by Jacob Ganani
CHAPTER 18
Thursday, 3:00am
Cantor's phone vibrated. He reached out quickly and turned off the alert. In moments, he was standing at the window, looking in the direction of his car. The half-closed blinds allowed him to stay concealed while he watched.
The yellow glow of the streetlight gave his blue Hyundai a greenish tint and illuminated the black clad figure kneeling near the hood of the car. The figure’s face was hidden under a baseball cap and in its hand was an object Cantor could not identify.
Cantor locked his eyes on the kneeling figure. Three long minutes passed without movement. Cantor recognized the patient methods of a professional. His only mistake had been to touch the vehicle, which triggered the alert. But touching couldn’t be avoided, and the sensor was highly sensitive.
Suddenly, the figure crouched under the front of the car and, for a moment, he lost sight of it completely. A thin beam of light, the kind produced by a penlight, flashed for a moment and disappeared. Another minute passed and the bent figure retreated into the shadow of the hedge that bordered the sidewalk. He was a robust man. The object he had held in his hand was no longer there.
Cantor assessed the situation. The hitman was about to disappear after rigging the car. Was there any point trying to catch him? He couldn’t take him on his own. But maybe if the area was blockaded? Maybe if he immediately called for backup? But whom could he trust? Who was a friend? And who was an enemy? And how would he explain this? No, this was not the time to share. He preferred the solo approach, the operational mode of a lone field agent, the methods and conduct that ignored everything he had learned and had pledged to uphold since joining the police.
He watched the man cross the street and walk toward a white van. A large image was splashed across the side of the van, but he couldn’t identify it in the faint light. The van drove away with its headlights off. Cantor figured the entire matter had taken no more than five minutes, although it seemed like an eternity.
He dressed quickly and quietly, careful not to wake Daphne. What he was about to do sent a rush of adrenaline through his body.
***
Cantor took out a flashlight, pliers and a screwdriver from the hall closet. He then glanced toward the bedroom to make sure Daphne was still asleep. The half bottle of wine had turned out to be an effective sleep inducer. He shut the apartment door behind him quietly and headed downstairs. He knelt beside the car, mirroring the hitman’s position, and immediately discovered a device attached under the engine on the driver's side. After another look around to make sure the area was clear of any living soul, he slid on his back under the Hyundai. His flashlight illuminated three explosive charges, 500 grams each of TNT. They were bound together with electrical tape and several wires attached to a copper tube. It was a device designed to explode on ignition, unlike the kind operated by remote control. The quantity of explosives was substantial, proving that this was not a mere scare tactic to serve as a warning message. It was a calculated plan to destroy the car, leaving zero chance of survival for those inside. Anyone within a ten yard radius would have been hurt.
At first glance, he thought the device setup seemed familiar, yet he didn’t rush to remove it. Overconfidence and haste were the greatest enemies in this situation. He twisted his body and, with his flashlight, surveyed the device from all angles. The top of the device consisted of a magnet that fixed it to the engine mount. One wire connected to the car battery and another to the chassis. From its other side, wires ran to the detonators, which connected directly to the explosives. There was no timer or mechanism to trigger immediate detonation if the wires were cut. It was apparent that this device was designed to catch him completely off guard and therefore did not require sophistication.
Cantor took a deep breath, released the air slowly from his lungs and disconnected the device from its position. He pulled himself out and stood up slowly, his hands gingerly holding on to it.
As he made his way back to the apartment, he again wondered who he had managed to anger or disturb to such an extent that they would want to eliminate him forever. Clearly, someone was determined to rid the world of his presence - permanently. It brought back memories of other times.
The fear for his life now turned to anger. The danger was no longer abstract. The mysterious figure, the explosive device and the white van were all clues that would eventually lead him to catch the scum. After all, the killing fields had once been his natural habitat.
***
Cantor locked the explosive device in his safe and sat down with his phone in order to check his task schedule for the upcoming day. Withholding unsubstantiated information was one thing, but hiding the fact that an explosive device was attached to a police officer’s vehicle was not an option. He needed to prepare an official report regarding the course of recent events, which would inevitably lead to an investigative process that would require him to provide detailed explanations. The chances of staying in the clear after his solo initiative were very low. The natural behavior of a Mossad field agent was categorically forbidden in the Police Force. The system would not applaud his actions; nor would David Azar, who would deem this as crossing every line. No excuse would be accepted, even if he explained that he did not want to be the one who cried wolf and send them all on a false pursuit. “Whenever there is any doubt, there is no doubt,” they would say.
He undressed quietly and went back to bed, trying to achieve another two hours of crucial rest. In the dimly lit room, he looked at Daphne's serene face as she slept peacefully. He smiled to himself. If she only knew what had happened in the past half hour.
CHAPTER 19
Thursday – late morning
Ezra Sexta was not one for procrastinating. Ignoring problems did not make them disappear. On the contrary, it only made them grow and fester, eventually costing a higher price to fix. The cop had, indeed, fulfilled his threat. He had not delivered the weekly package, nor had he made any attempt to renew contact. Besides cutting off their oxygen supply of information, he had also insulted and personally dishonored him. And there was nothing Ezra valued more than honor. Thus, in one instant, he had lost all regard for this man. He was ungrateful, contemptible, biting the hand that fed him… and all this without mentioning the line he had dared to cross, the line that established that no one threatened Ezra Sexta and got away with it.
There was no doubt that the cop had turned from an asset into a burden. He had become a risk, and risks must be neutralized. Extortion, Ezra knew too well, had momentum. Once it started, it always continued, even though each time promised to be the last. Once you started milking the cow, you never wanted to stop. Human nature.
A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. He saw Isaac, his younger - indeed, his only - brother, on the hall cam monitor. Even when he was preoccupied, his brother’s presence always improved his spirits. He pressed the door buzzer and rose from his chair to greet Isaac with a genuine smile and a warm hug.
Meanwhile, in the GMC Savana parked about fifty yards away, Sergeant Shahar Suissa of the Surveillance Unit received a signal from the entrance camera in Sexta’s office. He straightened in his chair and focused. Isaac Sexta’s face appeared on his display, waiting for his brother’s office door to open. The sergeant pressed the recording button with one hand and shook the shoulder of his team leader with the other. “Shlomi, the action’s starting.”
Chief Inspector Shlomi Shmolevich, a senior officer in the department, stretched out in his seat. He turned on his monitor and received the same feed as the sergeant.
“Video recording?” he asked.
“Affirmative,” the sergeant confirmed.
“Audio check.”
The sergeant turned a dial and the sound of Sexta’s door buzzer boomed in their earpieces.
“Okay, stay sharp,” said the inspector, and fell silent. He hoped the voices coming from the earpiece would bring forth some new information.
When the door opened and Isaac’s image d
isappeared from the camera, Shlomi instructed, “Shahar, let’s switch to the office cam.” Seconds later, the image of the hallway was replaced a view of Sexta’s office. “Split the screen. Give us the hallway in the background.” Shahar flipped a switch and, in the top corner of the screen, appeared a small square with images from the corridor outside Sexta’s office.
“Let me look at you, little brother!” They heard Ezra Sexta’s voice as his hands clasped Isaac’s shoulders and a smile lit his face. “Everything okay with you?”
“Perfect! Everything’s great when I’m with you…”
“So fucking sweet... makes me sick to my stomach…” Shahar sneered.
“Shut up and let me listen!” the inspector sharply retorted.
“What did I even say...?”
Ezra was now walking around the desk to his office chair, while Isaac seated himself in the chair opposite. “I need you to do something for me, brother.” Ezra Sexta’s voice lowered an octave and the sergeant turned the volume dial up.
“I’d give up half my kingdom for you… isn’t that what Father used to say?” mused Isaac.
“Only half?” Ezra smiled and leaned forward. “How much does the cop owe now?”
“Right now? Thirty grand. Used to be more, but he got lucky last week and cleared some debt. Is there a problem?”
Ezra rubbed his chin and paused for a while before replying. “There could be a problem.” Isaac waited in silence. “Something bad’s happening with him. He wants a new deal. He also stopped sending the reports.”
Isaac shook his head from side to side incredulously. “Stopped? Just like that?”
The surveillance monitor showed Ezra nodding, his lips tightening in anger. “The man has no honor,” Ezra added as a final and absolute ruling. Isaac leaned forward in his seat, toward his brother, and nodded in agreement. “And here’s where you come in.”
“Whatever you say, brother.”
“What is a man without honor, brother? Just a mangy dog! A disease that you need to run from as far as you can… so, first thing, we collect the money. We make a house call, but don’t enter his apartment, okay? Remember that detectives are cops and they never trust anyone… and we’re no longer on his good side. Believe me. But he has a private parking spot under the building. You know his building?”
“I went there once. Scoped out the place. Remember when you sent me over to check where he lived? You said we might need it one day.”
“Well, that day has come. Collect the entire debt. No discounts and no installments. And Isaac, you must surprise him! Don’t let him know you’re coming, because he can’t be trusted. This guy’s dangerous!”
“The problem, brother, is that I don’t believe he has thirty grand just lying around,” said Isaac.
“That’s for sure. He’ll try to buy some time and I want you to make it clear that we’re not playing around.”
“What - scare him?”
“Correct. He’s not a VIP anymore. Just a dog who owes a lot of money. No credit. Take whoever you need with you. And listen carefully, brother. I want to teach him a lesson, to make him suffer a little, to humiliate him, but I don’t want him ending up in the hospital. There’ll be more problems if his friends start asking questions. Got it?”
“You can count on me, brother.”
“I know, I know.”
“Ezra, when do you want this to happen?”
“Say, two or three days. Okay?”
“No problem. Consider it done!”
Ezra Sexta smiled a cruel smile, “There’s no time like the present. Have you ever heard that saying before, Isaac?”
“What? Like the best time to do something is right now?”
“Right, don’t put things off. But ‘present’ doesn’t just mean ‘now,’, it also means ’gift.’ Nice, right? So let’s give him a little ‘present’ from us…” Isaac leaned back in his chair. “Why don’t you make us some coffee, brother?” asked Ezra.
“Sure, Ezra.” Isaac stood up and walked over to the coffee maker. He stopped in front of a black-and-white family photo hanging on the wall. It was one from their childhood, their father standing in the middle, Ezra to his right and Isaac to his left. No one was smiling. Smiles, apparently, never came easily to them.
“You remember how much Father always worried about you?” Ezra’s tone momentarily lost its hardness as his eyes followed his brother.
“Yes,” answered Isaac. “I miss him.”
“Me, too,” Ezra said, “but at least he’s at peace now…”
Isaac looked away from the photograph and glanced at his watch. “Shit, I completely forgot that Moish wanted to see me. Said it was urgent. So I’ll hop over to see him and be back later for the coffee, okay?”
In the surveillance van, Shlomi said, “Shahar, make a note of Moish and see if we have a camera on him. Maybe we’ll get lucky…”
“Okay.”
“No problem,” Sexta’s voice was heard. “Go and do what you need to do. I’ll be here.”
Isaac stood up and went out of the door, immediately appearing on the hall camera feed. The camera followed him entering the elevator. The elevator either had no camera, or it had one that was not tapped into their surveillance. Isaac was seen entering the elevator.
“I have no sequence, scanning all cameras.” Suissa searched frantically.
Through the office cam, they watched Ezra pour himself a drink and sit down in an armchair with a newspaper.
“Can you zoom in?” asked Shlomi.
“Affirmative, why?”
“Try to see what he’s reading.”
The sergeant clicked a few buttons and the camera zoomed in on Sexta until the newspaper headline was clear.
“He’s reading the financial section. Figures… He’s probably checking how much he made this week with the money he’s laundered. Okay, stop video.”
“End recording,” Suissa announced and entered a note in the log.
They both looked wearily at the clock above them. Only two more hours till the end of their shift.
CHAPTER 20
Superintendent Dan Farhi was worried. Even the cheerful cafeteria chatter could not divert his thoughts from his growing suspicion that someone was trying to frame him. The rumor that he had asked for a report from another department in an attempt to bypass procedures was bad enough, but in the current climate, when everyone was searching for a traitor to hang, the timing could not have been worse. His own inquiry into the matter after receiving the message from Cantor revealed that someone had made a call to Vice from his phone, pretending to be him. He had no doubt that the odd look Cantor had given him while delivering the message was a hint of things to come.
“Is the gourmet selection here not to your liking?” Inspector Uri Tzahor sat down across from him, glancing at his untouched food tray.
“Yeah, sure. Why’re you still here? Shouldn’t you be out with Haddad?”
Tzahor began to butter a piece of toast. Farhi followed the meticulous process as Uri's knife carefully coated every square inch of the slice with a thin, even layer. It suddenly occurred to him that Uri Tzahor was a very thorough person.
“I canceled. He left with Gantz instead.” Uri placed the prepared slice on his plate and repeated the process with a second piece of bread.
“Uri, tell me something. Did anyone ever use your phone extension to place a phone call?”
Uri gave him a puzzled look. “Sure, that's the beauty of having your own PIN number. You can place a call from any phone in the department and the conversation always registers to you.”
“Did anyone ever use your code?”
“No, never. I never give out my PIN. When someone wants to call from my extension, they use their own code. And if they don’t have one, I dial for them. But why do you ask?”
“Because someone dialed from my extension without my permission.”
“So - what's the problem? Maybe his extension wasn’t working?”
�
�He introduced himself as me.”
“What!”
“You heard me - he asked for something in my name.”
Uri considered it. “It’s not that complicated. Ask the systems officer to give you the details of the call. He can get you a name from the PIN that was used.”
“That’s exactly the problem. Whoever did it used my code.”
Uri raised his eyebrows in amazement. “You’re kidding, right?”
“I wish.”
“Are you telling me that someone other than you knows your PIN?”
“Apparently. And if that’s not enough, he also asked for something that goes against procedure.”
“Against procedure? What did he ask for?”
“An activity log from Vice.”
Uri Tzahor’s expression was now very serious. “It sounds like something that can get you in a mess. What are you going to do?”
“I haven’t decided yet. What would you do?”
Tzahor thought for a moment. Farhi’s gaze was fixed on Uri’s left hand as his fingers squashed and twisted a leftover piece of bread into a small ball of dough. When the ball was perfectly rounded, the fingers placed it on the table and grabbed another small chunk. It seemed as if Uri was not even aware of the movements of his hand. It was quite clear to Dan that he was watching some kind of compulsive behavior.
“I think I wouldn’t do anything,” Tzahor finally said. “Sometimes it’s better not to make any waves, especially when you don’t know who’s against whom. Of course, if they approach you with questions, then that’s another matter because you won’t have a choice, and besides, I’d first check how someone found out my PIN.”
Farhi shoved his full tray to the side, leaving only his coffee in front of him.
Tzahor said in a light tone, “Whoever it was, he ruined your appetite.” He seemed to have returned to his usual cynicism.
“Yeah, a little,” Farhi replied dejectedly.
“Don’t take it so hard. It could be worse. Imagine if someone was really out to get you -”
