“Can I also ask him how they plan to kill Steinman? Maybe I can lend him my gun.”
“Not funny, Rachel. Try to be cordial to everyone in the room. I know it’ll be a stretch for you. Don’t draw attention to yourself.”
“Yes, I know. I’ll learn what I can.” After she hung up, she took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly. Her breath was stale, but there was no one else in the room, so it didn’t matter. Exhaling gave her the opportunity to taste her breakfast a second time. She looked out the window, more or less in a day dream. The tops of the palm trees were swaying in the breeze. It was another sunny day in south Florida. Life was good.
Rachel Karshenboym thought along the same lines as John Wellington and his Boss when it came to Steinman and his kind. She thought the world would be a better place without them and their ilk. People who gave aid and comfort to the enemy were guilty of treason, like vice president Cheney said after 9/11. They should be liquidated. But she decided to bide her time and limit her involvement to collecting information and passing it along … for now.
57
“An evil exists that threatens every man, woman and child of this great nation. We must take steps to insure our domestic security and protect our homeland.”
Adolf Hitler, 1933, on the creation of the Gestapo, the Nazi secret police.
“Arms discourage and keep the invader and plunderer in awe, and preserve order in the world as well as property… Horrid mischief would ensue were the law-abiding deprived of the use of them.”
Thomas Paine
People began drifting in to Saul Steinman’s place around 7 p.m. for the get-together. By 7:30 everyone had arrived. There were ten people in attendance altogether, Saul and his wife Rona, six professors from various universities in the Miami area, Paige and Rachel Karshenboym. They were engaging in small talk when Rona walked into the room.
“OK everybody. The sandwiches and coffee are ready. They’re in the kitchen. Help yourself.”
“Bob, I’d like you to meet my wife, Rona.”
“Pleased to meet you.” He held out his hand to shake.
She didn’t feel comfortable shaking a man’s hand but she did it anyway. The Orthodox Jewish family she grew up in had a rule forbidding women from touching a man other than their husband. She drifted away from orthodoxy after marrying Steinman, which caused some tension within her family. They had two rabbis preside at their ceremony, one Orthodox and one Reform. She tried to keep a kosher home, but it was difficult because Saul liked bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwiches. She refused to make them. He had to make them himself, using a separate fry pan for the bacon.
“I won’t be participating in the meeting, but I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.”
Paige turned toward her. “Oh, why aren’t you participating?”
Saul chimed in. “She’s bored with politics and economics. The things we talk about depress her.”
“I’m a librarian. I like to talk about literature. Saul prefers talking about current events.”
“Ah, a librarian. Some of my favorite people are librarians. Where do you work?”
“At the North Miami Beach Public Library. It’s a schlep but I enjoy it.” Saul and Rona lived in southwest Miami, close to the main campus of FIU. The North Miami Beach Public Library was in the northeastern part of town, about 30 miles away and close to the Orthodox temple she used to attend before she married Saul.
She looked like a librarian, short gray hair and frumpy, with rimless glasses. Her smile gave her a certain sex appeal, though.
Paige noticed one wall was lined with bookshelves. As he walked closer, he took a whiff. He liked the smell of books, but the smell from these books wasn’t as strong as the smell in Steinman’s university office, probably because there weren’t as many of them and because the living room was a more open space than his cramped, cluttered office.
Most of the titles were in political science and political philosophy. He recognized a few of the titles, mostly by left-wing authors. But one shelf was different. It was filled with art books. Paige was curious and decided to ask.
“I noticed that one shelf of your book case has art books. Is there an artist in the family?
Rona stepped closer to the book shelf and adjusted one of the books. “That would be me. I studied art at Brown University as an undergraduate. I thought about going to the Rhode Island School of Design for an MFA but decided to become a librarian instead. It’s a steadier paycheck, you know.”
“Yes, as an accountant I understand completely.”
“I’ve maintained my interest in art, though. I order the art books for the library, and I have a small art collection.”
Paige noticed a few paintings and prints hanging on the far wall. She saw he was looking at them.
“Come on over and I’ll show you my collection.” She motioned to the left side of the wall. “I did these two after I graduated from Brown.” She pointed to two autumn landscape scenes. “I have a few others strewn about the house, but these are the only ones I feel comfortable enough about to display in the living room.”
“They’re very good. I like the way you use color.” Actually, Paige did like them, although he was no expert. They were oil paintings, not water colors. The paint was mostly smooth, not too lumpy. He didn’t know much about painting styles, but he knew that van Gogh and most of the impressionists were lumpy painters. They spread the paint in thick layers. He concluded that lumpy was ok, since they were lumpy painters and they became famous, partly because of the lumps.
“Thank you.” She motioned to a large print that appeared to be the centerpiece of the collection. “And this one over here has a story.”
“Ah yes, I remember it well,” Steinman interjected. He could hardly get a word in edgewise. Once Rona got started talking about art, it was difficult to shut her up.
“One Saturday afternoon, or maybe it was Sunday, I don’t recall, Saul and I were attending an art exhibit in Manhattan and some of Irina Urumova’s work was on display. I really fell in love with her work and I mentioned it to Saul. I thought he wasn’t paying attention. He doesn’t really appreciate art. But when I went to the ladies’ room he approached one of the staff and bought it for me. He had it shipped here to Miami. It arrived a few days before my birthday.”
Saul chimed in, “I’m quite proud of that purchase. One of her art friends told me it’s gone up in value about 500 percent since I bought it.”
“Oh, Saul, you shouldn’t look at art as an investment. He’s always like that.” Paige could relate to his viewpoint. Paige didn’t know much about art either, and tended to form his opinions based on market value.
After everyone returned from the kitchen, Saul made the introductions. Paige reached for the outer pocket of his sport coat and clicked a button on the pen that Wellington had given him. It started recording the introductions. The chip in the pen could store up to three hours of conversation. It could also take photos.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we have two new members this evening. Since we have one of each, I’ll introduce the lady first.” Steinman extended his arm in her direction. “This is Rachel Karshenboym.” She was seated on a metal folding chair, bent slightly forward with a plate of food on her lap. She brought her boobs to the party and they were tastefully displayed, to the enjoyment of everyone. As the only woman in the group, she had the best boobs in the room.
One of the men asked, “Welcome Rachel. What do you do?”
She was happy to reply. “I’m a sociology professor at Miami Dade College.”
“You have a lovely accent. Where are you from?”
“I’m from Saint Petersburg, Russia. I also lived in Israel for a while.” She deliberately failed to mention that she also spent some time in the Israeli army, where she learned some very efficient killing techniques that she fantasized about using on some members of the group.
“Welcome to the group.”
Paige took notice, not only of her boobs but also the fact
that she was a new member of the group and that she had an Israeli connection. He discreetly clicked the button on his pen to take her photo. He planned to send it to Wellington after he returned home.
Then he motioned in Paige’s direction. “The other new member is Robert Paige. He’s an accounting professor at Saint Frances University.”
Rachel perked up when she heard new member. She suspected he might be the CIA mole when she saw him click the button on his pen. Her suspicions were confirmed when Steinman revealed that he was a new member of the group. She had her man. She knew where he worked. Now all she had to do was find out where he lived. Mission accomplished, more or less.
She leaned forward in her chair. “Where do you live?”
“In Sunny Isles Beach. Do you know where it is?”
“Yes, of course, just north of Miami Beach. It’s a Russian neighborhood. I’ve been there many times.”
“Yes, sometimes I feel like I’m in Odessa when I walk out the door.”
“I know what you mean. Everyone there speaks Russian.”
Actually, Rachel’s statement wasn’t quite true. Some residents of Sunny Isles Beach also spoke Polish and a few other Eastern European languages as well as Spanish. The Brazilian woman who lived down the hall from Paige spoke Portuguese. Some of the snowbirds who inhabited his building in the winter were from Quebec and spoke Canadian French. The service personnel spoke Haitian Creole. The language on the beach and on the sidewalks was mostly Russian.
She tried her best to be cordial but took an instant disliking to Paige. She didn’t like Americans as a general rule. She thought they were undereducated, uninformed, naïve and uncultured. She made exceptions for some of the Americans she met in New York. She felt more comfortable with Jewish doctors, lawyers and professors. Most of the men she had slept with over the years had come from one of those three categories, although she once had a Catholic lover who could give her multiple orgasms.
Steinman called the meeting to order. “OK, let’s get started. Although you’re free to discuss any topic, I’d like to start by discussing the TSA and its Gestapo tactics.”
Most of the group nodded in agreement. Rachel was appalled. She thought what the TSA did was necessary to protect the country from terrorists. Giving up a little freedom was necessary in the interest of national security. Then she remembered she was there as an observer. Keep a low profile. Don’t do or say anything that would draw attention. She kept her mouth shut and pretended to go along, while every fiber of her being screamed to say something to defend the TSA and its actions.
“As you know, the TSA has been in the news a lot lately for its abusive search policies at airports. Last night there was an item on television about them strip searching a woman who had a double mastectomy. She was wearing some kind of temporary metallic support device to keep her skin stretched, pending implant surgery.”
Daniel Harris added, “Yeah, I saw that on the news. A few days before that they ran a story about a TSA agent who squeezed a guy’s urine bag, causing it to leak piss all over the guy’s pants and the floor. He had to get on the plane with wet pants.” Daniel Harris taught philosophy and theology at Barry University, one of the local Catholic universities. Although he was no fan of the Constitution — he wanted to do away with the Second Amendment’s right to bear arms — he got outraged whenever some government official conducted a warrantless search without probable cause.
Keith Martin chimed in, “I saw a story about them forcing a 90 year-old woman in a wheelchair to take off her diaper. We need to respond to that sort of tactic and make sure things like that get publicity. The public has to be aware of what’s going on in this country.” Kenneth Martin was an English professor at Saint Thomas University, another Catholic college in Miami. Although he liked the fact that the courts were dismantling the First Amendment protections on free speech by punishing people for saying things that offended women, minorities or any other protected group, he got upset whenever the feds violated the Constitutional protections against unreasonable searches.
Eduardo Garcia quickly added, “I’ll tell you something that hasn’t been reported in the news. The FBI is going around to the TV stations threatening to arrest reporters who report on the TSA abuses. The reason I know is because my daughter-in-law works for Channel 4. They came in and told Lourdes Martinez they would arrest her if she reported any more TSA incidents. They told her she was guilty of treason for giving aid and comfort to the enemy and that she could be charged with violating the Patriot Act. They said they would take her away to an undisclosed location where she wouldn’t have access to a lawyer. She wouldn’t even be able to call her husband or kids. And they would give her a private trial with no reporters and no jury.” Eduardo Garcia taught anthropology at Florida International University. He had been a friend of Steinman’s for more than 20 years. They met at a faculty union meeting.
Rachel started to fidget in her seat. She had all she could do to restrain herself from screaming at them. She wanted to scream at the top of her lungs - Couldn’t they see that the government was doing what was necessary to protect us from terrorists? They should spend some time in Israel, where the population is surrounded by terrorists, many of whom are walking freely in the streets of Israeli cities because the government doesn’t know who they are. Rather than reporting TSA incidents, Lourdes Martinez should be reporting on terrorist cells in the United States. Journalists have a duty to support their government, not report news stories that tear down government credibility. If she didn’t like what the government did, perhaps Lourdes Martinez should move to Cuba, where her family came from.
Brian Lewis added, “OK, I agree that we should do something to publicize this kind of activity, but what should we do?” Brian Lewis was an assistant professor of psychology at Florida Atlantic University. Although he didn’t know it, his dean was plotting to sabotage his application for promotion and tenure because of his views supporting gays in the military.
Kevin MacPherson suggested, “One thing we could do is organize protests inside and outside airports. We could make signs and maybe disrupt the lines at the security checkpoints to draw attention to the issue. We should make sure to notify the media before we do it to make sure we get maximum press coverage.” Kevin MacPherson taught law at the University of Miami law school. He had become known in legal circles for writing some law review articles comparing President Bush and Vice President Cheney to Hitler and Goebbels and for comparing some of the Nazi legislation in the 1930s to the post-9/11 legislation in the U.S. Congress. One item he deliberately failed to report was Hitler’s confiscation of privately owned guns shortly after assuming power in 1933.
Mitchell Fisher asked, “Couldn’t they arrest us and do the same thing to us that they threatened to do to Lourdes Martinez? And what makes you think the media would come? If the FBI has been threatening to arrest them, they probably would be too afraid to cover the story.” Mitchell Fisher was a humanities professor at Lynn University. He appeared visibly nervous at the direction the discussion was going. Although he didn’t like the direction the country was moving in, he was afraid to do anything about it.
MacPherson pointed out, “Rights are like muscles. If you don’t exercise them, you lose them.” It’s a point he made often in his law classes. “We can make sure the message gets out. We can have a few people recording it with their cell phones and iPads and have them post it on the internet.”
“We could also write letters to the editor and post blurbs on various internet sites. We could call in on radio talk shows, expressing our concern – no, outrage – about what is happening to freedom in America.” Daniel had made calls to talk shows in the past. The conservative talk show hosts sometimes hung up on him, but not before he was able to voice his opinion about some issue of the day.
Steinman suggested some long-term activities that would help push the message. “As educators, we have a duty to educate the younger generation. One thing we could do that would affect
the long-term would be to assign term papers on some aspect of these issues. We could have our students write term papers comparing some of the acts of Hitler’s brown shirts to the stuff the TSA is doing today. Kevin, you could have your students research the civil liberties and free speech and free press implications of some of the legislation that’s been passed in recent years, and the constitutionality of arresting American citizens on American soil and holding them without access to an attorney or a public trial.”
Brian suggested that, “We could give students an incentive to put a lot of effort into it by offering to select the best papers for publication in an edited book, which would be edited by us, of course.”
Daniel leaned back in his chair. “Clever, Brian. Trying to beef up your publications for your promotion and tenure package?”
His comment triggered a smirk from the group. Rachel became more disgusted by the moment. She and Paige were the only ones who hadn’t made any suggestions or comments yet.
Paige actually liked the direction the conversation was taking. Although the room was filled with a bunch of lefties who took a cafeteria approach to defending the Constitution, he thought they were right on this issue. The discussion energized him and made him even more determined to see to it that Wellington’s team wouldn’t kill Steinman. He was starting to like the other members of the group, too, with the exception of Rachel. He sensed she had some hidden agenda, although he couldn’t figure out what it might be. He could tell she wasn’t enjoying the conversation from her silence, fidgeting and facial expressions.
Paige felt the need to say something. He had to join in on the conversation to become an active participant in the group. “All of these suggestions are good, but they don’t have to be mutually exclusive. We could do several of them at the same time. Rachel, what do you think?” He really didn’t care to hear Rachel’s opinion. He just wanted to make her uncomfortable by putting her on the spot.
Justifiable Homicide: A Political Thriller (Robert Paige Thrillers Book 1) Page 17
