Chosen People

by Robert Whitlow

  “That makes sense,” Hana said, leaning forward and moving the cursor arrow farther down the row of videos.

  She stopped at one with the Arabic title Meal with Brothers and opened it.

  Jakob returned to the living area and took his place beside Hana on the sofa. While in the bathroom, he’d figured out that the resident of the apartment was female. No male would maintain the inventory of beauty products laid out on the vanity and positioned in the shower. Maybe the apartment belonged to Uri’s girlfriend.

  “Let’s take a look at this,” Hana said, pointing to the computer screen. “That word means ‘brothers.’ It may show some faces we need to identify.”

  Daud was in the kitchen getting a bottle of water from the refrigerator when she opened the file. The first scene was a social gathering of ten men around a table. There were empty platters of food, coffee cups, and plates of pastries on the table.

  “That’s Abdul,” Hana said, stopping the video and pointing to a clean-shaven young man at one end of the table. “And Tawfik is standing behind him. Based on their ages, this can’t be long before the attack.”

  “What’s the date?” Jakob asked.

  Hana closed the picture and returned to the file name. “Twenty-six days before the attack,” she said.

  Daud rejoined them. Hana sat in the middle and continued the video.

  “Is there sound?” Daud asked. “It looks like dinner is over.”

  “Not on this one, but it was shot from a fixed position, maybe on a tripod. The camera isn’t moving at all.”

  “Fast-forward and see if anything changes,” Daud said.

  Hana advanced the video without any differences popping up in the accelerated images. She stopped when there was less than ten minutes left. At that point, whoever was operating the camera picked it up and moved it closer to the table. A tall, light-skinned man with a carefully groomed beard and wearing glasses placed a laptop on the table.

  “Stop!” Jakob said. “I recognize the man with the glasses.”

  Hana paused the video while Jakob told them about the jihadist who spoke English with an American accent.

  “You do not know his name?” Daud asked.

  “No, but he made an appearance on at least one blog site that mentioned Gloria’s death. I’d have to check my computer to be more specific.”

  “Keep going,” Daud said to Hana.

  When the video resumed, the other men in the room gathered around the laptop placed on the table. Abdul was present, but Tawfik was no longer visible. The man wearing glasses pressed a few keys on the laptop and a video began to play. It showed the outside of a concrete house in a dusty setting. There were six people wearing black masks and standing in front of the house with their hands clasped in front of them as they posed for the camera.

  “Can you enlarge it?” Jakob asked.

  Hana tapped a button a few times until the image expanded to full screen. She froze it and pointed. “They’re boys,” she said.

  “How can you tell?” Jakob asked.

  “By how tall they are next to the car. It’s a small import made in Poland. There are a lot of them in Israel.”

  Four men, not wearing masks but with their hands secured behind them, were brought into view by larger figures who were wearing black masks. The bound men glanced around in obvious fear. Hana suddenly reached forward and paused the video. “This could be an execution film!” she exclaimed.

  “Go to the balcony,” Daud said to her. “We will find out.”

  Hana left and Daud pressed the play button. The bound men were led into the house, after which the front door closed. One of the adult men in a mask talked for a few moments to the young men who were lined up before the front door. A second man handed each of the young men a pistol. Jakob felt his throat constrict. The front door opened, and the young men rushed inside. The images on the screen suddenly became blurry as the feed went to surveillance cameras placed inside the house. Figures ran past the cameras. There was a flash of light that Jakob assumed signaled gunfire. Because the video was silent, there was a surreal quality to it. Suddenly, the camera captured a bound man in the corner of a tiny room slumping to the floor with two young masked men standing in front of him and pointing their pistols in his direction. Jakob felt the same way he had when viewing the surveillance video from Hurva Square.

  “Oh my God,” he said.

  One of the two masked young men lifted his mask, vomited, and then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. For an instant, the side of his face came partially into view.

  “It’s Tawfik!” Jakob said.

  Daud stopped the video, rewound it, and froze the image. “Maybe,” he said. “The light is not good enough to be sure. There are a lot of boys who fit that description.”

  “Facial recognition analysis could prove it, but it looks like Tawfik to me,” Jakob replied emphatically.

  The video continued, showing chaos and mayhem in the house. One of the other hostages was shot in the back while running down a hallway. A masked boy knelt beside the body for a moment, stood, and raised his hands triumphantly in the air. The video ended with all the masked boys and men assembled in front of the house with their hands folded across their chests. The fate of the other two hostages wasn’t revealed, but there was no doubt in Jakob’s mind what had happened. The Caucasian man wearing glasses closed the laptop.

  The video in the room continued. Abdul sat down and took a sip of coffee. Behind him, the Caucasian man gave Tawfik a hug. The expression on the young man’s face couldn’t be seen.

  “That’s it,” Jakob said. “He’s congratulating Tawfik.”

  Daud grunted. The video ended thirty seconds later.

  “Let’s watch it again,” Jakob said.

  They ran the video to the point of the death of the hostage and removal of the mask. Jakob paused it. “I’m sure it’s Tawfik,” he said.

  “Possibly,” Daud said. “But one thing is sure. The boys in the masks are well trained. They know what to do inside the house. It is not as chaotic as you might think. This is not just for propaganda. It is a training video.”

  “We need to bring in Hana and find out if she wants to see this,” Jakob said.

  “Okay,” Daud reluctantly agreed.

  Out on the tiny balcony, Hana could see people drinking coffee at a café across the street. Uri wasn’t in sight. It was the type of place where a terrorist might launch a knife or gun attack. In her heart, Hana knew something terribly dark caused the men in the video to gather around the laptop, but she tried to hope she’d been wrong about what it revealed. The door to the balcony opened.

  “You can come in now,” Daud said, a sober expression on his face.

  “What did you see?” Hana asked as she crossed the threshold.

  Daud turned to Jakob. “You tell her,” he said.

  Hana sat in a chair and listened as Jakob described what they’d witnessed on the video within the video.

  “I believe the boy who takes off his mask is Tawfik,” he said. “Daud isn’t sure, but the face can be analyzed and compared to what we have from the attack in Hurva Square.”

  Her heart no longer racing, Hana’s analytical ability kicked in. “Wouldn’t the Shin Bet or government security forces have done that?” she asked Daud.

  “ISIS and other groups have released several videos like this one,” the investigator replied. “I am sure all of them have been evaluated by the Shin Bet or Mossad to identify participation by Israeli citizens or terrorists from the West Bank or Gaza. If that is Tawfik in the video, they probably know about it but have not acted.”

  “Even if Tawfik is in the video, what impact does that have on the Neumann case?” Hana asked. “We already know he’s a terrorist because he was present when his brother killed Gloria and stabbed Sadie.”

  “I don’t know,” Jakob said after a moment passed. “Maybe it’s another piece of a puzzle.”

  “The identification of the men around the table could
be important,” Daud said. “Especially the one Jakob recognized. He might provide a link to an organization.”

  “You’re right,” Hana said. “How can we find out who he is?”

  “Let me work on that,” Daud answered. “I will have to let Uri know about this. He may not want us to keep the flash drive.”

  “I thought he said it was inactive,” Hana answered.

  “That is true, but it does not mean you can publicize it in an American courtroom.”

  “If there’s a chance we won’t be able to keep it, I want to watch the entire sequence again,” Jakob said. “There may be something we missed.”

  Hana resumed her place on the sofa and clicked open the Meal with Brothers video.

  “Are you going to stay?” Jakob asked her.

  “Yes,” she answered grimly. “If I watched the video from Hurva Square, I should watch this, too.”

  This time they didn’t fast-forward through any of it. They watched in silence until the man placed the laptop on the table.

  “Can we capture an image of his face and keep it on Hana’s computer?” Jakob asked Daud.

  Daud thought for a moment. “Not without additional permission,” he said.

  The video continued. Knowing now what lay ahead, Hana steadied herself. The scene shifted to the inside of the house and the boys chasing the captives from room to room.

  “This has been edited,” Jakob said. “Someone pieced this together from all the surveillance footage inside the house.”

  “And from a body camera on one of the young men or adults,” Daud added. “I saw pictures that moved with a person.”

  At that moment, an image came into view showing a young man going through a door opening and firing a shot down a hallway. The video reached the point of execution of the hostage by two young men who cornered the bound man in a small room that looked no bigger than a closet. Hana felt a deep sadness in the pit of her stomach.

  “Here it comes,” Jakob said. “Watch the young man on the left. He’s going to take off his mask and get sick.”

  Hana forced herself to lean in closer. The camera was behind the young man when he raised the mask and vomited on the floor at the feet of the dead man. The young man raised his hand to his mouth and turned his head to the side for no more than a couple of seconds as he repositioned his mask. To her, he looked like thousands of Middle Eastern teenagers. She stopped the video and rewound it.

  “We did that too,” Jakob said.

  Hana froze the frame and tried to remember any distinguishing details of Tawfik’s appearance. The black-and-white image was simply too unclear to convince her of a match.

  “I’m not sure it’s Tawfik,” she said.

  “Look at the nose and chin.” Jakob pointed.

  Hana did so, but she wasn’t convinced. “Inconclusive,” she said and turned to Daud.

  “At least let us save his image,” Jakob said.

  “No,” Daud said, shaking his head. “We are on, what do you call it in English, shaky ice?”

  “Shaky ground or thin ice,” Hana replied.

  “Both,” Daud said. “This has to be dealt with carefully. Let me do my job.”

  It was another situation in which Hana had to trust Daud. She saw no other option. “Okay,” she said, leaning back.

  Daud took the flash drive from Hana’s computer and put it in his pocket. “Wait here while I return this to Uri,” he said to Hana and Jakob. “I will only be gone a few minutes.”

  The investigator left.

  “How will we identify the Caucasian man wearing glasses in the video?” Jakob asked. “I’m sure Daud is right. He’s either European or American.”

  “Through Daud’s contacts or Sylvia Armstrong,” Hana replied.

  “Or I could call Detective Freeman with the APD,” Jakob said. “He has access to a facial recognition database through Homeland Security and the FBI.”

  “That would be a place to start,” Hana said. “Especially since you know him. I guess their database is worldwide in scope.”

  “And probably includes Tawfik, since he was present when Gloria, an American citizen, was killed.”

  “But we didn’t capture the image of the man you think was Tawfik from the video.”

  Jakob looked directly at Hana. “Yes, we did,” he said simply.

  “How?” Hana raised her eyebrows.

  “I saved the entire video on your computer while Daud went to the balcony to get you. I could tell he was worried about us seeing it, and I didn’t want to lose it. Our obligation is to our client, not Daud’s contacts.”

  “Wait—”

  “Not that I believe we should disregard other interests,” Jakob continued, speaking rapidly. “But I don’t want to lose the chance to follow a great lead because of bureaucratic red tape. The video is on your computer, not mine, so you control what’s done with it. Remember, Daud works for us, not the other way around. If you’re not careful, he’ll blur the lines.”

  Hana, remembering her conversation with Mr. Lowenstein, knew there was truth in what Jakob said. However, deceiving Daud wasn’t part of her plan.

  “I don’t want to do this to Daud,” she said.

  “Which if it comes out is why you’re not going to tell him what I did,” Jakob replied with emphasis. “All we need to do is confirm or disprove Tawfik’s presence in the video and identify the other men around the table. For all we know, this may be a propaganda film produced by a terrorist organization without any financial links to our case.”

  “Or it might be the key we’ve been hoping to find while we’re here,” Hana said.

  “Correct. The first thing is to research these types of videos and see what’s out there on the internet. That will be my job, not yours.”

  While they waited for Daud, Jakob began his research using Hana’s laptop. Most of the execution videos were beheadings, but within ten minutes Jakob had found three videos of hostage executions involving prisoners being chased down inside buildings and executed. One of the videos involved young boys armed with assault rifles. Hana sat in the kitchen while he relayed information.

  “These people are insane,” Jakob said.

  “In the same way as the Nazis,” Hana replied.

  The door to the apartment opened and Daud returned alone. Jakob lowered the top of Hana’s laptop to turn it off.

  “What did Uri say?” Jakob asked before Daud said anything.

  “He had not watched anything on the flash drive,” Daud replied. “That is not his job. I told him about the execution video, and he wanted to know if ISIS produced it. When I told him there was no identifying information, he became nervous. He grabbed the flash drive and told me to forget that he had agreed to help me. I think Uri is concerned it might have taken place in Israel, which would mean the file is not as inactive as he thought. I think it was filmed someplace else.”

  Hana’s mouth became dry, and she licked her lips.

  “Now what?” Jakob asked Daud.

  “We visit Aaron Levy,” Daud replied. “But let me do the talking and do not mention what you saw here. Understood?”

  Jakob shrugged. “Sure.”

  “Aaron Levy?” Hana asked. “Sylvia Armstrong mentioned him. She called and asked him to cooperate with us.”

  Daud spoke. “I know Aaron much better than she does.”

  CHAPTER 37

  When they were back in Daud’s vehicle, Jakob checked his phone for messages from Ben or Emily. There wasn’t any communication via text or email from either one of them.

  “Where are we going?” he asked Daud as they pulled away from the apartment building.

  “Tel Aviv.”

  Sobered by the video, they rode in silence. Jakob saw a sign indicating it was twenty kilometers to Tel Aviv. The number of houses and the scope of commercial development along the road increased. They exited the expressway onto a side street and drove for several miles through a commercial area.

  When they stopped for a red light, Ja
kob asked, “Will you mention the video we saw on the flash drive?”

  “I am not sure,” Daud said. “I must protect Uri. We served together, and I was his superior for almost two years before he went to the United States to study in Chicago.”

  Jakob nodded to himself. That explained Daud’s reluctance to cause trouble for Uri. Serving together meant one thing—military service.

  They turned into the parking lot for a nondescript gray three-story building. The only unusual feature was a guard shack in one corner of the parking lot. Two soldiers stood outside it.

  “Why don’t they have a gate on the parking lot?” Jakob asked.

  “This is just the beginning,” Daud replied.

  Daud parked near the guard shack. Neither he nor Hana said anything to the young soldiers who casually eyed them without ordering them to stop. Inside the front door was a security checkpoint similar to a US federal courthouse. Daud spoke in Hebrew to the man who seemed in charge. He left them waiting outside the body screeners while he made a phone call. He returned shortly and processed them into the building.

  “I came here once when I worked at the airport,” Hana said. “We attended a training seminar on the second floor.”

  They took an elevator to the third floor and stepped into a hallway where they were greeted by another security officer wearing civilian clothes. They followed him to an office at the end of the hall. Aaron Levy, a short, balding man in his fifties, greeted them in Hebrew and then switched to British-accented English. There were three chairs in front of a plain metal desk. The office was devoid of personal items or photos.

  “Daud told me about the lawsuit you want to file, and I also talked to Sylvia Armstrong with the US Attorney’s Office,” Levy began in a friendly manner. “She urged me to meet with you and said your government wants to assist private parties in recovering money damages from the terrorist organizations. We agree. The Arab Bank litigation obviously caught our attention. Where are you in the legal process?”

  Jakob expected Hana to respond, but she was looking at Daud. The investigator nodded to her. “Go ahead,” he said.

  “At the beginning of the investigative stage,” she said. “Which is why we are here. We have to bridge the gap between Abdul and Tawfik Zadan acting alone and connecting the murder to an organization with assets.”