Crossing the Lines

by Jacob Ganani

  Finally, he saw Sexta swipe to answer.

  “Mr. Sexta? Mr. Ezra Sexta?”

  “Who’s asking?”

  “This is Superintendent Oded Cantor from the Tel Aviv District Police. Am I speaking to Ezra Sexta?”

  Eddie straightened up and quickly wrote: “Superintendent Oded Cantor.”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, you may not have heard of me, but I think you know my partner.”

  “Who’s your partner?”

  “Superintendent Albert Haddad.”

  “So?”

  “So we have some things to talk about, you and I.”

  “Are you asking me to come down to the station for questioning?”

  “No, just a conversation, nothing official.”

  “I don’t think so. I don’t speak with cops. Do you have a warrant?”

  “I don’t have a warrant. As I’ve said, it’s just an informal conversation.”

  “Well, then, I’m not interested.”

  “As you wish, but you’d better hear me out: did you contract a murder?”

  “What?”

  “There’s a rumor that you ordered a hit.”

  “And you’re harassing a civilian for no valid reason. If you want to talk to me, show me a warrant. I’m hanging up now.”

  Eddie watched him fling his phone across the table.

  Eddie marked the conversation with an asterisk, indicating to the analysts that it contained important information. At that moment, he’d have been very happy to record Sexta’s thoughts, if only that was possible.

  CHAPTER 29

  Isaac Sexta’s phone rang again. The call went to voice mail. This call, the third within the last twenty minutes, suggested that the time he had to dispose of the body was quickly running out. Thursday’s big game at the Palace was Isaac’s baby. This meant that they would soon start wondering where he was. A search would ensue and expand as the hours passed. He must get rid of the body. Then he must locate Isaac’s car. Or maybe he took a cab, a possibility that would prove even more problematic, since cab drivers usually remembered certain details about their fares.

  Searching Isaac’s pockets, he found his car keys, perhaps indicating that the car was nearby, but not necessarily. Isaac had a driver, and this could be just a spare set. The clock showed 8:20pm. He assumed that Ezra Sexta was now a very worried man. Again, Isaac’s phone rang. Someone was persistent in his attempt to locate him. He picked up the phone and took out the battery. Someone could easily locate the device. It was safe to assume that, within a few hours, a search party would begin combing the entire city. And what were the chances that they’d come looking for him here? That depended on whether Isaac had informed anyone of his whereabouts. Most likely not - first, because he was a lone wolf with an inflated ego, and it was beneath him to report to anyone except his brother. Second, he had come alone and Ezra Sexta would never have sent him alone.

  He thought about an alibi. If anyone should ask, he was at home watching TV, a reasonable alibi considering he was a middle-aged bachelor living alone and tired of aimlessly cruising bars. If they insisted on checking his alibi, they’d find he ordered an on-demand movie on direcTV at 9:30pm. This sort of thing would satisfy any criminal defense attorney.

  He drove out of the parking lot and stopped after about 200 yards to attach a fake beard and put on glasses. To complete the costume, he added a hat. He headed north, planning to dump the body on a deserted beach, where it would take some time to locate it. He took the coastal highway and passed Glilot Junction and the Sira Interchange. Traffic was sparse. The road was now lined with dark fields behind which the lights of farms and kibbutzim twinkled through the rain. A little before the Poleg interchange, he hesitated. Despite the advantage of hiding a body on an abandoned beach, there was also a significant drawback. The investigation that would ultimately ensue would be comprehensive, examining every possible direction. He’d prefer a situation in which the finger would point at two criminal organizations settling accounts. He wanted the police to focus the investigation on the crime world, where they would find nothing but dead ends.

  In the distance, he glimpsed the lights of Netanya, a city that now seemed like an excellent location to hide the body. The city’s bustling nightlife, controlled by various crime families, couldn’t be a more appropriate choice.

  He took the exit and continued toward the coast, where an extensive recreation industry of nightclubs, restaurants, massage parlors and gaming halls flourished. Dumping the body in Netanya might hint that someone lured Isaac away from his comfort zone. This would create more false leads and further confusion.

  He was careful not to drive too closely to the brightly-lit boardwalk in case someone recognized him, despite the disguise. The bad weather played to his advantage. The rain was driving most people indoors and reducing visibility, though he still needed to take into account that someone might still identify his vehicle. Against the usual odds, there was almost always a witness with a remarkable ability to remember car models and license plates. So he chose a dark, quiet, residential street that ran in parallel to the coast road. He steadily examined the sidewalks as he drove, but they were wet and deserted. The street lamps were sparse and dim, making it less likely that someone would identify his car from one of the apartment windows above.

  He came upon an empty, overgrown lot located between two tall apartment buildings. He continued up the road, where he made a U-turn, and returned to stop in front of the lot. He waited for several moments, his eyes scanning the empty street, and then reversed into the lot and stopped. Before exiting the car, he wrapped his shoes in two plastic forensics bags and popped open the trunk. His body was already much recovered from the blows he had suffered earlier, so he found it easier to heave the heavy body out of the trunk and dump it on the ground. Concealed by the fences that partly surrounded the lot, he dragged Isaac’s body to a corner and hid it among the shrubs. He tossed the baseball bat near the body as another clue for detectives to ponder over, since the crime world was fond of leaving behind justification for their harsh verdicts.

  He turned back to his car and slid into the driver's seat. Five minutes later, he was back on the coastal highway on his way home. His mind was busy, planning his next steps: first he needed to clean his car of the mud clinging to the tires, thus clearing any evidence that CSU could successfully track. As good as they were, he was fully determined to leave them high and dry.

  CHAPTER 30

  Thursday - night, Friday - early morning

  Exhausted from a sleepless night, Ezra Sexta struggled to fight the despair that had begun to overtake him. In his heart, he wished for good news, even though his gut feeling, the one he always relied on, hadn’t signaled that such news would come.

  From 10:30pm, as the hours passed, his concern grew deeper, until finally the phrase “vanished into thin air” echoed in his head. His hopes that this night would end well were fading away. Johnny Rice proposed to bring in back soldiers from compulsory leave. They needed all the manpower they could get. These soldiers had police surveillance on their tails and were therefore inoperative and under orders to keep a low profile. There were five such soldiers. Rice explained that the first hours of a search were the most critical and required the maximum number of men. The chances of finding a missing person while there was still a chance of saving him grew slimmer as the hours passed. Ezra knew that Rice, formerly an operations officer of an elite military unit, knew what he was talking about. He agreed with his proposal, aware that this was a problematic decision. Additional police surveillance was likely to cause complications. The risks were worth it against his overwhelming concern for his brother. He had, in fact, abandoned the cold, ruthless scrutiny that usually governed his actions. Rice looked at him as if reading his thoughts. He hesitated and nodded his approval - a nod that confirmed that, despite his doubts, this was the right decision under the circumstances. Rice began making calls.

  At midnight, Ezra officiall
y declared a state of emergency that halted all routine operations. The entire organization was ordered to focus on locating his missing brother.

  In less than an hour, the entire organization had been recruited, with Johnny Rice, undoubtedly the most suitable man for the job, at the helm. The presence of Rice at his side brought Ezra a certain comfort, at least in the sense that, if there was something that could be done, it would be done right.

  The odds were against them from the start. The attempt to locate Isaac’s phone had failed. His car was parked near his home, leaving them no clues as to his destination. The next assumption was that he had taken a cab to his unknown errand. Three men were immediately sent out to nearby taxi dispatchers. In the meantime, Rice spread out a detailed map of the city on Ezra's desk. Their first priority was to locate the last place Isaac was seen. He sent soldiers to comb Isaac’s favorite bars and other hang outs. Two other soldiers set up a war room in Sexta’s office, calling all hospital emergency rooms and police stations. After a fruitless search, they turned to systematically calling every hotel in the city and then hotels within the neighboring cities. In case Isaac had checked in under a fake name, they also gave the front desk clerks his description, but in vain. They tried searching through competitors’ gambling halls, an unlikely scenario, but they vowed to leave no stone unturned. And finally, reluctantly, they called several of their competitors’ massage parlors, but, here, too, found no tidings. At 3:30am, still with no information in his hands, Ezra picked up the phone himself and called the heads of three crime families, apologizing for the late hour, sharing his concern for his brother and asking for their help. His calls were received with great sympathy as they appreciated the extent of his distress. This wasn’t a business matter, it was personal, and thus it prompted the gates that sealed the borders between these competing organizations to open. All three gave their word that they had nothing to do with Isaac’s disappearance and agreed to direct their men to keep an eye out for any relevant information. Ezra, unsurprised by their claims of innocence, also felt that his call had startled them and that they truly had no idea of his brother’s whereabouts.

  Just as he ended his last call, news began to come in from the field. At 3:45am, their first lead was discovered. They had managed to locate Isaac’s cab driver. Rice switched the call to speaker so that Ezra could listen in to the report. One of Rice's soldiers recounted his conversation with the cab driver. He had picked up Isaac in the old north neighborhood of the city and dropped him off in the city center. Apparently, Isaac had begun his journey from home. There was no need for identifying details, as the driver knew Isaac. He described their ride as relaxed; they had some idle chatter, nothing out of the ordinary. Isaac did not reveal the exact address of his destination and the driver, of course, did not pry. Ezra, who was carefully following the conversation, heard Rice ask if the driver had mentioned a bag or any belongings that Isaac may have been carrying with him. His soldier, obviously stumped by the unexpected question, admitted that it hadn’t occurred to him to ask. The urgency of the situation had made him hasty. Rice, with matter-of-fact calmness, asked him to clarify the matter with the driver and get back to him. Ezra was already imagining the black ball this soldier had just received in Rice’s book.

  Rice replaced the receiver, picked up a black marker and marked Isaac's destination on the map. Around it, he drew a 200-yard circle. His aim was clear. Everything within that radius would be taken into consideration and explored. It was reasonable to assume that Isaac wouldn’t arrive by taxi at his precise destination. This was a basic, precautionary method they routinely employed. However, it was probably only a short walk. Wherever he was heading, he wouldn’t want to reach it breathless from miles of walking.

  Rice turned to one of the two soldiers manning the phones. He gave him a list and asked him to mark the map according to a key he had created at the top of the page. Ezra, who had been following Rice's actions, felt, once more, a deep appreciation for the man's organizational ability and thought processes. Elite army units knew how to spot and foster excellence, he thought. While Rice explained how to color code each site, the phone rang again. It was Rice's soldier, who sounded apologetic, yet relieved. He had checked back with the cab driver.

  “You were right, Johnny. Isaac had a long, tube-shaped package with him. The driver said it looked like a rolled-up poster, something like that. No, not too thick, pretty long.”

  “Was it gift-wrapped?” Johnny demanded.

  “The driver doesn’t think so. Plain brown paper wrapping.”

  “Anything else? Bag? Backpack?”

  “No, he remembers there wasn’t a bag or suitcase or backpack. He’s one hundred percent sure.” Rice thanked him for the report and hung up.

  Tube-shaped package... could be anything. A painting he wanted framed? Building blueprints, documents? They couldn’t be sure. But first things first. They’d locate the destination and then try to assess what might be in the package. The two would, most likely, be connected.

  Ezra returned to sit at his desk, supporting his tired, aching head with his hands. He kept his eyes shut as his fingers slowly massaged his temples. Behind closed eyelids, his mind wandered to the strange phone call he had received from Detective Cantor, another useless cop harassing him as an excuse for a salary funded by taxpayers. Not that harassment was anything new to him. He could understand the detectives’ frustration as they tried with great effort, over many years, to pin something serious on him, but continually failed. He had even managed to adopt quite a bit of tolerance to them since, looking at the big picture, it was really a sort of relationship - a complex relationship between rivals, a relationship that holds secrets, lies, and subversive factions.

  But the word harassment was now stuck in his mind and he let his thoughts wander. Spearheading the constant harassment against him was Haddad. Most of his efforts, he noticed, were intended to disrupt his ongoing activities, to hurt his income and mostly annoy and initiate confusion that leads to mistakes. In his opinion, this was all pointless. There was no real chance that any of this would produce the results the detective hoped for. These actions were like a swarm of mosquitoes to an elephant. He could do without it, but it wouldn’t change his daily routine. In fact, Haddad had marked up no achievements so far.

  The rumor that he’d taken out a hit? Sheer nonsense. And this Cantor guy, suggesting that they meet and talk? He had to admit that it sounded rather tempting. There was a good chance that, through an informal conversation, he might pick up more information than he’d hand out. But, on the other hand, there are also principles, like the fact that they didn’t talk with cops unless they were forced to do so. After all, if the police got the idea that he was readily available for chitchats, he’d soon be flooded with calls. This would only lower his value in this special world in which he operated. The rules were fixed and clear. If the cops wanted a meeting, they could take it up with the judge, thus ensuring that everything was structured and, most importantly, documented. There was a clear and well-defined line between them. If Mr. Cantor thought he had something to sell, he should follow the established rules.

  The soldier, bent over the map, cleared his throat for Rice’s attention. He was finished marking all the sites on the map. Ezra rose from his chair, walked around the table and joined them. A glance at his watch showed it was 4:30am.

  In the 200-yard radius, Ezra could see multiple colored markings.

  “Explain please?” he asked Rice in a quiet voice.

  “Ezra, the red dots are our massage parlors, three of them. Any red X marks the location of our escorts who work from home.”

  Ezra counted twelve. “So many?”

  Rice scratched his head apologetically. “It’s temporary. This is a fairly crowded urban neighborhood, and, besides, we’ve been recruiting lately.” The problem was that all these locations needed to be secured and that required extensive manpower.

  “Alright,” Ezra said. “Go on.”

&n
bsp; Rice pointed to the blue X markings. “These are the addresses of our large debtors. I’ve only marked those who owe over ten grand. Do you think it’s worth marking the others, too?” Ezra shook his head. “No, no need. I don’t think Isaac even knows the others. Right?”

  “I’m sure he doesn’t,” Rice said decidedly. “There are many who owe small amounts - a few thousands against their credit cards. No way is Isaac interested in those.”

  “So how many large debtors are out there right now?”

  “Twelve in the marked area. Nine of them owe between ten and twenty grand, three owe over twenty.”

  “Any of these problematic?” He meant someone who had reached his credit limit and had been told to repay some of the debt or settle it in its entirety.

  “Let me check.” Rice looked at his list and counted. “There are three, one that overdrew his limit and two marked for full settlement.”

  “Alright, write down their names next to their address on the map.”

  “Okay.”

  “What else do we have in this area?”

  “That’s about everything, except for two of our offices, but they close at six and Isaac left the cab at seven forty-five.”

  Ezra looked at the marks on the map while he waited for Rice to finish writing the debtors’ names. He ignored the massage parlors. It was unlikely that Isaac would visit one before his shift. A visit to their competitors? A little more likely, in order to enjoy some anonymity and privacy. But again, the timing wasn’t right.

  One of the debtors? This was definitely a possibility. Hopefully, one of the names would enlighten them.

  Rice finished writing down the last of the names and Ezra leaned forward and began to review them. The first four names didn’t ring a bell, but the fifth made his breath stop cold. There it was, in black and white, the name of his cop and the sum of his debt: 30,000 dollars.