Just People

by Paul Usiskin

  Later that night back in his apartment, Dov watched the video from Yardena’s memory stick again, pausing and replaying it at the relevant place. The forensic acoustic analysis of the recording was thorough and not very long, just one page, and it confirmed what he suspected. The words ‘No! No! Not now!’ had been dubbed on. Although the original had been erased and those words inserted in their place, the analysis suggested that Yardena’s original words were likely to have been ‘Now! Now! Now!’ Ambient sound analysis showed that the new words had been dubbed over in another location which didn’t match with the rest of the original background.

  The analysis explained, as experts did, to ensure their audience was given clear information, even if amongst them was Dov who didn’t need telling, that ambient sound, or background sound signatures, was very hard to replicate. The analyst wrote that Yardena, or someone helping her, had inserted the new words using a basic software editing package.

  Accessing her bank records had taken time but a purchase via Amazon Prime turned up a JVC camcorder whose specs included Bluetooth remote via cell phone.

  Watching the sequence so many times, Dov found himself superimposing Lana’s head over Yardena’s and getting a hard on. You’re only human, said the interfering little voice. Fuck off he told it. Why? It’s what you want. SHUT UP! he shouted.

  He called Aviel and told him what the analysis had shown.

  ‘Wow, that means I’m clear? I owe you. Now what?’

  ‘I’ll advise the Minister. He’ll advise the Police Commissioner and you’ll be on your way back to Washington.’

  ‘What about Yardena?’

  ‘I’m recommending disciplinary proceedings. I doubt the Foreign Ministry would want to start a prosecution, justified though that would be. She’d use it to blacken your name and that’ll attract the kind of publicity no one wants. There’ll be a reprimand about your relationships with Embassy staff.’

  ‘Yes, I should have been more discrete.’

  ‘And more discerning in your choice of where to have sex.’

  ‘You’ve met Yardena, so you know what kind of a come-on she can do, like I’ve told you she was…’

  ‘Enough.’

  ‘You’re right, yes, you’re right...’ he said.

  ‘Want to meet up for a drink or a meal?’ Aviel asked. ‘It’s on me.’

  ‘That’d be good. I’ll call you later.’

  Dov sat back and began reading archive files he’d requested, hoping they’d distract him and that bloody little voice. It was nothing more than Chizzik instinct, but it told him the Six Days of the Bidermans wouldn’t end when the story was out of the headlines or when the police investigation was over. He feared a reprisal.

  The files detailed Palestinian revenge acts. One involved a Caterpillar wheel loader used as a weapon to flip over a bus full of mostly Jewish passengers in Jerusalem; the Caterpillar driver, an East Jerusalem Palestinian, was shot dead, and there was conflicting evidence about motive when three Palestinian terrorist groups claimed responsibility. His parents denied he was involved with militants, his Jewish ex-girl friend said he smoked drugs, others that he was an habitual drug user, police confirmed he was known to them; copy-cat ram raids followed.

  Dov noted that the other perpetrators were Palestinian construction workers. As casual laborers, he knew they weren’t regulated in any way; paid in cash, no employee insurance, only minimum levels of health and safety regulations on the sites they worked in. If these attacks said anything, it was resentment. Would everything change overnight if tomorrow the government declared the occupation over? Of course not. Mutual resentment and hatred would last generations.

  His Inbox pinged with an email from Police Investigations and Intelligence Division, and had a high security status. It was a digest titled, ‘The Jewish Underground.’ Its source was the Jewish Department of the Shin Bet. The digest came with an FYI note from PIID’s head, Chief Superintendent Levitch, who he’d met during the Defense Ministry scandal case. It read, ‘Your archive request triggered a link, this might be of use.’

  The Shin Bet digest was dry and factual, detailing the 1980s group known as TNT-Terror Neged Terror, Terror Against Terror. It was spawned out of Kakh, an organization headed by the American racist and extreme nationalist Rabbi Meir Kahane, who’d created the Jewish Defense League, and whose sole aim was ‘to fight anti-Semites’, broad enough to justify all manner of activity. During the 1980s fifty-eight Israelis were killed in Palestinian terrorist attacks and dozens wounded. TNT’s philosophy was that there should be Jewish terror to meet Arab terror.

  Under Kakh, TNT carried out grenade attacks at Christian sites, a mosque, and Arab owned vehicles. No physical injury was caused. Arrests came two years later of four young men from Jerusalem. TNT’s reprisals included shooting up an Arab bus injuring six, and attempted bombings of the mosques on the Temple Mount. There were additional Jewish terror attacks sourced from West Bank settlers, including bomb attacks against three Palestinian mayors, one of whom lost both legs and another one leg, a shooting at an Islamic college in Hebron, three students were killed and over thirty injured. The Jewish underground was drawn from settlers many of whom were ex or serving IDF personnel.

  Dov stopped reading and recalled Yitzhak Rabin’s description of Gush Emunim, the movement that spearheaded the settler occupation enterprise, ‘a cancer in the body of the Israeli democracy.’ It had metastasized across the West Bank.

  Palestinian terror attacks had spiraled, generating Israeli military reprisals and vigilante style actions by settlers. These were acts of vandalism, part of an attempt by militant settlers to create a ‘balance of terror’, in which every action aimed at them, whether by the state evacuating settlements or Palestinian terrorism, saw a settler reaction. These were the Price Tag attacks in which Stein and Levin had been involved, a crude way of saying there’s a price for every act of terror against us. The state’s response to Palestinian West Bank terrorism was the construction of the separation barrier, begun in 2000.

  The next paragraph summarized the level of terror attacks in the West Bank for 2011-12: ‘Actual terror attacks against settlers is at an all time low. In 2011 a total of seven settlers lost their lives in either direct attacks or attacks that led to deaths. There have been no incidents so far in 2012.’

  The Shin Bet author concluded acerbically, ‘It would be complacent to imagine that as a result of these low levels of terror in the West Bank, a concomitant settler response is unlikely. This service urges continued vigilance.’

  There was a comment from Levitch, about how to turn vigilance into reality; he supported the creation of a new anti-Jewish terror police unit, based at Judea and Samaria police HQ, tasked with combating TNT clone groups and Price Tagging. Dov knew such a unit was being created and wrote thanking Levitch for the digest. He ended, ‘As you know, this has been taken up by the powers that be, but it will have credibility only if it is staffed by officers and lower ranks with a proven record of absolutely no associations in the West Bank.’

  He rubbed his eyes and closed them. His computer pinged with a reply from Levitch. ‘Agreed. Who’ll ensure that?’ Dov decided that was rhetorical. It wasn’t really.

  10

  Inspector Avi Mazal was not a happy man. He knew the call he’d had two days before from Dennis Allerdyce would have repercussions. Avi got on well with Dennis, he was originally from the UK; they understood each other linguistically and professionally.

  Avi had always wanted to live in Israel, and at 38, having been a criminal attorney in Manchester, he wanted something more challenging, so he’d joined the Israel Police Force. He’d bought an apartment in Maalei Adumim, a settlement town in everything but name, south east of Jerusalem; properties were subsidized and cheap. When the new police HQ was opened off Route 1 very near his home, he applied for and was made liaison officer with EUPOL COPPS. The job became more
demanding with the announcement of the creation of the new anti-Jewish-terror unit, to be based at the new HQ. The unit would handle Jewish settler crimes, and specifically but not exclusively Price Tag attacks against Palestinian targets. There’d also been such attacks against IDF units and bases and those created equal priority.

  When Allerdyce had told him about the Shehadeh kidnaps, Mazal had to feign surprise. He already knew.

  Eli Eliyahu, deputy HQ commander and CO of the new unit, had called him in to give him the heads-up on a special op; questions might be asked about a particular vehicle, a Chevy SUV, Eliyahu had said, crossing into and out of the West Bank and all Avi needed to do was follow basic procedure if and when he was asked about it. That meant a flat denial and a promise to check all crossing points and then repeat the denial. But that wasn’t the end of it. Eliyahu called him twice a day every day to check if Allerdyce had called.

  And then there were the Unknown Caller calls to his personal cell and a voice that said, ‘Only do as you’re told.’

  After Allerdyce’s first call, Mazal went through the motions of a check of the CCTV tapes from the biggest Israel-West Bank crossing point at Qalandiyah, and then expanded his request to six other crossing points. He knew nothing would show up, but he was obeying orders.

  He called Allerdyce back a couple of days later. ‘Hello Dennis, I’ve got the traffic feedback from the crossing points. No vehicle of that description has been recorded crossing on the date and times you said. Sorry I can’t be more helpful.’

  ‘Uts ullrate Ovi, yewyeve bin greyete.’

  Eli Eliyahu had said almost the same.

  The calls from and to Allerdyce sandwiched a news flash. A group calling itself TNT2 announced they’d taken Price Tag action for the Six Nights of the Bidermans and that Farouk Shehadeh, his wife and children would not be coming home again. ‘No one should ever think that Palestinian terrorists could abuse an Israeli family with impunity,’ the TNT2 press release concluded.

  Dov’s instincts told him TNT2 must have had help. First he got Amos to update him on the Shehadeh abduction, then he called Zvi Yaakov, commander of the Judea and Samaria HQ, to voice his suspicions.

  ‘There’s no reason for this call, Chizzik,’ Yaakov stated. ‘Your remit is to investigate crimes committed by police officers. My officers have committed no crimes.’

  ‘We both know how this works,’ Dov persisted. ‘A whole family doesn’t disappear without someone knowing. A vehicle must have carried them. It had to cross from Israel and back. If TNT2 has anything like the support the original TNT had in the West Bank, they would have by-passed the check points, and someone in the settlements must have known what they were doing. Or, if they crossed over at a check point, that check point commander was in on it. And the Israel Police are involved in security at the bigger check points.’

  ‘The settler community’s big. ‘Someone’ is like looking for the proverbial needle and I resent your implication that any officer of mine was involved in this. There’s no crime here for you to investigate,’ Yaakov repeated. ‘I’m ending this call.’

  ‘Wait. Who’s your PCP liaison officer? I’d like a word with him.’

  ‘The Palestinian CID’s already been in touch via EUPOL COPPS liaison and got a fact checked response. Stop looking for something that isn’t there.’

  Dov sat back. It was just after 17.30. It had been a long Wednesday; where had Sunday to Tuesday gone? He turned on the office TV to see news of an IDF pinpoint elimination of the head of Hamas’ military wing in Gaza; his son also with him was killed. Then came a black and white aerial reconnaissance video clip. A vehicle circled in yellow drove along a Gaza street, past a van, approached an intersection with trees on either corner. Dead centre of the intersection the vehicle disappeared in a burst of white, a door flew off across the screen as the remnants of the vehicle and those in it, were engulfed in white flames, and the shell of the exploded vehicle crawled to a stop. The clip lasted ten seconds. Dov knew it was a drone-strike.

  Israel was in general election mode and you didn’t have to be a cynic to know that Israeli elections frequently ran in tandem with wars and small scale operations like this.

  The clip reminded him of what he’d learned about acoustic shadow. People in close proximity to battles often didn’t hear what others miles away could. The occupants of that car in Gaza would have been oblivious to the sound of their own destruction. His desk phone rang. It was Hassid. Dov listened, said ‘OK,’ looked at his watch. He got up to leave and the phone rang again. It was Liora. He listened to his ex-wife, thanked her and ended the call. Five minutes later he was driving through late afternoon Jerusalem traffic headed for Tel Aviv.

  ‘So what do you think Dov?’ asked Gilad. ‘Are we going all the way this time, kick Hamas out of the Strip, destroy their tunnels, take control? They fire missiles at Tel Aviv and we won’t react?’ It was the end of the first full day of Operation Pillar of Cloud. Iron Dome was destroying a high percentage of incoming Palestinian missiles from Gaza, but not all.

  Dov and Gilad were at Mike’s Place, the bar next to Dov’s apartment building on the Tel Aviv promenade. They’d been friends since school, in the same reserve artillery unit, Dov the commander of a self-propelled gun, Gilad his number two. Gilad ran his own security installation company.

  ‘They shouldn’t fucking fire missiles at us anywhere, period,’ Gilad angry, downed his beer. He held the glass in his left hand, the stump of his smallest finger a reminder of his Second Lebanon War injury. He wore long sleeves to disguise the other wound on his upper arm where muscle tissue had been ripped away.

  ‘Red alert for Ashkelon! Ashkelon Red Alert! Red alert for Beersheva! Beersheva Red Alert!’ The Homeland Security voice cut through the bar’s TV announcing more incoming missiles.

  Gilad swallowed his beer. ‘Fuck it! Why do we threaten a ground invasion? We should let it rip.’

  They’d been through much together: wars in the 80s, 90s and Oughties; Gilad had helped Dov through tough times after the sex scandal.

  ‘I heard looters weren’t put off by the air raid sirens,’ said Dov.

  ‘No! You kidding me? Where?’

  ‘Beersheva. They broke into a home furnishing and kitchen design store, somehow got through the shutters.’

  ‘What did they take, marble tops and soft-close cupboards?’

  ‘No, flat screen TVs.’ He expected a furious outburst from Gilad about Israelis looting. But he said, ‘That store couldn’t have had one of my systems though. They’re linked to local police stations and you’d need dynamite to take out our shutters.’

  ‘Perhaps the owners couldn’t afford them? And anyway you don’t do shops.’

  ‘Not true. If the store is part of a big enough chain, we do. Another beer?’

  ‘No thanks. I’m waiting for Aviel.’

  ‘Your ex deputy, now a police Brigadier General?’

  ‘Yes and when he gets here I’m going to need some time with him.’

  ‘OK.’

  Aviel arrived five minutes later, cabin valise in tow. Dov gave Gilad a hug and went up to his apartment where Aviel sat on the sea-facing balcony.

  ‘I hope we finish Hamas off once and for all,’ said Aviel.

  ‘Don’t you start. I’ve just had the same bullshit from Gilad.’

  ‘It’s not bullshit, it’s time we crushed them.’

  ‘We’ll murder hundreds of innocents if we do.’

  ‘No, no,’ Aviel shook his head. ‘Friends in the army tell me we’re being as pinpoint as our technology allows.’

  ‘Pinpoint doesn’t avoid innocent deaths in a confined environment and it won’t stop their missiles.’

  ‘They’re indiscriminate, and we try everything to avoid civilian casualties.’

  ‘Look, this is one more war for an election victory.’

  ‘God
’s sake Dov, when did you become such a Lefty?’

  ‘I didn’t, but can’t you see this is really about the election? No? Why are we sleeping through reality. Media election coverage is minimal. The Man’s party hasn’t even published a manifesto. Instead we’re at war. Anyway, I’ve got bad news.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Yardena’s in Israel, Hassid told me. Arrived last night and she’s taken on a heavy-hitter lawyer to fight her dismissal.’

  ‘Fight it? How? I thought the forensic analysis knocked her evidence on the head.’

  ‘It did, but she’s challenging it anyway.’

  ‘How do you know about the lawyer?’

  ‘She called me.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Liora.’

  ‘Liora your ex?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I thought she was in business law.’

  ‘She is, but she’s been focusing more on litigation. Yardena’s father and the senior partner in Liora’s company are old friends.’

  Aviel looked sick.

  ‘Dear God! I was on my way to the airport from here, late night flight to New York.’

  ‘Cancel it. You’ll be meeting Yardena and Liora at the Justice Ministry in the morning. You can stay here. I’m in tonight but I’ll be in Yafo tomorrow night, it’s my time with Yakub. Here’s my spare key.’

  ‘OK, thanks. I’ll call Nili. How have Yaniv and Yael reacted to having a new little brother?’

  ‘They love Yakub, and accept Lana,’ Dov said

  ‘How about Liora?’

  ‘She’s moved on. Why are you asking?’

  ‘Well if Liora was still angry with you, it would give a personal dimension to her taking Yardena’s case.’

  ‘You mean she’d take out her anger at Lana on you?’

  ‘No. On you Dov. Through me. This is about you.’

  ‘I said she’s moved on and she has.’