Just People

by Paul Usiskin

  The next time she saw him, Dov was investigating a series of rapes at her university.

  He’d unnerved her. He’d guessed the worst, that she was a rape victim of the man he was investigating, though she’d never admitted it. The rapist was a high profile professor, a family friend from her village. She’d forced him to flee the country. Clever Lana. She’d won justice for herself.

  ‘Yunis, we have to finish our secret journey.’ He hugged Yakub and kissed Lana, motioning for her to call him.

  Yunis had been banned by Ibrahim because it was an open secret that he was gay. Ibrahim made Lana his heir and farm manager. That caused much twittering in the village, then she exiled herself. Ibrahim had no choice. It was either Yunis or someone else would swallow up the land he and his family had owned for generations.

  Before that, she and Ibrahim sat in his favorite olive grove, as he’d outlined his plans for her. Then, through the tall grass that separated his grove from the next, they watched as two young men from the village were murdered by a special police unit chasing rioters. Another nightmare.

  Who should investigate the murders but Dov Chizzik. He told her he’d been in love with her since the rape investigation and in the end she couldn’t resist his love, despite the danger it entailed.

  ‘Is this the big rocky hill,’ Yakub asked as Lana parked the car.

  ‘Yes. Will you be able to climb it?’

  Yakub looked, judging a route to the top. ‘Uncle Yunis said I’m big for seven,’ and held out his hand to help her up to the top.

  ‘You see those rocks down there inside that fence? That’s where I was born.’

  ‘Not in a hospital like me?’ Yakub asked perplexed, staring at the collection of blackened rocks peeking out from the undergrowth.

  3

  Yosef Hassid had called Dov in two days earlier. ‘I know you have history with Aviel, but I want a swift and discrete investigation. If you think there’s substance to the accusations, bring him home.’

  ‘History? He managed my son Yaniv’s disappearance during the Defense Ministry scandal you got me to investigate. He was your special affairs advisor, remember?’ The rest he left unsaid: that Hassid had known, that someone had wanted to divert Dov, that Aviel had been ordered to do it, and had refused to divulge where Yaniv was. That wasn’t merely history and Dov didn’t want to play.

  Hassid’s expression was as blank as a stone in the Wailing Wall.

  ‘That you promoted me to head PID wasn’t a consolation prize Yosef.’ He’d never called the Minister by his first name before. Unsaid was the Hassid penchant for side-tracking Dov, keeping him where he could see him, even in the limelight. The stone became animated.

  ‘That promotion was because I trust you. I fired your predecessor because of inappropriate management. Weiss was reprimanded and got a sideways promotion.’

  Inappropriate management? Hassid was known for his florid legalisms, a successful litigator before entering government, and now office-speak? What Dov said was, ‘Trust me? I’m not sure you trust anyone. Weiss is living a charmed life. He goes off to have fun in Washington with a rank that puts him in spitting distance of being Police Commissioner.’

  ‘You don’t think he’s suitable?’ Hassid looked anxious.

  ‘Well, with these inconvenient allegations of rape, right now on the suitability scale? I’d say he’s at zero.’

  ‘Allegations is the operative word. Go investigate.’

  *

  The Cure Bar’s burnished dark red wood, glass panels and mirrors were understated chic. He’d never been in a place so created to lull, and he was lulled. Behind the polished granite bar was Romano, very tall, short brown hair, black framed glasses, black shirt and a big toothy ‘How are you today?’

  Dov hoped his Israeli accent wouldn’t give him away. ‘What bourbon do you recommend?’ It was his first purchase decision in the land of endless choices.

  Romano said all good bourbon came from Kentucky, detailed qualities and strengths, listed names: Angel’s Envy, Bulleit, which Dov misheard as Bullshit and thought hey this is America, Fighting Cock, yeah well, Hirsch, there’s a Jewish bourbon? Pappy Van Winkle, and Woodford. After descriptions of complexities of flavor and nose from which Dov retained maple syrup, almonds and vanilla, he went for a 90-proof ‘it’ll flow all mellow across your tongue’ Woodford.

  ‘Tel Aviv, right?’ Romano asked as he put a little paper mat on the bar and the glass of bourbon and ice on top.

  ‘Yeah,’ Dov replied, briefly disconsolate. He took the glass, mat, a bowl of nuts, over to a corner seat in line of sight of the door. A blonde arrived and sat where he’d been sitting at the bar and smiled too long at him. He concentrated on his first drink in an American bar. The bourbon was as described and he was savoring its notes when Aviel said ‘Hi, Dov.’

  The Aviel of the Defense Ministry scandal investigation with long unwashed hair, designer stubble, working at being inscrutable, was no more. He still had his badger’s teeth smile but this was a fixed official one. He’d gone for the shaved head look, which in his case emphasized don’t-fuck-with-me. This was a sleeker, sexier man who carried himself like a panther. He also favored the current mode compact suit, his was charcoal, with an open-necked cobalt button-down shirt, gold cufflinks. The suit accentuated his tall wiry physique. Dov felt like the garments he wore were made out of refuse sacks. Aviel smiled at the blonde and Dov saw the exchange.

  ‘How much does she charge?’

  ‘Don’t know. Don’t care. She’ll be an expensive professional, a lonely single, or a bored wife. Whatever, it’ll be fun.’

  ‘Great start Aviel.’

  ‘I’m gonna get screwed one way or the other.’

  ‘Your fatalism hasn’t deserted you.’

  ‘Short on choices.’

  ‘Consistent too,’ Dov tried a friendly smile. Aviel stayed grim.

  ‘Drink?’

  ‘No thanks. I’ll be driving after this.’

  ‘OK. We’re off the record, but stick to the truth. This looks potentially career-wrecking. Talk to me about Ms Drori.’

  ‘Hannah’s twenty-something, beautiful, and with big ambitions.’ His eyes fixed on Dov’s as he said sternly, ‘But I did not have sexual relations with that woman, Ms Drori.’

  ‘You’re Bill Clinton now? This isn’t about a blowjob or a stained dress as evidence. This is sexual misconduct, only one step from rape, details depending.’

  ‘It’s all about careers Dov. Hannah was making her move. She’s a very competent research assistant. She’d wanted me to tick her box from the minute I arrived, but I knew she was volatile and risky, and I kept away. It wasn’t easy. She stalked me, in the Embassy, at receptions, and too coincidentally she’d be in the same bar. I rejected every approach. She resented that; wasn’t she good enough for me? etc., but I promise you Dov,’ and he repeated, ‘I did not have sex with her.’

  ‘I’ll talk to her. Who can vouch for you?’

  ‘Nili Baum.’

  ‘And she is?’

  ‘My fiancée.’

  ‘How long for?’

  ‘Three months after I arrived.’

  ‘Mazal Tov. That’s almost nine months. So it’s an open relationship.’

  ‘Why’d you say that?’

  ‘The blonde at the bar.’

  ‘I said ‘It’ll be fun’, I didn’t say for me.’ He looked over at the blonde again. ‘See?’ Dov looked. She was sitting very close to a hulk of a guy, muscles threatening to burst the seams of his blazer. Aviel beckoned to a pretty woman with short thick dark curls, in a black dress and an ivory silk stole, standing at the other end of the bar.

  ‘For God’s sake Aviel! Don’t you stop?’

  ‘That’s Nili.’

  ‘Ah.’ He stood up.

  ‘Nili. This is Dov. Dov meet my fiancée.’


  ‘Good to meet you Dov,’ she said. ‘Aviel’s spoken often about you.’ Her voice was low, her handshake firm and genuine. He did the old cop thing, assessing her without showing it. She was as tall as Aviel and returned the appraisal with her own, her eyes smiling.

  ‘Angrily or positively?’ Dov asked.

  ‘Oh, definitely the latter.’

  ‘That’s good, but please forgive me, I have to finish my conversation with him. We’ll only be another few minutes.’

  ‘Of course. We have plans for supper. Would you join us?’

  ‘That’s very kind but another time. I’m meeting someone else.’

  Nili smiled ‘OK,’ and went back to the bar.

  ‘Yardena Rotem,’ Dov continued. ‘Anything you want to tell me about her before I see her?’

  ‘I’d better go. You form your own impressions and we’ll meet tomorrow, OK?’

  ‘Nothing you want to tell me quickly?’

  Aviel’s mouth hardened. ‘She’s a man-eater, a praying mantis. With her it’s not steps up the ladder, it’s cutting through anyone in her way.’ He gave Nili a we’re leaving wave.

  ‘How did you meet?’

  ‘She introduced herself the day I arrived here. She’s the senior assistant to the Congressional Affairs Minister. We had a fling before I met Nili. It was inevitable, starting with the way she brushed against me as we first met.’

  ‘Another rejected female? How many more? Jealousy’s Yardena’s motive?’

  Aviel shook his head. ‘You talk to her and we’ll compare notes.’ He got up, linked arms with Nili and they left.

  As he watched them go, he noted that Aviel had admitted to a fling with Yardena, but nothing about her rape accusation. He recalled how as his number two, Aviel had stepped into his shoes during a murder investigation Dov couldn’t even start because he’d lost himself after the assassination of Yitzhak Rabin. He’d met the Prime Minister moments before the tragedy. Then there was Aviel the wild night clubber with a taste for toxic cocktails, punk baristas and Shakespeare. Finally there was Aviel, Hassid’s unofficial gun dog during the Defense Ministry scandal case. It rapidly spiraled into something more explosive with many hands tugging in ever more dangerous directions, threatening national security. Dov believed one particular set of hands was guiding the Justice Minister who in turn got Aviel to do black work. He had no proof of that individual’s identity, but a massive Chizzik instinct put one person in the frame, Baruch ‘Barry’ Hareven, a tycoon with government ministers in his pocket.

  Piano jazz came from somewhere near the pool, not a bad version of Stardust Memory, Hoagy Carmichael’s melody. Dov loved Louis Armstrong’s lyrics and his original recording.

  ‘Dov?’ A smooth voice with a scalpel edge broke in. He looked up.

  ‘Yardena Rotem?’

  ‘Yes, nice to meet you.’

  Her hand took his, it was like velvet, her smile provocative, her green eyes inviting.

  ‘Can I get you something?’ Dov asked. He couldn’t ignore her perfume either, something subtle, enticing.

  ‘What are you having?’ She sat and took two beats too many to cross her legs. They were nice.

  ‘Bourbon.’

  ‘I’ll have the same.’

  He nodded at Romano who was doing foreplay with his eyes and Dov had to signal twice for two more Woodfords.

  Yardena’s hair was red with coppery highlights, like a mane, falling below her shoulders. She wore black and red, a long sleeve bolero over a low black stretch top and a short plum red skirt. She wasn’t dressed for an informal chat.

  She sipped, smiled, ‘Lovely bourbon,’ brushing hair back from her eyes. One strand remained.

  ‘As I said when I called you, this is an informal preliminary meeting. I wanted to get to know you a little.’ His ‘get to know you’ was a mistake. Her eyes sparkled, her lips opened a fraction and her tongue did just that little bit more than wet them. He imagined her naked, and what that mouth and tongue could do, just as she wanted.

  ‘I’m really pleased you’ve given me the opportunity...’ uncrossing and crossing her legs took longer this time and she knew he watched, ‘… to get together away from the office.’ Now her eyes were intent on his, drawing him in.

  You’re going to lean forward for your glass so I’ll see your breasts, he predicted. But first she bit her tongue lasciviously and moved the errant strand, then did the leaning thing. He asked, ‘Are you going somewhere else after this?’

  ‘No, no, I thought we might go somewhere together.’

  ‘I arrived only a couple of hours ago, I’m quite jet-lagged.’

  ‘Pity.’ Her eyes hardened. ‘I’ve read your file. You’re single.’

  He didn’t speak.

  ‘What wasn’t in the file was that you’re very sexy. How close are you to Aviel?’

  ‘He was my number two many years ago. Later we shared an investigation and then he was promoted and sent here.’ Why was he telling her this? She was very alluring was why, and treacherous.

  ‘That’s not what I read. I’m not convinced you’re impartial.’

  ‘How you accessed my file I’ll check out. Let me be clear, I won’t sleep with you. You intimated that’s what you wanted the moment we shook hands. Don’t shake your head. Implying you’ll have sex with me to influence my investigation will effect how I interpret your allegation against Weiss. You’re not stupid and I’m not your wham bam thank you man. What’s left is your motive, and learning what that is will be my priority.’

  She stood up, her face impassive. ‘Goodnight Dov.’

  ‘See you tomorrow Yardena.’

  She walked away. Romano followed her progress, he wasn’t the only one in the bar to do so. Dov concentrated on another bourbon sip. Her file told him she was born in Boston, graduated with a Masters in Hebrew and Judaic Studies at New York University and had visited Tel Aviv on the study-away; worked as an aide to an independent Senator for eighteen months and mastered the art of trading favors on the Hill before moving to Israel and becoming an Israeli citizen; at the Ministry for Foreign Affairs she was fast-tracked; two years later she was posted to the Washington Embassy. She shone so brightly as senior aide to the Minister for Congressional Affairs at the Embassy she was mooted as his successor. He wondered whether fast tracked had meant sleeping with the right guy or guys.

  The piano jazz insinuated itself again, another Armstrong number, Black and Blue, and for a few moments he allowed the sad message behind the music to carry him away.

  ‘Are you from Israel?’ a voice interrupted him. ‘I’m Daniel Freund, from Georgetown University, Center for Security Studies.’

  ‘Yes, I am.’ Dov looked up at the face behind the voice, iron-gray hair, mustache, clever deep brown eyes behind frameless glasses.

  ‘May I?’ Freund asked and sat down in Yardena’s seat before Dov could answer. He leaned towards Dov. ‘I recognized Ms Rotem.’

  ‘You know her?’

  ‘We’ve debated a couple of times. We don’t agree on the Occupation.’

  The o in occupation sounded large. Dov drew out his ‘OK’, not wanting to open that box.

  ‘Occupation’s my specialty. I’ve researched and published on our Iraqi Occupation and there’s an undeniable synergy with the West Bank, very similar mistakes.’

  ‘Hmmm,’ Dov offered.

  ‘I think the Occupation is corroding Israel from inside. The two state solution is on a precipice.’

  ‘Look, I only arrived this morning and I’m a little jet-lagged…’ He felt fine at that moment.

  But Freund was off along a well-trodden path. ‘You can’t be both a democracy and an occupier. We care about Israel but we’re increasingly anxious about it...’ This total stranger in a strange yet familiar land spoke with disarming almost Israeli directness. He paused, seeing Dov wa
sn’t focussing on his soliloquy. ‘I’m so sorry, it’s crass of me, what are you drinking?’

  Dov wanted to ask who he meant by ‘we’, but instead said, ‘Woodford,’ like a regular.

  Romano was there with two more almost before Freund placed his order. The ‘kerching’ in Dov’s head totaled his purchase decisions so far: a hundred dollars, just for drinks? He swallowed more bourbon, mollified that Freund was paying, finally getting what all the lulling was about.

  Maybe the jet-lag wasn’t a lie, he was starting to feel a little fazed and wasn’t sure how much more 90-proof he could absorb before slurring his words.

  ‘I need a, what do you call it, a comfort break?’ Dov asked.

  Freund smiled, ‘The restrooms are the next floor down.’

  The journey took him into softly lit, cozily carpeted corridors and finally to a cavernous men’s facility, all chrome and sparkling tiling. He went to dry his hands and almost lost them to the crazed dryer.

  His sojourn in the restroom Hades over, the escalator returned him to the living and he crossed back over the threshold of Freund’s Israel angst.

  ‘Daniel, I appreciate your concern. This is what I think, my own views, OK? Here in America you have certainty, you are secure - even after 9/11, you don’t face threats of complete destruction. You don’t wake up in the morning and look out of your windows and ask are we going to be here tomorrow? After sixty five years not only can’t we answer yes, but if we’re honest we know that we’ve contributed to making it harder to give that answer. We need to help ourselves and we don’t know how to do that. That’s a snapshot of my take.’

  Freund’s lips moved, as if savoring Dov’s words, as he formulated a reply. ‘You’re quite right, we aren’t in identical circumstances, and you’re absolutely right about needing help. I’ve been trying to do something in a small way. There’s an Israeli organization I support. It works to bridge gaps between Israeli Jews and Palestinians. I found an American foundation willing to give a substantial grant, and I and some friends were ready to match the grant, but there were questions about the foundation’s stance on Israel, it had been critical of the Occupation. Perception won out so official Israel stopped the donation.’