by Erez Aharoni
Morris didn’t demonstrate any signs of compassion; he hurled himself on Ofer and sent a series of quick, short punches to his chest and face.
Ofer pulled him closer, trying to prevent Morris from using him as a punching bag. He felt blood trickling from his mouth. A quick lick of the tongue ensured him that all his teeth were still in place.
They rolled on the floor with Morris panting and puffing furiously.
What is he doing? Why? What have I done? These were the questions Ofer attempted to answer while fighting for his life.
Morris managed to place his hands on his neck with a quick and sudden movement and began to strangle him. Ofer stopped asking questions and focused on desperate attempts to transfer oxygen from his mouth to his lungs.
Morris’ face was now attached to Ofer’s neck.
“They record every word that’s being said in here. Got that, professor?” Morris whispered in his ear.
It took Ofer some time to realize Morris was speaking to him and even more time to understand what he was saying.
Why didn’t I think about it before? Of course they left us by ourselves. They wanted us to talk so they could record us and use the recording as incriminating evidence.
What could have been more obvious? Morris is familiar with the system, and is even more familiar with the nastiness of the interrogating officers. How could I have been such a rookie, ignorant in the ways of police procedures and interrogations?
“So what do you want from me? Let me breathe,” Ofer whispered back while wriggling and attempting to release his neck from Morris’ deadly grasp.
“I want you to shut your loud blabbering legal mouth, understand? And I want them to think this is real,” said Morris and intensified his grip until frightening gurgling sounds began to come out of Ofer’s throat.
“All right… all right, but let me breathe a little.”
“I will. But only a little. And you need to promise me you’ll shut up.”
“I will.”
“What’s the story with this Natalia?” whispered Morris.
“I don’t know, but I have to figure out what happened to her. Let’s get out of here and I’ll call you.”
“All right, brother. Now make an effort to breathe.”
Ofer didn’t feel like Morris was making it easier for him, even though his motions were now calculated and he did not continue with the strangulation. In spite of the toughness he demonstrated, he gave Ofer a little maneuvering room that allowed him to move his head and fill up his lungs with a few gulps of air.
The time that passed seemed to Ofer like an eternity, but apparently, not more than five minutes had gone by.
When Dadon entered the room, they were both still entangled on the floor.
Morris grew silent the moment Dadon walked in the room but did not release his grip. Dadon tried to separate the two of them, and Morris began to shout, “I’ll beat the shit out of him… I’ll fuck his mother…”
Morris released Ofer from his grip for a moment. Ofer did not hesitate and lifted his knee right into Morris’ groin. His face distorted, his mouth opened and shock appeared in his eyes. He was so surprised by the force of the blow that a scream escaped from his mouth. “You probably remember that I’m not a pushover,” whispered Ofer as he rose from the floor and brushed the dust off his clothes.
“Why are you two fighting like two crazy puppies? Go and chase kittens instead of beating each other here,” shouted Dadon.
Morris could barely rise to his feet; he held his damaged goods with both hands.
“It’s a real pleasure to see how friendly your relationship is becoming. Really, well done,” said Dadon.
“He started it. He just jumped me,” said Ofer.
Morris made a threatening gesture, as if he were about to lunge at Ofer’s neck again.
Dadon gave him a menacing stare, and Morris remained in his place. Dadon took manacles from his belt and snapped them on the men’s wrists and ankles.
“We gave you a chance to tell us what you know. Instead, you decided to have fun and beat each other like you were fighting over a bowl of dog food. We’ll head to court in an hour or two. You’ve left us no choice but to ask a judge to detain you for a couple of days. There’s no way you two are getting out of prison in the next week. And I’m sure you’ll sing like two nightingales before the week is over.”
Chapter 29
They sat in the patrol vehicle without exchanging a single word. The manacles stung Ofer’s hands and feet as if they were marks of Cain. How could it be that he was now being taken as a suspect to the same court which he regularly visited a few times a week as an intern? He felt as if his whole world were crumbling.
Morris sat with his eyes lowered throughout the ride.
I cooked this rotten stew, Ofer thought remorsefully. Now I’m up to my neck in trouble, and I’ve gotten Morris into trouble as well. How can I get out of this mess? There must be a solution.
He prepared in his mind the speech he would give in court.
Shlomo Eder, the judge on duty, was exceedingly nice and very pleased with himself. The courtroom was full to the brim, and yet he managed to maintain his good mood and was attentive to the claims of the prisoners. At least there’s a chance he’ll be receptive, Ofer tried to encourage himself.
They didn’t even manage to sit down before the judge called their names. They were led to the dock. The moment Ofer stood on his feet, he saw Gideon Geller entering the courtroom in a storm and heading down the stairs all the way to the attorney’s bench.
There was no end to Ofer’s joy. From now on everything was going to be fine.
Geller said in his thunderous voice, “Your honor, I represent one of the suspects.”
I’m getting out of this one, Ofer calmed himself down. He got my text message and cared enough to come here. I’m in the good hands of attorney Geller now.
The police prosecutor asked for a remand. He extensively described Natalia’s cruel murder and the evidence against Morris and Ofer. At the end of his speech, he asked to show the judge some classified details of the interrogation. The judge called him to the stand and the prosecutor showed him the classified information that supposedly warranted the extension of their arrest for further interrogation.
Ofer noticed Alush and Dadon sitting comfortably on the bench behind the prosecutor.
Geller asked to speak. “Your honor,” he said, “I was urgently summoned here this morning, and I now hear the exact details about these serious accusations for the first time. I haven’t had the chance to speak with my client yet. But I would like to say in the strongest possible way and with a firm belief: my client has nothing to do with the crime the police are trying to frame him with. Ofer Angel is an intern in a law office. I would like to add that it is a distinguished one, but modesty forbids me to do so because it is my own law office. I know this man. He is one of our most distinguished employees, the salt of the earth. The police are not giving us any information. They also have not provided a motive that can be ascribed to my client. This is clearly a case of harassment, or worse, an attempt to frame a young man who has a bright future ahead of him with a terrible crime.”
“As you can understand, Mr. Geller,” said Judge Eder, “there is evidence involved here. Both your client and his friend, whose criminal record is quite impressive, were at the scene of the crime. Can you point out a legal precedent of a similar case which did not lead to an arrest?”
“With your permission, sir, before answering, I have a single question for the police prosecutor.”
“Go ahead and ask,” said the judge.
“According to your estimate, when did Natalia’s Schulvitz’s murder take place?”
“That information is classified,” answered the prosecutor. He was a young man, dressed in a police uniform; his head was shaved and his eyebrows were thick. He appeared completely inexperienced and recited his answers woodenly.
“I’m telling you, sir,” Geller conti
nued his argument, “that on my way here I spoke with the police officer and learned that this is a murder case. I didn’t waste any time and called the Forensic Institute. I did not get all the information from them, but I did receive verification of the fact that according to the autopsy the murder was committed more than seventy-two hours ago. I ask the prosecutor to verify this information.”
What’s his plan? Ofer wondered. What ace is he pulling out of his sleeve?
Where is he going with all this?
The prosecutor refused to verify Geller’s words, and the judge told him, “Let’s say you’re right, what does this have to do with your arguments?”
“I will gladly tell you, Your Honor. First of all, I understand that I was right in my assessment, and the time of the murder was shown to you in the classified information. Well… exactly seventy-two hours ago, my client was in prison, under police custody all through the night. Unfortunately, that was another case of a foolish and meaningless arrest. Furthermore, the following morning, my client was hospitalized in the Tel Hashomer Hospital in an isolation ward because he may have been infected with a deadly virus. I’m asking you a simple question—How did he manage to commit this atrocious murder while he was in the jailhouse?”
Ofer gave Alush and Dadon a quick look, both twisted their faces.
“And where was your client’s friend?” persisted the judge.
The attorney turned to the dock. Morris stood up and said dryly, “Your Honor, I was under arrest as well. In the same cell as the suspect standing next to me.”
“What have you got to say about this? Is it true?” the judge addressed the prosecutor, who began to mumble and shift nervously on his feet. He turned to Alush and Dadon and consulted with them in a hushed voice.
After some time, he turned back to the judge. “As far as the timing is concerned, the defense attorney is right… but… that doesn’t mean anything… it’s certain that—”
“Certain that what? That it wasn’t them? I want a straight answer.”
“Certain that their fingerprints were found in the apartment, and the neighbor had seen them—”
“The neighbor had seen them yesterday,” said the judge, “after the deceased was already murdered. So charge them with not alerting the police about a crime. You don’t need an arrest warrant in order to do that.”
The prosecutor was silent and looked at the floor. His silence was enough for Judge Eder. He ordered Ofer’s and Morris’ immediate release. Ofer saw the look in Alush’s and Dadon’s eyes. He knew they now bore a grudge and had likely sworn to avenge their insult.
Geller clapped Ofer’s shoulder. “I have another court sitting I need to rush to. We’ll talk later.”
Ofer and Morris did not exchange a single word throughout the release process and quickly exited the building before Alush and Dadon could have a chance to change their minds and summon them back. Morris disappeared in an instant without leaving a trace.
It was almost eleven o’clock. Ofer immediately decided what his next move should be. He headed out to the Yarkon Cemetery.
Natalia Schulvitz’s funeral was about to begin.
Chapter 30
Dozens of people gathered around the grave at the Yarkon Cemetery. Ofer went closer to it and recognized a few elderly babushkas and about the same number of muscular goons wearing dark, close-fitting shirts. They all had the same short hair, the same distant, tough stare and various tattoos.
Before approaching Natalia’s grave, he turned to check his father’s. During daylight, one could clearly notice that the gravestone was misplaced, but there was nothing he could do about it. He left his father’s grave site and hoped that the burial society would fix the damage soon.
He then got a bit closer to the crowd at Natalia’s funeral but didn’t quite join it. Ofer preferred to keep a safe distance in case Alush or Dadon or a representative on their behalf had come to look for suspicious faces at the funeral. He had recently parted from them, and didn’t especially miss them.
The burial society representative chanted some psalms quickly, and it was obvious he just wanted to fulfill his obligations and leave.
Ofer recognized Natalia’s Keglevich-loving bald neighbor. For a change, he wasn’t wearing his undershirt. Ofer didn’t have any doubt the neighbor was thirsty for a good cup of vodka.
A little sign bearing the name “Natalia Schulvitz” was placed on the dirt mound by the burial society man. He was old and wrinkly and wore clothes that weren’t really suitable for either digging or the hot weather.
None of the attendees were holding bouquets.
Who was she? Did she have a family? Despite the night she had arranged for him in the Abu Kabir prison, he felt sorry for her. What a sad ending for the life of a young woman. Someone, somewhere, sometime must have loved her and she must have loved him back. What could she have done to deserve such a cruel death?
Ofer looked around him and couldn’t recognize a single soul. He assumed the goons belonged to Harsovsky’s company, that oligarch whose business card was found in Natalia’s apartment.
The same questions continued to pop into his mind:
What did Igor Harsovsky and Rodety have to do with one another?
Why would Rodety send the Russian a text message?
What was the “fire” that was burning?
How did Natalia fit into this strange relationship?
It came to him like an epiphany. Natalia had known something about Jacob Rodety even before he became a lifeless corpse. It was written on her beautiful face, it was tattooed on her forehead and woven into her impressive braid.
And if she had ties to Harsovsky then there was a good chance he was the one who had used her.
But what did he use her for? Perhaps to keep an eye on Rodety?
And what did Rodety do to deserve his punishment? Maybe he did something that Harsovsky didn’t like?
And what had she done to deserve such an ending? Maybe she knew too much?
So many questions gnawed at him and filled him with restlessness, and so many possible answers.
The goons made themselves useful by filling up the grave. Not a simple job. Ofer recalled how difficult it was to empty out his father’s grave and then refill it. In spite of the expertise he had gained, he did not offer them a hand.
Suddenly, he recognized her in the crowd. Among the elderly babushkas stood two young women. He had no doubts regarding the identity of one of them. The way her cropped hair lay on the nape of her neck, the way she shifted her weight from one foot to the other, those were identifying marks that were better than fingerprints.
It was undoubtedly Gali Shviro. But what was she doing there?
Chapter 31
Gali Shviro’s mind was also filled with restless thoughts.
How could it be that Igor Harsovsky was almost murdered and right after that a young woman who had worked for him was killed? Obviously there was some clue to decipher there. Such a coincidence was illogical and unlikely.
She examined the crowd around her. She didn’t recognize any police officers. That was strange, considering the fact it was the funeral of a viciously murdered woman.
It wasn’t really a place she wanted to hang around in. The funeral was about to end. She whispered an apology in Ina’s ear and told her she had to go. “I promise to come visit again. Give Igor my regards. I hope he feels better. I’ll call,” she said and turned to leave.
As soon as she had gone, a broad-shouldered man wearing a dark coat left the crowd gathered around the grave and carefully began to follow her.
At the nearest intersection of pathways he turned off the main gravel road. His head was bare, and a round, shiny bald patch could be seen on its crown. Gali heard his footsteps and glanced behind her, startled. She could see his back as he quickly moved away.
At the same moment, she noticed a young man who was bent over one of the graves in the adjacent lot. Something in his body movements seemed strange to her. She walked
towards him and saw he was throwing up on the bushes at the end of the pathway.
She got even closer to ask if he needed help. Suddenly, she recognized him. It was too late to back away. Ofer Angel? Her surprise was absolute.
He straightened up and turned towards her. He didn’t seem surprised at all. He must have known I was here, she said to herself when Ofer asked, “Hi, Gali, what are you doing here?”
He was extremely skinny, his face haggard with a yellowish hue.
“Ofer, what’s the matter? Why are you throwing up?” asked Gali with concern.
“I don’t feel well. That’s all. Indigestion.” For a moment, he considered whether he should tell her he was fighting for his life. That perhaps his end was near. That perhaps they would never meet again. But instead, he just asked one more time, “What are you doing here, Gali?”
“I came to a funeral. This girl, Natalia… who was murdered… used to work with the person sponsoring our association.”
“I know,” said Ofer, “and I think I know who killed her. You know him as well.”
“Eh… maybe you really are not feeling well. I’m afraid you’re sick and you’re talking nonsense.”
“No, I’m not. Gali, I swear to you. Give me a chance and I’ll prove it to you. I think you’ve been seriously misled. I have a lot to tell you.” Ofer was extremely excited. He held her hands and pulled her closer.
The touch of his cold, calloused hands passed a tremor through her body. Gali could smell his body odor, the masculine scent that rose from him. She saw him from up close now. The soft down she saw on his cheeks all those years ago as a teenager was now transformed into a rough stubble. He was silent for a long moment.
“So, you want to know what my guess is?”
“This is not the place to talk about it,” she finally said.
“Can I schedule an appointment with you?”
“Yes, you can. I’d actually like that.”