“Oh Mussa, Ya Mussa. . .” Billal leaned back and typed something on his phone, suddenly calm. “My man, I wouldn’t have called you if I didn’t know you knew something you thought I didn’t know.”
My phone vibrated − a message from Billal. “Notify Amit that we are coming in for an urgent interrogation.” Then he sent another message: “I hope you didn’t have anything planned for this evening.”
“What’s an urgent interrogation?” I wrote back.
Mussa exhaled heavily. “I don’t understand what you mean, Ya captain.”
“Liza. Ask Liza,” he answered looking up at the bearded man who already realized that he was in trouble.
I called Liza. I saw her light ponytail bobbing when she answered the phone. “We are going in for an urgent interrogation,” I said to her, as if I knew what this meant.
“Seriously?” she replied immediately.
“Very seriously,” I tried to sound as authoritative as I could whisper. “And to be honest, I don’t know what that means.”
“Okay, I’ll take care of it. You just notify Amit, your superior.”
“You got it,” I said, and we hung up without saying good-bye.
A few peas remained in my soup bowl. I finished them because I never leave food. The phone rang in my ear and the conversation between Billal and Mussa got stranger and stranger. Billal smiled and seemed to be quite relaxed. Mussa, on the other side of the small table, looked at his phone frequently and his eyebrows were clenched hard. He spoke fast and rubbed his fingers together and on his pants. Billal nodded with a soft smile. I knew that smile, and I don’t expect any good news to follow.
I put on my police cap and called Amit. A border policeman was so out of place sitting in this urban café. Besides me, there were only tourists and upper middle-class residents who live nearby. On the other hand, dressed like that, what were the chances of a friend of mine identifying me?
“I don’t believe it!” I heard a familiar voice say above me. I looked up at the tall figure standing at my table. His black skin and huge perfect smile threw me back in time. It was Yonatan Alamo.
“Evron! What’s up with you, champ?” He hugged me with his long arms before I even stood up.
“What happened, you joined the police?” he examined my police uniform. “Elinor, come meet the guy who saved my life,” he said, and patted my shoulder like I was his son. The difference in height made this scenario possible.
A short, light-haired girl shook my hand firmly.
“You’re Evron? Wow,” she said with a sparkle in her eye.
On her shoulder she was carrying a “good luck in your army service” bag from high-school. She seemed like a girl with class.
Alamo grabbed my police uniform and said, “we have a lot to catch up on. Are you waiting here for someone? Come join us,” he urged me and his girlfriend nodded in agreement.
“Umm, Alamo,” I started to say but didn’t know how to continue.
“What’s the matter, Evron? Is everything all right?” Alamo asked.
“Yes, yes, of course. I’m just about to start a . . . meeting,” I stuttered.
The girl put out her hand and held Alamo’s huge hand. He looked at me strangely. Liza was standing at the entrance and watching me carefully.
Amit’s voice resonated out of the cellphone: “Itay? Itay? Hello?”
“Listen, Alamo,” I came up to him, slightly pulled his shirt, and he bent down and listened. He knows me too well for me to lie to him.
Chapter 21
“How long have you been working here?” she asked me, looking down at one phone, with another one by pressed to her ear by her shoulder.
“Almost a year,” I answered.
“Don’t take this the wrong way,” she looked up at me, her face half-shaded by a baseball cap, “but I have to say that that was terrible. You almost ruined the mission.”
Her gentle face didn’t match her tough talk. She put her phone by her head like she was trying to shove it in her ear and her elbow hovered higher than normal.
I exhaled helplessly. She was right.
“I’ll let this slip but between you and me, next time you see a friend during a mission, just ignore him.”
I wanted to say that I wasn’t prepared for that scenario but Liza cut me off.
“Stop, Itay. Don’t argue. Just say ‘okay’ and shut up.” She put her finger to her lips like a bully. “That is my advice to you. Do whatever you want. I’m not your boss.”
I said, “Okay,” and shut up. I was told I was meeting a scanner-observer, not a sergeant with a golden ponytail and the mentality of a construction worker.
“Here they are.” She looked over at the parking lot and put on her Oakley sunglasses, the expensive kind.
“Listen carefully,” she said and came closer to me. I listened as carefully as I could.
“From this moment on, there will be no more mistakes. Do you see the guys in the white Citroën? That’s the operational team assigned to us. They have exactly 25 minutes for us. We took them off another mission that’s in progress. The moment you see them doing their thing, we take the elevator to floor minus two. Is that clear? Bitton and Arik will be here in 10 minutes and will block the entrance from minus one. Okay?”
“Yes, I understand,” I said.
The sun had set an hour earlier and the last remains of daylight lit the sky in dark blue shades, matching the color of her sunglasses, which were unnecessary at this hour.
“Good. Sorry I’m like this. You need it bit by bit,” she said, indicating with her hands.
I was starting to lose my patience with her. “Come on. Don’t go overboard.”
“You’ll stay with Billal from the minute he enters the sterile area on the staircase, floor minus two. Are you with me?”
“Yes.”
“Good. I’ll be behind the door on the parking floor, right behind you.”
“Okay. What if . . .”
We both heard the radio and raised our heads towards the exit from Mamilla Boulevard to the street. Billal hugged and kissed Mussa three times and they parted. Mussa walked towards the exit to the main street as the white Citroën slowly approached him.
“Here we go,” Liza mumbled.
I wondered how old she was. She acted like she had decades of experience but she couldn’t have been over 25.
“Three,” she said when the car was parallel to Mussa.
“Two,” when Mussa stood at the crosswalk. I saw Billal standing in the distance, watching what was happening.
“And,” she said, as all the doors of the vehicle opened except for the driver’s. Three men with button-down shirts that were too big on them and police hats on their heads jumped out of the car. Mussa froze. When they grabbed his hand, he tried to resist − a symbolic initial resistance − since he knew he had no chance. He was thrown into the vehicle as it spun around before the light changed. Within three seconds the car was gone, disappearing into the mall parking lot that had been opened for it in advance.
On the way up I got a call from Billal. “Are you on your way?” he shouted.
“Yes, yes. I’m getting into the elevator.”
“Did you notify Amit?”
“We notified his secretary; two guards on their way.”
“Call them and tell them to hurry up.” The call got cut off as the elevator descended.
Liza looked at me with her tough gaze. “Do we have authorization to interrogate?”
“Interrogate?”
“Dude, wake up! The urgent interrogation.”
“Oh, right Amit approved it?”
Liza took off her Oakley sunglasses. Maybe it was because we were no longer in the daylight, or maybe because she wanted me to see the small smile she had on her face.
“Amit doesn’t approve this kind
of thing.”
“Then who?”
“Oh, no big deal,” she said. “Just the prime minister.”
The elevator stopped abruptly. Waiting for the door to open was the slowest two seconds I had ever experienced.
“What’s so special about this interrogation?”
“You’re cute,” Liza said as she walked out of the elevator. “Dudi from coordination should have told me I was getting a new guard.”
She was clear and sharp while describing the lower ground floor and the positions we were going to take: There should be a security guard who’ll prevent people from entering from the floor of the mall, another security guard who’ll prevent entry from the lower floor of the parking lot − and there’s us, in the parking lot on the lower ground floor.
I told her “Yes.” And I prayed everything would be fine. It felt like this girl was in control of the situation.
The white Citroën parked slowly and the agents got out. One of them bent Mussa over and pulled him towards the stairwell door. Another agent put something that looked like a big black sponge on Mussa’s face, and the metal door slammed behind them.
Liza received a call and said “Yes” several times. After ending the call, she told me that Bitton and Arik were in position, securing the entrances to the stairwell. Billal entered and nodded to me to come inside with him as he whispered into the phone.
When the door closed, Billal was standing facing Mussa, whose hands and legs were cuffed to each other.
“Long time no see,” Billal said when the agents removed the black sponge from Mussa’s face and left the room without saying anything. One of them knocked into my shoulder as he passed.
“Captain,” Mussa squinted.
“Do you think I’m an idiot?” he said, standing with his legs apart and his arms crossed.
“Captain Billal! Please, Captain. What do you want from me?” Mussa whispered, beyond his wheezing breath.
Billal kicked him in the chest and Mussa rolled back and onto his side.
“Do you think that I’m an idiot?” Billal yelled, his voice echoing throughout the stairwell. He sounded like the Devil incarnate. Mussa tried to say something, but his body slamming onto the floor interrupted him.
“You know everything about the soldier!” Billal shouted and kicked him in the head.
The bearded Palestinian covered his face and tried to crawl away, muttering something in Arabic that I didn’t understand.
“Get up,” Billal said quietly. Mussa crawled back to the stair he had been sitting on and sat down on the stairs with great difficulty.
“We both know what we’re talking about.” Billal caressed Mussa’s beard. A small bald spot appeared on his head when his hat fell off. “You know exactly where the . . . what did you call him? The retarded soldier is.”
Mussa looked at him with recognition.
“This can go the easy way or the hard way.”
“I don’t know,” Mussa said, and looked up at him.
Billal looked at him with a stone gaze, “Okay. You leave me no choice.”
“I think I’ll wait outside,” I said to him, “to make sure that Liza’s all right.”
When I closed the metal door, I heard the first thud.
“Where” Billal shouted, “is the soldier?” The sound of the blow mixed with the thud.
“Where… is… the... soldier? Where?”
I heard Mussa giving him a different answer this time, and not the same “I don’t know.” It was something that sounded like the name of a street or a person.
Liza was standing there with her back to the metal door. The echoes of the commotion could be heard in the parking lot.
“Get rid of the uniform. We’re low profile now,” Liza instructed me, her eyes fixated on the entrance. I nodded and took off my shirt. I was left wearing a white shirt, border police shoes and pants, and carrying an M-16.
Liza and I stood outside the metal door. She stood firmly with her arms folded, watching the parking lot. I tried to imitate the way she was standing.
“I swear, it’s the truth,” I heard Mussa shout in Arabic.
“What’s going on here?” a man’s voice suddenly said, to the right of us. Two security guards around my age, dressed in light-rail security uniforms, got out of a white Ford and approached us. Each was holding a radio in his hands.
“Are you part of this?” a guy with a bad haircut and tattoos asked me.
“Yes, and there’s nothing of interest to you here,” Liza said, aggressively moving in front of them. It was a brave thing to do, considering she was half the size of each of them.
“Sweetheart, get out of the way,” the tattooed man said to her. The second guard looked like he was in training, or perhaps just someone who simply felt less committed to his job.
“We’re ISA and there’s an operation in progress here. Please get back to your own business,” I said.
He answered faster than I expected. “I’m a security guard, brother. I don’t know who you are, but this is totally my business,”
The smell of his sweat mixed with the smell of urine from the parking lot. Liza took out her ISA card. “Don’t you have anything to do at the light rail? Are you bored? Go back to catching people with expired passes.”
“Hey, honey. Watch it!” He pushed her ISA card aside, not even bothering to look at it. He moved his face closer to hers, showing his crooked teeth. Liza didn’t budge. The sound of a massive collision came from the metal door of the stairwell. Billal had thrown Mussa against the door so hard that it busted open. Billal took a quick look at us, then returned to the stairwell, dragging Mussa by his foot, who swore on his house that he didn’t know anything.
The light rail guard said, “What the hell?” and tried to get closer. Liza blocked him but he pushed her with both his hands, throwing her back about a meter. She fell to the ground and shouted, “Stop, you son of a bitch!” His eyes rolled back and he lost consciousness even before he hit the Renault behind him. This was the first time I had hit someone in the face outside The Academy. I had no idea how effective it was. The sound of somebody being dragged came from the other side of the parking garage. The trainee had fled, chased by the radio that was dangling on the floor behind him as he ran. The guard with the shitty haircut was on the floor, his uniform having wiped clean the hood of the car that he fell on.
Billal looked outside the room and went back inside. The door wouldn’t close because its hinges were damaged. “That is one brave son of a bitch,” Liza said as she got up, brushing the dirt from the ground off her hands. “You know what? Maybe it would have been better if you had kept the police uniform on.”
The metal door made a whining sound when Billal kicked it again, ending a phone call with the words, “minus two, minus two,” and shouting to overcome the poor reception.
“Take him straight to Antar Prison. Check the location of Yihya Sidawi and his sister Nur. I don’t have reception. We’ll talk later,” Billal said, ending the call. Mussa was lying behind him. He was silent, one of his legs barely moving.
“Where are we going?” Liza asked him, not noticing the red scratches on her thin elbows.
As he typed on his phone, Billal jumped over the passed-out light rail security guard.
Liza and I sat in front of each other in the back of the jeep. It was just as awkward as it was with Amit during my first mission.
“I hope you don’t have plans for tonight,” Billal said to us and stepped on the gas, heading towards headquarters.
Liza typed on her phone until she said, “Goddamnit! My battery died!” She had slightly narrow green eyes beneath light eyebrows, and her straight hair was in a tight ponytail that was peeking out from under her cap. The long hours working outdoors gave her skin a Jerusalem tan.
Billal talked the whole way with the bank representative abo
ut his mortgage. Every few minutes he got another call from the office and dismissed it; apparently there are things more threatening than the enemy.
“Where in the city are you from?” I asked Liza and she smirked. The reason she chose to hide her teeth so far was clearly not out of vanity.
“From the promenade near the beach,” she said.
“The beach?” I wasn’t sure I heard right. There’s no beach in Jerusalem.
“I’m from Ashdod,” she said as she patted her jeans.
“Studying something?” I asked just as the vehicle reached the base.
“I’m going to start school in Tel Aviv. Next week I’m moving into the dormitory,” she said, and raised a fist in triumph. “Really? How old are you?” I asked, but Billal turned to us and yelled.
“Evron, it was your shift when Keinan was kidnapped, wasn’t it?” Billal screamed at me from the driver’s seat.
“Why?” I asked him back.
“Yes or no?” he insisted.
“Yes,” I said.
“He’s cross-eyed because of you,” he told me through the rearview mirror.
I leaned back in my seat and smiled. Liza cursed because her battery died.
“What’s so funny?” she asked me. “Nothing,” I told her.
“Are we done for today?” she shouted at Billal as he picked up the handbrake when we reached headquarters.
“You can go home,” he said to Liza as he slammed the door on his way out of the jeep. “You, darling.” He knocked his kebab-finger on my window, “you stay with me.”
I wanted to remind him that according to my employment contract, I was entitled to a personal life but then I remembered what happened to the last guy who tried to get smart with him.
Liza pushed the heavy jeep door with her foot. Her hand leaned on my knee when she got out of the back door, walking like a crab. “I’ll talk to you,” she said. “We’re going to have to file a report about that idiot in the parking lot.”
“Yeah, sure,” I replied and she walked away from the jeep, shaking off her shirt and patting the dust out of her pants. It amazed me how her thin body stood so firmly. I stayed in the vehicle for a couple of minutes, as it made a sighing sound after a long day of work. Like a field agent, the car also knew when its day started, but not when it would end.
Fracture Point Page 11
