groaned a bit as he pushed himself out of the chair.

  Rebecca grabbed onto his elbow and helped him stand.

  “Thank you. I’m not as young as I am in my dreams,” he said with a smirk.

  Rebecca nodded.

  “Is something wrong, Rebecca? Are you upset by me coming here?”

  She shrugged, “No, not really. But there is something I want to discuss with you about last night.”

  The words last night, send a chill through Solomon. He smiled and asked, “What would you like to talk about?”

  “It was something you said, and by the way, I remember everything that happened.”

  “As do I,” Solomon quickly replied with a smile.

  “When I asked you, how did you find me? You said, ‘I can find anyone in the dream world. Now that you’re lucid, we can experience our lovemaking together.’”

  Solomon nodded slowly. “I remember,” he said.

  “I thought about those words and realized that it was you coming to me in my dreams before I learned how to be lucid. Were you making love to me, without my consent?”

  Solomon straightened his spine, trying to sit tall in the wooden chair. He glanced to either side of him and rubbed his chin. “You’re right, Rebecca. It was without your permission.”

  The words hung there for a while, allowing Solomon to think of the warning he was given by Francesa Sarah to not violate Rebecca in her dreams. He was now regretting not obeying her command.

  Rebecca looked at Solomon and shook her head, then said, “I should be angry with you, but for some strange reason I’m not.”

  Solomon let out a long exhalation. He wasn’t even aware he was holding his breath.

  “You’re not mad?”

  “No. Maybe it was your way to get to know me,” she continued. “In a strange, weird way, it’s kind of romantic. Not that I’m going to ever tell anyone about this,” she said with a wide smile, showing off her two dimples.

  Solomon reached out and grabbed her hands resting on the table. “You make me happy, Rebecca.”

  “Thank you, Solomon. You make me happy too.”

  Chapter 73

  “Who is on the phone, Betsy?” Arnold asked his secretary over the intercom.

  “She says her name is Noa. N-O-A.”

  “That’s Gray’s friend who Moshe told me about. What does she want?”

  “She wants to come talk to you about Gray. She can be here in two minutes. She’s calling from a pay phone across the street.”

  Arnold got up and looked out his window. “There she is,” he said.

  “What do I tell her?”

  “Tell her to come up.”

  A few minutes later Noa walked into Arnold’s office.

  “Hello, Noa. Moshe told me about you,” Arnold said, as he rose from his chair and stepped around his desk with an outstretched hand.

  Noa gripped it firmly and shook. “Nice to meet you. Gray was a close friend. I understand you were with him when he was murdered.”

  “I was. A very tragic end for a good man.”

  “He was a good man, thank you, Arnold. Moshe told me that Gray worked for you.”

  “He did, well sort of,” Arnold said, and look closely at Noa. “You sweat too, just like Gray, and now Moshe.”

  “Yes, all dreamers sweat.”

  “Dreamers? Is that what you’re calling yourselves? It makes sense. Gray with his grayness, seemed like a dream. He was a wonderful man, and a good friend. I will miss him.”

  “Gray told me many things about you. It’s because of you we found Moshe the tzaddik.”

  “Tell me, why are you here?”

  Noa gripped the arms of the chair and took a breath, and said, “This is hard to say, and I didn’t want to come and ask. But Sammy, that’s my boyfriend, said I should. We want to give Gray a proper Jewish burial, but we have very little money. So I was hoping…”

  “Don’t say another word. I’ve got it covered. It would be an honor.”

  Noa’s shoulder’s relaxed, she exhaled and said, “Thank you, Arnold. A Jewish burial is important for the passing of Gray’s soul into his next incarnation.”

  “I agree.”

  “Tell me, if you don’t mind me asking, why did you seek out the tzaddik?”

  “My rabbi, Rabbi Shapira, may peace be upon him, was my mentor in Kabbalah. He was also the son of Moshe’s childhood rabbi, back in Krzywcza. Some coincidence, huh?”

  Noa nodded.

  “Anyway, he ran into Solomon Blass at a course on the dark side of Kabbalah, many years ago. According to Rabbi Shapira, Solomon had some disturbing comments and observations during the course.

  “After a few classes, the rabbi asked Solomon to have coffee with him at the diner. The conversation started with the basic Kabbalah affirmations. You know what I mean, understanding Desire, finding the Light. Then when it got to Opposition, things got interesting. The rabbi’s interpretation of the Opposition was not the same as Solomon’s, or any Kabbalist.”

  Noa wagged her finger at him. “That’s true, that’s where the rasha strays from the intended meaning.”

  “That’s what the rabbi thought. He said if Solomon was indeed rasha, that people in his path would suffer, while he prospered. This we discovered was true. Solomon had this uncanny ability of foresight that made him, and his son Myron, our mayor, wealthy and powerful men.

  “This began ten years ago, and just one and a half years ago I found Moshe the Cobbler, right across the street. And, of course, Gray magically showed up a few weeks before I found the tzaddik.”

  Noa lifted herself out of her chair a bit, re-crossed her legs, and said, “Gray and I have been aware of the rasha for many years. His behavior caused a disturbance in the dream world.”

  “What does that mean?” Arnold asked.

  Noa smiled and tilted her head. “When evil appears, the dreamers become agitated and seek to correct the imbalance. But if a rasha causes the disturbance, there is little that can be done without the power of a tzaddik. That is why when Gray found you, and then you discovered Moshe, we knew we had our chance to extinguish the soul of the rasha.”

  Arnold stood up and walked over to the sink. He filled a glass with water and handed it to Noa. “Gray was always thirsty.”

  “Thank you, Arnold.”

  “What do you think about Moshe’s chances of seeing this through?” Arnold said.

  Noa took a sip of the water and placed the glass down on Arnold’s desk and said, “After his encounter with the spirit Francesa Sarah, I would say better. But I’m not sure. Moshe is a kind man and what he needs to do is hard. Even to someone as evil as Solomon Blass.”

  “But it must be done,” Arnold said.

  Noa nodded, and said solemnly, “It must be done.”

  After speaking a while longer, Arnold walked Noa down the stairs and into a taxi. He handed the driver ten dollars and told him to keep the change.

  “Don’t worry about the funeral expenses. You arrange what you want and send me all of the bills. I’ll take care of them,” he said to Noa, and closed the car door.

  Noa put her palm against the window and mouthed the words, thank you.

  Every Wednesday, Arnold and Agnes met at the diner to discuss Myron, and the assortment of issues that came up regularly. By the time he arrived on this day, Agnes was there drinking a cup of coffee.

  “Sorry, I’m late. I just had Gray’s friend Noa in the office.”

  “I don’t know her.”

  “Yes, she’s the same woman who has been teaching Moshe how to be awake in his dreams.”

  Agnes took a sip of her coffee as Arnold took off his jacket and slid into the booth across from her.

  “Before we discuss Myron, I want to hear more about Gray.”

  Arnold
picked up the menu and handed it to the waitress, “I’ll have the usual, Ruth, thank you.”

  “You got it, sweetie,” she said, filling his coffee cup.

  “What’s his real name?” Agnes asked.

  Arnold shrugged. “Nothing mysterious, it’s Gary. When he was a teenager, he read a book about a Jewish spy who infiltrated Russian headquarters. The character was called the Gray Man. His secret was to blend in with the surroundings, as if he was invisible. He wore only gray clothing and had gray hair.

  “After reading the book, all he had to do was flip two letters in his name, and he became Gray instead of Gary. Just like the heroic character, he started wearing only gray clothing. His eyes, at first a pale shade of blue, according to what Noa said, soon faded to gray. Even his hair turned prematurely gray by the time he was twenty years old.”

  “Here you go, Arnold,” Ruth said, and placed an egg sandwich in front of him.

  “Thank you, Ruth,” Arnold said, twisting the top off the ketchup bottle.

  “But what’s with the dreaming?” Agnes said.

  “It starts with Noa. When she was seven years old she started having recurring dreams about this mystic from the seventeenth century, called Francesa Sarah of Safed. When she told her mother about them, her mother was thrilled. She sat Noa down and explained the lineage of the women in their family, which they could trace back to the seventeenth century in the ancient city of Safed.

  “She told Noa about Francesa Sarah’s power to live in the dream world, and how she had handed down this knowledge to her daughter, who had passed it on to her own daughter, and so on, through the ages, all the way to Noa’s mother, who now said, ‘I will teach you what my mother taught me, and if you have a daughter, you will teach her. This is our purpose, Noa.’”

  Agnes put her coffee cup down, and asked, “Does Noa have any daughters?”

  Arnold shook his head. “She was unable to have children, so it looks like the lineage ends with her when she dies. But she taught Gray.”

  “Ah, that’s how Gray knows how to live in the dream world.”

  “Precisely,” Arnold said. He then leaned forward and whispered, “It falls upon Noa and Moshe to put an end to the rasha, Agnes. A tall task for a cobbler and a dreamer.”