by Liad Shoham
“What do you think they’ll do now, file charges against the African or the attorney?”
“Galit Lavie has the case, so it’s hard to say,” Borochov answered. Almost simultaneously, they each uttered a juicy curse at the mention of the prosecutor’s name. Since David Meshulam’s bungled attempt to get rid of her, the woman’s career had soared.
“By the way, what’s happening with your ‘General’?” Borochov asked while Ethan served the main course. “In view of recent events, don’t you think it’s time to take him out of the picture?”
Faro focused on the vegetarian spaghetti carbonara and purple squid in front of him. He didn’t like his companion’s cavalier attitude. Taking a life was not something to be treated lightly. Maybe he should order Borochov to ice somebody for him. He’d sing a different tune if he had to stand there and watch the light go out in a man’s eyes.
Besides, even if the “General” lied to him about Ninio, and he probably did, he’d have to overlook it. It was hard to find quality people with his kind of ambition. He had no intention of losing an asset as valuable as the “General.”
Chapter 76
ANAT stared at the computer screen, watching Ninio pace back and forth in the interrogation room. He seemed calmer, no longer in the throes of a panic attack.
“What’s the matter, Nachmias? Why the long face?” Yaron’s question bugged her.
Without answering, she looked over at David, who was already on his fifth cigarette. The boss understood.
Frustrated by Ninio’s account of the events of that night, Anat had gone on the attack, telling him straight out that she didn’t believe him. She should have kept her cool and waited for him to dig his own grave. There was no going back now. Ninio had asked for a lawyer and she was obliged to stop the interrogation. She’d tried the usual tactics: “What do you need a lawyer for? He’ll just make it harder for you”; “If you tell the truth now, we can help you”; even, “You’re an attorney. Why do you have to pay someone else to do what you can do yourself?” It didn’t work. Ninio just kept shouting frantically, “Lawyer, lawyer.” There was nothing they could do about it.
“What is it? Tell me, Nachmias?” Yaron insisted. “The story of a setup, is that what’s worrying you? It’s bullshit. You said it yourself, we found his blood at the scene. He didn’t even bother to deny it. And the whole ‘I don’t remember’ thing? Come on, don’t tell me you’re buying into it. How many times have you heard a suspect claim they don’t remember what happened. It’s the oldest scam in the book.”
Anat didn’t reward Yaron with an answer. She’d also thought Ninio was playing games with her, but now she wasn’t so sure.
“Remember the trial of that tycoon last week? The one who ran over the two kids? He claimed he didn’t remember anything, but it didn’t do him any good. The judge said he was lying and sentenced him to ten years behind bars. It won’t be any different with Ninio, believe me,” Yaron went on.
“Besides,” he added, “you’re the one with the law degree, right? It makes no difference if he was drunk or sober when he killed her. What is it your legal friends always say? When he decided to drink, he knowingly took the risk of losing control, so he has to accept the consequences. Ninio has no one to blame but himself. He might get the charges reduced to manslaughter, but he’s still going away for a long time. Am I right or am I right?”
“The problem,” David said, lighting another cigarette, “is that his story jibes with the evidence. Yeah, we found his prints and his blood, but only on the outside of the door. There’s nothing to show he was in her apartment. In terms of the forensics, his story fits. He went there, banged on the door hard enough to hurt his hand, and left without going inside.”
“At the very least, it’s enough for reasonable doubt,” Anat said.
“So that’s it? We throw in the towel? Are you fucking crazy?” Yaron yelled.
“No, we don’t throw in the towel. We think,” David chastised, blowing smoke in Yaron’s direction.
“I know he’s guilty,” Anat said. “He’s toying with us. But everybody’s got a weakness. We just have to find it.”
“Maybe we should bring Borochov in and hear what he’s got to say,” Yaron suggested.
“A waste of our time, trust me,” David said, shaking his head. “We know the guy. He’ll claim he never went to see Ninio, and even if he did, Ninio misunderstood what he said, and it doesn’t matter anyway because it’s all privileged. We won’t get anything out of Borochov. We’ve tried it before, but the son-of-a-bitch doesn’t break a sweat.” David turned to Anat. “Any ideas, Nachmias?”
“Give me five minutes alone with the bastard and he’ll spill his guts,” Yaron cut in.
“Pipe down, Yaron. I thought we were past that by now,” David said angrily.
“He gave us Borochov. Let’s explain to him what would happen if we decided to leak that little tidbit,” Yaron went on, ignoring David’s rebuke. “He wouldn’t last a night out on the street, or even in Abu Kabir. Borochov’s clients would get their hands on him and crush his balls. We tell him that and you’ll see how fast we get a confession.”
“He’s an ASA. He’ll be under protection,” Anat said.
“He doesn’t know that.”
“We’re not there yet,” David interrupted, ending the argument. “I’m still waiting for ideas from you, Nachmias. Now would be a good time, before the brass has our hide.”
Anat cleared her throat. “Gabriel said that Arami told him the Israeli who gave him the money was a powerful man . . .”
“You thought it was Ninio,” David broke in.
“Well, that’s one possibility.” Ninio admitted seeing Arami in the courtroom, but he adamantly denied ever having any personal contact with him.
“What’s the other?” David asked.
“That Ninio got drunk and killed Michal, and somehow the bad guys Borochov represents found out about it and they were trying to blackmail him.”
“And paying Gabriel to confess was the help Borochov promised him?”
Anat nodded.
“How did they find out?”
Anat shrugged. “We know Michal was threatened, and soon after that she was assaulted. They might be the ones responsible. She turned up something about their activities around the old bus station, some kind of illegal transactions, and they wanted to shut her up.” Anat suddenly realized that the theory she was proposing came, at least in part, from Itai Fisher. “Maybe they were keeping an eye on her, watching her house to see who she was in contact with, and they saw Ninio there. If we can find exactly who ‘they’ are, we might get our answer.”
“You think they were that uptight about a babe your size?” Yaron said dismissively.
Anat was about to say something vulgar, but she restrained herself. “She was a very determined young lady. She believed in what she was doing.”
“Maybe they killed her themselves,” David suggested.
“I considered that, but it doesn’t fit the evidence,” Anat replied. “She knew her killer. She opened the door for him. Besides, the mob operates quietly. They don’t bang on doors, they don’t make a racket in the middle of the night.”
“So you’re saying we’ve got the murderer, but we don’t have any witnesses. We need to get a lead on them, and we won’t get it from Borochov,” David summed up.
Anat nodded.
Ninio was shouting again. “Get my lawyer. I want him here now!” They couldn’t delay much longer. In less than twenty-four hours they’d have to go before a judge and ask to have his remand extended. It wasn’t going to be as easy as it was with Gabriel. The migrant was represented by a public defender who didn’t even bother to object. Ninio’s lawyer would put up a fight.
“We have to follow the money,” Anat said.
David nodded. “I agree. We’ll start with Arami. He’s the one who got the money from the Israeli. If we can identify him, we’ll be a step closer to nailing the perp.”
&n
bsp; “Okay, let’s bring Arami in and find out what he knows. What are we waiting for?” Yaron leapt out of his chair, ready for action.
“He was issued a travel document. He left the country a few days ago,” Anat admitted reluctantly.
“Where is he now?” David asked.
“France.”
Yaron exhaled irritably.
“Do you know how to reach him?” David gave Yaron a withering look and took a deep drag on his cigarette.
“There’s someone who might know.”
“Your boyfriend?” Yaron asked.
“Who?” Anat felt herself blush, but she wasn’t sure why.
“What’s his name—Itai Fisher. The one whose eulogy you found so moving, you couldn’t take your eyes off him. Don’t think we didn’t notice, Nachmias.”
“Yes, Itai Fisher,” Anat said, her face turning a deeper shade of red.
Chapter 77
GABRIEL gazed out through the bars on the window at the night sky. The moon was making a brief appearance through a break in the heavy clouds. Outside, the world went about its business as usual, but his life had ground to a halt.
The policewoman had come this morning and asked him to videotape a message to Arami. Gabriel released him from his promise and begged him to reveal everything he knew. When he asked the detective if they’d let him out now, she said he would have to be patient for a little while. But he didn’t have any more patience, not since he’d seen Liddie. He couldn’t wait. He needed to know what his sister was doing at this very moment. How was she getting along without him? Was she still coughing? Was she in danger? He was sick with worry that the men who had abducted her would come back for her again. Before she left, he promised they’d be together soon. He knew that waiting was as hard for her as it was for him.
Seeing her had changed him. He’d resigned himself to a life behind bars, but his little sister had given him renewed hope and strength. He was no longer willing to let other people decide his fate.
His lawyer came later and told him he’d tried to finalize the deal with the prosecution but it was apparently off the table. They weren’t returning his calls. “Is that good or bad?” Gabriel asked. “Bad, very bad,” the lawyer said. Then he got up and left.
The policewoman promised to protect them, not to let anyone hurt Liddie or him. They wouldn’t abandon the people who helped them find Michal’s murderer, she assured him.
Could he trust Israelis?
Hagos would have said he could; Arami would have said he couldn’t. But now he was on his own, without Hagos or Arami to advise him. He wondered what Michal would have said. She’d probably say there are some you can trust and some you can’t. He wanted to believe that Itai and the policewoman belonged to the first type. He’d been thinking about Michal a lot lately. It was a shame she never got to meet Liddie. They would have liked each other. And Michal could have helped Liddie overcome the terrible things they did to her. He knew she volunteered at the shelter for women like his sister. Maybe what he was doing would help them catch her killer. He’d like that.
A black cloud covered the moon and the world outside grew darker. Soon the rain would come.
Chapter 78
THE longer the meeting went on, the worse Anat’s headache got. At the end of the day, it was all in the hands of bureaucrats and paper pushers. She never imagined she’d have to get her head around so many international conventions and laws with incomprehensible names just to go to France and ask Arami a few simple questions. She discovered that she couldn’t pursue an investigation abroad without official approval from Interpol and the justice ministries of Israel and France, as well as the French police.
Yochai had spoken to the Israeli police liaison in France, a high-ranking officer on the verge of retirement, hoping to get him to move things along over there. The liaison officer, who thought the chapter of his life when he actually did police work was over, offered only a noncommittal response delivered with a distinct lack of enthusiasm. It was obvious he wouldn’t be of any help to them.
David also tried to use his connections, calling a French police officer he’d met at the seminar in Austria. When he started explaining the problem of the migrants in Israel and how the murder could ignite an already explosive situation, the Frenchman laughed. “You Israelis are so dramatic,” he said good-naturedly. “You always think you invented the wheel. You really should get over yourselves. Do you know how many Africans there are in my country? You’re worried about sixty thousand? We’ve got millions to deal with, and they’ve been coming here for decades. Mon cher ami, what we’ve forgotten about the problem you haven’t even begun to learn.” Although he promised to do what he could, they knew they couldn’t count on him to be of much use to them, either.
Yochai kept throwing her accusing looks. As far as he was concerned, this whole avenue of investigation was a waste of time. The Michal Poleg case could have ended in a plea bargain a long time ago. They’d reduce the charges and Gabriel would be out in a few years. He’d expected the interview with Yariv Ninio to be short and simple. But as it turned out, there was nothing short or simple about it.
He was getting a lot of pressure from the prosecution, who wanted to know whom they were supposed to be building a case against, Gabriel or Yariv. Which one of them was the killer? They couldn’t keep them both in custody indefinitely. They had to make up their minds. Was it Gabriel or Yariv, or as Yaron put it, “Black or white?”
THE meeting at the Justice Ministry’s International Department had been dragging on forever. Listening to all the legal experts debating the issue, Anat remembered why she’d walked away from the profession. There were endless laws, procedures, and documents to wade through. They kept raising problems, but nobody was suggesting solutions.
Getting the green light was just the first step. There would still be a long way to go. First they had to find Arami, and then they had to convince him to give up the name of the man who bought the Africans’ silence. Neither of those tasks would be easy. She was meeting with Itai this evening to ask for his help. She’d suggested they get together over coffee, hoping an informal atmosphere would encourage him to cooperate. He agreed without hesitation. Anat was pleased. She was looking forward to talking to him someplace nicer than in her drab depressing office.
She heard Chen Shabtai say, “We have to take it step by step. There are complicated legal issues to work out,” and she felt her patience wearing thin. She didn’t have time to waste. It was perfectly clear to everyone in the room that in the end she’d get the approval she needed, but the paper pushers were obviously going to take their own sweet time about it. It might not matter so much with other cases, but it did with this one. She had to move fast before the higher-ups pulled the plug on the investigation.
“I have a suggestion that might solve some of the procedural problems,” she said. All eyes turned to her. It was the first time she’d spoken up. Until now, David had done the talking for both of them.
“We’re discussing legal matters, Inspector Nachmias, so with all due respect . . . ,” Shabtai said in an attempt to silence her.
“We don’t need Arami to testify in court,” Anat went on, ignoring the interruption. “At this stage, we only need him to tell us what he knows. What I propose . . .”
“If you’d been listening to the legal analysis, Inspector Nachmias . . . ,” Shabtai cut in again.
“I heard every word. The police from one country can’t conduct an investigation in another country without the proper authorization. That’s the core of the problem. I get it. But what if the person asking the questions isn’t a cop?”
Perplexed, Shabtai leafed through the papers in front of her, looking for the precise wording of the law.
“I already checked. There’s nothing to prevent it,” Anat stated firmly. “All the relevant laws and conventions relate solely to police investigations. We can send a civilian, someone the witness knows. He’ll talk to Arami and try to get him to open up. I’
ll go to France with him—not as a detective, simply as a companion, a tour guide, as it were. If you think it’s necessary, I won’t be present when they meet. Then if it turns out the information we obtain is important and we want to use it in court, we can do everything by the book later, go through all the time-consuming procedures you described at length.”
“How do we pay the civilian’s travel expenses? There’s also the question of insurance. We’ll have to issue a tender. It’s not so simple,” Shabtai said. Lawyers don’t like simple solutions. They could put them out of business.
“I’m sure all you brilliant legal minds can find a way to solve the technical problems,” David said. Leaning on his crutches, he rose. Anat quickly followed suit.
“Well, well, Nachmias, I see you’re planning a romantic getaway in Paris,” he teased on the way out, poking her in the ribs with his elbow.
“Knock it off,” Anat snapped back.
Chapter 79
YARIV pressed the pay phone to his right ear, covering the left with his hand to shut out the noise. They’d put him in isolation to protect him from fellow prisoners who might not be so fond of a state attorney, and supposedly to protect him from himself as well. (Seriously? The thought never even crossed his mind.) The cell was tiny, without so much as a window. Yariv felt as if the walls were closing in on him. He didn’t know if it was night or day. His skin was clammy and he reeked of sweat. On top of that was the constant racket. The noise of prisoners, guards, cops penetrated through the walls and hammered at him like Chinese water torture.
He desperately needed quiet so he could think. He had to plan a strategy, orchestrate a win. The noise was driving him crazy. They were doing it deliberately, trying to unsettle him, to eat away at his confidence. He was determined not to let it get to him.
