Just People

by Paul Usiskin

  Vadim called to say he was almost there. Dov told him to ram the black SUV at the passage entrance when he saw it. Shit happened. One of Glazer’s men heard the cell go and saw Dov in front of the shoppers closing on the passageway exit, and Dov fired twice into a wheelie bin in another doorway. The shoppers between him and Glazer’s man already panicked, scattered like frightened sheep, began running back down the passageway, taking both Dov’s pursuers with them. One got off a shot which hit Dov in the left upper arm before Vadim’s beautiful Range Rover slammed into the parked SUV, hood to hood, the SUV’s airbag deployed, so did the Range Rover’s, but Vadim and his driver expected that and were clearing away the inflated bags as Dov got into the rear.

  The driver reversed as Vadim, laughing hugely, called out above the engine, ‘Government pay for damage?’

  ‘Definitely,’ replied Dov. Then he said, ‘I’m hit,’ and Vadim looked back and gave the driver instructions.

  ‘We go my doctor yes? Government pay?’

  Dov said, ‘No time.’ The driver told Vadim to pull out a first-aid kit and the Russian began winding a bandage tight around a gauze patch over the wound as Dov struggled with his cell, blood smearing its screen and called Amos. ‘Progress?’

  ‘Secondary compromised. Tertiary gives us a location in Yafo port,’ Amos sounded very tense.

  ‘Map coordinates?’ Dov grunted and Amos sent them. He gave them to Vadim who put them into the GPS.

  ‘Not possible,’ Vadim said after a few seconds. ‘Is in sea.’

  ‘Show me.’

  Vadim leaned to one side so Dov could see the display, a point just off the port. He knew it, Andromeda Rock. His cell went, he swiped the green ‘On’.

  ‘Nice work from your Russian Shylock,’ Irit said. ‘We want you. You want Lana and Yakub. Here’s where we are. Don’t be too long now. The tide’s rising.’

  Dov fed the address to Vadim and called it in to Amos with the Andromeda Rock coordinates. ‘Get a boat out there and I need backup and a medic for a gun shot wound.’ The Range Rover powered up, no apparent damage after the ram, cutting through the Shabazi neighborhood where Dov had once lived in a derelict house, and on towards the underground parking lot Irit had detailed. Traffic was heavy, reminding Dov that in the regular world it was Saturday night, Israel was shopping, or out for a meal, or both.

  The Range Rover bullied its way through, no horn or flashing lights, move or be rammed. On a corner at the top of the street two hundred meters from the entrance to the underground parking lot, Amos waved them down. Back from the corner were two more SUVs, one white the other yellow. From the yellow one a medic appeared, sat next to Dov in the back of the Range Rover, inspected then cleaned the wound, said it was a through and through, but the bullet was still lodged in the exit hole at the back of Dov’s upper arm. He swabbed entry and exit holes clean, Dov winced, he gave him an anesthetic shot, around the holes, Dov winced again, the medic waited, pinched the skin, Dov didn’t react, as the the bullet was forciped out and his arm bandaged. Meanwhile Amos was getting data on Lana and Yakub, as quizzical as Vadim about the precise location, then confirmation that they were in a Zodiac boat being tracked in the waters at the edge of Yafo port’s long pier, circling the Rock. The secondary surveillance was via Lana’s cell, Amos explained, and that had been blanked. The tertiary was in her shoelaces, a version of what had been used in Dov’s greatcoat.

  ‘Lucky she was wearing those shoes,’ Dov said.

  ‘Not luck. We put them in all her shoes. And Yakub’s,’ Amos announced.

  ‘And if they’re removed?’

  ‘They’d have to be naked for us to completely lose them. Wait one. Those signals have gone.’

  Dov could say nothing to that. A guy, similar in build to Dubi, stood next to Amos, didn’t introduce himself, said he wanted to outline the op.

  ‘Can’t be a big op,’ Dov told him, flexing his arm, not feeling anything, the medic had said the anesthetic would take a couple of hours to wear off. ‘Irit and her friends are in there. Lana and Yakub are in a Zodiac off the port. I’m going in. Lana and Yakub’ll be released.’

  It was in the eyes, as usual he thought, as the guy replied, empty eyes that saw everything and tell you nothing, special ops, wet ops, army, navy, police commando, all the same. ‘One, no suicide missions. Two, this is complicated, the location’s an underground lot, full of civilians, no way to cordon it off without revealing we’re here, no way you’re going in there without us in place. One plus is that the manager is ex one of us and runs the place like a training camp, complete with the latest UGRs, that’s Underground Radios; walkie- talkies and cell-phones are very unreliable down there. We were in comms with him after you called in the location. What we’ll do once you start inside is to put up the usual FULL signs at the entrance, yeah I know, this people mostly ignore signs that tell them not to do something. So we’ll be stopping cars entering. We’ve got people ready for that, and thanks to the manager, we know where Irit is in there. Stretch out the time a bit so we can get into position. She’s in a white Renault minivan, parked at the start of a row, opposite the exit ramp on level two. We think she’ll get a UGR to you. After that, it’s up to how you want to play it, no, forget that, you’ll play it our way, or no way you go in. Clear?’

  Dov took a breath. ‘OK. So how do you want me to do this?’

  ‘You’ll wear a soft armor vest, and we’ll give you another jacket and a hat, so your profile’s changed. You’ll have the weapon you took off Glazer, we’re holding him and his two men. You’ll also have two more weapons, both Beretta .22s, with long rifle ammo, well used but very reliable. We expect them to tell you to put down your weapon so you can get rid of the Glock. They’ll tell you to approach so they can search you, that’s what we’d do. Stall the body search. We want you to do everything slowly and avoid walking under ceiling light sources. By the time they ask you to approach for their body search, we should be in position. Putting down the Glock is to lull them that you’ve got no more weapons, but if you have to use a Beretta, it’s accuracy that counts, not easy to concentrate when bursts of bigger bullets are coming at you, but you have about forty-five meters effective range and one well placed shot is all it takes. I’m told you’re good.’

  Dov waited a beat, that was a smart ego stroke and confidence boost if he needed it. He didn’t. ‘I want Irit alive,’ he said.

  ‘I hear you,’ was the answer.

  Dov’s cell went. Irit. ‘Why aren’t you here, Dov?’

  ‘Traffic. It’s chaos out here, it’s Saturday night, Tel Aviv’s visiting Yafo.’ She must have been outside the parking lot to make that call.

  ‘Walk in, no elevator, no stairs, walk down the ramp and head for the rear of level 2. Someone will give you a radio.’ Dov glanced at the op guy, as the medic sprayed anesthetic round his wound as an extra barrier to the pain, helped Dov into a t-shirt, then the soft armor vest, much lighter than combat issue, and a zip coat on top. Dov checked each weapon and distributed them, the .22s front and back in his waistband and the Glock in a coat pocket. He zipped the coat half way, settled a frayed I Love NY hat, peak just above his eyes, and began walking down the ramp. More sounds followed him, a vehicle with its stereo playing a CD of Israeli pop, Yehuda Poliker in caustic mood, girls giggling, a loud male voice arguing with the man at the FULL sign, who must have relented because an elderly, white SAAB convertible came up behind Dov, the horn went, and the same male voice shouted, ‘Hey! Move will you!’ Dov looked back, stepped aside as the SAAB passed him, top down, a pretty red head in the driver’s seat, and the man next to her, cigarette in his mouth, the Dubi clone, blew smoke at him as he came level, more giggles then laughter from the back from two more girls, one with black hair, one blonde who winked at Dov, and their laughter trailed away as they went on down into the lot.

  He rounded the corner for the ramp to level 2 and
was almost at the bottom when a voice said, ‘Oy! You! You gonna work here, you’re gonna need this,’ and he was handed a radio and plugged in the earpiece.

  There was hiss and Irit’s voice. ‘Are you with us Dov? Keep coming. Confirm.’

  Dov confirmed and the white minivan came into view.

  Irit’s orders were to leave Lana and Yakub on Andromeda’s Rock. The Zodiac crew took off. Lana and Yakub were naked, clinging to the salt-caked flagpole on the Rock, the tide already up to her calves and his thighs.

  The op plan almost worked. Dov did all he was told, walking slowly, skirting ceiling light pools; the hat and coat had their effect. Irit didn’t immediately recognize him, then told him to disarm when she did. He was in shadow as he slowly removed the Glock and put it down, but someone shouted a warning to Irit and Dov hit the concrete as the same someone opened fire. The op team returned fire at the minivan.

  Dov stayed down but not still. The minivan was riddled with bullet holes, some with blood snaking down from inside, and in the silence a car door opened on the other side and out came Irit, cradling a Tavor, looking for Dov. He’d crawled under a line of cars and flanked her. He got up, said, ‘Irit, drop the gun.’ She began to pan towards him. In a long, long moment, Irit found Dov. Dov knew she wouldn’t obey. He raised the .22 and aimed at her heart, she held the Tavor up, angled to get Dov’s head, and Dov fired, once. There was very little kick. Irit went down, her finger pulling the trigger, the Tavor spewing rounds all over.

  No hand in another death, he’d sworn. ‘I want her alive’, he’d demanded.

  Kill or be killed said his little voice.

  The tide had risen more. Lana sheltered Yakub, her other arm clinging to the pole, grazing her skin on the crusted salt and rust. They were both naked. Their shoes had be thrown into the sea. Yakub was terrified into silence and grasped the pole too, cutting his hand. A wind had picked up and so had the swell. The big tattered blue and white flag flapped. Lana tried to ignore it, but then an Israeli navy Zodiac started circling the Rock, so she tore the flag from the pole and wrapped it around herself and Yakub. The Zodiac kept close, in case the woman and the child on the Rock slipped during the helicopter evac. The tide was just high enough for the Zodiac to avoid being ripped on sharp rocks below the surface. A helicopter searchlight picked out the woman and child, and the pilot fought the wind to maintain a steady platform enough for the rescue team to lower one member to the rock, get Yakub into the cradle and say OK into his headset. Dov, looking down from the open door as his son was winched up, saw Yakub grin at being in the air on his way to a helicopter as rescue became real and everything became an adventure. Once out of the cradle, swaddled in a heatsheet, he hugged his Aba with relief. His hand was quickly tended to.

  On the Rock, the rescuer exchanged the flag for an identical sheet for Lana and had her winched up. She held Yakub, running her hands over him to be sure that apart from cold and his hand, he was unharmed. She turned to Dov and leaned into him, keeping the sheet from slipping. He held her head in both hands and kissed her on the mouth. She reciprocated. After that, his arms stayed around her, warming her body, confused by the kiss, that he’d done that, that she’d kissed him back. Her grazed arm was bandaged.

  ‘I hope no one saw me wrapped in that flag,’ she whispered. ‘It needs to be replaced.’

  ‘You looked beautiful in it, it sort of symbolized cross-community…’ She kicked him, began laughing her infectious laugh and he couldn’t stop himself sharing it with her.

  37

  That night Orli FaceTimed him. ‘Oy Dov! That was you in that rescue, yes?’

  He hadn’t been aware of TV cameras during the Andromeda Rock operation, or when the chopper landed. He was focused on Yakub and Lana. ‘Yes,’ he said shyly.

  ‘And that little boy? What a good looking child...he looked a lot like you.’

  Now he wasn’t sure what to say and weighed up how much to reveal to this woman he was in love with. He took a long breath. ‘He’s my son,’ he told her. She smiled but said nothing, waiting for more. How many people knew about Lana and I? Need to know wouldn’t work with Orli. He decided on an abbreviated version of his affair with Lana.

  ‘I see. She’s very beautiful.’

  ‘Yes she is, and no she doesn’t love me now and hasn’t for a long while; she’s got a new man in her life.’

  ‘You love her still?’ Her tone pointed.

  ‘There’ll always be a place in my heart for her, but she’s moved on and so have I.

  ‘To me?’

  Another pause, and then, ‘Yes.’

  ‘You’re a very special man.’

  He wasn’t used to compliments and didn’t know what to say to that, so stayed quiet, waiting more from her.

  ‘I live here in New York and you’re there doing these extraordinary, brave things.’

  ‘Why not give me a chance’

  ‘You’ll come here?’

  ‘Yes, I’d like to.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘Soon.’

  ‘OK, but let’s make it very low key, no big expectations. In the meantime you must find someone local.’ That was delivered with Israeli verve, soft voice but uncompromising.

  It became a constant in their FaceTimes over the next days. It was never a nag. Dov began to take it seriously. He hadn’t dated since Liora and that was as a teenager. So under Orli’s gentle pressure he joined two Internet dating sites. He became obsessed, searching and searching every spare moment on his iPad. He found the process tortuous, mostly because of the way the sites worked. He’d set his search profile, height, distance, age, and too often was sent choices that didn’t match anything. When he did meet someone they usually weren’t an intellectual match either. Obsession became desperation and the result was Vikki Bar Tsarfati. He’d first stumbled across her on Facebook. She seemed to like hunky bald men with beards. He was neither. Then she come up on the dating site.

  On their first date at his favorite bar, Mike’s Place, the first word that came to him to describe her was gorgeous. Others followed: Stunning, attractive, sexy. These were accompanied by some of the most erotic thoughts he’d ever had. Not surprising. Vikki wore a loose black dress, short-sleeves, low cut, not quite hiding large firm breasts, and red zip high heel boots. Would her underwear match her boots? She was not quite petite, shorter than him. But it was her face that was the most striking. It was that of a model, something Moorish, almost mannish, but perfect in all its detail. Her short black spiky hair complemented her carefully shaped black eyebrows, an elegant nose, gray eyes you could lose yourself in, high cheekbones lightly accentuated by make-up. Beautiful? No. Alluring? Totally.

  So much depended on the sound of her voice, but she remained silent as he took her in. She was enjoying his long gaze. It was a silky, deep, cultured voice, that asked ‘Like what you see?’ She hadn’t needed to ask, she could see it all in his bitter chocolate eyes. She smiled as she told him ‘I’d love an Aperol Spritz please. What do you drink?’

  He ordered her drink and his bourbon. After she’d sipped hers, she leaned towards him, giving him a glimpse of her breasts and the scent of her perfume, something delicate and undefinable. ‘I like what I see, Dov.’

  Their supper was foreplay, she eating her steak, chips and eggplant in tehina, delicately, slowly, while he sought to restrain himself from wolfing his food down and grabbing her and taking her swiftly up to his apartment. A full thirty minutes later they were in the elevator. She ran her red nails up and down his arm. The thrill of it made him shudder. Inside his front door, restraint was forgotten. What they did was a mix of pure sex and inflamed passion, though it matched the pace of their meal. Their exploration was initially infinite. Her tanga panties were the same color as her boots, which she kept on. Every touch, every stroke, every kiss, sped up until she mounted him. Being inside her was ecstasy, and she moved on him smoothly
, exquisitely. When they came together, it was tumultuous and endless. In the languor afterwards they listened to each other’s breathing.

  The time between that first long act and the next was brief. Dov gently turned her and withdrew from her and took time to examine the tattoo on her right upper arm, some kind of dragon, with a human face, no wings and a snake’s long curling body, quite macabre. He didn’t like it. She sensed that.

  ‘I can’t get it removed,’ she said.

  ‘Why did you do it?’

  ‘I thought it added a certain je ne sais quoi.’

  ‘You have more than enough with your attractivity.’

  ‘Thank you. Is that a real word or did you make it up?’

  ‘It’s a real word in English, so I made it into a Hebrew one.’

  ‘Clever. You really don’t like my dragon?’

  ‘If you ask me a question, I’ll always answer truthfully.’

  ‘OK. So?’

  ‘It’s very déclassé.’

  ‘Ouch.’ She gave him a grin. ‘At least it’s not across the back of my neck.’

  ‘Why there?’

  ‘So you’d have something to look at while you fuck me from behind.’ She paused, then ‘will my dragon stop you fucking me?’