by Niv Kaplan
She reached the kindergarten at three. It was deserted.
A ragged looking one-storey building, it had an equally impoverished-looking playground. Its once polished yellow paint was now pale and peeling. Cracks could be seen running diagonally across its walls and along the sidewalk leading to its rusty front gate.
She found the place broken into and entered its shabby front office.
She surveyed the office, letting her eyes adjust to the dim interior. The sauna-like heat had a lingering soggy stench. A metal filing cabinet stood locked behind an office desk facing the entrance. She peeked inside the toilet adjacent to the front office and then opened the door to the adjoining room. It was a rather large hall with several metal cribs to one side and an empty activity space surrounded by broken shelves. Two large ceiling fans hovered above, standing still in the airless room. Some of the darkened shades that were left open provided her with enough light to inspect the place.
She took a closer look at the rusty cribs and looked around. There were no other adjoining rooms except for two small toilet chambers. She went over to look at them. An aging carcass stench came from within one of them. She hit the light switches in the small rooms and quickly surveyed both.
Two dead mice lay on their backs in the bigger of the toilet chambers. She shuddered, feeling goosebumps spreading across her body. She despised mice, especially dead ones.
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“I've lost it...” she thought, summing up the last 24 hours. Rivlin will not have his story and she had just wasted a full day chasing fairytales. She shook her head in disgust, angry at herself for being so careless.
The French bar and restaurant beneath her apartment was where she ended up on such dreadful days. She sat dejected on a barstool, draining her frustration in a glass of scotch, wondering what had gone wrong.
Two young men walked in. The bartender motioned them in her direction.
"Sarah Price?" the taller of the two asked.
"Who wants to know?" she asked drunkenly. It was three in the morning and she was in no mood for conversations.
"I'm Nadav Carmon and this is Eitan Barlev."
She looked at them dumbly.
"Is there a place we could talk privately?" the tall one asked seriously.
"Talk," she blurted, looking around, "we seem to be alone."
They exchanged glances. The tall one took something out of his shirt pocket and stuck it in front of her face.
"You recognize the female?"
It took her a while to focus on the photo, and a while longer to locate the female, but when she finally identified who she was seeing, a sickening feeling engulfed her and she sobered up instantly.
"Why do you ask?" she queried weakly.
"Do you recognize her?" the man pressed on.
"Yeah," she admitted, realizing it was pointless to deny.
"Then let's talk."
CHAPTER 14
Sarah led them up the narrow stairway to her apartment. She fussed with the lock, pushed the door open, flicked on the lights and invited them to sit on her bed.
She excused herself, seeking the solace of her tiny bathroom, stuck her head under the sink and drained herself in cold water. She needed to organize her thoughts. Her head was pounding. The Karen Glass affair had resurfaced. It was her very first scoop coming out of school. Celebrating her graduation in the northernmost town of Metula, she had received an urgent call from Rivlin instructing her to 'get her pretty ass' to Kiryat Shmona to cover the case.
She dried her head and face with the towel, took a deep breath and stepped out.
The two sat uncomfortably on the bed.
"Who are you guys?" she demanded, feeling a bit more stable.
"Never mind that," the tall one said, "we just need you to answer a few questions.”
"Look," she snapped, "I'm in no mood for an interrogation of any sort. If you want anything out of me you better state your claim or scram out of here. Do we understand one another?"
The shorter, stockier one spoke for the first time.
"Excuse the lieutenant, Sarah, he is a little high strung and under some pressure. We can't say much, but just so you know, we fell upon this photo by accident and we're trying to piece this together so we'll know how to proceed.”
"Are you from the Shabac?" she asked.
"No," Eitan replied not providing additional information.
“So why are you showing me this?"
Nadav got up and began pacing the tiny room thoughtfully. "Eitan found the negatives on a terrorist his unit ambushed in Southern Lebanon Wednesday night," he revealed. "We found that these photos were taken close to the time of the abduction, some three years ago.”
“OK...so what's that got to do with me?"
“I backtracked a little,” Nadav explained,” and saw your report from three years ago on the front page of Maariv…"
“Oh, the one about father from the kibbutz?"
“Yeah, I figured you covered the story more thoroughly...”
“What do you want to know?” Sarah asked wearily, suddenly feeling exhausted.
“Everything and anything.”
The memory lingered vividly in her mind. She slumped on her bed and began describing the events in detailed chronological order.
"Why did you lose interest so suddenly?" Nadav asked, surprising her, when she had finished.
"What made you reach such a conclusion?" she queried.
"I went over all your articles leading up to the police captain's death. You stopped covering the case soon after. Was there a reason?"
"I had to leave the country on an assignment," she lied.
"You haven't left Israel in the last four years," he stated confidently.
"I lost interest," she tried again, unable to hide a smile of admiration for his thoroughness. She should learn to be this thorough, she thought. Rivlin had also questioned her on the matter. Was it that obvious?
"Why?" Eitan asked.
She took a deep breath. "How far along are you on this?" she asked.
"Frankly, Sarah, we've only just begun and we're not sure how to approach this. I'm supposed to turn in an intelligence report on Sunday.”
"Let me give you a piece intelligent advice," she said contemptuously. "I think you should leave it alone. Bury it and forget it. There are some people still suffering the consequences of this sorry affair and Karen is probably dead by now.”
They stared at her, waiting for her to continue.
"Captain Gabi Gadot was murdered and you don't want to know by whom.”
They kept staring intensely at her and she knew they would not leave it alone. She got up, opened her bedroom closet and retrieved the brown paper envelope from under a stack of files. She hadn't touched it in three years. She took out Gadot's letter and handed it to them.
They silently read it. She could tell they were mesmerized. When they finished, they both looked up at her, their expressions questioning.
"If this is true…" Nadav said, "then…"
"Then they had him fried," Sarah completed the sentence. "And I have lived with this knowledge for the last three years!"
The two men sat in stunned silence.
Sarah got up and offered them tea. When she had it prepared, they sipped it in silence, none of them sure how to proceed.
"I tracked down Gadot's brother Yossi, who worked for the Shabac at the time," she finally said. "At first he wouldn't talk but finally he offered some insight telling me that he should have been next on the list. He ended up getting fired and it was he who had suggested laying the issue to rest.”
She hesitated for a brief moment then continued.
"You see fellas, I had no idea Yossi was involved. Gadot never mentioned his name. But when I heard what he said and saw his face when he said it, I freaked out and vowed never to expose the letter. I simply went on to cover another story.”
"I would have done the same," Eitan offered sympathetically.
"Was anyone e
lse pursuing this case?" Nadav asked, trying to be practical. "What about the boyfriend?"
"Ah, poor Mikki," Sarah shrugged. "I met him several times during the ordeal. He kept at it for quite a while but finally gave up when he joined the army. What a bizarre case! The girl simply vanished off the face of this Earth. Other reporters gave it a shot but they were all silenced. The Shabac sure knows its business.”
"Why did they silence the affair?" Nadav asked. "There's no solid indication of it in Gadot's letter.”
"I gave it much thought," Sarah said, "but for the life of me, I couldn't piece it together. Gadot wrote that they were hiding evidence from him and that he thought they were trying to cover up the story for reasons he was not aware of. He gave me the envelope the day before he was killed and made me swear not to use it unless he personally authorized me to do so. I have no doubt the crash he was involved in was no accident but there’s no proof. One thing is for certain, it had to be something really big for them to go execute a police captain.”
"The two men in the picture are terrorists we've been after for quite some time. The negatives were found on the ugly skinny one. The frightening big ox is still alive.”
Sarah was surprised by his sudden candor and already a million questions were floating in her head, but Nadav was too absorbed.
"What if..," he continued, "we were able to track the live guy and make him talk? He may give us the end of a rope needed to get to the bottom of this.”
Eitan spoke for reason.
"Nadav, if there's a slim chance in hell that we can find this guy, make him talk, and have him point us in the right direction after so many years, and if there's an even slimmer chance the girl is alive, then this matter should be handled by the appropriate authorities, not by a couple of unqualified hot shots like us.”
"Are you bailing out on me again Eitan?" Nadav mocked. "I thought you wanted to go through with seeing me make an ass of myself.”
He smiled for the first time. Sarah liked his smile. It was genuine and reassuring.
She jumped in.
"Didn't we just all agree that the so-called authorities silenced this matter? Why would they want to open it up again?"
It was Eitan's turn to be surprised. He was certain she was on his side. "You agree with him?" he asked. "I thought you wanted nothing to do with this!"
"I'm not agreeing with him," she defended her position, "I'm simply stating that if there's anything to do in this matter, it must not be done through the authorities. They are the people we must avoid!"
"How do you know it's the same people?" Eitan argued, making a faint attempt at reason. "Maybe their policy has changed."
"I know this," she stated authoritatively. "The heads of the Shin Bet, Police, and Mossad have not been replaced since then. They have no reason to change their policies and they have every reason to want to keep this affair buried deep in the ground. If anything, they have gained more power and had become only more dangerous.”
They both looked to Nadav. He turned his back, walked to the apartment's lone window and stared out at the subdued city.
"You both have valid points," he finally said. "We're not qualified to handle this and the authorities have no reason to open it up.”
They were silent again, each absorbed in thought. There were no clean solutions.
Sarah gave it another shot. She was becoming curious, her correspondent’s juices beginning to flow again.
"It's safe to say that these photos are the first real evidence found since Karen disappeared," she said, partially summarizing, partially asking.
"Except for the car Gadot mentions and whatever else the authorities have not revealed," Nadav added.
She nodded in agreement and went on. "We can assume that we have here, in front of us, Karen's kidnappers with one of them still alive and identified.”
They both nodded. She looked at one and back to the other with a devious smile forming on her lips. "Assuming we can find him and he talks. What have we risked? It may just help us make a more educated determination of whether this is worth pursuing.”
She was the reporter once again. "I say, if we can track him down and avoid bumping into the authorities, it's worth a shot!"
Eitan headed for the door. "You guys are nuts," he mumbled, shaking his head.
"Wait a minute Eitan, what's the worst that can happen?" Nadav reasoned.
Eitan turned around. "Oh, just a life prison sentence, or maybe a nice fresh grave like the one handed Gadot. Come now, I ain't got time to play cops and robbers. Why don't you write up the damn report and forget this ever happened.”
Nadav was at a loss for words. Eitan noticed his disappointment and tried to soften the blow. "How do you intend to find this guy?"
Nadav remained silent, gazing at the floor.
"Suppose you find him and he gives you what you want. What do you do then? Go chasing a ghost around the world? Come on, man, be serious. You can't do anything anyway with still a year to go in the service.”
"Look Eitan," Nadav finally spoke, "I'm not saying I've got all the answers, or any answers for that matter, but I'd like to get to the bottom of this.”
He thought about what he just said and sighed. "Oh I don't know, maybe I've been in intelligence too long.”
"Think for a moment Nadav," Eitan pleaded. "This is not something to mess with. You stick your head in this and you're liable to lose quite a bit.”
Sarah jumped in with another idea.
"Why don't we go talk to Mikki, see what he thinks?" They gave her a blank stare.
"Mikki, the boyfriend," she reminded them. "Maybe he could help you reach a reasonable decision.”
"Where does he live?" Eitan murmured, not amused but willing to listen.
"Kibbutz Geffen in the Upper Galilee.”
They looked at one another for a long moment and finally nodded in agreement.
"I'm coming with you," Sarah announced.
"Mind the back seat of a military Jeep?" Nadav asked, reluctant to include her but too tired to argue.
"Not at all," Sarah said, already busy preparing her backpack.
"No funny stuff," he added, pointing to her cassette recorder and reporting gear.
She straightened up. It was her turn to play dumb. "I didn't report it then and you can rest assured, lieutenant, I have no intentions of reporting it now.”
He shrugged. She smiled kindly at him and herded them out the door. The first rays of
the morning sun had already broken through over Tel Aviv.
CHAPTER 15
Karen still haunted his dreams, appearing whenever he slept in his room; the room they had shared. Fortunately for Mikki, most of his time was spent with his unit, away from the kibbutz and the troubling memories.
It was always the same dream. She was standing with her back to him surveying a sparkling valley. The lights, from the valley below and the stars above, would blend together into her shining blonde hair making her glow in the dark. He would try to touch her but every time he moved, she moved a bit further. The dream would end with her beginning to turn toward him, only he never got to see the face.
Three years had gone by and he still longed to see her face. Not knowing the truth about what really happened tortured him even more than their unfulfilled affair. He would rather know she was dead than go on with the tormenting questions which left him in a void.
The investigation had taken a peculiar twist after Gadot's fatal car accident. No one talked, not even the ones who had cooperated before. It was as if a gag order had come down from above. A month after her disappearance, he resorted to keeping informed through the media. But even that was difficult for the media seemed to have lost interest as well. He kept pestering the authorities and was appalled at the poor manner in which they treated the case. He phoned them, wrote to them, asked pertinent questions, but to no avail. Karen was never found and no one seemed to care.
He joined the Paratroopers less than three months after the
kidnapping, grateful for the distraction. As much as he dreaded joining the military, it proved to be his relief. At first he did not have a second to ponder over his misfortunes. The corporals and sergeants kept him and his buddies plenty busy with full gear hikes, weapon handling, physical fitness, cleaning chores, and the best of what basic training had to offer. There were days she never entered his mind. Later, when the pressure eased, the memory crept back. He tried to keep himself busy, joining all sorts of specialized courses, volunteering for the most hated and sometimes dangerous missions, even replacing friends on leave.
But when he did come home, the memories would linger especially vividly in his room. Everything reminded him of her: the central kitchen where he liberated her from peeling onions; the disco where they first met; the swimming pool; the kibbutz fence, the Volunteer House, his bed. She was everywhere, curly blonde hair and sad brown eyes.
As time passed, he learned to live with the pain, though he never abandoned the thought of one day finding her and settling matters.
Her family left after ten excruciating weeks in which they all nearly collapsed from worry and frustration. The escort assigned to them made certain they caused minimal damage to the country's security reputation, and finally Mr. Glass had to return to work. His company could no longer function without him. Mother and daughter could not hack it alone. They needed the security of home and the support of a familiar environment to survive such a burden. Lisa had already given up a full semester and Martha simply could not cope under such demanding conditions. The family kept in touch with the State Department and the embassy in Israel but to no avail.
The Shabac promised to keep them informed, but those promises evaporated as soon as the jumbo jet disengaged its large frame from the burning asphalt at Ben Gurion, taking the disheartened family away. Mikki kept in touch with Lisa for a while, learning about the measures taken by the State Department, but in time he realized that even the mighty Americans had their limits.