The Crystal Circle: A Paranormal Romance Novel

by L. Rosenman

  “It’s called peddling,” ruled the inspector, leaving Gidi a copy of the fine on the counter. As soon as the inspector disappeared, Gidi crumpled the paper into a ball and threw it toward the beach, behind the counter. The ball of paper hit Saul on the head.

  Gidi looked up, surprised, and said, “Sorry, I didn’t see you there.”

  “No problem,” Saul said, smiling. “Nice job, Gidi, the way you blew off that inspector.”

  “Were you listening?” Gidi was squinting suspiciously.

  “I admire people who know how to do business and blow off those who get in their way.” Gidi waited. He realized that the conversation was developing in a certain direction.

  “And who are you?”

  “My name’s Saul. I came to Eilat to do business. Special business.”

  Gidi left Saul and turned to serve some youngsters, finally closing the deal at the fine sum of several hundred shekels. He told his weary father that he could go home.

  Saul said, “You know how to sell, for sure. The thing is, you have to know what to do with the money.”

  Gidi took a step back and covered the cash box.

  “Don’t worry, I’m not a thief,” Saul smiled broadly. “I came from Tel Aviv to see how traders here work the promenade.”

  “Everything’s full. There’s no space for new stalls,” said Gidi.

  “I’m not going to get into market trading. You do it very well. I’m opening a private bank here. Within a month, you get your investment back with an additional 25%. Within two months, 50% and within four months, not only will your investment double itself, you will also gain 25% extra!”

  “A bank?” Gidi wasn’t sure he understood Saul’s intentions.

  “I did it in Tel Aviv, and now I’m expanding to Eilat. I’ll help you realize the Jewish commandment: He who steals from a thief is exempt from punishment.”

  “What does that mean?” Gidi stared at him.

  “Meaning tax authorities, social security, and this whole country is exploiting those who work hard for a living!”

  “Right…” said Gidi carefully, suddenly concerned. “You’re not an undercover cop or some sort of income tax inspector or something, are you?”

  “Are you crazy? They’re the thieves!” Saul spat on the floor to emphasize his words. “And it is commanded to withhold from them what they do not deserve and give it to the poor. Robin Hood – seen that film?”

  Gidi smiled. “Once, when I was a kid. Yeah. So who are the poor?”

  “You. Because you’re buying goods, working hard, selling them… then these muscled swindlers come along...”

  “Did you see that too?” Gidi was startled. He turned his head right and left to make sure they weren’t overheard.

  “Yes, and I’ve seen how disgracefully they treated your old man. They have no respect for elders or anybody. It’s time to teach them a lesson.”

  “How exactly? What are you up to, Mr. Saul?”

  “I’m looking for a partner. I’m opening a traders’ bank here. Everybody wins because I have extensive knowledge of equities and investments abroad. Banks have liabilities - salaries, inflated bureaucracies, and they can’t do businesses the way I, an independent banker, can. If you join the business I’m founding here, you’ll get a third of all profits.”

  Gidi straightened up and looked at Saul thoughtfully. He couldn’t decide whether to believe this strange man who popped up out of nowhere. He didn’t look like a tourist, and, despite his strange clothes, he spoke like a high-tech person or an accountant from Tel Aviv. Either way, it was an interesting proposition.

  When Gidi closed his stall at the end of the afternoon, they sat on the beach, bottles of beer in their hands, the conversation between the older man and the younger flowing with friendly ease. There were occasional bursts of loud laughter echoing along the darkened beach. At the end of the conversation, they shook hands warmly, patting each other’s backs, and walked up to the boardwalk, which was now relatively deserted.

  “So where are you staying, Saul? Which hotel suite?”

  Saul shook his head from side to side.

  “With all the money you made in Tel Aviv, I figured you’d be in the Herods.”

  “I’m stingy, my friend. No way will I just waste money. There’s no reason to flash my money dressing up like an Armani model. It isn’t good for business. You don’t want people to think you’re taking all the money that’s meant for them. Better to be humble. You’ll learn. Besides, I only arrived in Eilat today… haven’t found the time to look for a hotel yet.” He gave an embarrassed smile and gave a perfectly timed downcast look.

  “Forget the hotel. They’re all thieves!” Gidi said. “Come to my apartment. You can bunk down on the couch. Tomorrow we’ll see how we move forward. What will we call our bank?”

  “Our bank?” Saul looked at him for a moment and then smiled. “King’s Bank - the bank of kings. Because, with us, everyone soon becomes a king...”

  “Cool!” Gidi smiled, and his eyes began to dart around. He was no longer paying attention.

  Saul said, “What are you looking for?”

  “The bong seller. He split with the girls.”

  “Let’s go find him.” Saul looked round. “Tell me exactly where he is.”

  “He’ll be behind the kitchen of the Plaza Hotel.”

  “Let’s go!”

  In the darkness, between the staff and the food lines, were three men, whispering.

  “Robbie!” Gidi whispered to him. “Gimme some green. You got any left?”

  Robbie looked suspiciously at Saul. “What’s with the granddad, Gidi? What have you brought us, the arch-inspector?”

  “It’s all right, Robbie. This is my new partner.”

  “And how much does he want? One? Two?”

  “I’ll stick with beer.” Saul waved the bottle of beer in his hand. “Let Gidi have some.”

  Within half an hour they were sitting in Gidi’s apartment on a tattered couch that had lost its color over a decade ago. The windows overlooked the neighboring buildings on the outskirts of the city. Gidi breathed in his daily marijuana and leaned back on the couch, his feet up on the table. Saul sat and made some notes.

  “How many merchants did you say there are on the promenade?”

  “Merchants?” Gidi roared with laughter and almost fell off the couch, “You mean street vendors! A little over a hundred.”

  06/19/2013 - Fourth day of disappearance

  In the morning, over a cup of black coffee, even two, Gidi and his new partner sat beside a stack of papers prepared by Saul the night before. Saul explained to Gidi that his job would be to keep him secure, to take care of his connections and collect the money. He would accompany him to all of the marketing meetings, but later they’d rent a normal apartment for Saul, and there they would run the King’s Bank. Saul explained that he couldn’t touch the money he’d accumulated in Tel Aviv, which was safe in the Bahamas.

  “If I take out the money, within a minute, all the cops’ll be down on me. When we finish making our hit here, doing well for ourselves, you and I are going there together. Beautiful beaches, surfing, sunsets, and girls you can’t even imagine – topless, not like here. You’re into girls, right?” Saul suddenly looked uncomfortable and moved sideways.

  “Sure, dude, what’s wrong with you? Didn’t you see how much flirting was going on yesterday at my stall? I take what I want when I want it.”

  “A man’s man.” Saul nodded warmly and went on providing Gidi with the details of the plan. Special emphasis was put on the short and long term profits Gidi would see. Saul drew red circles around amounts he wrote on the paper, growing from thousands of dollars to tens of thousands and hundreds of thousands in a very short time. Gidi’s eyes grew round and his breathing stopped. He was afraid to speak. He knew nothing of stock programs and shares, but these amounts...

  “When we pass the one million mark,” Saul drew a clear red line below the threshold of one millio
n dollars, “we buy our tickets and fly to the Bahamas. Do you think you’re up for the job?” He looked at Gidi and narrowed his eyes to a small crack. “I need a dedicated person who’s willing to commit indefinitely to me, with a lot of guts.”

  “Obviously, Saul!” Gidi boasted. “Ask about me here in Eilat, and you’ll know you got to the right person.”

  “Excellent. From here on in, you’re committed to extreme discretion.”

  “Dis... what?”

  “Secrecy! Don’t tell anyone, not even your parents and certainly not any girl. If you stick with my plan and keep brainless hoodlums away, like the one who harassed your father yesterday, we’ll make it big time. Deal?”

  Gidi swallowed. His lifetime opportunity had arrived. “Deal!”

  “So come on, Gidi, bring out some wine or something.”

  They raised a toast to the ‘Bank of Kings.’ Later, Saul looked over the ridgeline of the Eilat Mountains. He thought, although it seems I’ve done one or two things in my life, and I’m probably in my fifties, my life is but four days old...

  Saul may not have remembered who he was or his past, but it bothered him less and less every day. There must be some woman in his past, perhaps children, liabilities, mortgages. Boring. His new life seemed very promising; he had many qualities that came with his new identity as Saul. He began to count them in his mind: He could get women - there were tricks that worked for all of them; he had knowledge and expertise in finance and a talent for investments. He could get money as an investment expert and could fool anyone who wasn’t; he had a partner who’d do anything for him, and he had a plan to make a big profit in a short time - the perfect sting. He was in good shape, looked good for his age... and the Bahamas were closer than ever. The tremendous urge burning his bones to find the right David could wait.

  Chapter 7: Yossi and the Police

  Rules of the Crystal Circle

  A natural reservoir: a lake, a pond, tears; anything created directly by nature that can reflect a human being, will be an entrance gate to the Circle.

  The living members of the group will appear as they currently look in reality. Members who have passed on will appear in their optimally remembered state. Members of the group who have not yet materialized in reality will appear as their potential future adult.

  06/25/2013 - Tenth day of disappearance

  Yossi washed Eden in the large bathtub. She still loved rubber ducks and a lot of foam. She giggled as she drowned her rubber ducky, but Yossi found it very hard to laugh with her. While his parents had volunteered to stay with the girls in the afternoons when he was at work, in these hours of the evening, during which Michal would have thoroughly organized everything making sure every girl knew her place, were the hours that he loved most. He was excited all over again to experience the family warmth which he had often missed due to his frequent absences from home. But those priceless hours had become a concern, creating a huge void inside him. It was hard to keep smiling, calm Eden, and explain that her mother had gone abroad for work and would be home soon.

  Gaya was upset and perceived her mother’s absence as a punishment Michal had personally imposed on her. Yossi tried to get Eden out of the bath as quickly as possible, concerned about Gaya’s lack of experience in cutting vegetables. She may have volunteered to make the salad, but... and then came the sound he feared, echoing throughout the apartment. “Dad! Help, I cut myself!”

  Yossi pulled Eden out of the bath, wrapped a towel around her and immediately flew to the kitchen. Gaya was there with a knife in one hand and a very small, but bloody, cut on the other. He expertly wrapped a couple of Band-Aids around her finger and explained to Gaya that her injury did not exempt her from going to school. He sighed. The sight of blood on his daughter’s finger startled him. He couldn’t help thinking about Michal’s fate. Had she died in agony, or was she lying injured somewhere? Was someone looking out for her?

  He’d done all he could to locate her. In the first few days, the police had asked the families not to make the absence a public matter in the hope that it would motivate the kidnappers, if there were any, to make contact. They still believed that there was a direct link between Michal and Raul, and that their simultaneous disappearance was no coincidence. Five days later, the police released their photographs to the media, and now the whole country knew what Michal looked like.

  Yossi also used Michal’s and his friends’ Facebook accounts to send emotional messages, asking everyone’s ‘friends’ to share her photo. The messages were signed by her parents and family. He tried to avoid unnecessary exposure whenever possible. He did not have a Facebook account or any other social networking subscription. In fact, the people who knew him, apart from his work colleagues, could comfortably fit in one small room. Naturally, there were people with malicious intent, extortionists, and just plain wicked men who sent him off down dead ends or asked for money. On Facebook, some had even sent heinous accusations and filthy descriptions of Michal. He felt caught in a mad storm. In the space of a day, he’d unwittingly found himself at the center of media attention. Gaya also suffered harassment and remarks at school. Of course, she’d prefer to stay at home, but, for her own good, she had to continue with her life. Luckily, Eden didn’t understand much, though she certainly missed her mother, a void Yossi could never fill.

  “Michal, where are you? If only I had a clue...”

  The private investigator Yossi had hired a week earlier had been looking for a lead. Many days had passed since he’d found anything promising, but nothing had provided any information. The last lead was the Florentine, the bar in Tel Aviv. Yossi had been there several times and posted pictures of Michal on the trees and the tables around the neighborhood, hoping someone would see and remember her, leading to another clue, but nothing had turned up. Up until that moment.

  His phone vibrated for the tenth time that hour. It was an email notification from the private investigator. Yossi sat in the dining room, put the first aid kit on the table, and wiped his brow.

  “Hello Yossi, I regret to inform you that I still don’t have any clear results pointing to the location of your wife or the reason for her absence at the moment. Our firm is prepared to give proper service to any request, and as a large firm, we are committed...”

  Yossi sighed and skipped the opening spiel praising the investigator and justifying the outrageous quote he required for each working day.

  “Our people in Eilat picked up the trail of your wife, Michal, on June 21st and 22nd. She walked alone around the stalls near the Eilat beach...”

  Eilat! Yossi’s pupils widened and he enlarged the text in his device to make sure he was reading correctly.

  “On June 23rd she was even photographed. On the 24th, yesterday morning, a senior investigator went there to make sure that the description and photos given by the investigators matched your wife. In the footage, she’s wearing glasses and her hair color is very dark, but there’s little doubt that it is her.

  “However, since then, she has not been seen for thirty-six hours. The two local investigators are patrolling night and day through the border crossings, the airport, and the bus station, but it’s not likely that she left Eilat unless she changed her physical appearance again. I feel obliged to inform you of this development, even if, currently, it has not yielded results. The merchants in the stalls and other people we know could not give us any new information. I was hoping that perhaps you, Mr. Rafael, could shed more light on the location to which she has arrived. Also, you can decide whether to ask us to report these findings to the police, but not before confirming that the photographs we have verify her identity...”

  Yossi hastily opened the files attached to the email. Indeed, although the picture was fuzzy and taken in haste, he definitely saw Michal, in clothes that weren’t hers, wearing funny glasses and with black, disheveled hair. She seemed upset, but she was still his wife.

  His heart thudded and a drop of sweat fell on the phone’s screen, staining Mich
al’s face until it became a fuzzy blur. She was down south, alive and alone. Her trackers had lost her. In his heart, he wanted to rush to Eilat to turn over every hotel until he found her, but an insight hit him, cooling his enthusiasm. She’s running. She’s switching identities. She’s hiding. Even if he found her, she wouldn’t want to come back; otherwise she’d have called long ago. She’s not being held captive or threatened. She’s free. She’s not coming back of her own choice. Even in a direct confrontation, if he found her, he wouldn’t change her mind.

  That night, he tossed and turned in bed, desperately attempting to find reasons for her departure. He was, again, immediately suspicious of the branch manager, Raul. Rumors of his licentiousness flew around as soon as he joined the branch.

  06/26/2013 - Eleventh day of disappearance, Police Headquarters, Migdal Haemek

  In the small and stifling conference room of the Migdal Haemek Police Station sat several senior police inspectors along with the families of the two missing persons. There was no seating space left in the room, so the young female cop, who handed out glasses of water, remained standing, holding a folder.

  Yossi stretched his long legs under the defaced, peeling, Formica table. Occasionally he would nervously bite his fingernails. His parents and his wife’s parents were waiting at home for the results of the meeting. Raul’s wife arrived with her sister, holding her hand. She was pale and thinner than he remembered. Deep hollows of sleepless nights were visible around her eyes.

  Sitting in front of them was the local police inspector, Zahavi, his eyes lit up with excitement in view of the special guest invited for the questioning, a senior inspector called Tomas from national headquarters nicknamed ‘Sherlock’ on account of his superior mystery-cracking abilities.

  Inspector Tomas sat across the table. Unlike Zahavi, he was muscular and solid. His eyes were cold and sullen. For the most part, he was not arrogant or angry, but that morning, when he’d parked in a disabled space outside the café just for a moment, to pick up his morning coffee, a citizen had taken a photo of his car and distributed the images on social networks. Nevertheless, all those in the room interpreted the atmosphere of tension on his face as seriousness and professionalism. Tomas was also trying to control his anger over his old friend calling him to come all the way to Migdal Haemek to help him with a disappearance case that had run into difficulties, as they often did in Tel Aviv. Next to them sat the dispatcher who had greeted Yossi the day he filed the complaint.