Crossing the Lines

by Jacob Ganani

  “What do you mean, an unsigned draft?” Azar asked incredulously. “We don’t deliver unsigned drafts to court.” He turned. “Haddad?”

  Haddad cleared his throat and answered practically, “Of course not. The original signed agreement was in the file. You could check with Matilda Smia - she prepared the folder for the judge.”

  “So someone tampered with it!!” the lieutenant roared, losing his remaining self-control.

  “But who?” Cantor intervened trying to divert some of the fire away from his colleagues.

  “Who? Who! Well, let’s recap what we know, if, indeed, we know anything at all.”

  Haddad and Cantor shared a knowing glance.

  Goldman restored control to his voice. His foreboding tone made it clear that things would not easily return to business as usual. He added sarcastically, “Personally, I don’t think we know half the shit going on around here lately. Go ahead, Haddad. Tell me exactly what occurred since the last time you were in possession of the complete file.”

  Haddad began, “After Cantor and I made sure that the file was in order, I left the interrogation room. I immediately handed the file to Sergeant Matilda Smia for review and registration. She personally confirmed that everything was complete. When she returned it to me, we rechecked and the original signed agreement was inside. Cantor stepped out and I remained with the detainee and the file.” He looked toward Cantor, who confirmed this with a nod.

  “At 12:55pm, I headed out of the building with the detainee after securing his hands and feet, according to procedures. In the parking lot, I met Yeremi Gantz, who mentioned that he was also on his way to the courthouse. He offered to escort the prisoner since he was heading there anyway. I figured, why not? This was part of our usual routine. Duties are often shared between officers. So I handed him the file and he took over. As the van left for court, I called Cantor and updated him. Cantor didn’t like the fact that Yeremi was escorting the prisoner alone and suggested that I follow them. He said that this case was too important, and I agreed with him. I got into my car and headed out. After a few minutes, I overtook the van and we arrived at the court at the same time. And then, the second I stepped out of the car, I heard the shot. If I hadn’t met Yeremi in the parking lot, I’d have been dead and Yeremi would still be alive.” Haddad managed to look faintly regretful and guilty. “When the detectives from CSU arrived, they collected the guns and the file.”

  There was a long pause and Goldman’s voice returned. “What are you trying to say? That someone from CSU messed with this case?” he said with a snakelike hiss.

  “I’m just recounting the facts,” Haddad answered quietly, careful not to add more trouble to the lieutenant’s frayed nerves.

  “So I’ll tell you what the facts are, Superintendent! Someone tampered with the fucking file! And as I see it, it could have been only you or Gantz. And while we’re at it, there are some other inconsistencies. You said that you left with the prisoner after cuffing and securing his hands and feet, right? So how was it that he was found uncuffed at the scene? Can you explain that?”

  “I’ll repeat what I’ve said again.” Haddad sounded quite calm - perhaps too calm, which certainly didn’t help lower the intensity of the lieutenant’s anger. “When I put him in the transport van, he was cuffed and shackled. I believe the driver can vouch for that.”

  “So Gantz took off his cuffs?! Why the devil would he do such a thing? Tell me why?”

  Haddad knew why, but that would remain his and Cantor’s secret.

  “I’m sending you for a polygraph.” Goldman scornfully spat out the words, clearly not believing a single word Haddad was saying.

  “No problem,” Haddad replied calmly. He was certain that these things were being said out of rage. And Goldman was, undoubtedly, very angry.

  “Well… they’ll update you about that. Is there any chance he’ll sign the deal again?”

  “We’ll certainly try,” said Haddad.

  “Yes.” Azar added.

  “And why do I get the feeling you won’t succeed?” Goldman summed up in a blatantly sarcastic tone. He turned to Azar as though he preferred to completely ignore Haddad and Cantor.

  “Ah, and another thing. I spoke to Gilboa, and he doesn’t even have a copy of the agreement. After he signed it, someone assured him that you or I needed to approve it before he received a copy. What, exactly, can we send him now?”

  David Azar rose from his chair and Haddad and Cantor swiftly followed. Goldman turned to the window overlooking the sea. With his back to them, he added, “One last thing. Do you know anything about the unregistered gun found on Gantz?”

  “It’s still unclear. We’re on it. I’ll keep you informed,” Azar said.

  As they opened the door to leave the room, Goldman remained at the window, looking out. He didn’t bother bidding them goodbye.

  CHAPTER 61

  Sunday - noon

  Yeremi Gantz’s funeral was solemn and dignified, as if to compensate for the lack of respect and attention he was paid when alive. Rows of uniformed policemen and detectives in dark shades stood together under an overcast sky, surrounded by tall cypress trees and well-tended lawns. A small group of civilians - too small, Cantor thought - stood in the back. He didn’t recognize anyone who seemed like close family. The loneliness Yeremi spoke about in his last moments proved to be true.

  As they were leaving the cemetery, he stopped and turned abruptly, almost colliding with Haddad who was walking close behind him. “I’ve decided to resign,” he said cautiously.

  Haddad, who’d had enough of back-to-back surprises, flew into a rage. “Stop fucking around! I don’t want to hear that kind of nonsense. You need some time off. Take a week, take a month, go to Thailand, clear your head. Everything’ll pass, even what you think you’re feeling right now. In a month’s time, you won’t even believe the word “resign” ever came out of your mouth. Even an idiot like you can understand who he is and where he really belongs! Your place is here. There’s no other place for you.”

  Cantor pursed his lips. He wasn’t so sure. If he was being honest with himself, was it possible that joining the police force had essentially been a mistake? Were his methods - which included deception, digression, manipulation, and basically taking the law into his own hands - truly unexpected? Was his behavior, ingrained with old habits, just a part of who he now was? Perhaps his character had proved to be incompatible with being a team player in an organization for which teamwork was the essence? And to add insult to injury, he’d drawn in Haddad, whose entire career was a symbol of exemplary police conduct!

  CHAPTER 62

  “Go ahead, Albert.” David Azar, his tone still carrying traces of anger from their meeting with the lieutenant commander, leaned back in his chair and instinctively reached for the pen on his desk. Aware of his actions, he pulled his hand back. It was not yet time to take notes on a subject he had no clue about.

  Haddad leaned forward and looked into Azar’s eyes. “I asked to meet so we can talk about Cantor.” He paused, letting his words sink in.

  “What about Cantor?” Azar wondered.

  “Bottom line: my recommendation is to transfer him to another division.”

  “Transfer? Why?”

  Haddad looked up at the ceiling as he considered his words. “Not because he did anything wrong. I don’t think it’s a question of incompatibility. On the contrary, as his C.O., I was truly impressed by his performance. He’s a professional. But, let’s just say, his temperament isn’t ideal for the narcotics division. It’s a matter of composure and patience that I believe he’s lacking.”

  “And this has nothing to do with the Sexta case?”

  “You mean our work together on the case? Definitely not. I’ve studied him this whole time, and I’m offering my recommendation. And, by the way, I understand we need to downsize by the end of the month, so it works out well.”

  Azar rose from his chair and turned to the window behind him. He gazed out at
the horizon while Haddad waited in silence. He then turned back and asked, “And what do you think will be a good fit for him?”

  “CID, homicide. Criminal investigation would be perfect for him.”

  Azar stood quietly. There was no immediate rejection of the idea, which made Haddad release a sigh of relief.

  “CID?” Azar scratched the back of his neck. “Their demands are quite high, as you know.”

  “True, but he’ll have no problem fulfilling them, especially with your recommendation.”

  Azar sat back in his chair with a groan.

  “I understand you’ve given this some thought, right? Let me consider it, Albert.”

  “Absolutely, David, thank you.”

  “And send me a memo with your clear recommendation.”

  “No problem.”

  CHAPTER 63

  Sunday - afternoon

  “So what’s so important that you had to tell me in person?” Daphne, whose rigid body language maintained a cool distance between them, rested her chin on her palm and glared skeptically into his eyes.

  They were at a small café near her apartment. It was nearly a week since they had broken off contact after their last argument. When he called and asked to meet, she replied that there was no point, that it would be better for them to find a new life for themselves. But he insisted, saying that one more meeting couldn’t hurt, and that, even if it was the last time they met, it needed to happen. There was silence at her end of the line as she deliberated, but finally she acquiesced. One more meeting. A last farewell to a relationship that had long since crumbled.

  Cantor leaned forward and gazed intensely and sincerely into her eyes. “First, I want you to know you’re important to me. Very important. I won’t offer any insights on the subject of love, since you already know I don’t really understand it... but, if wanting with all your heart to be with one single someone for the rest of your life is called love, then I love you.”

  Daphne leaned forward slightly, her eyes searching his face. She said nothing.

  Cantor leaned back and reached into the inside pocket of his jacket. He brought out a long, bulging envelope. He placed it on the table in front of her.

  “What’s this?” she asked.

  “Why don’t you open it?”

  She glanced at his glistening eyes and noticed a glimmer of anxiousness, a fear of failure. For a moment, he seemed to her like a child waiting for his wish to come true. She opened the envelope and pulled out its contents.

  “Flight tickets?” She couldn’t hide the surprise in her voice.

  “Yes, well, I know we’ve already been to Vietnam, but it wasn’t really a holiday -”

  “You’re completely crazy -”

  “Consider me a born-again believer. I realize it now - I’ve made some serious mistakes. We simply never talked about what life with a cop was going to be like. If I’d known then what I understand now, then maybe we’d have succeeded in building a wonderful relationship together, like Dolly and Albert.”

  “Do you really believe going back to Hanoi will produce some magic spell to erase everything that happened between us and replace it all with happiness and bliss forever?”

  “I don’t know, but I’d like to believe so. I have a simple wish: I want us to press ‘delete’ on everything that happened after that morning in the lobby of the Sofitel Plaza. We’ll begin from there, and make our way to the Great Pagoda. This time, we’ll cross the road safely. And after Hanoi, we’ll continue North. We’ll tour the amazing rice fields, meet people among the most unique and colorful in the world. We’ll take the night train, which is a once in a lifetime experience, stay at the Victoria Hotel and get to experience 19th century colonialism -”

  “Is that the night train with the bunk beds in the sleeper car and the military-style wake-up call at four in the morning?”

  “Yes, that’s the one.”

  Daphne leaned back wistfully, staring at the tree tops across the road. Cantor tensely awaited the verdict, one of the rare times in his life when his confidence had deserted him.

  “You’re killing me, you know that? You’re the strangest man I’ve ever met in my life and I’ve met some weird ones. Go back in time, delete almost an entire year of our lives and start over? If that’s not an original proposal, then I don’t know what is.”

  “So we’ll go?”

  The waiter returned at the most inopportune time to ask if everything was okay. Cantor gave him a thumbs-up and then took her hand in his. To his relief, she didn’t pull away.

  “You know what, Oded?” She called him Oded, and not Cantor, which sounded like an optimistic start. “I want to think about it. Is that okay?”

  “Sure!” he answered without hesitation.

  “And now I’ve got to go. I still have tons of work to do today.”

  “Sounds like something I’d say,” he smiled.

  “But you wouldn’t dare, right?”

  “No way. I’ll wait to hear from you.”

  She stood up, hitched her bag onto her shoulder and leaned over to kiss him on the cheek. As she turned and walked toward the exit, his eyes followed her.

  At the door, she suddenly turned and asked, “Hey, Cantor, do you have a suitcase I can borrow?”

  A wide smile spontaneously erupted and spread across his face. She turned back toward the door and disappeared.

  Epilogue

  The two couples finished the wonderfully delicious and colorful dinner that Dolly Haddad had prepared and were busy praising the cook, who blushed with pleasure and waved them to stop.

  “Such flatterers! Why don’t you men sit in the living room while we girls clean up and enjoy some girl talk?” Dolly suggested and Daphne agreed with a smile.

  “Are you sure? After all this indulgence, the least we can do is clean up. It’ll be our modest contribution,” Cantor offered.

  “I’ll tell you why it isn’t a good idea,” Dolly answered in a tone that left no room for argument. “This dinner set’s a family heirloom passed down through three generations, and I promised our daughter that, one day, she’ll receive them in one piece. So do me a favor, skip the false niceties and let us enjoy some privacy.”

  “Oded, I think they’re pretty determined. Come on, I’ve got a puzzle for you,” Haddad said contentedly.

  “A puzzle?”

  “Well, maybe not a puzzle. A mystery, maybe?”

  “Puzzle, mystery, riddle… I just hope it’s something easy now that you’re familiar with my wonderful detective skills.”

  “Yeah, tell me about it... but don’t worry, it’s exactly up your alley, believe me.”

  “Okay, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  They got up and made their way to the comfortable recliners, Haddad picking out a bottle of whiskey and glasses from the bar on the way.

  “Remember what you told me about Zweig and his jigsaw puzzles? How he said that it’s easier to find the pieces that don’t fit and then look at the remaining pieces for the match. Something of that sort, if I remember correctly,” Haddad began. “Anyway, after Yeremi’s shooting, I had to figure out what exactly happened there in front of the courthouse.”

  Cantor didn’t answer. He focused his attention on the bottle of whiskey in his friend’s hand as he carefully poured it into the glasses on the table.

  “So that’s the point,” Haddad continued. “What I haven’t been able to understand until now is how the assassin appeared at exactly the moment Yeremi and Moish stepped out of the van.”

  Cantor sipped his whiskey without comment.

  “Do you know - at first, I was sure that you were the one who shot Yeremi?”

  Cantor cradled the whiskey glass in his hand and said, “Let’s start with the fact that you thought right. You knew I was the only sniper in the area and my target was Yeremi… and you’re right, I did take a shot, but I missed. Then you realized that the shot came from the Audi and you suspected I’d given Ezra Sexta the details of our schedu
le so he’d send the assassin. Am I correct in my assumption?”

  “Yes, you’re correct. And I’ve no problem with what you did, considering Gantz was a murderer and a traitor. But I have to know the truth.”

  “Yeremi arranged for his own murder,” Cantor said quietly.

  “What?”

  “Yes. He may have done so inadvertently, but he did so, nonetheless. I didn’t speak with Sexta that day, but Yeremi heard your conversation with Matilda and came up with a brilliant idea. He left Sexta an anonymous message about our court schedule. He must have thought his only problem with Ezra was the ultimatum he’d given. He never imagined Ezra knew he’d killed his brother. So he thought that providing information about the ‘traitor,’ Moish,” Cantor held up his fingers, putting air quotes around the word, “would patch things up with Ezra. He also believed Sexta would kill Moish. In short, two birds with one stone. But then, in the van, he had another idea: release Moish, and urge him to run - a perfect way to take care of the problem on his own. It was his Plan B if Sexta didn’t come through. Only he never got the chance.”

  “That’s why he took off Moish’s handcuffs in the transport van.”

  “Exactly, so everyone would think that Moish had managed to break free. Yeremi came after him and aimed at his back, and then I took a shot to neutralize him, but I missed. At that moment, he was shot from the Audi. Is everything clear now, Detective Haddad?”

  Haddad took a sip of whiskey and said skeptically, “How did Sexta get someone there in less than two hours? Was that enough time to prepare?”