Disappearance (17 page)

Mikki was careful, keeping his distance. "Sarah, get the rope!" he ordered.

From her position by the Beetle, Sarah ran to the Jeep and retrieved a thin but sturdy rope.  She handed it to Mikki and stepped back.  Mikki handed her the shotgun and approached the intimidating foe. He wasn't about to hand the terrorist any opportunities of getting his hands on a firearm.

He moved cautiously holding the rope in both hands. "Show me your hands!" He commanded growling with gritted teeth.

Mustafa did not move.  He stood still looking fiercely at the approaching Mikki.

Mikki stopped.  "I'll say it once more: stretch out your hands!"

The terrorist obeyed.  Mikki moved to the right hand and raised the rope to trap the bulky arm.   Mustafa moved with lightning speed aiming for Mikki's exposed neck but his motion was cut in midair.  A suppressed burst from Eitan's silencer punctured his leg.  He fell against a tree, grimacing in pain.  Mikki lunged at him, grabbing his wrist and knotting the rope around it.   He circled the tree and knotted the other wrist.  Eitan assisted in positioning the terrorist, seated with his back leaning against the tree.   Mikki pulled on the rope, forcing the hands back.  He found a firm branch and fastened the rope to it.

Blood dripped from his wounded leg soaking his khaki pants, but Mustafa's gaze was focused again.  "What do you want?" he asked, realizing they meant business.

Mikki whipped out the photo and flashed it inches from his face.

"We want this woman who you kidnapped three years ago!" The eyeballs began to move frantically from side to side.  The huge man looked astonished.

"Spill it all, asshole!" Nadav said, joining in.

"I know nothing!" 
the terrorist said stubbornly.

Mikki ignored the pathetic attempt at denial.  "Is she alive?" he asked, sounding more
emotional  than  he  intended.

The Arab kept his mouth in check.  His lips were trembling. Eitan stood in front of him cocked the silencer and aimed between the bushy eyebrows.

"Shoot me you son-of-a-bitch!" the terrorist cried.

“Tell us what you did to her," Eitan said threateningly.

"We did nothing!”

They waited in silence. Mustafa gasped for air.

"They paid us to take her," the terrorist finally cried, obviously not about to contribute his soul to the cause.  "Get me something for my leg, it's getting numb.”

"Talk first, you bastard!"

The pathetic figure shifted uncomfortably. Looking distorted with the bulky hands bent backward, hugging the tree he was barely able to lift his head to address them.

"They gave us the contract.  It was excellent money and it served our purpose. What more do you want?"

A simple transaction, Mikki mused, cold and calculated.  The merchandise just happened to be human.  "What did you do with the girl?"  he persisted.

"We held her here for a few weeks then smuggled her to Lebanon.”

Eitan and Mikki both looked at Nadav as if it was his fault the border checkpoints had faltered.

"How'd you get her through?"

"Secrets of the trade," Mustafa snickered.

"What then?"  Mikki continued anxiously, not concerned with proper border procedures.

"I'm not sure. She was held in Beirut for a while then flown off somewhere, may have been to Mexico.”

"Is she alive?"  Mikki asked again, astonished at the possibility suddenly becoming tangible.

"I wouldn't know.  They didn't bother to keep me informed," the terrorist threw back, his face twisted in pain.

"Who's ‘they’ you keep mentioning?" Nadav asked.

"You don't expect me to snitch, do you?"

Eitan kicked the wounded leg.  Mustafa grimaced in pain. "Listen to me, cowboy," Eitan said struggling to control his temper, "we're not here for a boyscout meeting and you are not target practice.  If you want to live you'd better answer the questions."  He shouted the last three words, the shrill holler carrying far across the array of fish ponds.

"You don't scare me, punk," Mustafa answered bravely.

Eitan put the silencer to the terrorist's good leg and pulled the trigger again spraying blood and bone fragments in all directions.

Sarah shrieked in surprise.

The terrorist's eyes rolled in their sockets.  A low moan came from within him as he shook his head from side to side as if trying to get rid of the pain.

"The next bullet is for your skull," Eitan said ruthlessly.

The kidnapper opened his eyes.   He was now perspiring profusely, sweat drops rolling from his wretched face to his collar, smearing the top half of his shirt.  "We were supposed to get paid by the German," he said, breathing heavily, his voice cracking.  "He contracted us.  He instructed us to use the Volvo.   He was
supposed  to  make  the  payment  in Europe.”

He stopped and gulped air in noticeable pain, seemingly about to lose consciousness.  "For three years we've been after him. Raul was on his way to settle it once and for all.”

It was suddenly clear:  the three terrorists ambushed by Eitan's squad; the odd direction in which they came from; the negatives; their mission.

"What's his name?"

"He uses many but his real name is Clause Kollsmeyer of Bonn.”

"Where is he now?"

"He moves around but lately he has been residing in Copenhagen. He got some Danish broad pregnant there.”

"Give me the address!" Mikki commanded. "Get me to a doctor!" Mustafa pleaded.

"First the address!"

"Last we heard he was at some loft downtown. Raul was on his way there. 
Seventy-nine Studiestraede.  But he could be anywhere by now.”

"What does he look like?"

"I've never seen him."

"Then who has?"

"Only my partners, Raul and Suliman.  But you boys took care of them?"

Nadav made a mental note of the fresh bit of information. "Will he know where the girl was sent?" Mikki asked.

"Listen to me, you fools," Mustafa heaved angrily, shooting forward as if attempting to break free, "you can slit his throat for all I care.  It'll serve the son-of-a-bitch right.  Maybe he'll even give you the money he owes me.  I don't know what he knows or doesn't know.  If you want the girl, make him talk. I've given you what you wanted.  Now get me to a doctor!"

The corners of his mouth twitched as blood trickled down with saliva. He looked away groaning in pain.

Eitan cocked the silencer and shot him for the third time, point blank through the head.  The bullet penetrated the left temple scattering the right side of the face across the trunk of the locust tree.

Everyone looked away.  Mikki peeked at the repulsive scene out of the corner of his eye.  He felt sick.  Eitan went to the Jeep retrieved an old army blanket and a couple of spades and threw the blanket over the fresh corpse.   The four gathered around the remains.  No one spoke.  They knew they had no other recourse.   He was a threat to the investigation and as long as no one was sure who to watch out for, no tracks could be left behind.

Mikki considered the situation.   It was mesmerizing and repulsive yet essential.  It had made killers out of them, even murderers, though there was little chance anyone would hang or even be brought to trial.   With his background it was doubtful anyone will report him missing.  The authorities will certainly not mourn over this particular death.

Strangely, he thought with peculiar satisfaction, this one act of violence had thrown them all over the edge.   They were all bound by this murder and now there was no turning back.

CHAPTER 18

The SAS Boeing 757 approached Copenhagen's International airport rocking and pouncing over stubborn easterly winds. Eitan gripped the arms of his seat and looked in horror at Mikki seated across the aisle from him, as the pilot skillfully maneuvered the
aircraft  on  final  approach.    The white fog outside the small window, dispersed suddenly as small red brick buildings appeared far below.

Apprehensive of being cooped up in a metal tube, clinging on to dear life by a couple of fragile looking engines, Eitan couldn't find a thing he liked about flying.  It was his first overseas flight and by far the longest he had ever spent airborne.  It was a dreadful way to get around, he thought, as the plane plunged one of its wings applying an unexpected g- force.  He detested everything about the flight - the air pockets, the turbulence, the cramped seat, the plastic food, the tiny toilets, even the movie with those damn awful head phones.

Mikki on the other hand, he deduced with considerable envy, had seemed to enjoy himself quite convincingly.   Coasting helplessly at velocities half the speed of sound did not sway his demeanor.  He had slept quite soundly most of the way, with minor breaks for food and to relieve his bladder.  Eitan admired his composure as he watched him gulp a last minute drink before Anna, the petite air hostess, swept the Coca-Cola can and clear plastic cup into her waste bag and politely straightened his seat to an upright position.

If  at  all  possible,  Eitan  mused  as  he  braced  himself  for landing, he would have preferred to walk to Denmark.

The small red buildings grew larger as the plane gracefully nestled over the runway.  Crisscrossing streets and snakelike freeways with cars hurrying about in all directions, appeared below and soon the somewhat deserted airport surroundings with its assortment of planes parked in clusters, came rushing by as the wheels touched the long awaited tarmac, engines reversing thrust thundering the plane to a halt.

Relieved, Eitan smiled awkwardly at Mikki as they sat back, patiently waiting for the plane to reach its assigned gate. It was the
first time he had ever conventionally left his home country and he found himself experiencing the little child looking at an unfamiliar world through a glass window, marveling at the alien aura radiated by the confined commotion of baggage carts, catering trucks, fuel trailers, and planes in all shapes and sizes, being run by foreign people, following signs and directions in a language he could not discern.

With a sense of accomplishment sweeping over him, he stood up with everyone else, as the plane parked itself and the disembarking lights came on.   Thankful for finally being allowed to stretch his cramped legs, he hurried along after Mikki, down the conveyer platform toward passport control and the baggage claim area.

Passports stamped, money exchanged, and luggage retrieved, they flagged a taxi and handed the driver, who as anticipated spoke no English, a note prepared in advance, indicating their desired destination.

-------

The shiny new glass complex at the Advanced Technology Center, overlooking the traversing Mediterranean coast at Haifa's southernmost entrance, glistened in the brilliant morning sun as Sarah pulled her noisy Beetle into the guest parking lot.

Wearily, she dragged out her gear and headed for Eltron Corporation's main entrance.   She had not slept in almost a week.  Images of the execution kept haunting her.  The more she thought about it, the more she was convinced they had done wrong.

Plain, simple murder was its only appropriate description and she was an accomplice.

Justifications such as a higher cause, the ends justifying the means, revenge, or even the preposterous excuse of self-defense, did not wash.   Nothing, she convinced herself, absolutely nothing, justified what they had done. Not even covering their tracks and eliminating
possible  interference from concerned parties.

She kept seeing the mutilated figure sprawled against the tree with brain parts smeared across the aging stem.  It made her shudder.

She recalled being barely able to keep a respectable demeanor as they frantically dug the deep grave and dumped the body in it for eternal rest.  When she and Nadav finally departed from Eitan and Mikki at Kibbutz Geffen, she stopped the Beetle on the side of the road and politely excused herself, falling to her knees in the middle of an empty field, spewing her guts in agony and sobbing uncontrollably for what seemed like an eternity.

Nadav had appeared by her side handing her a napkin to wipe herself.  As she pathetically tried to gather her wits she found herself
closely observing him for the first time, realizing he was as shaken up as she was.  As they rose and strolled back to the car, she noticed his broad athletic build and graceful stride.  She realized he was more than a head taller than her as she continually had to gaze up into the sun to look at him.

As they continued their ride back to Tel Aviv they confided in one another.   She told him about her childhood, the divorce, her fears, her aspirations, and most importantly, how she felt about the killing. As she spoke, she noticed the handsome face, his masculine jaw line complemented with high cheek bones beneath an ever present worried expression.

Nadav belonged to Tel Avi
v’
s elite she had for so long both envied and despised.   Knew all the figures; socialized in the right places, talked the language.   His dad was a financial wizard who made a fortune using other people's money.  His mom ran a prestigious women's clothing store in Tel Aviv's posh Ramat Aviv district.  His only sister was studying at one of the more prestigious London universities.

She could tell by his gestures and his talk that it was essential to make daddy proud.  The Army Intelligence stint was only a step to bigger and better things.  Business school, assimilation into the family business, and the consequent power shift from father to son, were indisputable landmarks in a promising, yet anxiety-filled future, designed to augment the household's fortune and status.

He had much to lose if their ludicrous escapade ever went sour.

-------

She entered Eltron's main lobby through silent, automatic sliding glass doors.  A security guard sat behind a tall counter, talking loudly on the phone.  Several neatly trimmed business people in dark suits and fashionable ties hovered over the counter attempting to capture his attention.

Sarah stood patiently behind the distinguished party and surveyed the lobby.  It was impressive.  Three gold framed elevators
ran  non-stop  from  the  basement  to  the  seventh floor. A small, two-level pool, with a sophisticated miniature aluminum water wheel on the bottom half, gently recycled the water to the top, creating a waterfall. A lounge with expensive looking leather sofas and a fancy glass table stood on the marble floor to the side, completing the splendidly decorated reception area.

"May I help you, Miss…?"

The uniformed guard was addressing her after sending the larger party on their way.

"Sarah Price to see Yossi Gadot," she announced, as
ceremoniously as she could.

"Is he expecting you?"

"Yes," she answered firmly, having called Gadot the previous evening, hinting of new and crucial developments in his late brother's case, and pleading for a short interview. Gadot, now a marketing manager at Eltron and extremely reluctant to be heaved back into his unpleasant past, became quite curious when she mentioned the Volvo.  He finally agreed to give her a few minutes but insisted she meet him at work.

She handed the guard her driver's license in return for a visitor's badge and sat on the leather sofa waiting for an escort, observing company employees hurrying about their business.

Orit, Gadot's plumb, brunette secretary, came waltzing by, politely introducing herself, and escorted Sarah up the elevator to the fifth floor where they hurried through a brightly lit and pleasantly decorated corridor, to Gadot's front office.

The door to Gadot's office was shut. Orit pointed Sarah to an office chair across from her desk, offered coffee which Sarah gladly accepted, and disappeared behind a large computer screen, typing away.

A long fifteen minutes passed before a distinguished looking man in a gray suit , carrying a brown briefcase, stormed out of Gadot's room.  Gadot appeared close behind leaning against the door frame, smiling.  "Now there's a guy under pressure," he commented half-jokingly.

Orit looked up and smiled knowingly.

"Hi Sarah," he greeted her.  Sarah flashed a weary smile and stood up to shake his outstretched hand.  They had briefly met once, over three years ago, but the memory and circumstances lingered clearly in their minds.

He had aged considerably, she noticed.   His hairline had receded  well  back  over  the  top  of  his  head  and  modest wrinkles had formed on his forehead, around his eyes and mouth, and down his neck.  His piercing blue eyes remained imposing and
his  sturdy  built  seemed  intact  under  the executive black slacks, a fitting white shirt, and a black dotted orange tie.

He retrieved his black suit jacket from an invisible hanger behind his door, smugly slid into it, and led Sarah out the door. "I'll be back in a few minutes,"
he  informed  Orit without further explanations, shutting her office door behind him.

He led Sarah back toward the elevators but stopped short, opening a stairway door.   He began climbing rapidly, two steps at a time, to the top floor.  He passed the entrance door to the seventh
floor and hopped the last few steps to the roof. As he opened the roof door, the cramped stairway was suddenly flooded with bright sunlight.  Sarah, doing her best to follow in his footsteps, was momentarily blinded by the surge of light.  She climbed the final few steps on pure inertia and stepped onto the roof, shielding her eyes with her hands.

Gadot was leaning against the railing, lighting a cigarette and gazing toward Haifa and the Carmel ridge.

"There's where Gabi was killed," he said, pointing to the steep twisting road that was clearly visible climbing its way from the coastal highway to the top of the ridge.

"I come here once in a while to pay my respects," he said dejectedly.

"Why did they kill him, Yossi?" Sarah asked gently.

"Cover up. Who knows…
"

They were silent for a while, Yossi puffing on his cigarette.

"My life has been one big lie since his death," he finally said almost to himself.  "I've supported his family, my family, our parents, and everyone who suffered, but myself.

"No one but me even suspects foul play," he continued. "They all treat it like it was a regular car accident.  It hadn't made it any easier on his wife and kids but at least they are not questioning the matter.

"It's almost like living in sin.   Everything is a reminder and there's no one to share it with.   Every time I see or hear a report of police or Shabac heroics, I get this sickening feeling in my gut digging deeper into my guilty conscience, begging me to come out and spill what I know.  Worst of all, I feel somewhat responsible for his death. I should have known better.”

His last words were a bare whisper. Sarah seized the moment.

"In the letter he left me, Gabi mentioned they were hampering his investigation by not allowing him to inspect the Volvo which, according to him, was the car used in the kidnapping.”

She
stopped  for  a  brief  moment,  waiting  for  a  response. When none came, she continued.

"This may indicate the kidnappers were instructed to use the particular Volvo.”

Gadot turned around and faced her, his blue eyes probing her face. "Why are you still at it?" he asked simply.

Sarah was ready.  She knew there were to be no shortcuts and no beating around the bush with Yossi Gadot.  She needed to be on the level if she wanted his assistance. 

"For the same reasons you just described," she answered, not wavering her look from his penetrating eyes.

"Oh," he raised his eyebrows, "don't forget he was my only brother.”

"True, Yossi, but in my line of business one does not lend a hand to cover-ups.  As a reporter it was my duty to expose this story and I didn't because I was afraid.  I was young then, just starting out, and I felt this was over my head.  I took your advice and shelved Gabi's letter, dreading  the  day it would come back to haunt me.”

She paused.   "About a month ago, it finally did.   Someone came to me with new evidence and only then did I realize how guilty I felt about it all these years.”

Gadot extracted one final whiff out of his dwindling cigarette, threw the butt on the floor and crushed it with his shiny black leather shoe.

"What did you find?" he asked.

Sarah walked to the railing and looked down at the diminutive promenade rushing below.  "Yossi, I need your help but I'd hate to get you involved all over again," she said, turning around, her back leaning against the railing.  "Are you sure you're up to it?"

He considered her statement for a few seconds.  After her phone call he’d remained up all night weighing the pros and cons of getting involved.  He knew he could not afford to endanger his second career as he did his first, and he was not about to put the family through the misery again, yet in his heart he knew he could not turn away from finding out the truth.