Keepers of the Gate - [Kamal & Barnea 04]

by By Jon Land

  She tried pounding the woman with her elbows, but at once the nurse’s razor-sharp nails ripped through the sheet and swiped blindly. Danielle managed to stay just out of range and twisted the sheet around the nurse’s head and neck, hoping to choke off her air.

  But the nurse’s deadly hands held her at bay. Even at this distance, Danielle felt a pair of nails rake her shoulder and the stinging pain caused her grip on the sheet to slacken slightly. Enough for the nurse to grab a fresh breath and launch another attack that gashed Danielle’s left breast.

  She gasped in pain and tried for a head butt, but the blow landed on the hard part of the nurse’s skull and sent star bursts exploding before Danielle’s own eyes as well. The nurse finally shook the sheet off and lashed out with a blow that cut Danielle’s ankle when she tried to scamper away on her hands and knees.

  Danielle twisted round and kicked the nurse in the face as soon as she tried to pounce. Something in the nurse’s jaw cracked and that side of her face suddenly sagged when she launched herself at Danielle again, only to be met by another kick, under the chin this time.

  Danielle searched the room desperately for another weapon, then decided to just try for the door instead. But the nurse grabbed her by the ankles and dragged her backwards, angling toward the bathroom.

  The door to the room exploded inward before they got there. Ben Kamal burst in, startling the nurse and giving Danielle enough time to lurch sideways, breaking the nurse’s grasp. Ben started to come forward and the nurse turned to face him; a tiny figure wrapped in a tattered, blood-smeared uniform, deadly hands held like spears.

  “Her nails!” Danielle warned. “Watch her nails!”

  With those nails cutting through the air between them, Ben grabbed the wheelchair resting against the wall and jerked it between him and the nurse. She lunged out at him, her hands whistling through the air, but Ben parried with the chair, maneuvering its wheels to keep fending her off.

  He could see the hate and frustration building in her face. The nurse stole a glance at Danielle, hoping to distract him, but Ben wasn’t fooled. The next time she lashed out with one of her hands, he slammed the chair into her. Impact stole her balance, doubling her partially over.

  From the floor Danielle watched Ben shove the wheelchair even harder and drive the nurse backwards. It looked as if his plan was to pin her against the window. Instead of slowing, though, Ben continued to pick up speed, the wheelchair’s wheels grinding against the tile floor as it neared the glass.

  The nurse’s head slammed against the frame and her torso was forced through the open window into the breeze. Ben still didn’t let up. He drove the chair up off the floor and into the nurse, doubling her torso over. Her hands groped for the frame and her legs flailed mightily to stop herself from falling. It was no use. The nurse managed only to rake the glass, deadly nails drawing an ear-wrenching screech before she fell screaming backward into the night. The wheelchair followed her to the pavement below, coughing divots from the concrete that quickly filled with the nurse’s blood.

  The door burst open again. Three real nurses surged inside.

  Ben bent over Danielle. “Get a doctor!” he yelled to them when he saw the blood staining her hospital gown. “Did you hear what I said? Get a doctor!”

  * * * *

  * * * *

  CHAPTER 43

  P

  aul Hessler squeezed his trip to the office in before the two hour block of time in the afternoon when mourners could come and pay their respects. Others would come tonight and still more in the two days that followed. Paul would greet them all, accept their words of sympathy, whether honestly expressed or not, and leave them to the coffee and pastry laid atop tables throughout the spacious great room in his penthouse apartment.

  He’d had trouble sleeping the night before, both from regret and excitement. Regret because his son Ari had not been able to deliver the news on Lot 461 himself; excitement because the success of the project would be a fitting testament to his son. In death Ari would be responsible for the greatest achievement in the long history of Hessler Industries. And, for the first time in four days, Paul found himself with purpose, a reason to go on.

  The massive office towers that housed the headquarters for his global conglomerate had been built on a nine-acre site along the East River near the United Nations. He had won a fierce bidding war to first purchase the land and then beat down the zoning opposition to construct the world’s tallest office building so close to the water. Modeled after the famed Petronas Twin Towers in Malaysia’s Kuala Lumpur, his bookend pair of ninety-story buildings were unquestionably Asian in design. Palatial structures modeled after the Gothic and often haughty residences of warlords from generations long gone.

  Their overall height stretched over one thousand five hundred feet from street level. There were thirty elevators, sixty-five thousand square yards of glass and seventy-seven thousand square yards of stainless steel cladding. More than thirty thousand tons of concrete had been poured as foundations for both towers. To Hessler, though, the most distinguishing feature of his Towers was the sky-bridge that joined them together at the forty-first and forty-second floors. The skybridge stretched the seventy yard distance separating the twin structures, supported by four two-ton steel brackets that firmly attached it to the Towers.

  Without stops, the elevator took only a few soundless stomach-rippling seconds to cover the entire distance to the ninetieth floor. Paul stepped out into the spacious office dominated by glass and Oriental architecture. The lighting was purposely dim except directly over his desk, all chairs, and the conference table. Shoji screens formed dividers between various designated areas of the room, and an extravagant collection of Asian art and memorabilia covered the walls and tables. Everything, of course, was original, one of a kind. Ari had found and acquired most of it during the two months he spent following business school working with Paul Hessler’s colleagues in Tokyo, Singapore, and Hong Kong.

  Paul had not set foot in this office since his son’s death and felt instantly soothed by the quiet and dull, amber light. A large indoor waterfall took up a measure of the room’s center, so riveting it seemed the entire structure had been built around it. Water crested over rocks as high as the ceiling and slid serenely into the recycling pool at floor level. He stepped close enough to feel the water’s light spray and imagined he could hear his son’s voice beneath the machine-made flow. It had been a birthday present from Ari, the last gift ever now from son to father.

  Hessler saw Tess Sanderson rise from a chair in the sitting area, and forced himself to leave the memories of his son behind.

  “You’re right on time, Sanderson,” Paul greeted the young woman. “That’s good. You haven’t been up here before, have you?”

  “No, I haven’t.”

  “I see you’ve brought your notes.”

  Sanderson’s eyes turned back to the pile of folders she had deposited on a mahogany table set between a pair of matching leather chairs. “The reports on Lot four-sixty-one you requested, sir.”

  “I’d like to hear them summarized in your own words,” Paul requested, taking the second chair that provided a panoramic view of New York Harbor. “Start with this blind study you mentioned last night.”

  “Of the eight patients who recovered after receiving four sixty-one, four had terminal cancer, one had AIDS, one had ALS, one had acute viral hepatitis, and one had cystic fibrosis.”

  “Which of these later died?”

  “One of the cancer patients. But her death is now considered to be tangent to the study.”

  “Tangent?”

  “Caused by conditions predisposed. Side effects of the chemotherapy drugs even Lot four-sixty-one couldn’t be programmed to overcome.”

  “We’ve been able to keep their stories quiet, I assume.”

  “They all signed the proper forms. I believe one did try to sell his story to the tabloids but none of them were buying; they didn’t believe him.”

/>   “I can hardly believe it myself. What about the next round of testing?”

  “I’m assembling the data for the FDA right now. Their skepticism will undoubtedly make rapid approval unlikely, if not impossible.”

  “What was Ari’s plan in this regard, Sanderson?”

  “Well, sir, he was going to suggest that you go public with the preliminaries prior to seeking FDA approval.”

  “To put pressure on them.”

  Sanderson nodded. “That was his thought, yes.”

  “I’m not sure I share it. How long since the blind study was completed?”

  “Just over a month.”

  Hessler weighed the information. “Not enough time to determine Lot four-sixty-one’s short-term effectiveness, never mind long-term. We’re not even sure its miraculous powers are going to last, not to mention any possible side effects.”

  “So far, sir, there have been none to speak of.”

  “So far, yes, but with so much at stake here we need to be sure before proceeding.”

  Sanderson uncrossed her legs and shifted uncomfortably in her chair.

  “That bothers you, Sanderson.”

  “It would have bothered Ari, even though he predicted it.”

  “Always in a rush. Throwing caution and pragmatism to the wind.”

  “If you’ll excuse me for saying this, sir, pragmatism is what led you to cancel the project in the first place.”

  “Then let me rectify my mistake. I want to see a complete overview and demonstration of Lot four-sixty-one, Sanderson. Say, tomorrow morning at the Institute.”

  * * * *

  CHAPTER 44

  T

  he police had been deployed throughout Hadassah Hospital all night, outnumbering the late shift of doctors and nurses. The Jerusalem police force brought the largest contingent, until Shin Bet showed up on the scene and agreed to work side-by-side with National Police since one of its detectives had been the near-victim.

  Ben Kamal stayed through it all, ignoring the caustic stares cast his way. He remained inside or near Danielle’s room well into the morning, funneling to her what information he could glean as soon as it reached him.

  “The woman who tried to kill you died of a broken neck on impact with the concrete below. She has yet to be identified.”

  “It doesn’t matter; I know who she is,” Danielle said, grimacing. The wounds inflicted upon her by the woman’s deadly nails proved to be superficial, but no less painful. All neatly bandaged now and certain not to hamper her. “We’ve run into each other in the past.”

  “A terrorist?” Ben fought against the urge to scratch at the scabs forming across his own facial cuts, inflicted by the fake soldier at the Katavi home in the Golan Heights two days before.

  “Not at all. She worked for Mossad.”

  * * * *

  M

  ossad?” Ben managed, at mention of Israel’s international intelligence service.

  Danielle nodded. “She went by the name of Ellie, nothing else. No history or background. A contract killer, an assassin. That simple.”

  “Who worked for Mossad.”

  “I’m not saying they sent her. It’s been a long time since our paths crossed. She could have gone freelance.”

  “You have a friend who works for Mossad, don’t you?”

  “Several. But I’m not sure how much they know about Ellie. Her assignments were never the kind that were on the books. I don’t think you’ll find her in any personnel files.”

  “How do you know her?”

  “We were recruited out of the army together.”

  “Not for the same job, obviously.”

  “We need to find out who Ellie has been working for lately.”

  “As soon as you’ve gotten some rest.”

  “This morning will be fine.”

  “The doctor wants to keep you a little longer.”

  “For my health, I suppose. No, I think I stand a much better chance of staying alive on the outside,” Danielle said as Commander Moshe Baruch appeared in the doorway.

  * * * *

  D

  anielle watched Baruch stride through the door. He was every bit as wide as Captain Asher Bain but much taller. His steps were lumbering, even plodding, thanks to two bad knees.

  Baruch left the door open and looked at Ben. “Leave us, Inspector.”

  Ben held his ground until a glance at Danielle showed her nodding,

  “I’ll be right outside,” he said.

  “Close the door behind you,” Baruch followed, not bothering to look at him.

  Baruch didn’t look as angry as Danielle thought he would. Instead, he seemed surprisingly calm and restrained.

  “You’re making things so easy for me, Pakad. You know I want you out of National Police and you seem determined to help me at every step.”

  “Maybe I just got tired of working for someone I have no respect for.”

  Baruch looked unfazed by her comment. “I’m surprised it took you so long to say that.”

  “Your predecessor, my mentor, was a great man. I didn’t want to disrespect his office.”

  “You mean my office, of course.”

  “The only thing that’s yours is the title of Rav nitzav which you never earned and can’t live up to.”

  “But out of similar respect for my ... predecessor, I can let you go at full pension.”

  “Half my current salary.”

  “It’s the best I can do under terms of the disability act.”

  “So I’m disabled.”

  “Defined as ‘no longer able to perform one’s duties.’ In your case that’s clearly true,” Baruch gloated.

  Danielle could hear his noisy breathing from across the room. His clothes and breath always reeked of garlic and the scent finally drifted over to her.

  “You haven’t asked me anything about what happened here last night,” she prompted.

  “I am going to cede jurisdiction to the Jerusalem police.”

  “Not Shin Bet?”

  Danielle could sense Baruch fighting not to smile. “You were officially under suspension at the time of the attack and thus no longer a State employee. Shin Bet won’t be interested.”

  “You don’t care someone tried to kill me.”

  “Since it had nothing to do with your work for me, no, I don’t, Ms. Barnea,” Baruch said, enjoying the fact that he no longer had to address her as “Pakad.”

  “You’ve heard of Ellie?”

  Baruch’s bushy eyebrows fluttered in recognition, but he shook his head. “No, I haven’t.”

  “An assassin trained originally by Mossad. Not the kind of person someone sends out on any ordinary mission. I’m close to something here, don’t you see that?”

  “You’d have me believe this is all about those children you claim were murdered, is that it?”

  “Actually, it’s not.”

  “What then? Ah, there must be another case you’ve been working on behind my back. Tell me, does it have anything to do with the death of Captain Bain?”

  “Would you care if it did, Commander?”

  “Why did you contact Bain?”

  “He contacted me. About the murder of his boss—General Janush. If you probe deeper, I think you’ll find that Ellie murdered Janush.”

  “And why would someone you claim is a former Mossad assassin murder the army’s deputy chief of staff?”

  “It has something to do with Holocaust survivors. General Janush wasn’t the only one; two other old men were killed the same day.”

  “And Bain came to you because ...”

  “The link with Paul Hessler. Bain knew I had been briefly assigned to Hessler’s attempted murder. He thought I might know something.”

  “Which, of course, you didn’t”

  “No,” Danielle conceded.

  “So someone is killing Holocaust survivors... and someone else is killing high school students,” Baruch droned melodramatically.

  “Making light of
it doesn’t make it any less real.”

  Baruch’s expression didn’t changed. He looked toward the door, clearly eager to be gone. “Are you finished, Ms. Barnea?”