Haunted Blood

by Elik Katzav

  I leave the vehicle and make my way to the fence.

  Careful now, it’s the middle of the day. The last thing I need is for some neighbor to decide to stop me and ask me for the reason I’m loitering around the house here.

  I now see Yuval loading a wheelchair, after bringing some suitcases into the SUV, which is parked at the end of the roundabout. The driver’s door is open, as is the front door of the house.

  I decide to exercise caution, so I wait for a good opportunity. After a while, I see a figure in a suit leaving the house. Yuval rushes to the figure’s side, but the figure dismisses him with a wave of a hand. He nods and shuts the front door while the figure, whose back is now turned to the house, stands on the SUV’s step, watching the gate.

  Eldad.

  He can walk!

  He’s moving freely, walking and everything, looking perfectly healthy. How come? So what’s this game all for, then?

  The sound of the engine running cuts my train of thoughts. I run to my car as the electric gate opens and out goes the SUV. Its dark windows make it impossible for anyone to see who’s in there, but I know.

  Eldad’s car is turning towards the road that leads to the airport.

  What if all this is taking place abroad? No chance I’d be able to keep following them out of the country. The story will end here.

  I recall Rabbi Datan saying “it could be in any number of locations in our tiny land.”

  I hope you’re right, my dear Rabbi. Otherwise, it was all in vain.

  I let out a great sigh of relief when I see them passing the exit to the airport and turning to the acceleration lane leading to the main road to Jerusalem.

  I can sense my calm setting in as I enter ‘surveillance mode,’ allowing myself to lag a few cars further behind Eldad’s SUV so as not to arouse suspicion.

  Just to be on the safe side. What reason has he even got to be concerned anything was going on, anyway?

  Oh, how the landscape changes. The sky is turning yellow and orange as the evening is beginning to set. The sun is embarking on its descent westward. Friday Evening. Shabbat is upon us. It will be the first day of the month of Elul soon.

  After we pass Sha’ar HaGai, the road begins its steep climb towards Jerusalem.

  Will my old Subaru make it? Maybe I should have asked the Rabbi to have them pray for my car as well.

  Eldad’s vehicle makes a sharp turn to the left at the entrance to Jerusalem, rather than going into town. He’s following the road to Ma’ale Adumim.

  So he’s not going to Jerusalem after all? Where does the road go after Ma’ale Adumim? Jericho and the Dead Sea, so he’s either going to the world’s oldest city or to the lowest point on Earth.

  I follow them in the direction of Ma’ale Adumim, where traffic is much lighter, so I have to maneuver lest they notice the same car has been following them since after Tel Aviv.

  Meanwhile, the sky is no longer turning red, but rather growing dark. In the desert—for that’s where we are now—the darkness envelopes you, if only because the lamp posts along empty roads are few and far between, except for the rare junctions that lead to the entrances of places. This leaves one dependent on his own lights. I take my foot off the gas pedal automatically. Nightfall means all sorts of nocturnal creatures come out, and I am not about to run anyone or anything over.

  Cell reception is also rather poor. I can see how few the bars are, reaching nil here and there, as I pass through the mountains.

  They are making another turn right before Ma’ale Adumim, where they stop and enter a house. I pass Eldad’s parked car, position myself in front of it, and examine what’s going on using my rear view mirror. I recall being told once that the best way to check up on someone is from the front backwards, as people always look back to see who’s following them. They never look forward.

  A few moments pass, during which nothing seems to be happening. Then, their headlights come on in a flash, blinding me until they make a U-turn back westward on the main road. They seem to be going back to Ma’ale Adumim. This time, they enter the town, so I try to keep my distance and keep up at the same time.

  Then, I suddenly spot an empty soccer field to my left and no sign of the SUV, so I retrace my steps and make a U-turn. This time, a few hundred yards later, I do notice an exit leading left and down onto a dirt road which takes me deep into the desert’s darkness.

  The only visible signs further down the dirt road are two lights in the dark, which shimmer as they drive along on the dirt road.

  Well, it certainly isn’t the way to France. Unfortunately, I don’t think my car is up to the challenge of this terrain. Let’s hope for the best.

  One moment before I enter, I feel it might be a good idea to fill someone else in on my whereabouts, so I compose a description of the entire drive and email it to Na’ama, though not before going over it again, as well as making sure I don’t come off too crazy.

  Then, I look into the darkness that lies ahead, shift gear, and drive my car leaping into the night.

  All trace of Ma’ale Adumim’s lights vanish the moment I enter the desert. As the road bends and meanders, the car seems to be handling the terrain fine for now, albeit slowly—which is fine by me, if only because the last thing I want is Eldad’s headlights to suddenly turn and flood my car, letting the fact that someone is hot on his trail be known.

  Then, I shudder at the sudden sound of my own cell phone, telling me the recent email didn’t reach Na’ama. It wasn’t sent. No reception. I swear to myself and click ‘resend’ to let the email software resolve this on its own the moment I have reception again.

  Careful, huge rock ahead.

  I pass it as my car climbs up the dirt road. After a short while, I decide to turn my navigation app on, since accidentally crossing the border might pose new problems I’d be hard-pressed to handle. The route takes me to a nice vista point on top of a mountain looking over the Dead Sea on one side and Jerusalem on the other. A multi lingual sign in Hebrew, English, and Arabic tells me what mountain I am on, but I can scarcely believe it.

  This is getting even crazier: “Har Azazel / Mt. Muntar / Mount Azazel (Mount Muntar)”.

  “Mount Azazel?” As in “Hell?”

  Why would anyone want to go to a mountain called Hell?

  I remember from bible class that the origin of the mountain’s name harkens back to the time when the priests used to make offerings, sacrifice livestock. In Hebrew, “Azazel” is another name for “billy goat.” According to another version, the “har,” Hebrew for “mountain,” is named after the angel referred to as Azazel. There’s a legend that tells his story, complete with how he had taught mankind the secrets of warfare, including how to forge weapons. By way of punishment, God had him buried away deep inside the mountain. The legend further holds that Azazel is still alive down there, whispering the secrets of creation to anyone who comes calling on him, including King Solomon, who went to him specifically in order to unlock the secrets of witchcraft.

  There’s that old familiar chill again. I don’t recall actually knowing all that. It’s as though someone just whispered all this to me.

  My cell phone utters a faint clunk, telling me its battery just ran out. Even with the car charger, the GPS takes its toll.

  Here I am, talking to myself , climbing a mountain in the middle of nowhere..

  Up goes the road, all the way to the top. My car struggles to make it, coughing and choking with every yard as the narrow path makes for even more difficult terrain. I am now progressing at walking speed, until the engine just shuts down, blowing white smoke from the hood. I swear faintly and open it carefully.

  Just as I thought. The water pump is damaged. So much so that all the water ran out and the car just gave up.

  Well, it’s not as serious as going up in smoke, but it’s just as hard to hide from the SUV up front.


  Looks like I am going to have to continue on foot from here on.

  I produce my LED flashlight from the glove compartment.

  Hardly the best thing, but it’s not like I planned this trip to begin with.

  I open one of the bags of clothes I keep in the boot of my car and put my leather coat on. August or not, the desert gets pretty cold at night.

  Is anyone else supposed to get here? My car is pretty much blocking = access to the dirt road, so they’ll immediately figure out someone else is here, someone they did not plan on having around. Well, at least my car getting stuck there will prevent them from getting any reinforcements. It also makes the SUV’s escape from Mt. Azazel that much more difficult.

  Twenty minutes into my ascent up the mountain, I see red and white lights in the distance.

  Car brakes.

  Instinctively, I turn my torch off and hold my position.

  Let’s see whether they caught sight of my light.

  A few seconds later, the car up front t slows down and is joined by another vehicleBothof them are making steady progress. Eldad must have been waiting for someone to lead him up the driveway.

  Realizing both cars are continuing and my presence is undetected, I resume my climb.

  How much more of this?

  Lucky for me, they stop a few moments later. The first vehicle turns, its headlights shining on Eldad’s SUV as they park and face one another.

  I hide behind a bush and observe the figures coming out of these two cars. The summit is practically flat. There actually is no through road to speak of; only Jeeps and the like can get all the way up here.

  It’s completely dark, save for the headlights, so the shadows of these walking figures are all that I can see. The first figure to step off the vehicle reminds me of that slim guy I encountered on my first visit to Eldad’s mansion.

  His gardener.

  The guy walks up to the front passenger door and opens it. The next figure to step off is most definitely Eldad Ben Ya’ar, standing on his own two feet and walking upright.

  Shit. If only I had remembered to bring my camera. Had I been smart enough, this picture alone would have been worth an entire month’s salary.

  Next, Eldad is joined by his driver, who I see getting out from the driver’s seat. A burly man, he looks like he could be the gardener’s father.

  That’s Yuval Tor, Eldad’s bodyguard.

  I see the three of them standing in the middle of the headlights, talking. Then, the gardener walks over to his own vehicle and switches the lights off.

  Yuval follows suit. Then, they turn two flashlights on and move further away from the cars.

  I fasten my coat and check my magazine once more as I insert it to my Glock, which I then return to my back clip. I make a few quick steps and reach their parked cars.

  The second vehicle isn’t a Jeep after all. Turns out it’s a pickup with heavy duty wheels specially fitted for such terrain. It reminds me of the trucks from my time back in the IDF.

  The back of the gardener’s pick up is all covered by a tarp. I lift it carefully and look inside.

  It’s empty. If they took the trouble of getting a small truck all the way up here, they’ve already unloaded whatever it was they brought here.

  The two beams disappear in the distance. I approach the location where I last saw the three.

  The ground looks less solid and level, as you’d expect to find at the ruins of some building, maybe a settlement, even. In some spots, I can tell there’s some floor tiles, perhaps a few hundred years old, and even the occasional remains of a wall.

  Never mind the inlays. Watch the pits.

  I nearly fall into one. They were probably dug to store water.

  Better watch it. Baby steps.

  As I approach the point where I last saw their flashlights, I see dawn breaking in the distance.

  How can that be? It was barely evening when I began driving?!

  By the time I reach the top of the small hill up ahead, I realize what it was that I mistook for faint daylight and where the light was coming from.

  Chapter 33

  There are a few bonfires at some distance from the hill which form a circle Eldad and his men are now walking into. Inside this circle, I can see additional figures, one of whom approaches Eldad and the other two. A short conversation ensues. I cannot make out what it is they’re saying. They join this figure, and all four walk further inside the circle.

  It’s a pretty level path into a kind of yard where all this has been set up. It’s a moderate slope without a single spot for me to hide in. As I crawl towards the circle, I notice a few boulders. They seem to be positioned within fixed spaces from one another.

  They’re probably part of a structure they designed and built especially for this unfolding ritual.

  Seeing as there is no other place to hide, I aim for one of the rocks and hide behind it. It’s very close to the circle of bonfires on the one hand—too close for comfort—but on the other hand, at least now I can hear what the people inside are saying. What’s more, they seem to be chanting. Oh, and the smell. The scent of grilled fish.

  Makes my mouth water. I should have had a snack before going all this way...

  I scan the area, glancing over the boulder in an attempt to figure out what’s going on around here. There are six campfires on the edges of the clearing, with all sorts of rocks positioned around. The boulder I am leaning against seems to be well-carved. It doesn’t strike me as local, but rather like something Eldad’s gardener might have brought over. Probably in that pickup of his.

  The chanting comes from a line of people in hooded robes standing near a stone structure right at the center of the circle. It’s a stone platform on top of which rises a statue of Dagon. The very statue that was stolen from the museum.

  Next to this group of people chanting—praying, more like—the statue looks even bigger than in those pictures. It is surrounded by four searing pans.

  So that’s where the smell of broiled fish is coming from.

  The light from the bonfires shines over the statue, breaking off where the statue is made of the shell, making it look like it is liquid. By the light of the fire, the statue’s face seems so vivid.

  A thin figure in a robe emerges from the chanting people and heads for the pans. This figure is carrying a basket. As it draws near, I glance at its face. For a moment there I think it’s Lynn, but the face is that of an older woman. Besides, the robe is hiding a slim body.

  Liat?! How did she get here? Why is she even here?

  As she approaches the fire pans, Liat’s face appear to be carved in stone: no expression whatsoever.

  Maybe she’s in some sort of trance? Perhaps she isn’t even aware of what’s going on.

  Liat produces something out of the hamper and spreads it over the burning pan, which immediately gives off a searing whistle, accompanied by a light puff of smoke rising from where she made her offering.

  She repeats the process at the other three pans. When she offers a piece of fruit in one pan, I recognize the scent of an apple. Next, she offers barley, which burns very quickly. At the last pan, Liat makes an offering of a whole fish, placing it directly in the flames that caress the pan. The scent of burning fish is getting stronger. By the time she finishes her round, completing the offerings at all four fire pans, the choir of chanting men in hooded robes begins to sing at a faster pace.

  The surrounding flames, coupled with the chanting, makes me focus on the statue of Dagon. By the time I realize this and shake myself out of the near-trance I nearly fell into, I have lost track of Eldad and his team. One quick glance back, and there’s Eldad, with Yuval standing right behind him. Adam Hacohen is standing next to them. He is wearing a hooded robe like the others, but his hood is down.

  From where I am standing, they appear to be speakin
g softly amongst themselves, occasionally watching the fire and the statue. Then, Eldad turns back and says something to Adam, who also turns and nods in agreement. As they continue speaking, I notice someone is missing.

  Where’s the gardener? I don’t see him in the circle.

  I concentrate on looking for him.

  Maybe he’s among the hooded people chanting?

  Eldad and Adam are moving over closer to the statue of Dagon, Yuval right behind them, a few yards away.

  My hair stands on the back of my neck when I realize what it was I could not see because they were blocking it from my view by standing there: three figures tied to wooden stakes.

  That’s what Eldad was pointing at.

  Three figures, each tied to a post. They’re wearing white garments which cover their entire bodies, complete with white sacks over their heads. Judging by the way their heads rest, they appear to be unconscious.

  One of these figures is Idan. I am sure of it.

  As for the other two, they were probably tied up at that house in Omer.

  I examine the area again, and when I realize everyone is converging around the statue, I bend over and make a dash towards the boulder nearest to the three bound figures.

  The chanting grows louder still, with Adam leading them in his recitation of some strange language, sounding part Arabic or even partly Hebrew, but I still cannot decipher what he’s saying in his husky voice.

  Eldad is standing to Adam’s left, his arms stretched forward. By the light of the fire, his face seems harder than granite, even more so than the statue of Dagon. He seems entranced by the ritual.

  Liat draws nearer to the statue, stroking it lengthwise until she stands right next to it. Adam walks over to her and uses both hands to give her some object, which she lifts up to the sky amid an impassioned cry. The light from the bonfire glistens over the glass shard she’s holding.