by By Jon Land
The plan went off without a hitch, all going perfectly, until the first cries and shrieks of agony accompanied the sight of burning bodies crawling through the dirt. This was different and much more terrible than war, and none of the three friends had been quite prepared for it. As they fled the camp, though, leaving the screams behind, they thought of Jacob Rossovitch dying for no reason other than he was a Jew and an Israeli, killed by those whose hate dimmed their reason. Rossovitch’s death had taught his friends to hate in a whole new way as well, and to realize that fear of a much worse reprisal was the only thing that could keep terrorism in check he at all.
”What have we done?” Pearlman wondered when they stopped to catch their breaths, still close enough to the camp to see it aglow in flames and hear the lingering screams that echoed through the Jordan Rift Valley.
“What we had to do, my friend,” Wollchensky told him stoically, ”That and no more.”
* * * *
CHAPTER 22
T
wenty Arabs were killed that night,” Commissioner Hershel Giott continued. “Another hundred were wounded, some critically. Some of the survivors were crippled for life.”
“The Jen Geret massacre,” Danielle said, nodding.
“I see you’ve heard of it, Pakad.”
“A black mark on our history. I always thought lingering elements of the Irgun were behind it,” Danielle said, referring to the most militant of all Jewish resistance groups from that era.
“Because that was what we wanted the country to think. It would not have looked good for three war heroes to be blamed.”
“But you knew who it was.”
Giott looked at her impassively. “I was the chief investigating officer for the military. Understand that we had no comparable civilian authority at the time.”
“There was an investigation?”
“We had no choice. Ben-Gurion had been flooded with protests from the UN, the Red Cross, the Arab League. He even got an earful from the Americans. He had to do something.”
“And what did you do?”
“What I was asked to. The type of bombs used clearly pointed to elite Haganah commandos. Narrowing the list down even further proved to be a simple task, especially after I located the intelligence officer who admitted identifying the terrorists responsible for Rossovitch’s death to Wollchensky.”
“Wait, you’re saying you knew it was these three men all along?”
“Yes.”
“But you never arrested them. You didn’t even detain them. It would have shown up in Levy’s file if you had.”
“I interrogated Levy myself. He was the only one of the three I spoke with directly. That is how I learned the story I just told you.”
“He confessed?”
“Off the record. On the record, he and the others had an ironclad alibi. There were no witnesses and no evidence that linked them to the massacre that I could find.”
“Did you look?”
“No.”
“No?”
“I did my job, Pakad, exactly what was expected of me.”
“Your job was to investigate!”
Danielle’s stinging retort drew no emotion from Giott whatsoever. If anything, he seemed to grow even calmer. “Are you able to travel our country much, Danielle?”
“Not as much as I’d like to.”
“It’s the same for me. But when I travel south I always like to stop at Solomon’s Pillars. You are familiar with them?”
“Huge red sandstone rocks that stand at the entrance to the Timna mines.”
“They are far more than just rocks, Pakad. They are guardians of the past, having stood as they are today unchanged since the beginning of our recorded history.” Suddenly Giott’s eyes grew piercingly sharp, changing just like that. “Everything around them has been wiped out, laid waste and rebuilt two, three, a dozen times over. But Solomon’s Pillars have endured, and I have great reverence for them, as I have for anything that has endured while all around it has crumbled.”
“People are different.”
“Are they really? You ask how I became acquainted with Hyram Levy. Now you know. You ask why I cannot tell you anything more about what Levy’s associate was doing in your hospital room. Now you know that, too.”
“But I don’t know what that associate might be able to tell me about Levy’s death.”
“This man had nothing to do with that, Pakad.”
“He may know someone who did.”
“Something you will never be able to find out.”
“Unless I find him.”
“You won’t.”
“And I won’t be able to find Max Pearlman again, will I? He’s gone into hiding, but not from me. First Levy was murdered in Jerusalem, and then an attempted suicide bombing takes place in Tel Aviv where Pearlman ate lunch every day.”
“What are you getting at?”
“What if this was not a terrorist operation at all, Rav Nitzav? What if the entire attack was set up to get Pearlman?”
“That’s absurd!”
“But if I’m right, Wollchensky’s life may be in danger. Perhaps something else these men once did is behind what’s happening. Perhaps that will tell us who killed Levy and orchestrated the attack on Pearlman.” Danielle tightened her stare. “We must reach Wollchensky, Rav Nitzav.”
“We must remember the lesson of the Pillars of Solomon, Pakad,” Giott said, unmoved by her emotion, “before we do anything at all.”
* * * *
CHAPTER 23
T
he front of Zaid Jabral’s small street-level office had been blown out entirely. Glass and rubble were scattered a half block in each direction, and a pair of firemen were hosing down the blackened, charred remnants of the building, which continued to smoke.
It was obvious to Ben from viewing the scene that he hadn’t been among the first called. In fact, judging by the activity, the presence of police and other municipal officials, and the amount of water pooling in the streets, the explosion had occurred several hours before.
He searched the crowd for Jabral, hoping he had not been caught in the blast. But the presence of a converted rug van a pair of brothers now used to haul bodies, along with Jericho’s bulbous medical examiner, Dr. Bassim al-Shaer, indicated otherwise. Al-Shaer lingered outside the smoldering building, the sweat making his wrinkled khaki suit stick to him. Ben judged from the black dust staining it that he had already been inside.
“They really didn’t need me for this one,” al-Shaer said, seeing Ben’s approach.
“A bomb?”
“Tossed in through the glass, the police think. What was left of the victim was found near his desk. He never had a chance.”
“Any evidence or suspects?”
“You’re the detective.”
“It’s not my case.”
“Then find whose case it is and ask them. Leave me alone.”
Ben gazed through the remnants of what had been the glassed front of Jabral’s Jericho office. “I’ll want a complete report on this.”
“You just said it wasn’t your case.”
“He was my friend. I’m taking a personal interest.”
“Then let me give you my report now: a bomb blew him up.”
“I was hoping for something more specific.”
“Like how flying glass nearly decapitated your friend? Or how most of his flesh was burned off by the fire before the authorities arrived to put it out.”
“Then how can you be sure it’s him?”
“He was blown out of his chair. Was anyone else in the habit of sitting in it?”
Ben was about to continue to press al-Shaer, when he saw Colonel Nabril al-Asi’s Mercedes arrive. One of the colonel’s men opened the rear door for him and he stepped out, dapper as always.
“I see you got my message, Inspector,” he said, joining Ben in the street as al-Shaer took his leave.
“It was you who called me,” Ben realized.
�
�I knew you were a friend of Jabral’s.”
“Just as I know you weren’t. It’s a good thing this isn’t my case, Colonel. I might have to put you on my list of suspects, considering the criticism Jabral continually leveled at the Authority. That’s one of your jobs, isn’t it? Making sure critics of the Authority don’t stay in business very long.”
Al-Asi looked unmoved. “Jabral has appeared on Nightline. Under the circumstances, I would have chosen something more subtle. But the truth is he wrote as many articles favorable to the Authority as not, and the international press picked up more of the favorable ones.” Al-Asi gazed at the blackened shell of a building. “You can be sure I would have handled things differently.”
“In what way?”
“I would have asked you to speak with Jabral first. Now, Inspector, if you’ll be kind enough to join me in my car . . .”
“The smoke and ash too tough on your suit, Colonel?”
Al-Asi brushed off what he could. “Thank God for dry cleaners. Actually, I have something for you.”
When they were together in the backseat, the car’s windows closed and its cabin cool thanks to a still-blowing air conditioner, the colonel handed Ben an envelope. “The names of known smugglers you requested are inside. Too many to furnish complete files on each, but I can make files available once you and your Israeli friend have narrowed down the list a bit.”
“Thank you, Colonel,” Ben said sheepishly, embarrassed.
“Don’t mention it. You owe me a tie. In the meantime I would like to ask you if you know anyone, besides me, who had reason to want your journalist friend dead.”
“Not by name.”
“Any idea what he was working on?”
“Only that it was big; that’s what he said. He was excited. I got the feeling he was about to break a story that would make headlines all over the world.”
“Anything more specific?”
“No,” Ben lied, holding back the fact that Jabral had canceled their weekly coffee two days ago to interview the Palestinian Authority’s finance minister, Fayed Kabir. If this was about corruption in the Authority, al-Asi could easily be here to protect suspects instead of investigating them. No sense making his job easier until Ben was sure.
“I have another question for you,” al-Asi said, leaving things at that. “Have you told me everything about this case you’re working on?”
“Yes.”
“Missing girls and no more?”
“Isn’t that enough?”
“Ordinarily I would say no. Ordinarily I would find myself curious as to why an investigator of your caliber would concern himself with something so mundane, when the West Bank does not lack for crime. So my first thought is that there must be more going on here.”
“If there is, I haven’t found it yet.”
“I suppose I should be appreciative of anything that keeps you in the West Bank.”
“Still checking my phone calls?”
“None to the United States in the past several days. Getting back to work suits you well.”
“I’d like to find out who murdered my friend.”
“That can be arranged.”
“A stretch even for you, Colonel.”
“Not if you were working for me, Inspector. Think about it.”
Ben didn’t say he would or wouldn’t.
Al-Asi looked disappointed by his silence. “You should know that someone has been following you,” he said, almost as an afterthought.
Ben reflexively turned to look out the big car’s rear window.
“Whoever it is isn’t with us now. But yesterday, when you returned from Israel, he was there.”
“Which means someone from your office was following me as well.”
“For your own protection.”
“It seems I owe you thanks for many things, Colonel.”
“If you want my help, you need only ask for it.”
“I already have,” Ben said, holding up the envelope al-Asi just handed him.
“You will give it to the Israelis.”
“Yes.”
“In exchange for that tape.”
“Right again.”
Al-Asi nodded, as if his point had been made for him. “It could be someone does not want you to view the contents of that tape.”
Ben started to open the door. Al-Asi grasped him gently on the forearm.
“You will keep me informed, Inspector?”
“Don’t I always?”
* * * *
B
en found Nazir Jalabad in the front section of the butcher shop this time. He loitered about until the big man was free, then moved up to the counter.
“I’m being followed. I want to know if your friends in Hamas are responsible.”
Jalabad’s eyes shifted slightly. He looked tentative, even frightened. “I can’t talk now.”
“Just answer my question.”
Jalabad reached into the display case and weighed out some bloodred tenderloin. “Keep your voice down. I’ve talked with more people. I think I may know what’s going on here. I think I may know what happened to my goddaughter.”
“I’m listening.”
“I told you, not now.” Jalabad wrapped the meat in brown paper and taped it tightly closed. Then he scrawled the price across the top. “That will be three dinars.”
Ben gave him the bills. Jalabad took them and stood there, warning him off with his eyes. Ben backed wordlessly away from the counter with package in hand.
“Come again,” the big man said before Ben reached the door.
And outside when he glanced at the package he saw Jalabad had written something on it besides the price in thick black letters:
Tonight. Here. Eleven o’clock. Rear entrance.
* * * *
CHAPTER 24
D
anielle saw Ben Kamal standing outside her office when she returned from a meeting with Yori Resnick.
“You look as bad as I feel,” she said, managing a slight smile.
“You remember my friend Jabral?”
“The journalist. Of course.”
“He was killed this morning. His office was blown up.”
“I’m sorry. You could have called. You didn’t have to come.”
“I needed to see you. We still have work to do.”
“Why didn’t you wait inside my office?” she asked him.
He shrugged. “I would have felt uncomfortable.”
“Well, I felt uncomfortable seeing you standing in the hall,” Danielle said, ushering him in. She closed the door behind her.
“How did your meeting with your superior go?”
Danielle shrugged. “I wish I knew.”
Ben smiled slightly. “I see things around here haven’t changed at all.”
“And in Jericho?”
“I have some leads, but I’m not sure what they mean. The only thing of substance so far is the fact that a second girl who disappeared was enrolled in the same program Leila Fatuk was.”
“The Israeli-Palestinian student exchange?”
Ben nodded. “Aside from that, everything’s different. Leila Fatuk was still in a Palestinian school; the Khaladi girl was attending one in Israel. They share nothing in common, other than they’re both missing.”
“But if the list of enrolled students yields any more who have vanished . . .”
“I’m having trouble tracking down such a list. No one at the Palestinian Authority seems to know who’s in charge of the program. Most don’t even know it exists.”
“Maybe I can help,” Danielle offered. “You said this Khaladi girl was enrolled in an Israeli school as part of the program. I’m sure that school has a roster and that there must be a master list available somewhere. Let me see what I can do.”
“Speaking of which,” Ben started, reaching into his pocket for the list Nabril al-Asi had produced for him, “I have the names of Palestinians most known to smuggle goods into Israeli shops.”
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