by Paul Usiskin
‘I’m seeing someone,’ she said.
What did that mean?
‘What does that mean? You can see me, here, now, can’t you? Look, there’s Yakub on the slide. You can see him. Those people walking over the hill? See them?’
Lana looked at them, then at Yakub and back to Dov’s eyes.
‘Seeing a man, is that it? You meet and look at each other, is that all? That’s nice. It’s just like when I come over. We look at each other. Or is it more than looking? Is it touching? You touch each other’s hands. Or is it more than that? Is it...? Are you...? Seeing each other’s brains out, is that it?’ He was choking on his question marks, their hooks tearing at his heart.
He left Yakub playing and Lana sitting in the dimming sunlight.
12
He opened his front door and stopped. From the nearest spare bedroom came a sound that was bizarrely familiar.
‘Now Aviel! Now! Melt my gold! Yes! Like that. Now!’
He walked closer. Through the half open bedroom door, reflected in the wall mirror, he saw Yardena riding Aviel, fast and hard. Aviel was lost in his approaching climax, his eyes tight shut, his breath in deep animal grunts. Yardena, her hair held back by her hair sticks, rose and fell, her buttocks clenching and unclenching, then her rhythm slowed and she pulled at the hair sticks, letting them go, holding one, her lustrous coppery red cascaded over her shoulders. She twisted the top of the stick and pulled out a shiny needle blade, thinner than a meat skewer, thicker than a hatpin. She dropped the wooden sheath, still moving on Aviel, and raised the blade high in her right hand in practice thrusts at Aviel’s eye, once, twice…
Dov yelled ‘Aviel!’ and hurtled at Yardena as Aviel opened his eyes and jerked his head away from the stabbing point. It was buried in the pillow. Dov broke her hold on the wooden handle. He yanked her off Aviel and tried to restrain her, but she fought like a tigress, trying to scratch at his face, going for his eyes, so he punched her once in the head and she collapsed unconscious. The first stick fell innocently away.
‘For fuck’s sake Aviel!’ he barked.
‘That was the idea,’ Aviel said coolly. ‘I mean look at her Dov. You don’t forget that taste or what she can do.’
Dov pulled the sheet from the bed and covered Yardena. She was irresistible. She hadn’t wanted la petite mort, she’d sought a real death, to rid herself of Aviel. Killing him wouldn’t have solved anything and the entire Israel Police Force would have hunted her down. It was insane.
Dov took cell-phone photos of Aviel, Yardena, her weapon still in the pillow, its sheath on the bed, and the other stick, left not so innocently on the sheets. He found some kitchen twine and tied Yardena’s legs and wrists. Then he called Liora.
Waiting for her, Aviel started to say something, but Dov’s look was as threatening as the needle blade.
By the time Liora arrived, Yardena was conscious, and sullen. Dov refused to untie her until he and Liora had spoken.
Aviel sat on the balcony, in view but purposely outside.
‘She tried to kill him,’ Dov said.
‘Are you sure about that?’
‘I witnessed it. I’ll make a statement to that effect and I’ll repeat it in court.’
‘Have you called the police?’
‘I thought we’d find a way out of this without that. I’ve photographed the crime scene. The weapon’s still where it ended up, and not in Aviel’s eye. I doubt the police would have a problem with my evidence. What do you want to do?’
Her eyes swept the spacious living room, in an apartment she’d never been in. ‘Nice place, Dov. Very different than ours.’
‘People change and so do their surroundings. I’ll bet you’ve redecorated our apartment and I wouldn’t recognize it.’
She paused. He waited for more acrimony about Lana. ‘Thanks for the call,’ she said instead. It sounded sincere. Then her tone became steely, and she brushed past him saying, ‘I need to consult with my client.’ He waited, then heard Yardena’s angry voice, Liora’s consoling.
She came back minutes later with Yardena fully clothed. Aviel had remained on the balcony, watching and listening.
‘You’d better call the police,’ Liora’s voice was icy. ‘She’s saying he raped her again and you helped.’
Aviel burst in from the balcony and Dov had to hold him back.
He could see the fallout. It would be a press and media tsunami, flooding the Justice Ministry, the Foreign Ministry, the Ministry of Public Security, the Police Commissioner. He could see the headline, ‘PID Chief In Rape Threesome.’ The media would feast on the juicy details they invented, keep it running through the inevitable court hearings, whose conclusions would be lost in the flash photographs of Yardena and Aviel and him, salacious tit-bits from their private lives picked over. It could eclipse the Gaza war. Government pressure; that might be the route to a quieter solution.
‘Do you have a cigarette Dov?’ Aviel asked. ‘I need to smoke like I needed to fuck.’
Dov’s open handed slap left Aviel staggering, glaring wide mouthed.
‘What was that for?’
‘Time someone did. Grow up Aviel. You can’t always get what you want, so stop pampering yourself, a fuck, a cigarette, booze, whenever, whoever. You’re not a little kid anymore. And you have a fiancée. Yardena was going to kill you.’
His call with Yosef Hassid that evening was short and constructive.
‘Put aside the attempted murder. Liora’s a smart attorney. She knows what’s at stake and basically all she’s doing is raising the price again.’
Dov listened, trying to blank Yardena and Aviel as he’d seen them on the bed, knowing that the seasoned courtroom lawyer turned Minister was right. ‘She can’t have it all her own way. I’m a witness to attempted murder. Why don’t we up the ante?’
‘OK, but how do you keep the media out of it? Once they start….’
‘I know. I’m Liora’s biggest card. I can’t figure if it’s personal.’
‘It may be, but she’s working for her client with what she’s got.’
‘How about this scenario?’ Dov outlined his idea in one sentence. Hassid agreed.
Sunday morning Dov drove out to Maalei Adumim. He found Avi Mazal’s apartment, but there was no answer when he buzzed. A neighbor said she’d seen Avi leave around eight. Mazal’s cell didn’t answer. Dov had come early to give himself time to talk with Mazal and get back to the Justice Ministry for the next meeting with Liora, Yardena and Aviel. Now he would be early for it.
He got back on to Route 1 up to Jerusalem and began the approach to the Naomi Shemer Tunnel. He’d be at the Ministry in about twenty minutes, if traffic flowed as easily as this. Then he saw blue flashing lights up ahead on the opposite carriageway and brake lights in front of him. Police were waving vehicles down on the other side, and traffic on his slowed to a crawl, drivers and passengers rubber-necking. Moments later a helicopter appeared and landed beyond what Dov guessed was a crash scene and a stretcher was hurriedly loaded on board and it took off. Dov pulled his car off the road, turned on his hazards and spoke to one of the traffic cops, showing his ID.
‘Accident, fatal if you ask me, they said he was hardly breathing when they got him out, and that took a while, he was badly jammed up. He was one of ours. It’s a vehicle wreck point, that junction.’
On the other side of a buckled crash barrier, about two hundred yards beyond the intersection where non-Route 1 traffic merged with the tunnel route, Dov made out the underside of a vehicle so badly damaged he couldn’t decide where was front and where was rear. Leaning against the barrier was a crumpled door.
‘Do you know who the driver is?’
‘They said he’s from the HQ, just up there,’ he pointed back and up towards a cluster of buildings nestling in the hills opposite Maalei Adumim.
‘Got a name?�
�
‘Could be Mazar, or Mazan. Difficult to hear the comms with the sirens, and then the chopper.’
‘Mazal? Was it Mazal?’
‘Could have been, yeah, sounds about right.’
‘Where were they taking him?’
‘Hadassah trauma unit.’
‘I assume there was another vehicle involved?’
‘No idea. That one’s all we got.’
Dov thanked him, called Amos and gave him the details and asked for confirmation of identity and victim’s status. Back at the Ministry Amos told him the victim was Avraham Mazal, a police inspector and he was DOA.
‘Get me everything there is on him, complete service record, phone records, landline and cell, get out to his apartment as fast as you can, here’s the address, and take a look at his computer and any other devices he may have had. If you’re too late and local police are already there, use me as your authority to be present at any examination of any of Mazal’s property they and MAZAP do. Take another investigator with you. J and S police are going to be very precious about this. I’m looking for any contacts with individuals or groups from the settler community we’d be itchy about, OK?’
Amos winced. ‘We’re spoiled for choice.’
‘Maybe, but I want an update on Mazal, also on the Biderman case.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘Everything ready for the Weiss-Rotem meeting?’
‘Yes.’
Dov made his way to the conference room. Aviel was already there looking calm; it didn’t fool Dov. Yoel Lev-Ari the Ministry lawyer sat next to him chatting quietly.
Then Liora arrived. And sat. And looked at the men staring from her to the door expecting Yardena. And smiled. And stared back. And put her cell phone on the table. As she began to tap an SMS onto it, Dov nodded once at Amos. She didn’t see the nod. She tapped send. Dov nodded again.
A minute later, Yardena swept in, dressed to kill, in a black dress with plunging neckline and a silver raincoat draped over her shoulders. Her dark coppery hair flowing like lava. Her eyes blazed.
‘Aviel would like to start this meeting,’ said Dov. ‘Aviel?’
‘Yardena Rotem, I’m arresting you for attempted murder.’
Her mouth opened. Nothing came out. Two police officers entered and stood either side of Yardena’s chair.
‘This is ridiculous Dov!’ Liora’s voice cut across the table. ‘I’m calling Channel 2 TV.’
Dov sat still. All the others waited.
She pressed a number and put the phone to her ear, then looked at the phone.
‘I’ve got no signal,’ she looked accusingly at Dov.
‘You’ve got no more buttons to push,’ he said, his eyes meeting hers, ‘Now we can talk.’
The meeting followed the script Dov had outlined first to Hassid then to Aviel and Amos. He told her the Justice Minister agreed to suspend attempted murder charges against Yardena in return for her immediate resignation from the Foreign Ministry.
After the meeting, in the corridor, Liora spoke to him, her voice friendly. ‘Have you heard from Yaniv?’ Their son was in his year out after IDF service, and had gone on a globe trot, currently in the US.
‘Yes. We’ve Skyped. He was in Maine. He said the fall there was something to see. He sent me photos. He’s got a good eye.’
‘That’s good he’s in touch,’ she smiled and that momentarily warmed him. He saw her again at a school dance. She was mesmerizing, she seemed to spin through the air, no feet on the ground, then she clung to her partner, a swimming team captain, and all Dov could do was think at night of how unattainable she was and by day, dream of how she would react if he told her he loved her. That moment, the heart-stopping magic of it was still with him when he stood before her and began to tell her and she told him she loved him too. He was glad he could still treasure it, sad that it was over, all of it, youth, first love, future hopes, happy that even for a few seconds Yaniv could bring them together. Life could be sustainable with moments such as these.
Minutes later he and Aviel watched from the window as Yardena crossed the Ministry parking lot to Liora’s car. Liora said something, Yardena replied, stared up at the two men, obvious anger in her eyes, then they drove out of the gates.
‘Why do I think that’s not the end of it?’ Aviel asked.
‘My instincts say the same. But do us both a favor Aviel…’
‘Yes, I know, once bitten.’
‘No. Only a donkey doesn’t change his mind, and with a needle blade buried through your eye and into your brain you wouldn’t have had time to rethink. You’d have felt every last second.’
‘You’re right, yes. So the meeting? Very neat Dov. Yardena had no choice.’
‘Raising client expectations at each step is a risky strategy, it’s harder to climb down when it fails. Hassid agreed I could do anything that kept this out of the media. I was ready to go higher up the line, telling the Man this scandal threatened the public focus on the elections.’
‘God, Dov, that’s cynicism on a whole new level, even for you.’
Dov gave him a dogged look. ‘I preferred the alternative. Amos got a jammer device from somewhere, which usually means an intelligence source, and it worked. The suspension is just that, and at my say so Yardena can be arrested and face trial. Keep clear of her Aviel. She’s destructive.’
‘Yes.’
‘I need to chat with you about something else.’
‘Sure.’
Amos briefed them on what he’d got from Mazal’s apartment. ‘The J and S police were exactly as you predicted, unwilling to even let me in. I’d requested all Mazal’s phone records before we arrived. Under J and S police pressure MAZAP refused to let me see his computer. But I did manage to find out who his server was. You know you don’t need the actual computer to see e-mail traffic, just access to the web-server, which I got.’
Dov said, ‘Great, get me a record of Mazal’s calls and e-mail traffic, go back two months.’
‘That’s forensic digital analysis.’ Amos waited for a reaction. Dov tried not to blink and blinked, so Amos moved on, ‘on the Biderman investigation? No progress.’
‘OK. Let me talk with Aviel about the Biderman investigation.’
Amos didn’t blink, and exited.
‘The Biderman case caused the disappearance of the Shehadehs, and no one’s working on that,’ Dov told Aviel. ‘It’s like everything stopped with TNT2’s statement about the Shehadeh Price Tag, you know? Sort of tacit public acceptance of TNT2, if not approval.’
‘Sounds like you want what you shouldn’t be doing, pre-emptive investigation.’
‘That could be a new name for PID. Right now we’re looking at two crimes that are linked and may involve criminal behavior by police. The fact that there’s nothing to show for the Biderman investigation, suggests if not criminality by the officer in charge of the case, then malfeasance of some sort.’
‘Malfeasance Dov? You’re an investigator, not a lawyer.’
‘So? Why are you bothered that a PID chief can be literate?’
‘So?’
‘I want to know more about who’s heading the Biderman case and where the investigation’s headed and I don’t want my interest or my suspicions known.’
‘Where’s it being run from?’
‘Kfar Saba.’
‘How very coincidental. It’s almost like a Dickens plot. Kfar Saba’s the only police station with a direct link to a US police force, the NYPD, and conveniently, the Israel Police Liaison officer with the US police is here, sitting in front of you.’
‘So we’re both well read.’
Aviel smirked, ‘Please sir can I have some more?’
‘Does that mean you want to stay at my place until you go back?’
Aviel gingerly rubbed his face where Dov’s hand had slapped it. ‘Thanks but the Mini
ster arranged a hotel for me while the Yardena case was tidied up. I’ll pop down to Kfar Saba, shall I?’
‘Hassid’s also okayed that and so’s Telem.’ He meant Hillel Telem, Minister of Public and nominally in charge of the police. He watched as Aviel stood and made for the door. ‘What’ll you tell Nili?’
Aviel stopped, his back to Dov. ‘That I’m needed here for a few days.’
‘No, about Yardena.’
Aviel’s head turned sideways as he said, ‘That’s private Dov, OK?’
‘Sure,’ said Dov neutrally. Alone in his office, Dov thought about Liora. She’d easily entered the wealthy ten per cent, thanks in part to her father, a successful arms manufacturer. He’d started out running two underground weapons factories during the War of Independence, another pirate like grandpa Dudik, answerable to no one. He and Dov still met; they shared a mutual respect for each other. Since the divorce Liora had expanded a circle of professional friends, all very patriotic and privileged, supporters of the increasingly authoritarian politics. Through such eyes, the have nots were an irritant and there was simply the Whole Land of Israel, there was no occupation and no Palestinians. And no sleeping with their daughters, not even Palestinian citizens of Israel, and definitely not having children with them. That was the reason for her anger over Lana. It wasn’t naivety, it was the twins of paranoia and prejudice.
13
‘Maybe I can help? A fresh head, a different angle? What do you say?’ Aviel asked.
‘Why’s the senior Israel-US police liaison officer here, asking questions about a local terrorist kidnap case?’ Chief Inspector Gurwitz growled.
‘First this precinct looks after NYPD liaison, which is my remit. Whether I’m here for that is my business. Second you’re forgetting who you’re talking to, my rank that is, and though I’m here unofficially, it’s with our Minister’s blessing. But I can make it official if you want.’ Gurwitz avoided Aviel’s eyes. ‘First name?’
‘Ilan.’
‘OK, Ilan, talk to me, and I’ll see if I can help.’
It was Monday, eight in the a.m. and Aviel was in the same office at the Kfar Saba police station from which he’d once run the murder case Dov couldn’t handle after the Rabin assassination. Was it really seventeen years ago? What was I like then?
