The Kabbalist

by Katz, Yoram

  The man smiled at her. There was something strange in his smile since the look in his eyes somehow remained harsh. “This is my name,” he said in English with a pronounced Italian accent.

  She scanned the passport number into the computer terminal and waited a few seconds. Everything was OK. She stamped the passport and handed it back to him. “I hope you have enjoyed your stay in Israel,” she said.

  “I have enjoyed it immensely,” said the man. “You have a beautiful country.” He smiled at her again and moved away, his hand unconsciously stroking the inner pocket of his well-cut jacket, making sure the papers were there. He felt a tinge of excitement, a mix of relief and disappointment. He knew he had not completed his mission. He had a lead, he knew what should be done next, yet he could not stay. He has become too hot and was lucky not to be stopped at the airport. Someone else will have to finish the job.

  * * *

  Two weeks before, he began his mission by tailing the Frenchwoman and the Israeli detective, who had started all this commotion. He quickly realized that these two were still looking for a lead and decided to stay a step behind them and see what they would come up with.

  He followed them to the meeting with Professor Orlev and immediately figured out their reasoning. They were going after Father Diaz’s academic peers. He took it from there. Using his resources, he made his own research, and soon focused on Orlev and Bennet. The minute he saw the big and athletic Bennet, he had his insight. Here was a man who could have easily killed the burglar from Haifa with his bare hands. He zeroed in on Bennet and started watching him closely.

  It quickly paid off. He was now holding on to the envelope he had recovered from the dead professor. He had already reviewed its contents; it contained a few photocopied pages written in what looked like an old Hebrew script. This was promising, but these were not the originals. He found Bennet’s safe in the bedroom and broke into it, but discovered nothing of interest. He took from there only a document which looked like a will, hoping to find some clues there. His work had yet to be completed, but now he had to leave in a hurry.

  * * *

  He was there that very morning, when the old professor and his weird son, a strange, overgrown child, came to visit Bennet. The giant child just sat in a chair and looked totally detached, while the professors engaged in a lively discussion. Lorenzo had by now found out about the animosity between these two and understood that this meeting was unusual. He found himself a spot in a deserted garden of an adjacent house, where he could watch Bennet’s living room. The window was open and he could see the three of them, although he could not hear what they were saying. At the start of the meeting, the two men looked embarrassed but soon the atmosphere in the room warmed up. The two had a long conversation and at some point embraced. They were making their peace.

  Then, suddenly, the neighbor from the adjacent house entered his back yard to hang some wet laundry and Lorenzo had to slip for cover. By the time he regained his position, the atmosphere in the room had changed dramatically.

  Bennet now had a brown envelope in his left hand. In his right he was holding two sheets of paper, which Lorenzo assumed he had pulled out of the envelope. He was very upset and angry, waving the papers at Orlev and shouting in agitation. The old professor lost his calm, too, and the two rose and faced each other, the elderly man barely reaching the other’s shoulder. For a while, they just stood there, yelling at each other hysterically. Then, suddenly, the little professor stepped forward and started slapping Bennet’s face. It looked quite comical - the diminutive professor was standing on his toes in order to slap the oversized professor. Bennet was not especially threatened, but he soon got tired of this farce. He caught Orlev with both hands and gripped him tightly, to prevent the old man from pestering him.

  And then something totally unexpected happened.

  The weird child, who until that moment seemed totally detached, jumped to his feet and charged at Bennet like a bull, releasing his father from Bennet’s clutch and shoving Bennet forcefully, trying to get him as far from his father as he could. Bennet was caught unawares. The push sent him stumbling back. He struggled to stay on his feet but hit a chair, lost his balance and fell back, his head violently hitting the table.

  A few meters away, Lorenzo could hear the sound of the blow. Bennet rolled onto the carpet and lay there motionless.

  The huge child started screaming hysterically.

  For a moment, Orlev just stood there, stunned, holding his head with both hands, and Lorenzo thought he was going to collapse. But the shrieks of his son brought him back to reality. The child started running wild in the room, howling and wailing. Orlev approached him and tried to soothe the wild creature. Eventually, he hugged him, walked him outside to his car and drove away.

  Lorenzo scanned the area. Bennet was lying on the carpet, with the corner of the brown envelope protruding from under his motionless body. There was no time to lose, and Lorenzo did not hesitate. The door through which the professor and his son had just left was not locked and Lorenzo opened it and walked into the room where Bennet was lying, face down, on the carpet. He extended his hand and tried to pull out the envelope from under the body. He could not. With some effort, he rolled the body on its back. He could see that the lifeless Bennet was still clutching two creased pages in his firmly closed right hand, and he saw the envelope lying on the carpet for him to pick up. He bent over the body and extended his hand to retrieve the envelope.

  And then Bennet’s eyes opened.

  His left hand groped around and then forcefully clutched Lorenzo's right.

  Lorenzo was a seasoned professional, but the adrenaline rush almost took his breath away. He jumped back in alarm, and his left hand instinctively reached under his jacket for his gun.

  43. Rendezvous in Jerusalem, March 3rd, 2010 (Wednesday)

  Yeshayahu Orlev opened the door. “Come in Please,” he said. He shook hands with his guest, and the two headed for the living room. “Will you have some tea?”

  “Of course, Yeshayahu, I was looking forward to it.”

  Orlev went into the garden and commenced with the leaf collection ritual. The guest smiled to himself. A few minutes later, the professor entered with the tray, on which he carried a teapot and two glasses. He put the tray on the table, poured tea into the glasses and took his seat. “Well, Aryeh my friend,” he said, “what did you want to discuss?”

  Aryeh Luria took the glass, raised it to his lips, which were almost hidden in his beard, took a small sip and closed his eyes. “There is nothing like your tea, Yeshayahu.”

  Orlev waited patiently. Aryeh placed the glass on the table and sank into the couch. “I was shocked by what happened to Professor Bennet.”

  Orlev made an incomprehensible gesture with his head. “…Another victim of this horrible affair.”

  Aryeh moved uneasily on his couch. “I think I owe you an apology.”

  Orlev smiled bitterly. “You have suspected me all these years. You did not trust me.”

  “I did not know what to think…” said Aryeh.

  “And what made you change your mind?"

  “I checked with my cousin. They found two pieces of paper in Bennet’s hand with a few words still readable…”

  “I know,” acknowledged Orlev tersely.

  “He had the documents in his possession the whole time,” said Aryeh. “Yossi says these pieces of paper were part of a photocopy, not the original. The original documents must have been taken by whoever killed poor Jonathan.”

  The professor hung down his head, lost in thought. He then started talking in a melancholy voice, without raising his eyes to look at his guest. “What have we done, Aryeh? What have we done? This is a sin which has already cost three human lives and it is not over yet...” He sighed. “And the documents have disappeared again…”

  “We will not quit looking for them.” Aryeh sounded determined. “It is our sacred duty. These documents belong to the Jewish people. Their proper pla
ce is in the hands of Jewish scholars, not in a Christian monastery.”

  “How would you know?” asked Orlev bitterly. “You have never seen them.”

  “You yourself estimated, based on the hints from Diaz, that these documents are part of the Jewish legacy.”

  “I still believe it, but what if I was wrong? Just look at what happened! People died! And two of them were good and decent people! Fernando and Jonathan were colleagues and friends, both exceptionally bright scholars. Jonathan was my student…”

  “I think you were right,” said Aryeh, ignoring the professor’s last observation. “We have now substantiated the story through that Frenchwoman, who thinks these documents are her family’s property… With all due respect to Professor Diaz, he was holding on to something which was not his!”

  “Even so, nothing can justify all that has happened,” said Orlev. “I regret ever getting involved in this.”

  “We never meant it to be this way. We could not have anticipated this mess.”

  Orlev sighed. “When you told me you had somebody who could discreetly retrieve Fernando’s documents, I never imagined you were going to send a killer after him.”

  “What killer? He was just a stupid, small-time crook. The idiot hit Diaz too hard, and the whole thing spiraled out of control. No one expected this to happen.”

  “And what have we achieved?” moaned the professor. “Three men died and the documents have vanished, perhaps forever.”

  “I believe,” stated Aryeh, “that these documents will ultimately reach their rightful owners. They will end up in Jewish hands.”

  A long silence followed.

  “And all these years you have suspected me,” said Orlev indignantly.

  “You must admit that the events of that night were odd, I would even say improbable.”

  The professor took a sip from his glass. “I do not want to discuss this,” he said after a short silence. “I want to erase that night from my memory. It never happened.”

  Aryeh took a final sip from his glass and placed it on the table. “I would like you to tell me one last time, what happened that night.”

  Orlev shrank in his couch.

  “I know this is not easy for you,” Aryeh pressed on. “Just tell me for the last time what happened and then, like you have just said, it will cease to exist.”

  The professor closed his eyes and withdrew into himself. A whole minute passed before he started talking, with his eyes still closed. “I already told you everything four years ago… it was a horrible night, a nightmare that has stayed with me ever since…” he fell silent.

  Aryeh waited patiently.

  Orlev’s eyes remained closed. “We agreed not to make any phone calls,” he intoned. “You told me a few days in advance that at about 04:30 I had to meet that man, Illuz, whose name I did not even know at the time, at the agreed spot in the Ben Shemen woods.” He opened his eyes and fixed an accusing gaze at Aryeh. “I don't know how I ever agreed to do that. You are younger and stronger than me. It was you who should have gone there…”

  “I made the contact and made sure it happened. We agreed I should not be involved in the delivery to reduce my exposure,” said Aryeh. ‘And of course, I had to involve you actively, so that you would not get cold feet later and turn against me,’ he thought to himself.

  “If anything went wrong, you were to send me a text message saying ‘the conference is delayed’ or something to that effect. I got no such text before I left for the rendezvous.”

  “I had no idea of what had happened in the monastery,” said Aryeh defensively. “I heard about the murder only in the morning news.”

  “Some time before 4 AM I left home,” Orlev went on weakly. “It was a cold and rainy night. It felt like a bad dream… I felt detached from reality; I could not believe I was doing this. When I arrived there, it was just past 04:30. My heart started palpitating wildly, and I thought I was having a heart attack. I stopped the car, switched off the lights and sat there, trying to relax and regulate my breath. Next thing I knew, a car appeared from behind, passed me and headed straight into the woods. I assumed it was our man and decided to wait a while before following him. A few minutes later, a car appeared, this time from the woods… it was probably the same car… I could not tell… its lights flashed into my eyes, blinding me, and then it disappeared.”

  The professor reclined exhausted on his couch. He was almost physically reliving the events of that night. Aryeh poured him some more tea. “Please, go on.”

  Orlev sipped from his glass and took a deep breath before resuming his narrative. “I was scared. I just wanted to run away, but somehow I managed to mobilize a shred of courage. I saw a faint light in the woods and drove there to check it out. I still cannot believe I had the courage to do that... It was a car, its door was open and its internal lights were on. There was nobody inside. I looked around, fearing that somebody was lurking in the woods… Then, when I got nearer, my headlights fell upon something lying in the mud… It was a human body… it was raining heavily … I had never been in such a situation before… this was a nightmare… I was almost crazy with fear... I panicked. My heart resumed its palpitations and again I feared I was having a heart attack.

  “I am not a young man, Aryeh… you should not have sent me there. I only wanted to run away… For a moment I thought it was my duty to leave the car and see whether I could help him, but I was too terrified… I was scared to death… I just turned and drove away. I got home and went to bed, trying to forget the whole thing, but I could not sleep. I was furious with myself for ever having become involved… and then the telephone from you… and the news…” His voice broke up. “How could I… What on earth was I thinking?”

  Aryeh waited for the professor to calm down before speaking. “So it was Bennet who followed you there and took the delivery.”

  Orlev sighed. “I guess so.”

  “But how could he have known?” asked Aryeh. “I thought that Illuz might have talked to somebody. I suspected the man who had enlisted Illuz for the job but, as far as that guy knew, he was doing it for his revered rabbi, and he would have never dared betray him. Bennet was not even on my list. How could he have known?”

  “Jonathan was interested in Fernando’s documents as much as we were,” noted Orlev. “One day, after a conversation with Fernando, Jonathan told me he would give much to see what Fernando had in his possession.”

  “Yes, I know. I heard that myself, but that was just general talk. How did he come to know about our plans? I thought only the two of us knew.”

  “I thought so too,” said Orlev. “I don’t think he learned it from me.”

  “You don’t think?” wondered Aryeh. “Are you not sure of it?”

  “Well, I believe I never told him anything consciously, but he might have figured it out somehow. Jonathan knew me really well. We were very close in those days and spent much of our time together. We discussed this issue a few times, and I may have inadvertently revealed something… He may have followed me…I don’t know…”

  “And all these years he had these documents tucked in his safe…” reflected Aryeh. “I wonder what he did with them. One would expect him to publish something.”

  “He could not do that,” said Orlev. “He would have had to explain how he got them in the first place. Yet, around that time he did start floating some new ideas… maybe the breakup between us had to do with things he had learned from these documents… I don’t know…” They fell silent.

  “I have not lost hope yet,” said Aryeh after a while. “I will keep searching.”

  Orlev sighed. “I believe these documents have slipped away from us forever. I am an old man, and this adventure caused me enough agitation to last me for the rest of my life. Now, I would like to ask you to drop this subject and never mention it again. As far as we two are concerned, this event never happened, OK?”

  Aryeh nodded. “It never happened.”

  The two sat in silence for some
time and then Aryeh glimpsed at his watch. “I have to go.”

  Orlev walked him to the door. The two said nothing. They did not even shake hands. Orlev closed the door behind his guest and turned around.

  A large figure stood at the far entrance to the living room, a huge young man with a child’s face.

  “Everything is fine, Naphtali,” said Orlev affectionately. “Everything is all right, my child.”

  44. Farewell – Ben-Gurion Airport, March 5th, 2010 (Friday)

  They were sitting at the café in Ben-Gurion Airport. Jeanne had already checked in and was carrying her boarding pass. It was parting time and they both felt awkward and distressed. Their association over the last few weeks started as a business relationship, and went through a brief romantic spell, which was abruptly terminated when they unexpectedly discovered they were relatives. Now they were saying farewell, still confused about what they were to each other. Until now, they carefully avoided the issue. It was easier to discuss the turbulent events they had been through lately.

  “What do you think of the professor’s theory?” asked Jeanne. “Do you think he really believes it?”

  Luria thought for a while. “It seems to me that he was not just conjuring theories. I feel that he knows more than he cared to admit.”

  “Or maybe all that's happened lately just threw him off balance,” said Jeanne. “I admit I am confused. We know somebody attacked and killed Bennet, and we assume it had to do with Pascal de Charney’s scrolls, yet we have no proof that Bennet had them.”

  Luria hesitated before responding. “There is a piece of information that I am not supposed to share with you,” he said after a while. “But after all we have been through, I guess I should.”

  Jeanne looked at him, surprised.

  “I learned this from Commander Arnon. This is sensitive information, which must remain between us.”

  Jeanne nodded. “Of course.”