Crossing the Lines

by Jacob Ganani

  Azar stopped and looked at him. “Do you have a problem with this, Cantor?”

  Cantor swallowed hard. “No, definitely not, only I’m new to the department. I’m just wondering why I was selected instead of any of the veteran officers?”

  Azar pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket, chose one, and put it in his mouth.

  “Got a light, Cantor?” he asked.

  “Sorry… trying to quit.”

  “Oh, well,” Azar murmured to himself, patting his trouser pockets and then, with a sigh of relief, took out a silver lighter out of his right pocket. He lit the cigarette. Cantor, an expert on details, noticed that the lighter was engraved with three words, but he couldn’t make out the writing. Azar took a deep drag and let out two perfect circles of smoke, one after the other. He sighed with unconcealed pleasure and turned his attention back to Cantor.

  “Listen, Cantor, maybe you didn’t notice, but we run a hierarchal, militarized organization here, okay? So, what matters is not whether the person’s old or new here, but whether they were appointed to their position and what orders they were given! Our decisions are well founded. I’m not familiar with your Mossad procedures, but I believe things there are pretty similar. Given that this is your first time, I’ll share the reasons for your selection. However, I expect you, in future, to keep such questions to yourself, unless you wish to insult my judgment -”

  “I’d no intention of that - really!” Cantor apologized awkwardly.

  “I know. Now listen carefully. First, you’re new here, an outsider. As far as I’m concerned, if a leak does exist, you are its least likely source. Your knowledge of our systems and targets isn’t deep enough yet. Second, you’re an expert detective. I’ve seen your file and the investigations you’ve headed before. This is an internal investigation, within the organization, not civilian. Third, you’re familiar with working with intelligence units and obtaining information that you’ll likely need for this task. Fourth, you don’t have any friends here... therefore, you won’t be coerced into sharing your findings, which is very important. And there’s even a fifth: you’re a superintendent, ranking up with the most senior detectives in the department, which means that people will willingly cooperate with your investigation.”

  They stood in silence for a moment. Cantor, though familiar with these arguments, was not sorry he had asked. He had to hear it from the horse’s mouth. “One more thing,” he said. “Does my clearance include permission to conduct surveillance and install surveillance equipment?”

  “Finally, a proper question!” He patted Cantor’s arm with satisfaction. “Affirmative. You’ll receive written authorization for that, and, of course, I expect you to use discriminating judgment. These measures are quite costly and I’ll need to report to Accounting later. So watch yourself.”

  “Certainly, Commander. Thank you for your trust.”

  “One more thing, Cantor. If you think this is over your head, this is the time to tell me. Let me be direct: if you take this on, I expect results. I expect a closed and well-reasoned case, whether you find the leak or not, whatever the outcome. Success will bolster your reputation and I’m sure that’s what you want, but failure... well, failure won’t do you any good. Am I clear?”

  “Absolutely clear, Sir.”

  “I don’t think you’ve quite understood. The unit’s undergoing downsizing and there’s always pressure to start with new personnel. However, the good ones always remain, even if they’re new.”

  “I understand. I want this appointment!” said Cantor.

  Azar smiled and patted his arm. “It’s all good, then. Good luck!”

  This is my chance, Cantor thought, or my doom. He decided that failure was not an option.

  ***

  He glanced at his watch. It was 3:10am, and Cantor hesitated. Going home would leave him less than four hours before the new work day. Not enough for a real night’s sleep. And this, without taking into account the “welcome” he might receive… another good reason not to go home. On the other hand, the appointment was surprising. He felt the excitement of an opportunity that can change lives or, in this case, careers. He would have to prove what he was really worth, meaning that he should probably start preparing. Since his investigation would begin by documenting the activities of the team, it was reasonable for him to begin by documenting his own. He made his way to the kitchen and prepared a cup of strong black coffee. With coffee and a box of leftover biscuits he found in the kitchen, he returned to his desk. He was pleased to notice that his headache had become tolerable, proving that his rapid recovery capabilities still worked.

  He first prepared his report for Internal Affairs. It took him fifteen minutes to jot down everything he remembered before he lost consciousness at the marina. For the next two hours, he meticulously wrote down all the meetings and activities he had conducted over the last week. As he mentally retraced his steps, he thought about creating a structured form to assist people in recording their reports in a consistent and effective manner. He opened a task page on his computer and typed, “White Night - Investigation.” He listed the preparation of a reporting form as his first task for the morning.

  CHAPTER 9

  Tuesday - Morning

  He was done by 5:05am. Outside, darkness still loomed over the city. A hot shower and breakfast were called for. He hoped that these would slightly ease the exhaustion that consumed him.

  When he entered the officers’ dining room, which also served the senior sergeants, he found it crowded with people, despite the early hour - with one difference. Today, there was no sign of the usual banter that characterized the room. People sat, quietly introspective, concentrating on the food on their plates. If the damp hair and freshly-shaven faces of some of them were meant to convey the illusion of some form of rejuvenation, the dark circles and puffy eyes told a more accurate story. Cantor realized that he was looking at a mirror. They were a group of tired people who were still a long way off getting a proper rest.

  He pushed his tray along the stainless-steel counter. His eyes followed the movements of the food server, an older woman with a wrinkled face and bulky body, yet full of vitality, moving efficiently and multi-tasking rapidly as if in fast forward. She was proof that professionalism and expertise related to every aspect of life. Cantor gave her the widest smile he could muster and, in return, received an enormous smile and generous portions of food on his plate. It was clear to him that she was not immune to the mood of her patrons this morning.

  As he stood next to the hot water dispenser, determined to replace his caffeine intake with theanine by drinking some green tea, he heard Haddad’s voice calling his name. He turned and signaled that he would join him in a minute. While he was busy with the water and cup, Cantor thought about Haddad. He was his team leader, his partner and his friend. It was a friendship of brothers-in-arms that went beyond working hours. He had liked Haddad from the very beginning, and felt that there was a positive chemistry between them that needed no explanation. As one who was in no hurry to make friends, he saw in Haddad qualities that he admired. On the other hand, he didn’t delude himself over the fact that the development of their relationship depended mainly on the confidence Haddad had in him. In the beginning, he was sure that Haddad would take the time to assess him as a person. Thus, he was not surprised when Haddad offered to team up together. But it was not long before Haddad unexpectedly introduced him to his wife, Dolly, and shortly after invited him and Daphne for dinner at his house. It was a significant step in strengthening their relationship. At that same dinner that lasted into the night, the possibility of a joint trip abroad was discussed. Dolly had long been fantasizing about a trip to an exotic, Far East country and Cantor, who had seen the world, recommended North Vietnam as a worthy destination. Dolly agreed enthusiastically and Haddad concluded that they would plan the trip for their next leave. It was, of course, the holiday that was cut short when that damn motorcycle sent him to be reconstructed at the Hano
i French Hospital. The accident made him discover another side of their friendship, a beautiful, moving side. Haddad and Dolly cancelled the rest of their holiday plans and stayed with him and Daphne at the hospital until he recovered. Daphne later said that it was only through their dedication and care that she survived that nightmare. For him, that event defined their relationship.

  Cantor’s thoughts were interrupted by the phone vibrating in his pocket. He pulled it out and saw Daphne’s number on the screen. For a moment, he hesitated. He felt this would not be a pleasant conversation, and he really didn’t need this right now. Yet he had a habit of dealing with what life had thrown at him and this habit took over.

  “Hi, good morning.”

  “Good?” Daphne’s voice was quiet and restrained, but there was no mistaking the venomous tone. The storm was about to hit.

  “Not good?”

  “Terrible! So you’re working twenty-four-hour shifts now, and just forgot to update me? Just so I can maybe plan out the rest of my life -”

  “I was only dismissed at five and didn’t want to wake you. I just this minute stepped into the cafeteria, and was about to call you, but you beat me to it…” He avoided being dragged down by her angry tone.

  “So considerate… really. I just wish I could believe you... because what does it matter to you if I wake up to an empty bed and go crazy wondering what happened to you... And, of course, your phone was off! I thought we agreed you wouldn’t turn it off at night? When did you even turn it back on? Five minutes ago? Did you look at your missed calls?”

  “I’m sorry. I just forgot to turn my phone back on after the meeting ended -”

  “Sure you’re sorry, you’re always sorry.” Now her voice lost its personal hurt tone and became distant. “Oded Cantor, the King of Sorry and the Champion of Apology. The problem is that even false remorse and endless apologies have their limit. You and I need to talk, and I mean urgently. What’s happening between us is no longer working for me. So let me know when you can pencil me into your busy schedule... and have a great day!”

  She hung up.

  Cantor’s gaze remained frozen on his phone in disbelief. She had hung up on him once again. Across the wide spectrum of human behavior, this was one of the things he hated most. Apparently - and this came as no surprise - things were much worse than he had thought. This relationship was heading downhill fast and about to crash. Another breakup? Where exactly was his life going?

  He found himself placing his tray on the table next to Haddad without even noticing how he got there.

  “So, Cantor, was it gross negligence on our part, or were the bad guys extremely lucky?” Haddad made sure to speak in a low voice.

  Cantor, still withdrawn after the grim conversation with Daphne, tried to switch over to work mode. Suddenly he grew angry and his tone became defiant. “Lucky? I don’t think so... Maybe they’re just more professional than we think. Right, Albert?” He heard the harshness of his voice but did not try to conceal it.

  Haddad’s skeptical expression left no doubt of his thoughts about this possibility and the tone in which it was suggested.

  “What are you trying to say, Oded? That it’s not luck? Nor even negligence in the planning of this op? That it’s all due to the first-rate intelligence sources of the Sexta brothers? You feel they possess superior organizational capabilities together with strategic attention, outstanding planning and precise execution? That’s your theory?” He picked up the bread basket. His expression and tone of voice were completely dismissive.

  But if Haddad thought his tone would strike an emotional cord and deter Cantor, he was wrong. Cantor ignored the dismissive words and continued,

  “Why not? Anyway, who’s to say that we’re dealing with the Sexta brothers? Do we have any evidence to that effect? Don’t think so. Assumptions, speculations, theories - that’s all we have. But something real, to implicate the ones at the top? Nothing. Take the two guys from the marina, for example. I checked, and there are no photos of them or anything else that could tie them to Sexta. So maybe they’re new, but maybe they’re not even connected. But you know what, Albert? If we’re still talking about the Sexta brothers, they’ve been in our sights for some time now. The largest crime organization around, you say. Lots of activity, right? Murders, gambling, loan sharks, prostitution, drugs, you say. A crime empire… with a mile of rope waiting to hang them, right? But then, surprise, surprise! No convictions! Who have we managed to get up till now? The janitor? The guard at the door? A couple of roulette tables, a couple of monkeys for hire who could never be linked to the top bosses. Bottom line - we’re nowhere close to Ezra Sexta! In short and more to the point, we have zero leads. And you still think it’s all just a matter of luck?”

  Haddad dug his fork into a piece of cold smoked fish and shoved it into his mouth. His attempt had boomeranged and he grabbed Cantor’s sleeve, exasperated. “Azar woke me up at four in the morning to inform me of your new assignment! This call, just so you know, didn’t exactly make me happy.”

  “Why’s that?” asked Cantor.

  “Because I’m not sure you’re ready for it. It’s a serious assignment and you’re still part of my team. If you fail, what’ll people say? That my people are shit! So it’s very important you don’t fail! Important for you and for me! Got it? From what I gather, you’re already starting out wrong. So, take a little advice: as far as Sexta’s ‘superior organization skills’ are concerned, let me tell you this - Ezra Sexta couldn’t even manage a bird house! As for his brother, Isaac, well, you don’t have to be a genius to see that the guy’s an idiot. When I said they were lucky, I didn’t really mean it. You know why? Because they’re not only stupid, they’re also certain that they’re brilliant. They wouldn’t give luck the chance to save them. So, here’s a first note for your report: find out how they got word of our entire show… the words, the music, the backdrop and the stage directions… and if you’re as smart as you think you are, don’t waste your limited time in directions that will take you nowhere! There, I’m done.”

  Cantor, who remained unimpressed, said calmly, “Okay, Albert, we’ll wait and see. And while we’re on the subject, how long do you think I have?”

  “For this investigation? You really want to know? A week, ten days tops, and if you don’t get results, they’ll hand it over to somebody else.”

  “Got it.”

  Ten days was nothing. Cantor felt an unpleasant chill up his back and wondered if the pressure was beginning to affect him. He pulled himself together. “By the way, Albert, what’re your plans this morning?”

  “I’m planning to visit Ezra Sexta in his goddamn palace, look him in the eye... ruin his day a little. Want to join me?”

  Cantor raised his hand in protest. “I already know you love going there, not letting him forget you exist. But with all due respect, what exactly will you get out of this visit? A harassment complaint? No thanks, my first priority’s the investigation. As you said, my time’s limited. I’ll send over my letter of appointment and a form I’ve created for documenting activity later today. And I have a request; as soon as I receive the authorization, I want a one-on-one with each member of the team.”

  “No problem. I’ll let them know.”

  “You can still cancel Sexta,” Cantor suggested.

  “That’s a hard no. But you can still join me,” replied Haddad.

  Cantor shook his head. “But you’re not going alone, are you?”

  “With all these suspicions flying around? Go without a witness to back me up? Give me a break, Cantor, I’m not naïve. If you’re not coming, I’ll ask Uri.”

  “He’s doing his annual fitness test today. Maybe ask Yeremi.”

  Interesting. Cantor reflected on that phrase, “With all these suspicions flying around.” What was the best way to hide something? Put it out in plain sight!

  They placed their trays on the return cart and parted ways. Cantor had already decided to keep this investigation close to his c
hest, like a good poker player. The situation was complex and things were not as they seemed. The impression that Albert Haddad projected was of inexplicable hatred toward Ezra Sexta. This was unlike him, as he usually reflected on the merits of a case and avoided taking things to a personal level. There was something unspoken here that needed to be discovered.

  ***

  While he waited for his letter of appointment, Cantor examined the paperwork that had piled up on his desk. There were seven case files that included hundreds of documents, crime scene photos and lists of evidence and suspects; files that were waiting for a lead, a breakthrough moment in which the hidden parts of each picture would be discovered and the truth revealed. This was the nature of an investigation: the tip of an iceberg with the rest hidden under water - a puzzle with missing pieces that lingers incomplete over time. Every day, detectives were forced to accept that one investigation or another had gone cold, and struggle with their feelings of self-condemnation. Nonetheless, the recognition of this stumped reality in no way represented a state of indifference or hopelessness that would eventually lead to surrender. A cold, or unsolved case, as the press brutally called it, was only a temporary situation. Cantor believed that, ultimately, every mystery would be deciphered.

  Faith was an essential element for any detective.

  The ringing of a telephone from the nearby desk interrupted his reverie. After four rings, the call was transferred over to his phone. His right hand groped for the receiver. “This is Cantor.”

  “Who? I’m looking for Farhi, I was sure I dialed his number,” the voice at the other end sounded surprised.

  “Who’s calling?”

  “This is Reshef, from Vice. This isn’t Farhi’s number?”

  “It is, but he’s not at his desk at the moment. Can I help?”

  A moment’s silence ensued as the man on the line considered his words. “Yes, actually, just a small request. Dan asked for a copy of an activity log from one of our detectives. The problem is that this goes against procedure. So can you just let him know that such requests need to be cleared by the captain first? It’s procedure.”