by Joan Hess
“I’m fat,” she said irritably, slapping at her hip. “It’s impossible to get any exercise here, since the nearest tennis court is probably a hundred miles away. It might as well be in Lebanon, for all the good it does me. I’m not stepping out of this room until I’ve lost half a pound, Uncle Theo, so it’s no use pleading with me.”
Theo did not plead. He bade her good night and started for his room, then stopped. He had promised Sarah Nava that he would try to reason with Ilana. With luck, he could find Ilana in the lobby of the guest house; and thus far she had proved more loquacious at night.
She was indeed at the registration desk, but her expression was less than affable. “Do you wish to make an overseas call, Mr. Bloomer?”
“I would like to speak with you for a moment. I went to Hebron today and made inquiries in the neighborhood where the explosion occurred. You were seen, Ilana. The conclusion is unavoidable.”
“How very clever of you, Mr. Bloomer. I often wonder if I should have treated you as a spy when I first saw you on the beach, but it is too late for regrets. What will you do with your conclusion?”
Theo shook his head. “If I could discover what I did in less than an hour, the police will be able to duplicate my efforts without much problem. Other people have also arrived at the same conclusion. What you decide to do is your problem, Ilana. I cannot help you.”
She glared defiantly across the desk. “I do not need your help. They will arrest me, drag me through a mockery of a trial, and then throw me in prison. The sentence may be severe, but public sentiment favors those who make sacrifices for Israel. There will be demands made for clemency, and even pardons. I shall not stay long in prison.”
“Even for murder?”
“Arabs,” she said shrugging. “I will be released within a matter of months, and then I shall return to the kibbutz and once again make war against the Arabs. I, Ilana Tor, will drive them across the Dead Sea and into the desert of Jordan.”
“The murder of Arabs may not result in a lengthy sentence, but what about the murder of a fellow Israeli? Surely public sentiment will not swing in your favor?”
Ilana’s black eyes glittered like those of a raven. “I have not murdered anyone, Mr. Bloomer. I left the bomb in a garbage can in order to teach the Arabs to leave the Jews in Hebron alone, and some Arabs were killed. As for a fellow Israeli—you have spent too many hours in the sun. Your brain is baked, Mr. Bloomer! Essie’s death was an accident, caused by loose rocks and carelessness. Although I have not bothered to tell the little policeman, I know this to be true. And Gideon was killed by a terrorist, perhaps one who saw him in Hebron the night of the bombing. I shall take care of him soon.”
Theo pensively tugged at his beard as he studied the girl. “How do you know what happened to Essie, Ilana?” he asked softly. “Were you there on the ledge when she fell?”
“I was on the second security shift that night. After we returned from Hebron, I stayed at the gate. Better you should keep your nose out of things you know nothing about.”
She spun on her heel and marched into the office. The door slammed behind her with the crackle of a sonic boom. Theo sighed, then left the lobby for his room. As he neared the building, however, he gradually stopped to think. Ilana had admitted to the bombing, but that was hardly startling. He had learned nothing else from her, except that she was less than penitent and capable of mindless, destructive anger. But she had denied killing Gideon or Essie, and she hadn’t waited long enough for Theo to politely inquire about the identity of the treasurer of the Sons of Light. He decided to investigate a possibility.
The dining hall was dim. Theo slipped between the tables and up the stairs, wishing he could be certain the building was as deserted as it felt. The lounge was empty. No light shone below the door to Yussef’s office, and no glow came through the opaque glass. The door was locked.
After a glance over his shoulder, Theo took an odd-shaped piece of metal out of his pocket. Seconds later he was inside the office, the door closed and once again locked. Sitermann would have been proud of the performance, had he been watching from a dark corner.
Theo ascertained that Sitermann (or another stray spy) was not watching from a dark corner, then turned on a penlight to study the messy desk and filing cabinets behind it. The ledgers of the kibbutz’s financial dealings would be more complex than those of a small florist shop, but likely to have the same structure. He hoped so.
The drawer of the filing cabinet opened with a squeak. Theo took out the first ledger and sat down to study the figures.
19
It took several hours to wind a path through the ledgers, of which there were two superficially identical sets. The figures were in shekels, and therefore immense. The kibbutz bought raw materials for the factory, manufactured goods from a kibbutzim cooperative, and other necessities from various sources, including warehouses in Jerusalem and businesses in Jericho. They sold the cartons from the factory and excess produce from the agricultural endeavors. It was a more complex operation than Theo had realized.
The second set of figures was as tangled as a clematis vine. From what he could determine, monies from one account were transferred to a different account to cover temporary dearths caused by previous transfers, then sent into a financial labyrinth with no discernible exit. The remittances for one stack of invoices, all properly signed and cross-referenced, vanished into the same labyrinth. Some totals could be found in one set of books, but not the other. The exit was discovered, but only after another hour of tedious search.
Theo’s eyes began to burn as he hunched over the columns. The penlight, although prudent, was hardly a reading light, and the knowledge that he might be caught in the midst of the unauthorized audit added to his worries. At last he replaced the ledgers where they had been, checked the desk for signs of his covert chore, and snapped off the light. He locked the office door behind him and started across the lounge, guided by the light from the dining hall below.
“Hey, Bloom, did you find anything useful?”
Theo turned back with an exasperated frown. “Sitermann, your propensity for inopportune appearances is growing tiresome. Have you ever considered simply announcing that you’ve arrived?”
Sitermann joined him and they went downstairs. “Please, I am a professional spy, and a good one, if I say so myself. I personally supervised a very sophisticated operation in East Berlin that resulted in the hostile termination of a nasty little mole and several of his species. I’m slated for a cozy desk job once I tidy up things around here, and a well-deserved raise. I wish you’d show a little more respect. How’d you get into the office?”
Theo fingered the thin metal tool in his pocket. “Through the door, Sitermann,” he said patiently. “Spies prefer chimneys and tunnels, but we civilians just use doors. Boring, but pragmatic.”
“The door was locked, and so were the filing cabinets.”
“Were they?” Theo rubbed his forehead. “I don’t recall having a problem. It’s late; I’d better go to bed.”
“You are beginning to interest me very much. I may have to do a little more research in your dossier. So what’d you find?”
“Two sets of books. Although I’m hardly an accountant, it looks as if Yussef Nava has been channeling kibbutz monies into a private account for years. His activity increased dramatically six months ago, probably when he learned of the impending computerization of the books. Miriam thought it had depressed him. On the contrary, it must have terrified him.”
“What’s he doing with the money?”
“What all good embezzlers do: he sends it to Switzerland. I found the number of his bank account in a notebook in one of the desk drawers.”
“Those were locked, too.”
“I’m afraid I didn’t notice, but the light was not good. You might ask Mr. Nava about that in the morning, Sitermann.”
“Do you think he’s behind the Sons of Light?”
Theo shrugged. “He’s taken nearly a qu
arter of a million dollars since he started pilfering, but it’s all been deposited in a Swiss bank. There weren’t any canceled checks lying about, so I don’t know if he saved it for retirement or spent it on toys for terrorist tots.”
“If he is giving money to the terrorists, he’d be concerned about hiding the connection. Maybe the girl Essie found out something to link him, and he had to push her into the wadi to silence her. Then Gideon got antsy, and he killed him, too. Nava was the first on the scene, you know.”
“I know all of that, Sitermann, and I also know that I’d prefer bed to idle speculation. So if your curiosity is sated …?”
“Sure, and, hey, thanks a lot. The CIA and I owe you one. Maybe the big boys will take you on, let you work for the good guys for a change.”
“I shall stand by the mailbox every day in hopes of a letter in a plain brown wrapper,” Theo said drily. They had reached the balcony, and Sitermann moved toward the door. “A question for you, Sitermann, since I’ve been so gracious about sharing the fruits of my labor. Why did you sit in the lounge instead of coming into the office?”
“The door was locked,” Sitermann said in a superficially scandalized voice. He laughed as he went into his room and closed the door.
It was well past three o’clock by the time Theo had changed into his pin-striped pajamas and brushed his teeth. He slipped into bed, turned off the bedside light and pulled the blanket to his chin. It was delightful. The sound of footsteps on the balcony, followed by a brisk rap on his door, was not.
The earlier expletive came to mind, as precise and succinct as it had been when Essie interrupted his nap. Once again Theo rejected it, pulled on his bathrobe, and went to the door. Once again Ilana stood at attention, her eyes flickering with malicious amusement as she announced the arrival of an overseas call.
“I was told that it was an emergency,” she ended with a contemptuous sniff. “You must come quickly, Mr. Bloomer. The international operator is very short-tempered tonight.”
Once again Theo watched her stomp away, then pulled trousers over his pajamas and flip-flopped to the lobby. Ilana smirked as he took the receiver and muttered his name.
“Theo, do you realize that I must pay for the time it takes you to answer the telephone? What on earth were you doing all that time—planting bulbs?”
“Nadine, it is three o’clock in the morning. It is too dark outside to plant bulbs, or anything else. I’m not even sure that they utilize bulbs; the soil is acidic.”
“Theo, I feel as if you’re not cooperating with me, that you’re avoiding the subject with these odd little comments. You might show a little more concern about Dorrie’s situation and less about the flora of that place. When are you to return home?”
“I’m not sure, but I believe we’ll be allowed to leave within a few days.” He bit his lip, but it was too late. Too late for telephone calls, and too late for discretion. He waited for the storm to break loose in all its hellish fury. After a stunned silence, it did.
“Allowed, Theo?” Nadine said in a mellifluous crescendo. The receiver began to vibrate against his ear. “Am I to presume my daughter is being held hostage by that group of—of left-wing socialists? What could they hope to gain from this outrageous scheme? What will Charles say when he receives a tacky note demanding ransom money? How could you permit such impertinence?”
“Not by the kibbutz,” he explained over her arioso sputters and snorts. “There’s been a minor incident here that has required our continued presence. Dorrie’s not involved in any way, but the officials feel her observations might be of value.”
“What does that mean, Theo?” she demanded, clearly not beguiled by the glib explanation.
“We’ll be home within a few days. Did you water my plants, Nadine?”
“Of course I did, although it seemed absurd to waste my time going all the way to Handy Hollow in order to dump a cup of water on a collection of sticks and leaves. My silk flower arrangements are more attractive, and a great deal easier to tend. I simply have my girl dust them daily and vacuum them once a month. No water, no loose dirt, and no nasty little bugs.”
“Bugs?” Theo echoed, alarmed. “Were there bugs on the plant on the windowsill in the kitchen? Did they resemble tiny red spiders?”
“I did not examine them, Theo. I’m confident that they will still be lurking about when you return home—in the next few days. How is Dorrie, by the way?”
“She’s fine, as is her hair. I shall call as soon as Dorrie and I have arranged reservations home. As for now, I would like to return to bed and hope for a few hours of sleep, so—”
“I don’t know how you can sleep at a time like this, Theo. Charles had been forced to answer several pointed questions from his associates, and he has felt quite uncomfortable. Furthermore, Biff’s mother, a lovely woman from an old Boston family, called to inquire about Dorrie’s preparations for school, then suggested a little tea party for the Wellesley girls in the neighborhood. I was unable to accept on Dorrie’s behalf, but I must tell you it was very awkward, very awkward indeed. You must stop dawdling and do something. Dorrie’s future is at stake!”
Theo said good-bye to an empty line, then handed the receiver to Ilana and started for the door. Red spider mites meant mortal danger for the night-blooming cereus. If he were home, he would spray with a strictly organic mixture of pepper and tabasco, and gently cleanse the leaves with a damp towel. Nadine would not be pleased to do so for him in his absence. Dumping a cup of water, indeed!
“Good night, Mr. Bloomer,” Ilana called to his back.
As long as he was awake … He turned back and said, “Who else knows the identity of the members of the Sons of Light? Is it common knowledge at Kibbutz Mishkan?”
She narrowed her eyes. “No one knows for sure, although some of the kibbutzniks may have suspicions. The night guard at the gate swore not to mention the jeep the other night. Miriam may have worried about it, but a mother has glass eyes and sees only what she cares to see. But soon everyone will know, and I shall be a hero in the war to protect Israel.”
“But surely the person who provided the funds knew the identities of those involved.”
“What person is that? I tell you, no one knew for sure that Gideon, Hershel, and I were the Sons of Light. We did not announce it because certain people would have tried to stop us, to hamper our plans to eliminate the Palestinian terrorists.”
“Explosives cost money. Unless you three saved your allowances since your collective childhoods, you could not have bought the plasticine in Athens. Who gave you the money?”
“We did not have to take money from anyone. The Sons of Light were not beggars. Gideon knew how to get the explosives.”
“And now Hershel will take over the assignment?”
She laughed. “He is hopeless, the schlemiel. He mopes around Miriam’s house, like a sad puppy with his tongue hanging out. He also hangs out his tongue for Judith, but with other purpose. Perhaps the rich American girl can teach him what to do with it. In any case, he was not a good defender of Israel. He does not have the nerve, and he would prefer to take his—” She stopped herself abruptly, then said, “He would prefer to be an archaelogist who digs with his fingernails.”
“Then why did Gideon recruit him as a member?”
“Gideon took care of him like he would a baby brother. Behind Hershel’s back, he would laugh and say mean things, but he was fond of him, and permitted him to tag along with us. Now Hershel is useless. He says he will not go to Athens. He wants to go to Tel Aviv and mope around the university.”
“It is not surprising that Hershel is disturbed by the death of his best friend,” Theo said.
“Oh, he is disturbed,” she said sardonically, “but he is also relieved. The meshuggener!”
He slowly walked back to his room, thinking about Ilana’s harsh assessment. She had the exterior of a cactus; that much was obvious. Sabras, according to Miriam, had a succulent interior, but he was not convinced Ilana
carried through the analogy.
When he had asked about the source of financing for the explosives, she seemed offended at the idea that they were dependent on an outsider. But he did not believe that the three printed shekels in the basement or saved up their allowances. Yussef Nava was the logical choice for financial backer. The money was available, and he was a kibbutznik with the same loyalties and passion for the land, even if he maintained a more urbane pose. A hefty draft from a Swiss bank would raise no eyebrows in an antiquities/explosives store. But it was hard to accept the theory.
He couldn’t ask Miriam what she thought; the subject was much too painful for her. He couldn’t ask Gideon, for obvious reasons, and he wouldn’t find an answer with Ilana. Hershel was likely to stammer a denial. Yussef was not the sort to admit that he was a thief. He supposed he could talk to Sarah, on the chance she might still be angry enough to betray her husband. The very idea caused a shudder.
Or, more probably, it came from a noticeable lack of sleep. Theo intended to remedy the situation with all due haste.
20
Lieutenant Gili strutted into the restaurant the following morning, his mustache waxed to pine-needle points and his uniform starched so rigidly that he crackled as he crossed the room.
“Mr. Bloomer,” he said, “it has been brought to my attention that you have not yet given a statement to Corporal Amitan, who has dearly suffered for the undersight.”
“My deepest apologies, Lieutenant Gili. I shall remedy the—ah, undersight at once.”
“Ha! Now it is too late and your statement is of no importance.” Gili flared his nostrils and turned away, looking as smug as a tick on the rump of a bloodhound, as Sitermann would undoubtedly wax innovative.
Theo felt mildly offended. “And why is that? Does that mean you have completed the investigation and identified the murderer?”
Gili swung back without a second’s hesitation. “Yes, it does, Mr. Bloomer. My careful and professional investigation has raised many answers to the puzzling crime, and I am confident that I have arrived at the truth. The case is closed, and you and the young ladies are free to leave Israel. I would encourage you to do so with great haste.”
