Crossing the Lines

by Jacob Ganani

  CHAPTER 23

  As soon as Haddad and Cantor returned from the restaurant, Haddad disappeared without explanation. Cantor, who awaited his decision about a possible inquiry, decided to continue his investigation in the meantime. He sat down at his desk, put on his headphones and continued listening to recordings from Sexta’s phone taps.

  On the table in front of him was a notepad, a pitcher of water, and, of course, the inevitable cup of coffee. He knew that Intelligence possessed a voice recognition program that could compare the voices captured from random phone calls to those of recognized recordings. Therefore, it was possible to match a voice to a name and a face. A voice print was similar to a fingerprint - completely unique. Given a confirmed source, it was always possible to match a recorded voice.

  As expected, most of the conversations sounded casual. No interesting information came up in any of the first five recordings. If there was anything of importance, it was hidden well within everyday expressions. Places, dates, and times were never explicitly stated. There were references such as “the usual place” or “at the agreed time” and so forth. In short, meaningless conversations.

  But the sixth call made him sit up in his chair: a recording of Ezra Sexta on his business phone while driving his car. His caller was not identified, either because a voice sample did not exist in the database, or because he was using a voice scrambler, which made recognition impossible. Cantor listened carefully to a conversation that sounded innocent, but clearly served as a cover for something else. Of this, he had no doubt. The entire matter of a subscription to National Geographic was bullshit. It was also clear that the caller was giving Ezra Sexta an ultimatum. Sexta’s final words as he demanded to receive the delivery as usual and abruptly cutting off the conversation indicated that Sexta was very unhappy. Could it be, he wondered, that the other voice belonged to their traitor?

  He stopped the recording, went back to the transcript and reread it carefully several times. His gut feeling told him he was on to something important. He decided to pass on the information to Haddad as soon as he returned.

  An hour later, Haddad returned to his desk without even glancing at Cantor. Preferring even bad news to uncertainty, Cantor stood up and walked over to his partner.

  “I have a recording I want you to hear,” he told him. Haddad, in a distant and alienating tone, asked if this was urgent and he nodded.

  “Send it over to me,” said Haddad, “and hand me a pair of headphones.”

  Cantor returned to his computer and sent over the voice file and its transcript. He then headed off to make some coffee, hoping that their brief conversation had gone unnoticed. At this stage, everyone around him was a potential suspect.

  He came back with a cup of steaming coffee and peered cautiously at Haddad, who was absorbed in listening through his headphones. After a few moments, he raised his head and glanced at him, nodding his head slightly in an almost imperceptible gesture. At least they were in agreement on some things.

  His screen indicated an incoming message. Haddad’s note was brief: “Interesting. A new lead. In the meantime, you’re to go on as usual. A second and final chance.”

  Cantor breathed a sigh of relief.

  CHAPTER 24

  The pagers on their belts vibrated at the same time. The body of a man had been discovered in Ben Shemen Forest, twenty miles east of the city. The initial report indicated signs of violence.

  The report from the patrol car described a man in his forties, curly hair, muscular and dark-skinned, about 5 feet 6 inches tall. Cantor glanced at Haddad and knew he shared his thoughts. He motioned with his hand for Haddad to approach and connected to the dispatcher, who transferred him to the patrol car radio. He had only one question, with the white van still lingering in his mind. Were there any vehicles in the area that might be linked to the incident? A shot in the dark, but worth it. The patrol officer promised to scan the area and report back. Haddad made a quick decision and announced that they were heading over. They rushed to his car and sped toward the scene.

  “Sounds like murder or manslaughter. CID’s probably on the way.” Cantor was concerned that they were about to step on the Criminal Investigation Department’s toes.

  “Definitely, but don’t worry. When you meet them, just explain that this relates to your ongoing investigation.”

  Cantor agreed that this was a legitimate explanation. Sexta gets threatened, and suddenly a body appears in the forest. He nodded in understanding. It seemed that Haddad was back to normal around him. He wasn’t taking that for granted.

  They turned off the main road and onto a dirt path that led into the woods, where they spotted a forensics vehicle in their path. Haddad impatiently overtook the small police van and Cantor caught Eli, the driver, giving him a strange look he couldn’t make sense of.

  A second later, their patrol radio buzzed and Eli’s voice came through. “Cantor, I’m calling your cell.” He wanted a private conversation, not to be broadcast across the department’s frequency.

  Cantor’s phone rang. “Hey Eli, what’s going on?” Cantor asked.

  For a moment there was silence on the line as if he was searching for the right words and then he said, “Your partner...”

  “What about him?”

  “There are rumors.”

  “What kind of rumors?”

  “Regarding White Night.”

  “What?” Cantor lowered his voice instinctively. Was Haddad able to hear what was being said on the phone? He glanced sideways and thought he could see Haddad’s fingers tighten on the steering wheel, or was he just imagining it?

  A pause, and then Eli said, “People are talking...” Cantor knew that Eli was considered to be one of the most decent cops in the district, and one of the least affected by gossip. If he allowed himself to repeat this story, the rumor must have already taken flight.

  Cantor couldn’t hold back his anger. “And you believe them? That’s just bullshit, Eli! I’m surprised at you!” He regretted his outburst even before he finished his words, knowing he had offended him, maybe even hurt their friendship, but it was a momentary loss of control.

  The silence on the other end of the line lasted two or three seconds and then Eli spoke sullenly. “Okay, whatever you say. We’ll meet at the scene.” A few seconds later, he overtook them at high speed, his van leaving them in a cloud of dust.

  Haddad gave Cantor a sideways glance and then looked back at the road. “Well?” he asked quietly. Cantor, who tried to avoid any drama, remained silent. Haddad turned to look at him and gave him a knowing wink. “Come on, Cantor! Really? A private conversation? White Night? Attacking Eli, who I thought was your good friend? Or am I wrong?”

  “Are you sure you want to know?” Haddad pursed his lips and nodded. “Alright, listen, he said there’s a serious rumor out there that you’re the source of the leak.”

  “He said ‘serious’?”

  “No.”

  “That’s what I thought. But he believes it’s true.”

  “Maybe. Maybe he just thinks there’s something to it. I’m guessing it has to do with the person who’s spreading it. It must be someone reliable. He’s not sure.”

  “And what do you think?”

  “You know what I think.”

  “Tell me again.”

  “I think it’s rubbish, a smoke screen, a diversion. Should I search for more words, or do you get what I’m trying to say?”

  “So what’s going on here?”

  That’s exactly what Cantor was asking himself. Yet, despite his words of protest, he felt that his suspicions were only growing stronger. He had never encountered such rumors about a senior detective. Perhaps someone did know something.

  Haddad waved his hand dismissively and said, “We won’t remain fools forever, right? Let’s focus on the scene for now.” And Cantor thought to himself, You bet we won’t be fooled forever…

  Around the next bend they came upon a densely planted pine grove. The forensics
vehicle was already parked next to a blue and white patrol unit and Eli was speaking with the patrol officer. About 10 feet away stood a civilian in a blue T-shirt, khaki shorts and leather hiking boots, a small backpack by his feet. He had a short beard and glasses and was holding the leash of an alert and excited Belgian Shepherd. Behind Eli and the other policeman, Cantor noticed yellow police tape stretched around several trees. He couldn’t see the body itself. Haddad turned off the engine and Eli came over to them. They all shook hands. If Eli believed the rumors, he didn’t show it. Perhaps he was persuaded by Cantor’s vehement objections.

  The patrol officer offered a brief overview. The body that Cantor could now glimpse among the shrubs had been discovered by a civilian walking his dog. According to the civilian, the dog uncovered it, barking and tugging on its leash. Otherwise, from the path, it would have remained completely unnoticed.

  The patrol car was first on the scene as it responded to the emergency call. The policeman, a veteran officer, did not attempt to turn the body, which was lying face down. The bloodstain covering the back of his denim jacket led to one conclusion: the man was murdered. From then on, the patrolman acted according to procedure - reporting his status, calling for forensics, and requesting further instructions. He was instructed to set up a perimeter around the body, an action he had never performed outside his training days at the academy. He then began to question the civilian and wrote down what seemed to correspond to the evidence at the scene. By the time the detectives arrived, he had followed up on Cantor’s request. His partner combed the area and located eight vehicles in a makeshift parking lot near the beginning of the trail. He handed the list to Cantor. A short glance revealed that the list did not include a white van.

  “Has anyone from CID arrived?” asked Haddad.

  “They’re on their way,” Eli said. “Is this drugs related?” he asked the obvious question.

  “Not certain yet,” Cantor replied.

  Together, they approached the yellow tape. Cantor pondered as to whether the victim would be someone familiar. The body lay face down, legs apart, one arm under the body, while the other was raised above the head, pointing north. The head was tilted sideways. The back of the jacket was soaked in blood. A close inspection was not needed to see that three bullet holes had penetrated the man’s body. They were entry wounds, meaning he was shot from behind. A single bullet - the one that had gone right through the center of the heart - would have been enough to kill, so they were clearly dealing with a cruel, unrestrained killer who had no problem emptying his pistol into a man’s back. A man who knew that, if caught, he could not claim self-defense.

  Eli began to check for photo angles. Cantor remained by the yellow tape as he pulled out his notepad and began taking notes.

  Two CID detectives arrived and parked their car near Haddad’s. They greeted him warmly. Cantor gathered that the rumor had apparently not yet spread through the other departments.

  “What have we got?” asked the detective named Emil. “Is this a drug related homicide?”

  “Not sure,” Haddad replied, “but it may be related to something we’re working on.”

  “Okay, and who's your friend?”

  “This is Oded Cantor, formerly Mossad.” Haddad introduced him and Cantor shook hands with the two detectives.

  “What about the ambulance?” asked Haddad.

  “It’s not coming. There’s a multi-casualty accident in the city. All the units are busy. They'll inspect the body at the morgue,” Emil replied.

  The second detective inspected the scene from outside the police tape, a procedure designed to preserve the scene and prevent any damage to evidence such as footprints. He scribbled several notes in his book, then signaled for Eli to go ahead. After taking about twenty frames, he put down his camera and turned to Emil, who nodded in approval. Eli bent down, held the body by its shoulder and thigh and turned it over on its back.

  Cantor peered into a dark face with a protruding, long nose, heavyset eyebrows under a narrow forehead, and short, curly black hair.

  Haddad looked at his colleagues. “Anyone recognize him?”

  “Actually, I think I do, but I’d rather not speculate,” Emil said. “If that’s who I think it is, then we'll officially ID him by tonight.”

  Cantor searched the dead man’s face for the expression of fear expected to be found in someone facing death, but saw only dead eyes, frozen and serene. It was the look of an unsuspecting man.

  He waited patiently and silently as Eli photographed the upturned body. Where the jacket did not cover the shirt, at the top of the abdomen, he saw a large exit wound. They needed to find that bullet.

  Eli pulled out a pair of thin rubber gloves from his pocket and put them on. First, he collected the flat cap that was lying near the body and placed it in an evidence bag. He then thoroughly inspected all of the dead man's pockets, but they contained only a few bills and a set of keys.

  “Not the type to carry any ID,” he remarked.

  “Figures,” said Emil. “How did he get here?”

  “There are some parked cars not far away. Maybe one will fit his keys,” said Haddad.

  Eli was already on the phone, making arrangements for the body to be collected.

  The other sergeant approached and asked if they wanted a wider search of the area. If so, he would call for backup. Emil nodded affirmatively. Cantor thought that it would certainly do no harm, but did not believe that the killer would have left anything behind. Eli spoke to the sergeant and left him with further instructions, referring specifically to searching for bullets and what should be done if they found something.

  At that point, it seemed that the scene would contribute no further information. Haddad and Cantor parted from the detectives, Haddad asking that they update him on any of their findings. Cantor suddenly felt as if he was missing something, but he had no idea what it was.

  CHAPTER 25

  Think fast. Think smart. Always be one step ahead of them. Assess all possible scenarios. Remember that nothing can be taken for granted. Destroy any ties and all threads that may lead back to you.

  It’s well known that only those who don’t try don’t fail. That’s how it goes. And when you fail, you simply correct your path and get back on course. Keep trudging ahead, that’s the most important thing. Yet, some failures cannot be excused, and those have but one remedy: permanently remove the person responsible.

  Well, to be honest, he couldn’t completely absolve himself from any responsibility. After all, he had chosen Pinchas Levy personally. On the other hand, Pini was essentially accountable for his own failures. Twice he had emphasized that this was a personal matter. And what can be more important than a personal matter?

  Why did Pini fail? Someone must have known about the contract. That was most likely. Clearly, Pini had failed to keep his plans under absolute secrecy. Perhaps it was down to carelessness or negligence - but it was enough to destroy his ingenious plan. He would have to recalculate. Error and correction, right?

  He was certain that the rumors he had cunningly spread about Haddad, along with Cantor’s murder - if only it had succeeded - would have created a logical theory. He, of all people, knew how a detective’s mind worked. All a crime requires is motive and opportunity. And his plan provided a motive for both Haddad and Ezra Sexta. Cantor’s dead body would have suggested that Haddad was one of Sexta’s men. It was reasonable to think that, when he began to feel threatened by Cantor’s investigation, Haddad would ask his patron to eliminate him for good...

  But this failure now led to a serious predicament. The police would do anything to locate the assassin. No stone would be left unturned. Pini Levy was already on borrowed time. Sooner or later, someone would tie him to the contract. The explosive device he left behind would bring out the worst in any investigator, and if they pressed him too hard, he’d start talking and everything would come to an end...

  That’s why he reacted with feigned equanimity when Pini Levy in
formed him that the second attempt had failed. He already presumed as much, since no mention of any explosion had been made. When asked when he’d complete the job, Pini had said he needed another week.

  “It can’t take that long, it’s urgent,” he told him firmly. “What’s the problem?” Pini said that a new device must be assembled and that it’d take some time to obtain the resources. “How about I supply you with the necessary materials?” he’d suggested. “Just tell me exactly what you need.” Pini accepted the offer with relief.

  The rest was not overly complicated. He had set up a meeting. Pini arrived on time and accepted the package wrapped in brown paper tied with string.

  He asked, “Why didn’t the device explode?” It remained a rhetorical question, as Pini didn’t know the answer. For a moment, he was almost tempted to tell him as a sort of final service. But it was too dangerous. Speculating would have been like blaming him for faulty work, which would make Pini distrust him. Those who are wise know when to remain silent.

  He asked Pini to check the contents of the package and confirm that all was in order. Then he watched as Pini placed the box on the ground and unwrapped it, turning his back to him as if shielding him from the explosives. And that was all he needed. He drew out his unregistered .38 and fired three shots into Pini’s back. Pini’s journey in this world was over.

  He then quickly picked up the box and left.

  Pini Levy had officially become a dead end.

  CHAPTER 26

  Thursday - evening and night

  His last conversation with Ezra Sexta echoed in the policeman’s head. Sexta’s unrelenting words were crystal clear. He expected the weekly material to be delivered on time. Well, that was no longer going to happen, and he knew that, once the deadline passed, trouble would be on its way. He must stay alert and ready.

  But what did Ezra Sexta really mean? What were his exact words? He’d said “unsubscribe” which was nothing but a euphemism for elimination. He didn’t intend to cut off contact or to part amicably, each in his own direction. That’s not how things were done in Ezra Sexta’s world.