Still no response. Khalifa repeated the question, thinking maybe Ben-Roi was being distracted by something. There was a breath – midway between a sigh and a groan – then:
‘We need to talk about this.’
‘I know we need to talk about it. That’s why I called!’
Khalifa laughed, something faintly manic about the sound. There was no corresponding indication of amusement from the other end.
‘Ben-Roi?’
‘Listen, my friend, there have been certain complications . . .’
The Egyptian’s brows knitted. ‘
Compillycashions?
How do you mean?’
‘Just that . . .’ Another breath, as if Ben-Roi was choosing his words. ‘Well, to cut a long story short, the case is being taken over by another department, because of Barren being American and all that. They’ve got a lot of connections here too so we’re having to tread carefully.’
Something about his tone set alarm bells ringing in Khalifa’s head. ‘I don’t understand what you’re saying.’
‘Basically, I’m off the case. I’m not involved any more.’
Khalifa slipped off the desk, cigarette ash raining down on to the floor. The bells were ringing louder now. Much louder.
‘Is this a joke you’re telling me?’
Ben-Roi grunted. ‘Like my boss says, I’m not wearing my joking face.’
‘Just like that, you’re moved off a case?’
‘Looks that way.’
‘But why? Why would they do this? You told me this morning you’d practically solved the thing.’
Ben-Roi mumbled something.
‘What?’
‘I said: these things happen.’
‘You’re not bothered about it?’
‘Of course I’m bothered.’
‘You don’t sound bothered.’
‘Trust me, Khalifa, I’m bothered. There’s just not a lot I can do about it. Now look, I’ll always be grateful for—’
‘So you tell this other department to put in the request.’
‘Sorry?’
‘Tell this other department to put in the request. I can’t do anything without a formal request for assistance from your side.’
‘Unfortunately it’s not as simple as that.’
‘What’s not simple? You call them, explain the situation—’
‘It’s not as simple as that,’ repeated Ben-Roi, a hint of annoyance creeping into his voice. Something else as well. Although Khalifa couldn’t be sure, it sounded distinctly like embarrassment. He pulled hard on his cigarette, his brow rucking into a concertina of suspicious wrinkles.
‘What’s going on?’ he asked.
‘Nothing’s going on.’
‘You’ve just been moved off a murder case, and you’re telling me nothing’s going on.’
Silence.
‘Did someone get to you? Is that it?’
‘I don’t know what you mean.’
‘Did someone warn you off?’
‘No one warned me to do anything.’
‘So why’s the case been moved to another department?’
‘I just fucking told you!’ Unmistakable annoyance now. ‘Barren are an American company, they have a lot of connections here, there are certain ways of approaching—’
‘So give me a name and a contact number and I’ll speak to this other department direct.’
‘It doesn’t work like that. You can’t just call up out of the blue—’
‘Like you called me? Remember? That’s how all this started. You called me out of the blue and asked for my help. And now I’m asking for your help. I have a mine full of toxic waste, wells being poisoned, barges going up and down the Nile . . . I can’t move against the people responsible unless your government asks my government—’
‘Don’t raise your voice to me, Khalifa.’
‘I’m not raising my voice!’
‘You are raising your voice! And I don’t appreciate it. I don’t know what happened to you last night . . .’
‘What happened to me last night, my
friend
, is that I nearly died inside a mine because you asked—’
‘I didn’t ask you to do anything!’
‘You asked me to help you with a murder case! I did help you. I
am
helping you. Barren killed a woman in Jerusalem—’
‘We don’t know they killed her.’
‘Of course they killed her. You told me they did this morning.’
‘
Maybe
they killed her.’
‘They killed her! You know they killed her. She found out what they were doing in the mine—’
‘We have no direct evidence—’
‘What the hell are you talking about? I’ve got a mine full of evidence! A million barrels of evidence! I’ve never worked on a case where there was so much!’
‘This isn’t your case!’
‘It
is
my case! If it wasn’t for me you’d know nothing about Samuel Pinsker, the mine, Zoser . . .’
‘And I’m grateful for that, I’ve told you. But now the ball’s in our court. It’s an Israeli case. And I am telling you your help is no longer required.’
‘It
is
required!’ Khalifa took a furious snatch on his cigarette, his hand trembling. ‘It’s required because you’re clearly not man enough—’
‘What? What did you just say to me?’
‘You’re not man enough to see the investigation through, to go after the criminals.’
‘How dare you!’
‘Someone got to you, Ben-Roi.’
‘I am not going to sit here—’
‘Barren got to you.’
‘You don’t know what the hell—’
‘Barren got to you! That’s why the investigation’s being moved. I helped you, Ben-Roi. I solved the case for you. I risked my life. And now, like the scheming Jew you are—’
‘What? What? How dare you, you filthy little rag-head—’
‘They killed my son!’
‘Don’t be bloody—’
‘They killed my little boy!’ Khalifa was bellowing now. ‘A Zoser barge loaded with Barren’s toxic waste. They killed Ali. They killed me. They killed Zenab. And now you won’t help me bring them to justice because you’re too afraid. You bastard! You bastard Jew coward!’
He lashed a foot at the waste-paper basket beside his desk, sending it tumbling across the room. At the other end of the line he could hear Ben-Roi breathing heavily. There was a silence, then the Israeli’s voice. He was clearly struggling to keep it under control.
‘I’m sorry for what happened to your son, Khalifa. I truly am. And I’m grateful for everything you’ve done. But this is going no further. It’s over. You understand? It’s over.’
Another silence. Then, from nowhere, another voice. Not Ben-Roi’s. A female voice.
‘No, it’s not. It’s not over at all. In fact, it’s only just beginning.’
J
ERUSALEM
‘What the . . .’
Ben-Roi held the phone away from his ear, horrified, then slammed it back. He’d recognized the voice instantly. The woman from the Nemesis Agenda, Rivka Kleinberg’s daughter. Dinah Levi or whatever the hell name she was going by now. And she was on the line. Breaking into their conversation. Like the two of them had been talking privately in a room and she had suddenly jumped out of a cupboard.
‘How the . . .?’
‘We bugged your phone,’ she cut in, anticipating the question. ‘Back in Mitzpe Ramon. Clever little device. Allows us to listen not just to your calls but to everything within a five-metre radius of the handset.’
It took a moment for the full implications of this to sink in. When it did, Ben-Roi’s face went black.
‘Get off the line, Khalifa. Get off now.’
The Egyptian ignored him. ‘Who are you?’ he snapped. ‘What do you mean, it’s not over?’
Ben-Roi repeated his demand, but no one was talking any notice. Like the kid who’d been kicked out of the gang, all he could do was sit there listening helplessly while the woman filled Khalifa in on the Nemesis Agenda and what they did.
‘Barren have pulled strings,’ she explained. ‘The Israelis are burying the investigation. Your friend’s taken a bribe to drop it.’
‘That’s a fucking lie! Don’t listen—’
‘Like I told him when we met a few days back, the law doesn’t touch companies like Barren. Or Zoser. Any of them. The only way to bring them down is to play as dirty as they play.’
‘So tell me how!’ Suddenly Khalifa’s voice was excited. Urgent. ‘Tell me what I can do!’
‘Are you mad, Khalifa? Don’t even think—’
‘Tell me what I can do!’
‘You can help us,’ came the woman’s voice.
‘Yes. I’ll do it. Anything.’
‘For God’s sake, Khalifa!’
‘There’s a waste shipment arriving tonight. We’ve hacked the Zoser mainframe, got all the details. They’re running a deep-water dock north of Rosetta, right at the mouth of the Nile. The ship’s due in around midnight. We’re on our way there now. We’re going to film the whole thing, maybe interrogate a couple of the crew. Then we need to go to the mine. Can you take us there?’
‘Of course!’
‘Khalifa!’
‘We’re going to text you a secure number. Call us back on it and we’ll arrange where to—’
‘I’m coming to Rosetta!’ cried Khalifa. ‘They killed my son. I want to be involved.’
‘Sorry, but we don’t work—’
‘I’m coming to Rosetta! That’s the deal. I want to see it for myself. I come to Rosetta, then I take you to the mine. It’s that or nothing.’
There was a sound of muffled whispering, as if the woman was conferring with someone else, then, reluctantly:
‘OK. Rosetta it is. Have you got the notebook? The one about the mine?’
Yes, came the reply.
‘Bring it with you. We might be able to use it. We’re texting you now.’
‘For God’s sake listen to me, Khalifa, these people are—’
‘What? What are these people?’
It was the first time in two minutes anyone had acknowledged Ben-Roi’s presence.
‘Tell me what they are, Ben-Roi?’
‘They’re lunatics! Terrorists!’
‘And you’re a liar and a coward! And I know who I’d rather be working with right now. You had your chance, Ben-Roi, and you chose to take the bribe and walk away. It’s none of your business any more. I’ll call you as soon as I get the text.’
This to the woman. Ben-Roi shouted, told Khalifa not to do it, that it was crazy, that they were never going to get Barren and he might as well just accept the fact. He was talking to himself. The line was already dead. He hurled the mobile across the room. As he did so he caught sight of a figure standing in the doorway. Half in, half out. His jaw tightened.
‘You been eavesdropping, Dov?’
L
UXOR
The text was waiting for Khalifa as soon as he got off the line. A mobile number. Egyptian, by the look of it. He called. The woman answered. They were about two hours out of Rosetta, she told him. Could he get himself up to the coast? No problem, he said. There were regular flights from Luxor to Alexandria via Cairo.
‘Although I can’t take a gun on the plane. Even with a police badge.’
‘Forget it,’ she said. ‘We’ve got more than enough firepower to go round. Text us on this number as soon as you know what flight you’re on. And don’t even think of trying to double-cross us.’
Khalifa didn’t know what the phrase meant, but he got the gist. He started to tell her nothing could be further from his mind, but she’d already rung off. For a moment he sat, a tiny warning light blipping somewhere inside his head. He was too pumped up to pay it any mind, too swept away by the current of his emotions. Justice, that was all he cared about. Justice for his son. And he didn’t care how he got it. He pushed all doubts aside, snatched up the phone and called EgyptAir to book his flight north.
J
ERUSALEM
‘You been eavesdropping?’ Ben-Roi repeated, unable to hide the barb of accusation in the question. Dov Zisky didn’t reply, just stood there peering unblinkingly from behind his circular spectacles, a sheaf of papers clutched in his hand.
‘Dov?’
‘We’re letting Barren go?’
‘So you
were
eavesdropping.’
‘I was waiting to give you this.’ Zisky lifted the papers. ‘You were shouting.’
There was an awkward silence. Then, not wanting to get into another argument, Ben-Roi grunted and waved a hand.
‘My fault. I should learn to keep my voice down.’
If he was hoping to defuse the situation, it didn’t work. Zisky came forward a step.
‘Why?’ he asked. ‘I thought we were—’
‘Leah Shalev’ll fill you in,’ said Ben-Roi, cutting him off. ‘The case is going up to Special Investigations and that’s the end of it. These things happen. Now, what have you got there?’
Zisky wasn’t going to be put off. ‘But we can’t just—’
‘Don’t tell me what we can and cannot do, Dov.’ His tone was harsher than he intended, but he was wound up after his confrontation with Khalifa and wasn’t in the mood for going through it all again.
Liar. Coward. Not man enough
. The Egyptian’s words were still ringing in his ears, all the more crushing because deep down he knew they were true. Yes, he was acting for Sarah and the baby rather than because he himself was afraid, but the fact remained that he was dropping a case and taking a sweetener to do it. Twenty minutes ago he’d imagined he could deal with the guilt. Now he wasn’t so sure. And he didn’t need Zisky adding to his doubts.
In front of him the kid came forward another step.
‘Arieh, listen—’
‘It’s “sir” to you.’
‘But I’ve found something about Barren that I think—’
Ben-Roi snapped. ‘I don’t want to hear about Barren. You understand? We’re off the case, it’s gone upstairs, end of story. Whatever you’ve got, just leave it on the desk. And then piss off. I’d like a bit of privacy.’
Zisky stood tight-lipped, his expression such that Ben-Roi got the impression it was now
him
who was being accused. Then, stalking forward, he slapped the sheaf on the edge of the desk, turned and walked out.
Before Ben-Roi could reach them, the papers spilled off and scattered all over the floor.
‘Fuck it!’ he hissed. ‘Fuck it!’
He sat a moment, his fist clenching and unclenching, mortified by how much like Chief Superintendent Baum the ‘sir’ comment had made him sound. Then, standing, he went after Zisky, meaning to apologize for his outburst. He couldn’t find him and after trawling the station for five minutes he returned to the office. His mobile was lying in pieces in the far corner of the room. He had no idea what the bug looked like, didn’t bother searching for it. Salvaging the SIM card, he took the rest of the pieces through to the rest room and dropped them into the toilet. Back in the office he rifled his colleague Yoni Zelba’s desk, fished out the old Nokia he kept there, slotted in the card and put the phone on charge. Then he started collecting the spilled papers. They were all over the floor and under the desk, and he had to get down on his knees to reach the further ones, which struck him as somehow appropriate. He gathered them up, shuffled them into a pile and was just sliding them into his in-tray, sick of the whole bloody thing, when something came out at him off the page. A name. In bold type. Dinah Levi. He remembered asking Zisky to look into her, a couple of days ago, after the Nemesis people had held him prisoner. Presumably this was his report. Although hadn’t he just said . . .