by Dana Arama
We were at the last lane before the next plantation when we saw the white Subaru. The rural tranquility almost hid it from us. I immediately switched from boyfriend mode to bodyguard. I pushed her back into the trees and crouched down. The hood of the Subaru had blood on it. The car windows were open, and in it I saw two figures. They were sitting still. I left her there and outflanked the car. I approached from an angle at which its inhabitants could not see me. I soon discovered they wouldn’t see anyone ever again. The driver and photographer were dead, victims of fatal cuts on their necks. I scanned all the possible consequences. My eyes searched for the camera. It was gone. I didn’t know how long they’d followed us, but I was hoping that the images that captured on it didn’t justify murder.
Half an hour after I called Nadav, the real celebration began. "Don’t move. Don’t touch anything!" he commanded me, and except for calling Yoav, I did nothing more.
"Come by yourself and don’t say where you’re going. I'm just next to Nachman’s nectarines. Come quick."
"I'm coming.” I felt more relaxed.
Gabi didn’t look shocked, just embarrassed - socially. "I feel so bad. I’ve ruined your parents’ party." She repeated this phrase several times. I assumed she was probably in shock.
"Nonsense. In a second, my brother will be here. He’ll settle things down."
"Maybe you should go and I'll stay to greet the police?"
"With a killer still around?" I enclosed her hand in mine and we walked quickly. I almost dragged her. I preferred to greet Yoav about fifty meters from the Subaru. I didn’t want him to see the bodies. The details I had to give him were bad enough.
"Listen Yoavi," I said, feeling like the little brother who didn’t want to deal with scary things alone. "There’s been a murder."
"A murder? Are you serious?" His gaze lingered long on Gabriella’s face, and all I could think of at the moment was how this woman highlighted the differences between us. It's not that I have anything against Iris, but she was like Orit, the girl who had always adored me. He would never deal with such a girl with a can of worms on her back. Not even with someone so beautiful and sophisticated.
"Two photographers chased us," I explained. I made sure to give him the relevant details to him alone. "I led them into the flowers. We continued to the grapes, left our car, and continued on foot up here. They lost us and tried to ambush us on the way. But someone killed them. Within a few minutes, the police cars should come. I need you to wait on the road and direct them here, and reassure our parents.”
"Of course. Consider it done. This is your boss?”
"Yes. This is Gabriella. Gabriella, this is my brother, Yoav.” They shook hands with cold politeness, and I suddenly felt an unbearable burden. Two people had been killed, almost before my eyes. It was not supposed to be a struggle for life. This was to be a struggle for a photograph that would sell the most to the newspapers.
"Well, I’ll go up to the crossroads. From there, I’ll call home. I’ll tell them that something came up at the last minute. You really better go direct the cars through the territories, so they don’t go through the moshav itself." Shortly after he left, sirens were audible on the main road.
As evening fell, the flashing lights of the police cars assumed more dramatic dimensions. The presence of policemen led Gabriella to stick to me like a little girl. I didn’t know whether to hang this behavior on memories of the past, or the idea that the killer might still be around, or thinking about the crime she was planning.
After our first interrogation, we were taken to the offices of the central unit of the area. There, we were separated completely. I hated the fact that I couldn’t be with her. Not for one moment was I worried by what she’d say. We had nothing to hide, at least on the subject of this murder. The rest of the information that I knew, I kept to myself. I told the investigator and another one what I did for Gabriella, how we went from Tel Aviv and drove up here, how, when I recognized the Subaru following, I’d sidestepped it, and how we found it in the end, with two butchered men in it. When they asked where I lived, I gave them my parents’ address in the moshav. Also included in the investigation were questions about the relationship between Gabriella and me, and one of the researchers even put the pen down for a moment and said: "Now, not for the transcript, you fucking her?"
I wanted to tell him that it was none of his business, but I bit the answer back and simply replied, "Yes."
"And how would you define this relationship?”
I couldn’t believe I’d fallen for such an obvious trick, but there was no going back. "A working relationship with bonuses, I think."
He smiled. "An interesting arrangement.”
It was already past midnight when a tall, dark officer entered the room. "Good evening. I’m Menashe," he said by way of introduction and immediately added, "Nadav sends his regards. He regrets that he can’t come." Oh, I realized, he’s supposed to be a friend. That's why he did not show his rank.
I calmed down. “Thank you." I smiled at him. I was hoping that he wasn’t just applying a new method of inquiry. "You know what's up with Gabriella?" I asked.
"Yes. She’s being questioned by investigators from the National Investigation Unit. We were able to identify fingerprints from the scene. The Russian mafia’s in the picture again, and we fear that she was supposed to be the victim, or maybe the two of you. This may be their idea of a warning. We're still not sure. In any case, National Investigation Unit and the Lahav unit, that studies international crimes, are now on this too.”
"So we’re free to go?”
"You're free, but consider yourselves warned. They may follow you.”
"We’re supposed to fly to Paris next week. Do you think we’ll get permission for that?”
"Talk about it with the Lahav unit. In the coming days, we'll know more. In terms of the investigation of this double murder, if there are additional details that you remember, be sure to get in touch." He consulted an endless list that included giving my testimony, and possibly that of Gabriella’s. "The camera disappeared. It may be the key to the mystery.”
"I was looking for it around and inside the car, but only through the windows. I didn’t want to move anything or touch the bodies. I thought maybe they were killed because of the camera itself. It was probably very expensive.”
"We’re not ruling anything out. I hope we find it. Do you think there might have been incriminating photos on it?”
"Incriminating who?”
"You and Gabriella?”
"I’ve no idea when we were being followed, but the most incriminating thing we did was kiss in public. At most, it can sell more papers, not kill someone.”
"Those two saw something they weren’t supposed to see. And the missing camera says they probably also recorded it.”
I thought he was right, but I didn’t want to continue to have that talk. “Can I see Gabriella now?”
"Wait for her in the lobby. When the Lahav unit finishes with her, you can go home.”
We left the rooms almost at once and she fell into my arms. We held each other a few minutes and then I whispered to her, "Let's go home.”
"Do you think it’s safe there?”
"You want to go somewhere else?”
"Let's go to a hotel. Tomorrow morning, we can go home." A policeman was watching us. On his face was an expression of dissatisfaction.
I was curious to know what she told the investigators or if she mentioned the farm up north. I was hoping that this trauma would encourage her to include me in this dark secret she was keeping.
***
The stay at the Hilton Tel Aviv proved to me that complicated administrative problems can be resolved with a lot of money. It was two in the morning, but the room was inviting and luxurious, offering the peace we lacked. Still, we could not sleep. That night, we lay down and talked. We didn’t even undress. I stroked her face and hair. When I thought she had calmed down, I began: "The police said they identified the fingerpri
nt of a Russian mafia member. These are the people who attacked you in the past -”
"I'm not sure," she interrupted me." Perhaps."
“Only 'perhaps'? Do you know why they're targeting you? Is it because of your business background? For personal reasons?" I knew I was pushing her, but I felt I had every right to do so. At this point, even my ass started to burn. I deserved to know more.
She began to squirm." Look, I don’t know the details all of my husband’s partnerships. He dealt mostly in diamonds. Just before his murder, he committed to a major deal with a Russian oligarch, but the auditors have promised me that all his business activities were with companies that are known and legal.”
She sat up in bed as she prepared herself for a long story. How much of that would be true, I did not know. "Dan used to work around the world. Africa, Europe, the Far East, India. He even went to Russia to shop for uncut diamonds. When he was in Russia, he was careful to buy only Alrosa and Gohrn. Alrosa is one of the world's leading diamond mining companies and Gohrn is an agency of the Russian government’s diamond reserves and is under the supervision of the Ministry of Finance. Is there anything more official than that? No. If you buy through them, the purchase should go through without any problem.”
"Could it be one of these visits went wrong somehow?" I said. "Maybe someone double crossed him?”
"I can’t believe that. You don’t buy a diamond by going to a shop, paying, and leaving with merchandise in your hand. You also don’t go in there with cash. You call, make an appointment, and banks back up your ability to pay, and the deal gets approved… then you go check over the goods. After signing a deal with a handshake, wire transfer deals are made and the diamonds come to Israel about ten days later, via the courier company. These are the official marketing channels and those who work through them should be exempt from any danger.”
"You know a lot about it… so you were your husband's partner?” I got up and went to the refrigerator. "May he tried to cut corners?" I took a bottle of water for me and a juice for her and added a bag of sugary peanuts. The last time we put something in our mouths was while cheese tasting in Tel Aviv. "Perhaps he was smuggling diamonds to save brokerage fees? Maybe, on the way, he annoyed the wrong people?” I considered ordering room service, but didn’t want to stop her now.
She shook her head vigorously. "Dan never tried to save money and smuggle diamonds. That’s a really stupid way to get involved with criminals.” After thinking a moment, she added: "But the police told me that, even though the difference between the oligarchs, whose business is worldwide, and criminal groups, is substantial, we now know that sometimes they’re involved with each other." She sat up and took a sip from the bottle of juice. I continued to listen. "There are situations where the oligarchs use violent criminals, usually to deal with competitors. Their hands stay clean. Dan's case may be one of these.”
“Did they find any connection between the men they put away for it and criminal groups engaged in diamond smuggling?”
"The kidnappers, who were caught and sentenced, led indirectly to someone named Sergey Vlotzky. They never were able to prove his involvement either in the murder, or even in the diamond market. It’s a secret Russian thing. There’s no proof.” Her hands opened and closed the bottle that she held impatiently. Was this nervousness due to what she said or what she was not saying?
"Maybe this Sergey tried to break through because of your husband? To step up in his own field.”
"Maybe." She looked thoughtful. "I didn’t ever think about that.” This answer seemed strange. I believed it was an obvious hypothesis. What did she think Sergey wanted from him? What could he want?
She went on to tell me about the police who came to her house on the day of the kidnapping, the call received from a citizen who was passing by and was suspicious, the negotiating team that remained at her home waiting, tuned into the listening equipment they had installed. "When Dan came out of the Diamond Exchange, they began to follow him. We saw it in retrospect on cameras scattered about." She ran her hand through her hair, pushing it back from her face. When she looked up at me, I saw the pain and sadness. I recognized it from our first meeting.
"During the trial, I learned that at least three people were involved in the kidnapping itself, and that on the day itself, they began to torture Robbie, so Dan cooperated with them."
"These guys don’t waste time and they don’t play games.”
Her voice shook as she continued. "Shortly before they closed the bank branch of the Israel Diamond Exchange, Dan called the clerk who handled our stock portfolio, and told him to sell all of the case. This ran to millions, and could only be redeemed the next day and only at the central branch in Tel Aviv. That kind of money’s too large for the branch Stock Exchange and it was to the benefit of the kidnappers. The next morning, when the police questioned the officials in our branch, Dan and the kidnapper had already collected the money from the main branch and disappeared."
I suddenly felt the humanity that the online stories about the kidnapping lacked. She rubbed her temples. The memories shocked her. There was no doubt about it. "You know…" A sad smile curled the corner of her mouth. "… the kidnapper didn’t even have a gun in his hand. He’d left it behind."
She took a deep breath and continued the story. I listened patiently. It seemed to me that she had to get it off her chest. “The next day, they located another kidnapper from the gang in one of the banks. He tried to cash a check from our private account for the sum of 350,000. We moved large sums sometimes, mainly because we’d been renovating the house, but this was almost all the amount we had in the bank. The police, who suspected this would happen, waited for the kidnappers at the branch, but only the one appeared. The others simply disappeared, along with Dan and Robbie. SWAT went in when the kidnapper who was caught at last divulged their hiding place, but their criminal buddies just threw the two bodies away and were gone for good. The police investigation led to another capture - the man who accompanied Dan to the main branch.”
"And the other sons of a bitches?”
I heard resignation in her voice as she answered: "The two that were caught are still in jail and refuse to talk. They didn’t reveal their partners or their sender.”
Despite the painful memories, she didn’t cry. I knew this state of extreme fatigue. It took you to the point where you can’t feel anything. "It was like a nightmare that you don’t wake up from. At any moment, I expected Dan to open the door and walk in, and all the cops to melt away.”
She stood up, opened the refrigerator, and without selecting, took out a small bottle of alcohol and drank from it. With her back to me, she kept speaking quietly. "In the morgue, I couldn’t identify them. Their faces were all swollen up. To this day, I don’t know if it's because of the beatings they suffered or because some time had passed from their deaths before I came to identify them.”
She sat down in the chair next to the bed and hugged her thighs. This was the position she used to sit in, in her chair, when I went swimming at night and she watched me from afar.
"I immediately told the staff that it wasn’t them, that they didn’t look like that. I was so relieved. But, the next moment, I recognized Dan's wedding ring and the air was sucked from my lungs. All his fingers were broken. Robbie looked even worse. I still don’t know if I passed out because of the identification or because I saw that they were tortured.”
"It’s enough to break anyone.”
"Not only did I collapse - I broke down completely." Her voice broke and her eyes turned moist, but she still didn’t cry. Instead, she sipped alcohol and bit her lip. "I realized from the reports that Robbie was subjected to most of the torture. His face was distorted. Broken. My prince suffered in his last days, and I wasn’t there to comfort and protect him! What kind of mother was I, what kind of wife?"
She got up from the chair and came back to lie next to me. Again, I stroked her hair. "The nightmare continued for another two years." She stared at a p
oint in space. "First, there was the investigation. The police checked all the possible links between our business and the Russian mafia, but the journalists were just looking for dirt." She was angrily talking to a prominent spot somewhere on the wall most distant from the bed. "They didn’t hesitate to probe every detail of our lives. Even Robbie’s! Every day, I opened the newspaper and read new details… some were so random. They could have written we murdered Rabin and they would have been believed." She sank into memories. I felt she was picking which ones she was willing to share with me.
"And what about when the investigation ended?"
She looked at me. She seemed surprised to see me there. I felt, for a moment, that she really wasn’t there with me, in the present.
"Next, it was as if everyone understood that what happened to us could happen to them. Suddenly, I became the ultimate sacrifice.”
"Why did you think that?" She was lying on her stomach and I ran my hand along her back. There was something in it that reassured her. She closed her eyes. I began to hear the weariness in her voice.
"Oh, suddenly the press were on my side. They wrote about my volunteer activities, the family's contributions to the community, Robbie’s social activities. You don’t know… he really was an unusual child." Anger flared in her for a moment, "You see, all this sympathy only helped to deepen my sense of loss.” Again, she sank into memories and considered her words. "That's why I'm so upset about the paparazzi not letting me live.”
So angry you could kill? I thought as it suddenly occurred to me that maybe she had a hand in the death of the two men in the Subaru. Again, I asked myself: how much do I know about this woman lying next to me? She was so complex that I didn’t know what to expect from her. One thing I knew for sure: the more the night advanced, the more I was tied to her.
She fell asleep as first light dawned. I saw the day come up through a narrow slot in between the two curtains. What I wanted her to tell me most, she continued to hide. I could only try to imagine how she felt then, and how she felt now that the fresh murders had brought up things again. I could understand the anger that led her to set up a torture chamber in the packing house up north. My question now was: for whom was it intended? Bad men in general, or for a special evil person?
