Lineup

by Liad Shoham

  It was only when he was in the car that he saw there was someone in the backseat. Meshulam. He hadn’t seen him since he’d sent him off to plant the bomb. He looked burlier and more intimidating than he remembered.

  “I see you got out,” Meshulam said in his gravelly voice.

  Ziv didn’t know what to say.

  “How come? They stop putting rapists behind bars?”

  Now he got it. Faro must think he ratted them out, that he made a deal with the cops, squealed in exchange for a reduced sentence. How else could he have gotten out without doing time?

  Ziv realized what an idiot he’d been. He hadn’t even considered what Faro would think. He was thrilled when Rosen told him about the plea bargain, convinced that everything had worked out in the best possible way. They let him go with no more than probation, and he hadn’t said a word. But he hadn’t done the math either.

  “I told my lawyer I wanted to confess,” he said, looking at Meshulam in the rearview mirror, “even though you know I didn’t do it. I guess the prosecution couldn’t make the charges stick, so they agreed to . . . I didn’t have anything to do with it . . . My lawyer arranged . . .” He was babbling. He saw the icy look on Meshulam’s face and stopped talking. Meir didn’t utter a word either. The silence was ominous. Don’t let your fear get to you, he ordered himself, remembering his mother’s favorite quote, “The only thing we have to fear is fear itself.”

  “Nobody knows what I was doing on Louis Marshall Street that night,” he tried again. “Nobody . . . you have nothing to worry about.” His companions remained silent.

  He looked out the window at the streets rushing by. “What does Shimon want with me?” he asked, knowing he wouldn’t get an answer.

  Meshulam didn’t reply. Meir only gave him a vacant look.

  Suddenly he realized they were driving in the opposite direction from Faro’s office. “Where’re we going?” he asked.

  “Enough questions,” Meshulam snapped from the rear of the car.

  Ziv broke out in a cold sweat. They didn’t believe him. First they’d interrogate him and then they’d kill him. Maybe they wouldn’t even bother with the interrogation. How could he convince them he hadn’t ratted them out? He didn’t even know himself what had gone on in the meeting between his lawyer and the ADA.

  He was too exhausted to undergo another interrogation. And he wasn’t very good at it to begin with. He almost broke when the detective questioned him, and Nachum hadn’t raised a finger to him. These guys wouldn’t be so gentle. They’d beat him mercilessly until he told them what they wanted to hear, and after that there’d be no judge or lawyer to protect him. They’d simply carry out his death sentence.

  “Look, see for yourself,” he said, pulling out of his pocket the documents Rosen had given him when he was released. “I confessed to assault. The judge sentenced me to two years’ probation because the prosecution caved . . . I don’t know why . . . I didn’t say anything . . . not even to my lawyer.”

  Meshulam glanced at the wrinkled pages Ziv was waving in front of his face and snorted contemptuously.

  “Take a look, see what it says,” Ziv urged, trying to shove the pages into Meshulam’s hand. But the big man just turned to look out the window.

  If they believed me they’d be friendlier, Ziv thought to himself. But their faces remained expressionless. He realized he should’ve expected it. He could appeal to them, try to persuade them, throw himself on their mercy, but they’d just stare at him with their cold eyes and never believe that a man who confessed to rape got off with no more than probation.

  He had to get away. If he stayed in the car, they’d kill him. Even that might not be enough for them. There was a chance they’d carry out Meir’s threat and hurt Gili too. They might want to make an example of him, show other people what happens to anyone who betrays Shimon Faro. He didn’t have any influential friends. It would be easy to make a scapegoat out of him. He had to warn Merav, tell her to grab Gili and run.

  The car was stuck in traffic. Nothing was moving. Nevo saw a patrol car in the next lane. If he got out now, they wouldn’t be able to chase him. They were probably taking him to the abandoned warehouse in Petach Tikva. They could interrogate him there, even kill him, without anyone being the wiser. It would be months before someone stumbled on the body. After all, nobody’d be looking for him. Who’d even notice he was missing?

  He glanced at the patrol car again. Was it a sign? Was his luck finally turning?

  How would he get out? He didn’t have to try the door to know it was locked.

  Think, think, he goaded himself.

  He started coughing. No reaction. He coughed harder, leaned forward, and rested his head on the dashboard.

  “What’s up with you?” Meir finally asked.

  “I’m going to be sick,” he said weakly.

  “Don’t even think of puking in the car,” Meshulam spat from the rear.

  “I can’t . . . I can’t . . . ,” he muttered, trying to sound as if he was going to vomit any second.

  “You puke here and I break both your arms and both your legs,” Meir warned.

  Ziv didn’t respond, except to continue making gagging noises. He needed a few more seconds. The idea of opening the door had to come from them.

  “Unlock the door and let him puke outside,” Meshulam said.

  Meir turned his head to see if Meshulam would confirm the order.

  “You want him to stink up the car?” Meshulam asked. Ziv emitted another gagging sound to remove any doubts his companions might have.

  He heard the click of the locking mechanism.

  “Do it outside, moron,” Meshulam barked.

  Ziv opened the door. His plan had worked. He was going to get away.

  When he was halfway out the door, he turned and said in a clear voice, “I didn’t say anything to anyone. Your secret’s safe with me. Tell that to Shimon.”

  The two men stared at him in surprise. There was more he wanted to say, but he knew he didn’t have time. Slamming the door behind him, he started running as fast as he could between the cars stuck in the traffic jam. He had to call Merav and warn her.

  After about a hundred yards, he stopped and looked back. Meshulam was standing outside the car, watching him from a distance. As he’d hoped, they weren’t chasing him.

  He hopped onto the sidewalk and kept on running, letting himself be swallowed up by the crowd.

  Chapter 24

  ELI Nachum stepped out of the office of his commander, Superintendent Moshe Navon, and leaned on the wall in an effort to tame the storm raging inside him. Without the wall for support, he felt his knees would buckle, and he couldn’t allow that to happen. He’d always been careful to keep his feelings to himself, especially when it came to work. All these years he’d built up the image of a tough cop who was as hard on himself as he was on subordinates or suspects.

  A cop walking down the hall threw him a puzzled look, undoubtedly wondering what he was doing standing there like a zombie, not moving. Nachum flashed him a polite smile, gesturing for him to keep going. There’s nothing to see here.

  “You okay?” the cop asked, stopping anyway.

  “I’m good,” Nachum said, nodding with obvious impatience.

  The cop gave him another curious look and went on his way. He had to get out of here. It wouldn’t be long before everyone knew what had gone down in the superintendent’s office. Malicious tongues would wag. At least he had to prevent them from adding a melodramatic description of him standing stock-still in the hallway as pale as a ghost.

  Nachum had known he’d pay a heavy price for fucking up the Regev case. He’d been hoping Galit wouldn’t reveal his role in the screwup, although he knew the chances of that happening were slim. He’d prepared himself for his commander’s recriminations, an official reprimand in his file, or worse. But not t
his. After years of working side by side with him, Navon had informed him that he was suspended for two months, pending the decision of whether or not to convene a disciplinary hearing. “IA is in the picture, and they’re not going to look the other way,” Navon had said quietly.

  The color had drained from his face. He’d tried to explain that he’d only been trying to save the case, to clean up the mess the victim’s father had made. Navon merely nodded. From the glazed look in his eyes, Nachum could tell that he wasn’t interested in hearing what he had to say. The meeting was only a matter of protocol. The decision had been made.

  Nachum’s mouth went dry. He was familiar enough with the system to know that this suspension meant the end of the line for him. He felt the rage building up inside him. After all these years of devoted service, he deserved better. He had no intention of going quietly, of letting them throw him to the dogs.

  But before he could utter a word in his defense, the door opened, and with perfect timing that seemed highly suspect, Navon’s assistant walked in and told him the district commander wanted to see him urgently. Obviously anticipating the supposed summons, Navon jumped up quickly. What a coward.

  “Don’t worry about it,” he said, patting Nachum on the back as he ushered him out. “As long as the national press doesn’t get its teeth into it, as long as it doesn’t go further than that local guy Giladi, I’ll do whatever I can to avoid a disciplinary hearing.”

  “And what if you can’t?”

  “We both know there are creative solutions to the problem if it comes to that,” Navon said, barely above a whisper. Nachum didn’t need him to spell it out: he could take early retirement.

  “This isn’t right, Moshe,” Nachum answered angrily. “Everything I did was for the good of the case, just like always. I was put in an impossible position and I did what I had to do.”

  Navon remained silent, making the detective’s blood boil even more. When they wanted to, the higher-ups knew very well how to turn a blind eye, to cover for a cop in order to make Internal Affairs go away. He used to enjoy that sort of immunity. Apparently, he didn’t anymore.

  “Everything’ll be fine. Don’t worry about it. I’ll look out for you,” Navon had muttered, virtually shoving him out the door.

  Nachum moved away from the wall and started down the hall. His feet felt like lead. Despite Navon’s parting words, he didn’t have a good feeling about this. He was very good at reading between the lines.

  What would he tell his wife? His kids? He worked long hours and brought his work home with him, but they knew they could count on him to be their rock, to provide for them. Now what? He’d be out of a job? Mope around the house all day? He had to do something.

  He needed a strategy. The police force was more than just a job. He’d invested his heart and soul in it, the best years of his life. And he loved his work. Was it all over for him?

  No way! He wasn’t going to throw in the towel. If he had to, he’d knock on every door, and if they threw him out the door, he’d climb in through the window. There were plenty of people on the job who’d understand what he’d done, plenty of people who remembered what he’d been like in his heyday and still looked up to him. Taking encouragement from these thoughts, his mood was lighter as he went down the stairs. It wasn’t over yet. He’d still have the last word.

  He decided to go by his office and make sure he didn’t leave anything behind. As he passed Ohad’s office, he stopped. Ohad was sitting behind the desk with a big grin on his face, surrounded by the cops who’d been Nachum’s subordinates until a few minutes ago. They seemed to be having a grand old time. News of his suspension had traveled fast. He didn’t even get the chance to tell them himself.

  He felt like he’d been punched in the gut. In a month’s time they’d come and say they were sorry to inform him that they’d decided to convene a disciplinary hearing, or worse. Holding that gun to his head, they’d give him the friendly advice to take early retirement.

  He moved a few steps back. He didn’t want them to see him like this: angry, hurt, humiliated. He had to get out of there fast.

  He was starting down the stairs to the exit when he heard Ohad behind him. “Wait up, Eli. I want to talk to you.”

  He took the stairs two at a time, pretending not to hear.

  Chapter 25

  MERAV was waiting to order a salad at the deli under her office. She glanced impatiently at the long line ahead of her that was inching forward very slowly. She had to pick Gili up from preschool at four thirty, and she couldn’t be late. She was all on her own. There was no one else to do things for her, no one to share her burdens. She knew she’d be eating at her desk again today.

  The first time she heard her name called, she thought she must be mistaken. He was in jail, wasn’t he? Being held on suspicion of rape. She’d heard from the friend of a friend of a friend that they had a rock-solid case against him, so there was no chance he’d be getting out anytime soon. She was stunned when she learned of his arrest. It might be true that you never really know someone, not even the people closest to you, that everyone has secrets, but she didn’t believe for a second that Ziv could commit rape. Despite what she thought of him, and despite the violence of their last encounter, she knew he could never do such a thing. Not Ziv. “Merav,” she heard again in a soft voice. Turning around, she saw him standing right behind her in line. How could that be?

  “What are you doing here?” she whispered. Alarmed, she took a step back. She hadn’t been this close to him in a very long time. “They let me go,” he said. “They realized it wasn’t me, they made a mistake.”

  When he was arrested, her divorce attorney, Guy Bernstein, told her she’d be able to get whatever she wanted now: sole custody of Gili, supervised visitation once a week with no sleepovers, increased child support. His arrest was like an atom bomb in the war between them, he’d said, almost licking his chops. Still, she was glad to see that he’d been released and was no longer suspected of rape. And not just so Gili wouldn’t have to bear the stain of being a rapist’s son for the rest of his life. Not just for Ziv’s sake either. It was also because it confirmed what her heart had always told her—Ziv wasn’t a bad man. He wasn’t capable of hurting anyone intentionally. She was still furious with him for cheating on her, for lying to her for months about the real reason he lost his job, for ruining the family financially and destroying their marriage. She was still paying off the debts that had piled up when he wasn’t earning a salary, and child support was a joke. He hadn’t been able to make regular payments since the divorce.

  When a friend recommended she hire Bernstein, she hadn’t hesitated for a second. He had a reputation for taking no prisoners. Bernstein told her she’d have to file for divorce with the rabbinical court, and they always favored the husband. If she didn’t want to see Ziv walk away with everything despite the affair, she had to be ruthless. “You don’t have a choice,” he repeated whenever she showed any sign of weakness or questioned a tactic he proposed. Trusting in his sharp legal mind, and eager to get back at Ziv and hurt him as much as he’d hurt her, she agreed to do exactly as he said. That’s why she’d filed a complaint against him for assault. It’s true he’d pushed her, and she’d been shocked and frightened by his unaccustomed violence, but even then she’d known he hadn’t meant to do her harm and he was sorry for it the minute it happened.

  “WE have to talk,” he said, moving nearer to close the distance she’d opened between them.

  She stared at him in silence, unsure how to respond. They’d met in the army. She’d been stationed at the command post of his sapper unit. One day he came into the office to talk to the unit commander. While he was waiting, he told her he’d come to try to convince him to go easy on a soldier who’d gone AWOL. The guy’s father had died, and ever since he’d disappeared from base from time to time. But he always came back. She listened without interrupting, enchanted by the
handsome, charismatic officer who cared so much about his soldiers. When he came out of the meeting, he stopped by her desk to tell her he’d managed to talk the commander into looking the other way. She couldn’t believe it. The colonel had a reputation for being very tough on anyone who thought the rules didn’t apply to them. “How did you do that?” she asked. “I invoked the brotherhood of orphans,” he said with a wink. She assumed he was teasing her and took offense. It was only later that she learned he’d lost both his parents in a car crash.

  A few months later she ran into him at a party in Tel Aviv. She didn’t expect him to remember her, but he did. He came over to talk to her. He was even more handsome out of uniform. Uncharacteristically, at the end of the night she found herself in his bed.

  Their relationship moved fast. They spent every free moment together. He wooed her, pampered her, pleasured her. Merav was ecstatic. Very soon, he was part of the family. He’d been on his own since the death of his parents, and her family embraced him warmly. He responded in kind.

  “What do you want?” she said icily.

  It was because of their history that she was so angry with him. She’d loved him with all her heart and trusted him implicitly.

  “I have to talk to you,” he pressed.

  “I have nothing to say to you,” she snapped back. Time had taken the edge off her anger, but she still couldn’t forgive him. The situation was becoming awkward. She didn’t know how to back down from the embattled stance she’d adopted.

  “Please, Merav, I’m begging you. It’s important,” he said gently, putting his hand on her arm. She’d gotten thinner. She’d lost at least ten pounds since the last time he saw her. And she looked tired, and worse—harried.

  “Okay, so talk,” she said stiffly.

  “Not here,” he said, nodding toward the bench outside.

  She looked at her watch. If she left the line now, she wouldn’t have time to come back. She’d have to skip lunch, which meant she’d be hungry and out of sorts when she picked up Gili. Nevertheless, and despite her lawyer’s explicit instructions never to talk to her ex-husband without recording the conversation, she decided to follow him outside. The urgency in his voice convinced her she ought to hear what he had to say.