Faye Kellerman_Decker & Lazarus 07

by Sanctuary

  Decker waited a beat. “Rina, the diamond center is in Tel Aviv, right?”

  “Yes. The Bursa is in Ramat Gan, I believe.”

  “The Bursa is the diamond center?”

  “Yes. The Bursa is the diamond center.”

  “Is that far from Ramat Aviv?”

  “No. Not at all.”

  “Is it open to the public?”

  “I don’t think so. I think there are a few shops around the place where you can pick up some goodies.”

  “I’m not interested in shopping, I’m interested in talking to people. How would you get into this Bursa?”

  “I haven’t the faintest idea.”

  “Then how do you know it’s not open to the public?”

  “I just know.”

  Decker held his head. “Mr. Quixotic. Just call me Don.”

  “You need to get into the Bursa?”

  “I need everything. Davidson gave me a week to find the boys in Israel. I told him I had police contacts when in fact I have nothing. I also told him I had a translator named Rina. I hope I have that.”

  “Of course I’ll help you.” She placed the baby on the floor and sat on the bed beside him. Hannah busied herself with the fringes on the bedspread. “I was only planning to be gone for two nights because of the baby—”

  “Oh shit! Just forget it. Hannah comes first.”

  “Peter, we’ll all manage for a week,” Rina said. “I just have to make some calls. And don’t worry. Israel’s a very small country. Don’t worry. I’ll get you contacts.”

  He looked at her with amazement. “You can find me police contacts?”

  “I know quite a few people, honey. I’ll swing something. As a matter of fact, I had a friend whose brother was with the Jerusalem police. We even went over to his house for Shabbat once. I remember we all walked to the Old City that afternoon, davened maariv at the kotel, and watched the sun set, the stones of the wall turning fiery gold.”

  Decker hesitated, then said, “Who’s we?”

  Rina suddenly blushed. The room fell quiet except for Hannah’s babbling. Decker took his wife’s hand. “This trip, Rina. Is it the first time you’ve been back since Yitzchak passed away?”

  Slowly, she shook her head. Her voice was soft. “I’ve been back since. Right before I returned to Los Angeles, before I returned to you…I took a quick trip there with his parents. To visit the cemetery.”

  “You never told me.”

  “I thought it would have upset you.” She studied her husband’s eyes. “Would I have been right?”

  Decker blew out air. “Yes, honestly…it would have upset me—back then. But it wouldn’t upset me now. If you want, we can visit his grave together. Least I could do for you…for the beautiful sons he produced.”

  “He’s buried in Bnei Brak. That’s right outside Tel Aviv. Are you sure you’ll be okay with it?”

  “I’ll be fine. I hope the boys…” He laughed to himself. “What a can of worms. You want to tell them or should I?”

  “I’ll handle it. I’m sure you have enough on your mind right now.” Rina stood. “You finish packing and look after Hannah while I find the passports.”

  “You made arrangements for Hannah?”

  “Yes. I thought I was going to New York. I had it all worked out. Nora, the baby nurse, agreed to look after her—”

  “I liked Nora. You got her back?”

  “For three days. But I don’t think she’d mind staying a week. My parents also agreed to stay in and look after the boys.”

  Decker swooped up Hannah and threw her up in the air. The baby howled with delight. He held the baby to his breast and nodded to his wife. “Thank you, Rina.”

  “You’re welcome, honey. And by the way, the ties go perfectly with the suits.”

  PART 2

  ISRAEL

  25

  After twenty-six hours of flight, they were greeted by quite a welcoming committee. Unfortunately, none of the crowd was for them. Decker was amazed by the number of people stuffed into the miserly allotment of outdoor space, making it that much harder for him to move their luggage cart. He knew Lod was an international airport but it had more of the feel of an airstrip. Someone bumped hard into his cart, almost toppled it over. But Decker was quick and prevented the spill. In fairness to the woman, she did help him upright the cart, but then she left without a word of explanation.

  “Excuse me!” Decker muttered under his breath.

  Rina smiled, “Reminds me of the classic joke.”

  “Which is?”

  “It’s long. I’ll tell you another time when we’re not so tired. Suffice it to say we’re in a Levantine country. Remember that. It’ll take you a long way.”

  Sleep-deprived with a monster-sized headache, Decker was cranky. And still wobbly on his legs, having been compressed for over a day in an airplane filled to capacity. Lots of families and lots of howling babies. Plus, there had been a troop of Jewish Argentinian teenagers with beat-up guitars, who had never heard that hootenannies had gone out of style along with Nehru jackets and beaded headbands. The music never stopped. When he finally did manage to fall into a restless, sweaty sleep, some unknown Chasid woke him up and asked him if he would please make a minyan—a quorum of ten men needed to recite public prayer. It took all his control not to deck the guy. Rina had said it was because he’d been wearing a kippah—a yarmulke.

  Decker’s response to that? Why hadn’t she warned him. She had known the ropes. He was a stranger in a strange land. Not that he hadn’t been in exotic locales around the world, but it had always been with the army, with other men—rather boys—who had been as confused as he.

  But at this moment—at five P.M. Israeli time, as he lugged a cart through foreign-tongued people, he felt truly the ger. Ger had come to mean convert, but it also meant stranger. Never had he felt more gerish in his life.

  The rental-car signs were in English as well as Hebrew. It made him feel a little more comfortable. He pushed the recalcitrant cart toward the brightly lit cubicles. At least the weather was accommodating—slightly overcast skies, but mild. They had landed in daylight. Just a half hour later it was dusk approaching dark with a vengeance.

  He said, “They don’t have much of a twilight, do they?”

  Rina said, “We’re in a different part of the world. But rental cars are the same throughout.” She pulled out a paper contract from her oversized purse. “Wait here. I’ll get us our car.”

  Decker followed her into the tiny office anyway. He needn’t have bothered. He couldn’t understand a word she was saying. The man behind the desk was short, squat, bald, and very dark. He nodded as Rina spoke. Then he screamed “Yossi” into an intercom.

  Decker said, “Everything okay, Rina?”

  “Hunky-dory. He’s calling Yossi. Yossi’s going to take us to the car lot.”

  “Where’s Yossi?”

  “That’s what we’re trying to figure out.”

  Decker said, “By the way, do you know where I could get a gun?”

  At the mention of the word gun, the rental-car man jerked his head up and stared at Decker with suspicious eyes. Rina quickly said some mollifying words. Decker caught one of them—mishtarah. Rina turned to him.

  “Will you please be careful? Most people understand English—at least enough to know what a gun is.”

  “I thought there was a peace process going on.”

  “There’s a process going on. Peace is a relative term. What is the significance of arming yourself? Are you anticipating something you haven’t communicated to me?”

  “Are you deliberately using obtuse words to obfuscate our receptionist?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Then we shall converse on the said subject later. What does mishtarah mean?”

  “Police. Why?”

  “Someone in LA has been going around impersonating a police officer,” Decker said. “He calls himself Detective Mishtarah.”

  “An Israeli,” Rina sai
d.

  “Gold,” Decker answered.

  And Rina remembered why they were there. Two boys were missing and Shaul Gold was looking for them. At the moment, Peter didn’t know if Gold was a redeemer or a murderer. She suddenly realized what it meant to Peter to be without his Beretta.

  “I’ll find you some armament.”

  “Something so I don’t feel so vulnerable.”

  “Ah,” Rina said. “It looks like Yossi has arrived.”

  “Mazel tov,” Decker said. “Let’s get out of here.”

  The car was a Subaru and Decker was the sardine. He drove, knees to the wheel, while Rina navigated. The night was moonless, the expressway poorly lit, and Decker had to strain his eyes to make sure he was in the correct lane. At least the roads were in good shape—better infrastructure than LA. The airport was a hop from the city of Tel Aviv.

  “Which exit do I take?”

  “I’m not sure. Take any of them and I’ll ask directions. The hotel’s on the main drag near the ocean—HaYarkon. We’ll find it eventually.”

  Decker complied, took the first exit into the city, and drove a few blocks only to find himself smack in the middle of a slum. Streetlights were few, garbage was plentiful, and the neighborhood obviously didn’t believe in street signs.

  He looked around. Old tenement houses were zigzagged by thin fire-escape staircases. The construction was cheap, stucco buildings with tiny windows. No longer exhausted, he realized his system had turned into its fight-or-flight mode.

  “I don’t like this.”

  Rina said, “Why don’t you pull over and I’ll ask directions from those guys over there.”

  “Are you nuts?”

  “What’s the problem?”

  “Do you know where we are?”

  “No, Peter,” Rina said, testily. “If I knew where I was, I’d get us to the hotel.” She rolled down the window and yelled out a s’lichah—an “excuse me.” Punks began approaching the car. They wore tight jeans, open-necked shirts under leather jackets, and gold glimmered around their necks. Decker pressed metal to the floor of the car, flattening Rina against the back of the passenger seat as he peeled out.

  “Are you crazy?” she screamed.

  Decker drove a few blocks, then pulled the car over. “Why in God’s good green earth are you asking assholes for directions? You might as well put a sign around your neck, saying, ‘I’m a stupid tourist. Mug me.’”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Decker looked at his wife. She was confused, making him confused by her lack of understanding. Up to this point, Decker had never thought of his wife as that naive. Now he realized how trusting she was and it scared him. He took a deep breath.

  “Sweetheart, we’re in the middle of a slum. And those boys whom you were about to ask for directions? They are what we call in the business scumbags—”

  “Peter—”

  “Honey, they’d sooner rape you than help you.”

  “This isn’t a slum. It’s the heart of Tel Aviv.” Rina looked around. “Probably a working-class area. Those kids were just your average Israelis out for a good time—”

  “I’ll bet—”

  “We’re not in America, Peter. While I’d place money that the boys weren’t rocket scientists, I’d also place money that they weren’t rapists. Repeat after me: We’re in a Levantine countr—”

  “Rina, I know scumbags when I see them.”

  “All right. If no one was looking, maybe they’d break into the car and steal the radio. They’d figure it’s just a rental car anyway, right?”

  “Rina!”

  “I’m just trying to explain the mentality.”

  “You don’t have to tell me about people, all right?” He started the car. “Doesn’t the country believe in street signs?”

  “Everything’s done with landmarks. You go to the market, turn left until you reach the post office, turn right, go straight until you reach Dovid’s cleaners—”

  “I don’t know what possessed me to think I could handle an investigation here,” Decker groused. “Can’t you tell me where I am?”

  “Haven’t the foggiest notion,” Rina said.

  He drove a few blocks in darkness. A haze began to settle over the streets. Just what he needed to further confuse whatever meager sanity he had left. He spied another group of kids walking, but at least this one had two girls among three scumbags.

  “Can I try them?” Rina said. “They have girls.”

  “Ever see the damage that female gang members have done?”

  “We’re not in America, Peter!”

  “What if you’re wrong? What if they try to rob us? I don’t have my gun.”

  “I’m not wrong,” Rina said, forcefully. “Pull over, please.”

  Decker pulled over. “At least you said please.”

  As soon as the car stopped, Rina opened the door and jumped out of the car, speed-walking her way to the pack. Decker bolted from the rental and caught up with her. He took her arm, but they both kept walking.

  He whispered, “We’re going to have to have a serious talk.”

  “When we’re not sleep deprived,” Rina whispered back. She pulled away from Decker as she yelled out another s’lichah to the group. They stopped walking and Rina went over to them, showed them her map, and spoke. They answered back en masse, a few studying the map, one of them pointing the way, two pointing in another direction. Decker couldn’t understand how any of them heard a damn thing because they were all talking at once. Finally, the whole group headed toward Peter.

  Rina said, “They said it would be easier if they just rode along with us.”

  “There’re five of them,” Decker said.

  A boy with dark curly hair and a wispy mustache answered in broken English. “The girls sit on us.”

  Involuntarily, Decker smiled at his misuse of the language. Under his breath, he said, “In your dreams, kiddo.” Out loud he said to Rina, “What are they doing? Bumming a ride?”

  “Yes, I believe that’s exactly what they’re doing.”

  Decker rolled his eyes. Up close, the kids looked less fearsome—like kids. They must have been around fifteen, sixteen. He waved his hands forward. “Come on.”

  Excitedly, the kids piled into the backseat of the rented Subaru—boys sprawling their spindly, adolescent legs, girls giggling on their laps. Decker started the car. Three spoke at once, using their hands as well as words.

  “You go straight,” Rina announced.

  “For how long?”

  Rina asked, then answered back. “Just go straight.”

  Decker threw up his hands and drove.

  “Where you from?” asked a girl in English. She was pretty—black hair, hazel eyes, and dimples. She had a cherubic face.

  “Los Angeles,” Decker answered back.

  “Ah, Disneyland!” she said, with admiration. “I…was…in…Orlito…” She knitted her brow. “Orlatto…”

  “Orlando,” Decker filled in.

  “Cain! Orlando!” The girl beamed at being understood. “That is Disney…world.”

  Decker said, “I grew up near there.”

  The girl nodded. “You…livid in Orlando?”

  Decker smiled. “Yes. I lived near Orlando.”

  “You go to Disneyworld?”

  This time, Decker laughed. “It wasn’t around when I grew up.” He turned to his wife. “Will you please translate this?”

  “She likes speaking English to you.”

  A boy shouted something out.

  Rina said, “Slow. You turn right at that gray building.”

  Decker complied.

  And so it went. The girl with the dimples practicing her English, the rest of the crew talking and shouting out directions at various intervals. Decker drove until he found himself looking out at a black expanse melding into a black horizon of nothingness. The Mediterranean Sea.

  The boardwalk was teeming with people. The kids asked to be let out near a hot dog vendo
r, pointing them toward the Malon Melech HaYam—the King of the Sea Hotel—a couple of blocks away. They left, the girl saying thank you in English.

  The car was silent for a moment. Then Decker said, “Don’t say it.”

  “Say what?”

  “I was wrong.” Decker shrugged. “They were nice kids just playing a little dress-up. I need some adjustment time, that’s all.”

  “Couple of hours and you’ll be thinking like a native.”

  He shook his head in wonderment. “I can’t believe we just picked up five teenagers and allowed them to ride with us in our car. If my daughter did that, I’d kill her. I also can’t believe that the kids willingly came into the car without a drop of fear.” He looked at Rina. “What happened to America?”

  Rina smiled sadly. “The Jews in Israel, for all that’s written about the conflicts among them, are basically a homogeneous population. Just like everyone in Japan is basically Japanese. America is heterogeneous—many cultures, and lots of communication problems. But it also has the creativity and tolerance brought about by cultures residing side by side.”

  “Israel has diverse cultures.”

  “You mean the Arabs here? The Israelis and Arabs don’t mix. That’s why they’re carving out their own state.” Rina sighed. “Maybe they’ll come to some kind of cold peace. But I’m not holding my breath.”

  “Hope springs eternal.”

  “I suppose,” Rina said. “South Africa just crowned its first Black Miss South Africa. Ten years ago that would have been unheard of. I guess things can change…at least superficially enough to satisfy political ambitions.”

  Immediately, Decker thought about Kate Milligan. He wondered if he and Marge were right about her. If she had dared to love a black…saw his plight. Maybe it had touched a rebellious spirit in her.

  Milligan’s face appeared to him with clarity. Young and beautiful, she was a brilliant attorney at the top of her career. She was a woman with a mission. Decker mused about the nature of her mission as he started the car and drove to the hotel.