Chosen People

by Robert Whitlow

  “What if he wants to do a deal?”

  “I’ll set it up. I usually do sample shipments, which don’t include everything needed. It’s all approved by the Shin Bet. After that I can give the excuse that my supplier has either gone out of business or can’t ship in quantity. A few times, I’ve delivered a complete product that allows backdoor access by the seller to the end user.”

  “Who is the seller?”

  “A private company with government clearance. It’s set up to protect me while serving the greater good. That’s all I can tell you.”

  Hana’s head was spinning. “You work directly with the Shin Bet?” she asked.

  “What do the Americans say?” Daud answered with a smile. “I can neither confirm nor deny.”

  Hana’s hunch about some kind of connection between Daud and Israeli security forces made sense. She knew not to pry further.

  Daud continued, “I jumped out of the car to talk to Tawfik because it could be a huge break. If he places an order, it could lead us to information about the terrorist group linked to his brother.”

  Hana nodded. “True, but what about going to Nablus to catch him after he sees his girlfriend?”

  “I had no intention of doing anything that could get me arrested or beaten up. If I’d met with Tawfik in Nablus, my goal would have been to have the same kind of conversation we just had.”

  “Nabil wouldn’t like that.”

  “He’d never find out.”

  They drove away from the Zadan house. “Will we pass the house of the man you mentioned to Tawfik?” Hana asked.

  “No.”

  “How did you know about him?” Hana asked.

  “I had been to Deir Dibwan several times before you first contacted me,” Daud replied. “This isn’t totally new territory.”

  CHAPTER 34

  Wahid picked up Jakob and drove him to the hotel. “Any other plans to go out later this afternoon or evening?” the taxi driver asked.

  “No,” Jakob replied.

  “I’m here if you need me up until ten at night,” Wahid said.

  “Thanks,” Jakob said as he got out. “And you’ll let your cousin know I’m running a tab, right?”

  “Already done.”

  Jakob went to his room and inspected himself in the bathroom mirror. He’d always thought he looked Russian, although that was hardly a monolithic image. One great beauty of America was the diverse appearance of its people.

  Sitting on the bed with his legs in front of him and his back propped against a pair of pillows, Jakob waited for his laptop to boot up. He hadn’t eaten lunch, so he popped a few handfuls of dry-roasted peanuts into his mouth. He sent Hana a text asking when they might return, but the message didn’t show delivery.

  There was a knock on his door. He got up and looked through the spy hole. A stocky man about his own age wearing a yellow shirt with dark hair and a black mustache stood on the landing with his hands in his pockets. Jakob opened the door.

  “My name is Ensanullah,” the man said in heavily accented English. “Daud Hasan sent me to take you to him.”

  “Daud didn’t say anything about sending a driver when he left this morning.”

  “It has taken him longer than he thought in the West Bank.”

  The man pulled out his phone and showed Jakob a message in Arabic.

  “I can’t read that,” Jakob said.

  “Sorry, wrong message,” the man replied.

  He tapped his phone a few times and returned it to Jakob:

  Pick up Jakob Brodsky at the hotel where he is staying in the German Colony and bring him to my apartment. Daud

  “No,” Jakob said as he returned the phone. “I’ll need to talk to Daud first.”

  The man shrugged. “Okay. But I have been watching you since you left the hotel a few hours ago in the Mercedes taxi and went to Hurva Square, the Kotel, and back to Hurva Square. Daud asked me to take care of you and find out if you were being followed. I am, what do you call it, your guardian angel?”

  Jakob’s skepticism remained. His idea of angels didn’t have thick black mustaches. “Get Daud on the phone,” he said.

  The man handed the phone to Jakob. After a couple of rings a male voice answered and began speaking in Arabic.

  “Daud?” Jakob asked.

  “Yes, it is me,” the investigator replied. “Hana and I are going to meet you at my apartment in Beit Hanina. Ensanullah will drive you. If you arrive before we do, he will unlock the door, and you can wait for us. You may enjoy the coffee, wine, beer, and food.”

  “Did you tell this guy to follow me today?”

  “Yes. He has been your security guard, but he did not see anyone or anything suspicious.”

  “Okay,” Jakob said, relaxing. “I wasn’t sure I could trust him.”

  “You can. He works for me. He is a professional.”

  Jakob ended the call and returned the phone to Ensanullah. “Let me grab my wallet and laptop.”

  A minute later they were descending the steps to the courtyard. When they passed the concierge station, Wahid’s cousin ran out. “What’s the matter?” the man demanded. “Did Wahid insult you? He should know better.”

  Jakob shook his head and answered, “No, no. This is a business associate. Wahid is a great driver.”

  They reached Ensanullah’s car, a small compact, and got in.

  “Wahid is not a great driver,” Ensanullah said. “He could have gotten two traffic tickets when he was driving you to the Old City. I thought he knew I was following and wanted to lose me. But Daud told me you would go to Hurva Square, and I found you there.”

  Jakob didn’t respond. They rode in silence to the eastern part of the city. Turning down a street, Jakob was suddenly confronted by the concrete security barrier that divided parts of the city in two.

  “Where are we?” Jakob asked.

  “Beit Hanina. On this side is Al-Jadida, the new village,” Ensanullah said. “The older area is Al-Balad, the old village. My grandparents grew up in Al-Balad but live on this side now.”

  Jakob inspected Ensanullah’s face for signs of emotion but couldn’t see any. “Were they upset about moving?” he asked.

  “My grandfather fought in the Jordanian army as a tank commander and was wounded in the leg and chest in the 1967 war. It happened not far from here when the Israelis captured this part of the city. How do you think I should feel about that? My grandparents have a modern apartment with air-conditioning, but it is not the place where my ancestors lived.”

  “Were they forced to move?”

  “No,” Ensanullah replied. “Life is better on the Israeli side for their bank account. My grandfather worked many years for the Jerusalem utility company before he retired. Living in Al-Jadida, it is easier for him to go to Al-Aska on Fridays.”

  Several times during the day, Jakob had heard the call to prayer broadcast from minarets throughout the city. It was especially loud near the Western Wall because of the close proximity of the Al-Aska mosque. The tour guide had explained to her group that the famous Dome of the Rock was a shrine and not a regularly functioning mosque like the Al-Aska, which marked the spot where Muslims believed Muhammad prayed one night after miraculously traveling through the heavens on his horse, Buraq, from Mecca to Jerusalem.

  As they drove, Jakob continued to ask Ensanullah questions about his family. The driver became more and more talkative. They passed the apartment building where his grandparents lived. Stopping for a moment, Ensanullah pointed to a second-story balcony filled with flowers in pots.

  “That is their apartment. My grandmother has what you call the green thumb.”

  A few blocks later they entered an area of modern apartment buildings. After a couple of turns they reached the top of a small hill. Ensanullah stopped next to the curb in front of a four-story building. There was no sign of Daud’s Land Rover.

  “Daud lives in apartment 410 on the top floor,” he said. “Here is a key. There is no elevator. Walk up th
e stairs. The code to enter the building is 311.”

  “You’re not coming?” Jakob asked.

  “No, I’m going to visit my grandparents before going home.”

  “Thanks for taking care of me today,” Jakob said.

  “Daud pays me well,” Ensanullah said with a slight smile. “No tipping necessary.”

  Jakob laughed. Ensanullah was quiet for a moment. “You are a nice American Jew,” the driver said. “Do not move to Israel. You will not like it here. Stay in the USA.”

  “That’s my plan.”

  A kilometer away from the Qalandiya checkpoint for reentry into Israel, Daud stopped in an alleyway and changed the license plates on his vehicle.

  “Have you ever forgotten to do that?” Hana asked when he was behind the wheel again.

  “No, because I know the problems I would have if the plate didn’t match the vehicle registration.”

  Daud handed a young female border patrol officer a piece of paper. She left to make a phone call.

  “What’s on the paper?” Hana asked.

  “Written permission for us to break the law by going into Ramallah. That way, we can tell the truth when questioned.”

  There were lines of people on foot and in cars, buses, and taxis moving in both directions.

  “Do they call every time?” Hana asked.

  “They always check when I’m coming from this direction back into Jerusalem.”

  “Proceed,” the young woman in the green uniform said in Hebrew when she returned with the letter.

  Beit Hanina wasn’t far from the checkpoint. Hana took her phone from her purse and sent a text to Jakob telling him where they were. He replied immediately:

  I’m sitting on the balcony drinking his beer and enjoying the view.

  She read the text.

  “I told him to treat it like home,” the investigator replied. “I won’t charge one beer to your law firm, but two might be another story.”

  Daud pulled into a reserved parking space behind the hilltop building. “Is there anything you don’t want to tell Jakob?” he asked. “Or maybe I should ask if there is anything your boss doesn’t want him to know?”

  “I’m not going to play games with him,” Hana replied. “That would be too hard to keep straight.”

  “Okay. But remember not to say anything about my connection with the Shin Bet. Just mention that I have access to sophisticated software that is in high demand on the black market.”

  Inside the apartment, Hana was more impressed by Daud’s sense of style in person than when he had given her a virtual tour. The living area included a cream-colored leather sofa and several attractive lamps. Through the glass walls she could see Jakob sitting on the balcony that faced south toward Jerusalem. That side of the apartment overlooked a small grove of trees and manicured garden with a large fountain in the middle. Only plants that were well-watered remained vibrant in the dry climate. Hana joined him.

  “Being a private investigator is the profession of choice in Israel,” Jakob said when Hana appeared.

  “It’s probably the nicest unit in the building,” Hana replied. “Come inside so we can talk.”

  Daud soon joined them in the living room. He placed a bowl of freshly cut fruit on a glass-topped table. Hana excused herself for a moment. When she returned, Daud was telling Jakob about the conversation with Nabil in Ramallah. The encounter sounded less colorful when told by Daud in his stilted English.

  “Are you going to Nablus to ambush Tawfik?” Jakob asked.

  “No, I do not have to go to Nablus to find him,” Daud answered. “We went to Deir Dibwan, and I talked with him there.”

  “What!” Jakob burst out.

  “Hana, please tell him while I eat some fruit,” Daud said.

  Hana relayed the encounter outside the Zadan residence, omitting Daud’s connection with the Shin Bet.

  “This is huge,” Jakob said when she finished.

  “I hope so,” Hana said.

  “What did it feel like seeing Tawfik in person?” Jakob asked her.

  Hana realized then that everything had happened so quickly, she hadn’t processed the encounter beyond a surface level. “I didn’t feel anything,” she replied. “My mind was totally focused on what Daud might be trying to accomplish.”

  “And I was hoping none of Tawfik’s friends that Nabil mentioned would show up while we talked,” Daud added. “They would be much more suspicious than he was. I think Tawfik is more interested in what money can buy than Islamic ideology.”

  “Let’s hope so,” Jakob replied. “How will you proceed?”

  “I want to talk to you and Hana about that,” Daud said, taking a drink from a bottle of mineral water. “I think I should wait at least a day before calling Tawfik if he doesn’t contact me. I don’t want to look too eager.”

  “Agreed,” Hana replied. “Did you tell him the cost of the software?”

  “Yes, which is half the price his organization can charge when selling it to criminal organizations and other fundamentalist groups.”

  “What does the software do?” Jakob asked.

  “It makes a novice hacker an expert hacker.”

  “Is that a good idea?” Jakob asked, his eyes wide.

  “Yes. There are bugs hidden in it that allow good people to know what the bad ones are doing.”

  It was Hana’s turn to react with surprise. Daud was close to clueing Jakob in on the investigator’s connections with the Israeli security network.

  “Sounds risky,” Jakob said. “What if a bug is discovered?”

  “I run a risky business,” Daud said and shrugged, taking another drink of water. “Tomorrow, I think we should visit my friend with access to the computers seized from the Zadan residence at the time of the attack. Based on what Nabil told us, I think we may find another piece of our puzzle.”

  “That’s a good description,” Hana said. “It sounded very American.”

  “Yeah,” Jakob said. “Daud would fit perfectly in the US so long as he was working for the CIA or FBI.”

  Daud didn’t respond. Hana eyed the investigator quizzically.

  “Our next agenda item is deciding where to eat dinner,” Daud said. “I think we should go to a good Arab restaurant. Ensanullah will drive you back to your hotel, and I will pick you up at seven o’clock.”

  “Ensanullah left,” Jakob said. “He said he was going to see his grandparents.”

  “Grandparents?” Daud asked, raising his eyebrows. “That’s not supposed to happen when I hire him for an entire day. I can call a taxi—”

  “Let me take care of it,” Jakob said. “I’ve met a driver who I’d like to use.”

  CHAPTER 35

  Jakob and Hana rode in silence in the back seat of Wahid’s Mercedes. Jakob assumed Hana was thinking about matters that couldn’t be discussed in the presence of Wahid.

  “Do you live in Atlanta, too?” the driver asked Hana, looking at her in the rearview mirror.

  “Yes, but I grew up in Reineh near Nazareth.”

  “I know Reineh,” Wahid replied. “I drove a fare there from Tel Aviv last week. It was a guy from California who had a business meeting with a company that manufactures irrigation supplies.”

  “He probably met with my father or one of my uncles,” Hana responded.

  “Small world, eh?” Wahid said. “What brings the two of you to Jerusalem? A big lawsuit?”

  “Just checking some things out for a client,” Jakob said. “But as you know, I spent most of my day as a tourist.”

  “Maybe, but not many American tourists go to Beit Hanina,” Wahid answered.

  Hana caught Jakob’s eye and shook her head. They rode the rest of the way in silence. As soon as Wahid dropped them off, they sat down at a table in the courtyard, which at this time of the afternoon was deserted.

  “I didn’t think it would be a good idea to mention Daud to the driver,” Hana said.

  “I’m not stupid,” Jakob said, touching the side
of his head. “And every time I have a headache, it reminds me to be careful.”

  “Is your head hurting now?”

  “No. Maybe the air here agrees with me.”

  Hana paused for a moment. “Any communication with your other driver in Atlanta?”

  “Not since she assured me that she wasn’t followed when she left the Atlanta airport.”

  “Okay,” Hana said. “No news is probably good. Do you have any questions about what Daud did today in Ramallah or Deir Dibwan?”

  “Are you asking me because you’re willing to admit your personal involvement with Daud makes it tough for you to be objective?”

  “Not really. I hired Daud to investigate and that’s what he’s doing. But my presence in Ramallah didn’t make a difference today. I could have stayed here and gone to Hurva Square and the Kotel with you.”

  “Except that you wanted to spend every minute you could with Daud,” Jakob replied with a grin. “Hey, I think he’s doing a great job. No questions or concerns from me.”

  “Me too,” Hana said as she stood up.

  “Do you know what we should do now before it gets too late on the East Coast?” Jakob asked.

  “What?”

  “Call Ben Neumann and give him an update. I told him I’d be in regular communication with him.”

  “You’re right.” Hana nodded.

  “We’ll Skype from my room.”

  When they reached Jakob’s room, he knelt in front of the door.

  “What are you doing?” Hana asked.

  Jakob stood and showed her a tiny piece of brown paper. “I positioned this paper so I’d know if anyone came into my room while I was gone.”

  “What about housekeeping?”

  “I waited until after the room was cleaned.”

  “Did you see that in a movie?” Hana asked skeptically.

  “Several times. It always works.”

  Hana sat in a chair by the window while Jakob reached Ben via Skype. After a couple of rings Ben’s face came into view. Jakob positioned his computer so the client could see both of them.