by Sanctuary
“So it was just a coincidence that we were there at the yeshiva?”
“No, not exactly.”
“So it wasn’t a coincidence?”
“No, not exactly that, either.” Decker took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I think the bomb was meant for Gil but in an inexact way. If they got him, fine. If not, that’s fine, too.”
“That sounds really strange.”
“Then this other bomb explodes in the middle of Jerusalem’s marketplace. Someone wants all the attention focused here…in Jerusalem.”
“Peter, Jerusalem is hot property now. The Arabs want to grab the city and redivide it. We want to keep it united and open to everyone. After all, it is the capital of our country. These terrorists will resort to anything to get their way.”
Decker didn’t answer.
“There have always been lots of terrorist acts in Jerusalem,” Rina said.
“I guess I’m thinking like a cop and not like the State Department,” Decker said. “From my limited perspective, I see it differently. You get a lot of action focused on one spot, it takes attention away from the other spots.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Meaning, if you have in mind to bomb something, you want all the bomb experts and all the bomb dogs and all the police and all the other personnel as far away from your target spot as possible.”
Rina was quiet. “You think these bombings were nothing more than a diversion tactic?”
“Possibly.”
“Peter, who are the bombers trying to divert?”
“This is going to sound incredibly arrogant.”
“You?”
“Someone knows I’m here, Rina. Someone knows I’m looking for Gil and Dov Yalom. From the minute Moti Bernstein thought you were my partner, I knew that someone had preceded me at the yeshiva.”
“I can explain that,” Rina said. “There are a few boys in Or Torah whose nonreligious parents aren’t happy they’re there. Sometimes the parents will go to extremes to bring the kids back. They send over deprogrammers.”
“Moti thought you and I were deprogrammers?”
“He heard a rumor from somewhere that a man and a woman were out to bring home a boy to deprogram. So naturally, he was leery. When you rattled off pikuach nefesh, he knew you were legit. He figured deprogrammers wouldn’t know that.”
Decker hesitated, then said, “I know it sounds implausible, but just let me talk this out.”
“Go on.”
“Say someone knows I’m here looking for Gil and Dov. So they bomb Gil’s yeshiva to draw my attention to Gil. But they don’t really care if they kill Gil or not. What they want is me locked up in Jerusalem. For good measure, they bomb the open square and bring all the bomb experts to Jerusalem as well. It’s to throw me off track.”
“Throw you off track from what? What are they diverting you from?”
“I don’t know.”
“That’s a bit of a rub in your theory,” Rina stated.
Decker smiled. “Look, I’m just talking conjecture. But that’s the way Marge and I solve cases. Throw out this theory or that theory. Hopefully, something clicks. Turn on the news, Rina. The more we learn, the better.”
She turned on the radio. News about the bombings, Rina announced. She listened intently and translated. At first, Decker focused on her words. Then his mind began to wander, his attention drawn elsewhere.
He needed to think this out. He needed to talk this out.
He missed Marge.
34
Digital clocks were a pisser when you were stricken with insomnia. The one on Decker’s nightstand had a malevolent red face that laughed at him in the dark.
Only five more hours until daylight, sucker. Boy, are you going to feel crappy in the morning.
He began to play games with the LCD dial, guessing how the little illuminated lines would configurate in order to form the next numeral. Soon came some mental calculations. Two-twenty-seven A.M. in Israel would translate into three-twenty-seven yesterday afternoon LA time. Although his body ached with fatigue, his brain simply refused to shut down.
At two-fifty-two A.M., he gave up. Quietly, he climbed out of bed and slipped on a robe. Checking through his jacket, he found his notepad and pen, then went into the bathroom. After shutting the door, he turned on the lights, then lowered the toilet seat. He picked up the phone receiver. The ignominy of it all. Conducting business in the john.
Luck hadn’t left him. Marge was in.
“This is weird,” she said. “I was thinking about you.”
“My vibes are very strong.”
“You sound terrible.”
“I had a tough day. You got a minute?”
“Even two.”
Slowly, he related his ordeal, trying to keep the facts straight while looking at his notebook with bleary eyes. He tried to keep his voice even. Nothing clouded an investigation like emotion. Marge gave him the requisite number of uh-huhs, letting him know she was following his train of thought, which was good. Sitting on the can in his bathrobe, his ears ringing, his mind half dead, he wasn’t sure if he was making sense.
When he was done, Marge didn’t speak right away. Then she said, “You sound battle-scarred, Rabbi. Maybe you should take a couple of days off.”
“It’s not on Davidson’s timetable.”
“Pete, even Tug wouldn’t argue. You know, I heard something this morning on the news about a bomb going off. But I was listening with half an ear and bombs are always going off somewhere. I’m freaked out.”
“You’re not allowed. One of us has to remain sane.” He paused. “I know I’m running on empty. So what the hell. Keep going until the engine block cracks. Does any of my stuff help you make headway at your end?”
“I do have some news. Nothing dramatic.”
“Thank God.”
“Yeah, thank God is right. You have your pad with you?”
“Yep. Shoot.”
“First, Milligan,” Marge said. “I’ve been looking into her finances. Because if she’s connected to Yalom, it has to be through business. I’ve been asking myself, what could she be after?”
“Cheap, undeveloped land with diamond potential that she could sell to VerHauten at a great price.”
“Almost. I think she’s after cheap, undeveloped land with diamond potential period.”
“She wants to develop it herself?”
“Why share the profits with VerHauten?”
“Where is she going to get the capital to develop a diamond pipe?”
“Let’s take it one step at a time,” Marge said. “First, where is she going to find cheap, undeveloped land with diamond potential? I started checking into diamond companies not associated with VerHauten. I called up your ex-father-in-law, Jack Cohen the lawyer, and he referred me to his broker.”
“Barry ‘The Deal’ Orblatt?”
“You know him?”
“Jack’s been investing with him for years.”
“Is he good?”
“Put it this way, Marge. Jack’s still working for a living. Did Orblatt tell you anything?”
“Yes, he did. There are a lot of African diamond companies not controlled by VerHauten. Mind you, none of them are big time. But some of them have turned a profit.”
“Are any of them undervalued?”
“That’s the trouble. The profitable ones are selling shares at market value. Even the ones that look slightly undervalued are still selling much higher than book value. You know what book value is?”
“The total assets remaining if you liquidated the company.”
“You know your finance. Now the real, real, real cheap companies are in fact not undervalued. Because they haven’t produced a damn thing except red ink.”
“So there is no free lunch.”
“Maybe not superficially. But when you dig deeper, some interesting things pop up.”
“Such as?”
“A little birdie dropped Milligan’s tax form
s for the last two years in my lap.”
Marge’s contact didn’t sound like a snitch, more like one of her ex-beaus. Quickly, Decker ran through his mental Rolodex of Marge’s formers. “Ah, the birdie who worked at Health Alliance?”
“You’ve got a good memory for birdwatching.”
“What did tweetie pie tell you?”
“You know, Pete, it’s amazing. Feed a computer a Social Security number, it spits back a life history. There is no privacy in the electronic age.”
Decker said, “Marge, go on. We’re long distance.”
“Milligan has been investing heavily in the defunct companies for over two years.”
“That’s predating Yalom’s angry letters to VerHauten.”
“Exactly. But not predating Yalom’s purchases in his African companies. Maybe Milligan and Yalom had done some investing together. Because the same companies kept cropping up.”
“Why would Milligan invest with Yalom?” Decker asked. “What does she need him for?”
“If she was working for VerHauten, she couldn’t very well invest in competing companies.”
“He was her front?”
“Maybe,” Marge said. “Except somewhere down the road, they obviously parted company. Maybe it was over Southwest Mines. Arik bought in when the company was still operable. VerHauten and Milligan bought in when it had gone under. Still, if VerHauten ever decides to mine it, Milligan and whoever owns Arik’s shares will make a nice chunk of change.”
“But VerHauten’s sitting on it at the moment.”
“Exactly,” Marge said. “I think she had hopes for Southwest Mines, but with Yalom owning so much and VerHauten sitting on it, she decided to move on. Orblatt did some checking around mining stocks and co-op funds. Much to his surprise, he discovered some recent movement upward in these investments. Plus, three of the prominent companies in the mining funds were also in Arik Yalom’s portfolio.”
“Did Yalom own large quantities of those stocks?”
“He owned some, but nothing like Southwest. And VerHauten isn’t even in the picture. Now even though shares have been changing hands, the price hasn’t risen. But the activity indicates something.”
“Interesting.”
“It gets better. These companies are also being heavily traded by the African exchanges with an influx of buy orders coming out of countries like Tunisia, Libya, Algeria, Morocco, and Egypt.”
“Arab countries.” Decker paused. “They’re also North African countries.”
“Exactly,” Marge said. “I don’t know which fact is more significant.”
“Maybe both,” Decker said. “With oil prices dropping, could be some Arab countries are trying to branch out into diamonds. And why not, Marge? They are African countries. The continent is their sphere of influence.”
“Good point,” Marge said.
“Is it the government or individuals who are investing money?”
“That I don’t know,” Marge said. “But it doesn’t take a lot of money to buy stock in these companies. They’re either bankrupt or moribund. So they’re cheap.”
“Why invest in them in the first place?”
“All I can say is, look at Southwest Mines. It has potential. VerHauten’s just sitting on it. Maybe Milligan has found other companies with the same potential as Southwest.”
“Any indication?”
“Nothing yet, but it takes a while to get that kind of information.”
Decker said, “You know, Marge, no matter how much potential the land has, Milligan would still need huge chunks of capital to develop it.”
Marge said, “You told me that Rina followed Milligan into the occupied territories, right?”
“Yep.”
“So maybe Milligan’s on a mission to convince the Arabs to invest with her.”
“Except the territories are inhabited by poor Arabs. And while I don’t know my per capita incomes by heart, the countries you’ve mentioned are also the poorer Arab countries compared to the oil-rich countries like Saudi Arabia or Kuwait.”
“Libya has oil.”
“Libya has been in the doldrums economically since the United States bombed it.”
“Well, all I can tell you is someone from those countries is trading in diamond mines.”
Decker heard a knock on the door.
“Peter, are you all right?”
“I’m fine, Rina. Go back to bed.”
“What are you doing in there?”
“Hold on, Marge.” Decker reached over and unlocked the bathroom door. “I couldn’t sleep. I’m talking to Marge.”
Rina was squinting from the light. “Go back to bed and use the phone there. You can’t possibly be comfortable.”
“I’m really fine.”
“Pete, are you there?” Marge said over the line.
“Yeah, I’m still here.”
Marge said, “Rina knows more about that part of the world than we do. Ask her who the rich people are in Egypt or Libya.”
Decker said, “I’ll put her on the other phone. You can ask her the question yourself.”
Rina said, “Marge wants to talk to me?”
“Yeah, if you don’t mind.”
“I’m up anyway,” Rina said. “I’ll get the extension by the bed.” She crawled back under the covers and picked up the receiver. “I’m here, Marge.”
“Sorry about this.”
“It’s not a problem. What would you like to know?”
“Who are the rich people in Egypt?”
Rina kept her voice low so she wouldn’t blast out her husband’s ear. “The usual. Businesspeople, international financiers, ex-royalty, of course. And politicians probably.”
“But the country of Egypt itself,” Decker said. “It’s poor, isn’t it?”
“Very poor.”
Marge said, “So money is probably coming from individuals rather than the government.”
Rina said, “What’s going on?”
Decker quickly brought her up to date. “We’re trying to figure out if these land investments are government sanctioned or just the doings of some private individuals.”
Rina asked, “What does any of this have to do with the murder of Arik and Dalia Yalom?”
“Yalom owned stock in companies heavily traded in Arab countries,” Marge said.
“Someone killed him for his stock?” Rina asked.
Decker said, “We don’t know. All I can tell you is that Yalom had investments in companies being heavily traded in African exchanges—Egypt, Morocco, Libya, Tunisia—”
“PLO,” Rina said.
“What?” Decker asked.
“PLO,” Rina repeated. “The PLO’s corporate office is in Tunisia. Has been for years.”
Marge said, “So maybe I’m right, Pete. Maybe Milligan did go to the territories to raise capital. Maybe not from the inhabitants, but from their government, which is essentially the PLO. Aren’t they and Arafat representing the Palestinians in the peace talks?”
“Yes, they are.” Decker grew excited. “Aren’t they highly capitalized by rich Arab countries?”
“Not anymore,” Rina said. “They’re broke.”
“Well, so much for my theory,” Marge said.
Rina said, “They used to be highly capitalized. The Soviet Union gave them money. But now there is no more Soviet Union. They used to get money from oil-producing Arab countries. But times change. Libya has never fully recovered from the U.S. bombing. The Gulf War just about did in Iraq economically. The war put a nice dent in Saudi Arabia’s economy as well. And it couldn’t have come at a worse time for them, with oil prices being depressed. The PLO’s cash cows just don’t have the disposable income they used to have.”
There was silence across the line.
“Then how does the organization exist?” Marge said.
“As a matter of fact, Arafat was very, very weak until Israel gave him and the PLO power by giving them Gaza and bringing them into the peace talks. If Arafat e
ver gets a real government—and it looks like that’s a strong possibility—the PLO has been pledged hundreds of millions of dollars by the United States and Europe to get the Palestinian economy off to a rip-roaring start. Even if half that money comes through, Arafat will have plenty of investment capital.”
Again no one spoke.
Finally Decker whispered, “Milligan saw it all coming. She’s been cultivating the PLO for several years. Now that everything is almost in place, she’s making her move.”
Rina said, “What move?”
Decker said, “First, Milligan buys out undercapitalized land with potential for diamond fields. Then she cultivates the PLO, betting that eventually they’ll get a government and lots of start-up capital for its economy from the Western countries. Now that Israel and the PLO have struck some kind of deal, she knows she’s in like Flynn. She’s just waiting for someone to sign on the dotted line, so she can tap into those pledges.”
“If the peace process lasts.”
“Rina, it only has to last long enough for her to raid the initial investment capital pledged by the Western nations. Because the woman knows her Western civilization. Remember her bookcase behind her desk, Marge?”
“Not really.”
“I do,” Decker said. “Because I thought her choice of books was rather eclectic. She had a row of books that dealt with the economies of postwar Japan and Germany. Meaning, she knew from history how the United States and the Allies poured billions of dollars back into those countries to set them on their feet. They not only throve, they became world economic powers.”
“I don’t see the PLO becoming a world economic power,” Rina said.”
“That doesn’t matter!” Decker said. “All Milligan cares about is the money that’s going to start flowing in. The newly formed territory or country or whatever the hell you want to call it is going to have to set up some businesses if it’s going to thrive economically. Why not diamonds, offers Milligan.”
“But why would the Arabs use her as a middleman?” Marge asked. “Why wouldn’t they invest in the land directly?”
