by Dana Arama
From the staircase, I could see Gabi and Pierre talking in the living room, drink in hand. Wet hair and a robe wrapped around her body indicated that she’d showered. Where did she do it? In his bathroom? How close were they? And where did that leave me? I looked at her and watched for a hint of mental instability. A short time ago, she was attacked and I killed a man in front of her eyes. What kind of woman was now able to smile at the man in front of her and drink pricy alcohol?
I went downstairs and found that things you see from down here, you do not see from up there. I stood behind the door, listening. She was crying.
“You’ve just suffered a shock. The alcohol will help you cover it," I heard Pierre say.
"He continues to haunt me," she told him, "It turns out he follows me, or at least, he did."
"When did he start to do that?" Pierre's voice sounded calm and civilized. There was a lot of intimacy in their conversation, as if only they understood who and what it was about.
"Since we closed the deal with Sergey."
Whoa! Until now, I was sure that the case against this Russian had been dropped. She didn’t even know him, and if he wasn’t stalking her, who was? Who was this new character that had joined the party? And, I couldn’t ignore the new information: she’d closed some sort of a deal with Sergey… the man who may have been responsible for the murder of her husband! What kind of deal was it?
"Maybe he was following you even before?" This question hinted at more than was asked. I heard expectation in his voice.
"Perhaps, but he had nothing to find. He didn’t have it before. It was a one-time thing. The follow-up started because he knew that I met you." If so, Pierre was a partner in the whole thing?
I stood there with pieces of information that didn’t have to do with anything. One-time thing? If it was a murder, then there was nothing more ‘one-time’ then that! Maybe it was a one-time invitation to murder? The more I knew her better, the more my suspicions grew.
"And now he’s threatening to re-open the case. He blames me for the murder." Is there anyone else who suspects her of being responsible for the murder of her husband and her son?
"I realize that I need to hurry with the apartment in Paris. You have no future in Israel." And what about my future? I wanted to ask.
"You’ve said that before. When was that? Twenty years ago, about..."
"I made that mistake once. I’ve paid for it since. This time, I promise not to disappoint you."
"Thank you, Pierre. For everything.”
"All for you, my dear, everything!" Did ‘everything’ include murder? Did she compel him to commit murder, and me to murder another one? Was the torture room designed for the third person? Maybe the person who suspects her?
I knocked on the door gently and went into the room. Pierre was in love with Gabriella. The last sentence just told me we were all just pawns in her game. The border between hapless victim and attacker was completely blurred. From that conversation, I realized that we weren’t safe here. If Sergey knew about Pierre and about their relationship, it would be one of the places he’d look for her.
"Good evening," I smiled at them both. We’d barely had time to draw breath, but I was going to destroy this brief respite. "Tell me - is there a chance that whoever’s hunting us knows about the relationship between the two of you?"
They looked at each other. “And it’s not at all difficult to find this house," added Gabriella.
"Though quite difficult to penetrate it.” Pierre's soothing words contradicted his wrinkled brow.
How long did it take Henri to discover that Evgeny was no longer in the apartment? I thought. I estimated their whole operation was to be carried out in ten to fifteen minutes. Assuming that after twenty-five minutes, he began to call for back up, it took them a minimum of fifteen minutes to get there, offset by the time it took us to get rid of the body and get out of there… I glanced at my watch. It was eleven-thirty. "We’re likely to come under attack any moment."
"Aha, watch on the right hand. You were in the Israeli commando!" His speech was more a declaration than a question.
This exposure had never been lucky for me, and was even less so now. "Yes," I said reluctantly. Now I was angry at myself for not remembering to put the watch on my left wrist.
"Last weekend, I won a yacht in a card game. I haven’t yet registered her in my name, so it’s still safe, but I have a letter from the previous owner and the documentation. This should be all you need to get out and go into foreign ports.”
"Where’s it located?" Gabriella asked.
"Right now, it should be at the marina in Nice. Not very close, but a night drive, and you’d be in a safe place."
"That’s a good place for us to stay a few days."
Pierre replied, "I believe that the best place for you right now is in Israel." When he turned to me he added, "You think you can sail it?"
"I think I can manage. You know what state it’s in?"
"Not really. But it should be in good condition. It was a game for hundreds of thousands of euros." He smiled. It was his way of saying that it was likely to be well-maintained. "I’ve no idea about the world of yachts. Apart from giving you the keys and paperwork, I can’t help you."
"I have experience with yachts," Gabriella added. "The question is, how do we get there?"
"As quickly as possible, of course. In the little Porsche. The trip from here to Nice on the AutoRoute will take you about eight hours. Let me know where it’s parked and I'll pick it up from there. And now - go! Go get dressed!”
***
Twenty minutes later, we were racing along the side road on our way to the AutoRoute. Between the bushes that separated Pierre’s driveway from the road, I could identify the lights of one car, and another following it. I turned off the Porsche’s lights briefly. I knew that the road led to Pierre’s house, but I didn’t know where it went beyond that.
"You know where the road goes after Pierre’s property?" I asked Gabriella. I got no answer. Fatigue had overwhelmed her. She was asleep. I was happy for her to be spared more tension. With all my heart, I hoped that those lights were not the thugs hunting us. If so, they were about to break into the estate.
The GPS device makes you feel at home anywhere in the world. Driving at night proved to be a good idea, and I knew the time to Nice was little over seven hours. All the while, Gabriella was asleep next to me. She woke up when we got to the center of Nice. The whole town woke with her and the traffic thickened. It took us more than half an hour to get to the marina.
In a short time we found the boat. We had the required documents and made it our own. It was a kind of a Swan yacht. Not too big and clumsy, but properly set up. I assumed she was part of a fleet of some ships, as her name was Madeleine I. Next to her was Madeleine II and Madeleine III, which were larger and more luxurious. Each one was different from the next.
Gabriella handed me the key. "See if there’s enough fuel. I'm going to check the safety equipment, water and food." In an instant, she had gone to the stern.
I put in the key and the system responded. "Diesel tank full," I called to her.
She climbed up the wooden stairs and gave me a smile from the stern. In her hand, she carried a can of foie gras. "Where food’s concerned, we have more than enough.”
"I'm glad they kept her in style!”
We started the yacht, let go the mooring ropes, pulled the fenders aboard, and with great ease, we slipped out of the marina. I wasn’t familiar with this one, but it was user friendly. Soon, we were in the open sea and I moved the wheel over. I wanted to check out the navigation equipment at our disposal.
"Even in terms of navigation equipment, it’s only the best,” I said as I went back to the cockpit.
"How do you want to do this? Four hours on, four off?"
"You can manage that? It’s at least ten days to Israel." I hesitated. I didn’t think she was up to such a task. Just being at sea was tiring; adding to that four hours of concentrat
ion and short sleep periods… not an easy task.
"There’s no choice. I think it's better to save time by mooring overnight in available marinas along the way. How are we in terms of communication equipment?”
"The very best.”
"I want to call Pierre. I have to know he's okay.” She was really worried about him. I was pleased to see that she had humanity and she didn’t try to hide it.
"We agreed not to call yet. We have to stick to it. He’ll send us an email when it’s safe to call. I'm sure there's no problem," I lied. "Our departure was designed to keep us away from him, for his own safety."
"I know we left before any threat was made… and I know your common sense and instincts are sharpened. They kept us alive. I even agree that our presence endangered Pierre." I was silent. I preferred to focus on the operation of the ship. "But I have to know what's going on with him."
"Pierre’s safe as long as we maintain our silence," I shouted over the engine noise. "We didn’t leave prominent footprints behind us." She gripped the steering wheel with greater confidence than I expected. It calmed me down. Now I tried to calm her, too.
"I hope you're right about this too, Guy. I really do.” I was hoping as well. Despite my suspicions about his involvement with Gabi, I’d started to like him. I wouldn’t want to see him going against the Russian mafia with only a martini in his hand.
I put a sailor hat I’d found on her head and hugged her from behind. "Don’t worry," I whispered in her ear. "As soon as we get back, you’ll see that he sent you an email, as you agreed. Everything will be all right. Now try to enjoy this.”
She left the wheel and turned to me. Our lips pressed together in a soft, long kiss. I detected no trace of the steel woman. It wasn’t a good time for her to turn soft. Now, more than ever, I needed her to be tough and decisive.
"I'm going down to update the route for us. I’ll also look for a suitable mobile phone charger.” I cut our exaltation and went downstairs. A lot of things were going through my head, and I wanted to be alone for a few minutes. At this point, after twenty-four hours without sleep at all, I knew I had to be extra careful. Fatigue is the mother of all accidents.
I peered into the cockpit and asked, "Are you getting on okay?"
"Yes. All seems well. I can see our route on the screen."
"If you hear a beep, don’t worry, it’s designed to warn you about swerves. I’ll mark the route on a map as well.
"I think you should go get some sleep. Do it after you wake up.”
"That's exactly what I thought. I’ll raise the sails, too," I replied. "Wake me up in four hours, okay?”
"Will do. You get your head down. You look really tired.”
I didn’t even bother to put a sheet on the mattress. There was nothing to put me to sleep faster than the movement of a ship and the sound of waves crashing against the bow.
***
Nine days at sea - we were approaching Israel at a faster rate than expected. She was a great skipper and, together, we did a really good job. I learned from her how to work the sails, more than I had on Saturdays sailing with Hadas' father, but after nine days of four-four shifts, which finally become six-four, we were exhausted.
"If he’s not in trouble, how come he doesn’t find a way to call?" She asked me this question at least five times a day.
"There is no way to get in touch. Even the mobile device was defunct a week ago.”
We lay on the deck dressed in light clothing found in the closet, with champagne glasses in our hands and some crackers smeared with feta, which I would gladly convert to a fresh salad or an apple.
"I have to apply more sunscreen. My back’s peeling. I can feel the sun penetrating the fabric." She took off her shirt and, with long strokes, rubbed the cream on her shoulders. Wordlessly, she handed the tube to me and I added another layer of my own on her back. In other circumstances, it would have led to rough sex, but now, we were both exhausted. “Let’s save this moment for when we get home in two days.”
"I’ve worn you out." She smiled and stretched lazily.
"You and the sea. I'm glad we’re nearing home.”
"I believe we'll be there tomorrow. According to my estimate, we’ll get in around four.”
"Depending on which port we aim for.”
"Weren’t we bound for Herzliya?”
"We can’t. If they’re expecting us, it’s there – at Herzliya – they’ll be waiting. We should consider another port.”
"What were you thinking?" She went back to the wheel to check the route.
“Ashdod or Haifa. In Ashdod, there’s a good chance of finding a mooring. It’s rarely fully occupied. From there, we can get a taxi to Tel Aviv. What do you think?” I let the striker loose a little and the wind again filled the spinnaker with new intensity.
"It’s a small country. Where we dock is irrelevant. Our activities won’t have gotten through to Tel Aviv.”
She was right. I looked at the horizon. I was waiting to see the coastline. I liked being at sea during the afternoon and watch the setting sun paint the windows of buildings in the orange light of God. At the same time it was not ‘Jerusalem of Gold,’ but, ‘Tel Aviv of Gold’ or any other coastal city. Tomorrow afternoon, we’d be in ‘Ashdod of Gold.’
The burden of the body of Eugene on my shoulders was finally eased.
part 4 - Gabriella 2010
Chapter 20
The bag of diamonds I was carrying secured my financial future. Even if the Korman family found ways to cut me off completely from my property and income, and if I could not buy security in Israel with them, maybe I could buy myself peace in France. The very thought leaving Pierre behind to deal with Sergey’s wild animals bothered me a lot. With all my heart, I hoped they left him alone. And if they did find him, he would be able to convince them that we were never there. He had ways to influence the people who came in contact with him. I trusted him in this, and yet I was unable to relax.
Just before Guy and I left the mansion, I arranged with Pierre that I would not contact him. He would contact me, through my email, with a hint to me about his situation through our own private code words. It was Guy's idea. This was to prevent the exposure of his contact with us and neutralized his torture as a means of putting pressure on us. It also was a precaution that would reassure me that the whole thing was written without any constraint and that I could trust the messages. If, when I got to Israel, I found that there was no email, I would know I had lost my dear friend.
The thought of that loss shook me up. Pierre currently occupied a more important space in my heart than he had in my youth. He was the only person I wanted to give something to, out of the good I could still make of myself. It was made a promise of tranquility, security. I kept asking myself what life would be like if only I had accepted his offer and sold the gallery twenty years ago. Would I be a happy woman today?
In those days of nonstop sailing, I spent many hours alone absorbed in my thoughts. The blue sea around me left me doing nothing most of the day. Setting a sail or resetting the wheel kept me busy from time to time, but only for a few minutes. Right after my first shift at the helm, I went into the cabin and took my handbag from where I’d hidden it. Your average yacht has countless places to hide things. Although I felt tired, I pulled out the letter from Dan. During the next few days I read it again and again. By the last day of our cruise, I knew it by heart. Sentences from it echoed in my mind.
"Henri, our regular driver, made the initial contact during our recent vacation in Paris." Guy was right. Henri was the spider who created the web and identified appropriate victims. "He confirmed that the way to identify business people in financial difficulties was in their method of payment and the frequency of their visits. So simple and obvious, isn’t it?" Of course it’s true, my dear husband. You could not admit that we were unable to afford such a holiday. You did not know to tighten our belts. You had to prove to the world that you were still a favorite of God.
"Ser
gey only wanted me to acquire diamonds for him from a factory in Russia. They’d have nothing to do with him..." Oh, Danny, Danny… that “only” was just the beginning. After that came the truth. He lured you into a honey trap. “Only” buying illegal diamonds, then “only” smuggling them, because everyone knew you were a good boy who only conducted legitimate business, always avoiding trouble. What made you think you could hide so many diamonds from him and he wouldn’t find out?
"He didn’t pay for the next shipment. Instead of payment, he offered me a partnership, and investment in the next purchase that we made for ‘our firm’. Then I realized which way the wind was blowing. If I transferred the shipment, I’d lose a few million and collapse economically. The financial undertaking was in my name. On the other hand, if I took him up on his offer, he’d be taking over the business and use it to launder money. I was between a rock and a hard place..." Not only were you between a rock and a hard place - you took your son, too, I thought bitterly, and me. Now we have another passenger who may have been crushed along with us. I refused to think of Pierre as another victim of those decisions. I was hoping to spare him of the violence that had swept through our lives.
"Then his other offer came. It turned out that Alrosa, always clean of criminal elements, was embedded in options for easy money. Through networking with Sergey, I purchased the diamonds you hold now in your hands. Most of them are acceptable, but are ‘enriched’ with blood diamonds. Their profits can reach thousands of percent. It was a temptation I couldn’t resist. The only thing I could do was not bring the diamonds to Israel. You’ve read this letter, so... ”
I was enraged when I read the six words “a temptation I couldn’t resist.” The angry cries coming from my mouth were lost in the vastness of the sea. Guy was so exhausted that he slept on through my shouts of anger. Suddenly, I asked myself: by what right do I condemn Dan? I found myself unable to resist Sergey, too.
If I had the slightest doubt about Sergey’s guilt over the death of my husband, Dan’s letter dismissed it completely. Evgeny, the handsome intruder, was just the last nail in coffin. I hoped it would be Sergey’s coffin. I was sure he was a partner/friend/lover of his, as described by the witnesses who survived them. I still did not know what the nature of their relationship was, but I was sure they both deserved a long, cruel death. In the case of Evgeny, he had escaped that fate thanks to Guy’s swift, deadly hands. I vowed Sergey would not get off so easily.
