Disappearance (A Mystery and Espionage Thriller)

by Niv Kaplan

  They finally spotted a wooden bench hidden amongst thick bushes and overshadowing trees and used it as the interrogation site.

  "I believe you owe our friends some money," Mikki began, seated across from the German at the far end of the bench. Eitan remained standing a few feet away, closely eyeing the foe, hand holding on to the gun in his belt.

  "What is this, an Israeli collection agency?" the German sneered easily detecting the accent. His English was fluent with no trace of a German accent.

  It did little to help confirm his identity.

  "You'll want to politely thank God we found you, Kollsmeyer," Mikki said calmly.

  "You talk as if I should be afraid of something," the German stated.

  "You certainly should because Raul and his people have not given up on the money and it's your head they want with it. No one crosses Raul, Kollsmeyer, you know that.”

  "Look friend, I don't know who you are or what you're after, but it certainly doesn't involve me. If you don't immediately let me go, your country will have a first degree diplomatic scandal on its hands and you guys will be thrown into a Danish prison.”

  He calmly reached inside his shirt pocket for a handkerchief to wipe his bleeding nose. Eitan alertly drew his pistol and took aim with both hands.

  "We can save your ass," Mikki persisted.

  "I don't need protection from anybody," the German snapped and threw the bloody handkerchief into the bushes.

  Mikki gestured to Eitan who moved closer, cocking the gun then reached inside his pant pocket producing a packed syringe which he began to unwrap in front of Kollsmeyer's troubled stare.

  "This'll make you talk," he murmured threateningly, expertly drawing some liquid from the hypodermic needle. The German moved uneasily on the bench.

  "Raul is not alone," Mikki continued, preparing to inject the man. "His clan will seek revenge. It's their way and they're not far behind. We're your only hope.”

  "What'd you have in mind?" the German suddenly seemed more cooperative, looking fearfully at the syringe.

  "Answer a few simple questions and we'll get them off your back.”

  "How?"

  "Very simple. We'll tell them you're dead; that we killed you."

  "Since when does the PLO consult the Mossad?"

  Mikki and Eitan exchanged glances. They never said Raul was PLO! They had indeed found their man.

  "You'll need to trust us on this," Mikki said.

  "I trust no one!" Kollsmeyer protested, the German accent suddenly evident.

  "In this business you pay your dues, Kollsmeyer. If you had any sense, you would have paid on time, or at least made sure you represented the right people.”

  "Don't lecture me, I've had bigger fish than you for breakfast," the German muttered, glancing nervously at the syringe.

  "It's your choice," Mikki said without losing his cool, "talk to us or take your chances with Raul's clan.”

  The lanky German suddenly leaped for the bushes. Eitan proved ready, leaping after him at almost the same instant. He latched onto his back clutching his neck, whacking the back of his head with the gun. The German fell to the ground before ever reaching the bushes with Eitan clamped on top retaining a headlock. Mikki sprang from the bench, landing on top of the heap, aiding his partner in subduing the German who was still jerking under their weight. It was another minute before movement was seized. Their subject lay still on the ground.

  They stood up over him, watching carefully as he wearily raised himself to a sitting position, then grabbed him by his armpits and threw him back on the bench. Kollsmeyer flopped, noticeably spent. He sat back, shielding himself with his hands anticipating additional blows, but none came. Eitan remained standing a few feet away aiming his gun while Mikki returned to the bench and resumed fiddling with the syringe.

  There was a long pause before Mikki proceeded.

  "Where is Karen Glass?" he asked quietly, trying to control his eagerness.

  "Is that what you're after?" the German sounded somewhat relieved.

  "Yeah," Mikki concurred.

  "I don't have a clue," the German heckled.

  "Where did they take her after Beirut?" Mikki insisted.

  "They flew her to Mexico on a cargo plane.”

  "Then where?"

  "The plan was to smuggle her into the States.”

  Mikki eyed Eitan who looked as astounded as himself. "Did the plan succeed?"

  "I wasn't privy to it, but I assume it did."

  "You assume because you got your money?"

  "Let's just say I get paid for success not failure.”

  "So Karen's kidnapping was a success," Mikki stated sounding somewhat emotional.

  The German did not respond.

  "Is she alive?" Mikki ventured, bracing himself for the final confirmation of her fate.

  "Most likely," the German said, startling them both.

  "You seem damn certain," Mikki said in disbelief.

  "Unless something went awfully wrong, it would be safe to say she is alive and well, somewhere in the US," Kollsmeyer stated tauntingly.

  "Who paid you?" Mikki asked, suspicious once again.

  The German did not respond.

  "Who ordered the kidnapping?" No response.

  "Who put out the contract?" Silence.

  "Why was she kidnapped?"

  Mikki was up on his feet, hovering over the German, the syringe clenched in his fist, ready to spear the man.

  "Talk you bastard!"

  The German was looking to dissolve into the bench.

  "If I tell you who initiated the contract will you let me go?"

  "Only if I like what I hear.”

  "You may not like it, but it's the truth.”

  "Go on then," Mikki hastened.

  "I can't say for sure who hired my services but I did speak to the main conspirer on the phone, the night before the operation," the German began, cowering away from the threatening syringe. "I would normally get my instructions through a third party but the man had insisted on calling me direct to give me final instructions and set the plan in motion.”

  Mikki and Eitan stood frozen. The German went on.

  "The man's accent was undoubtedly American," Kollsmeyer said, pausing again, studying their tense faces. "It was obvious from his instructions he wanted to make absolutely certain the girl was not to be harmed.”

  Mikki considered the revelation. "So he may have been an American who wanted to make sure the girl wasn't hurt. That doesn't say shit!" he exclaimed impatiently.

  "The American was unusually concerned with the girl's safety," Kollsmeyer professed, "and he was the only one who knew to tell me exactly when and where she and her boyfriend were headed.”

  Mikki withdrew from his threatening pose and sat back on the bench allowing Kollsmeyer some room to breathe. He felt a rush of anxiety shoot through his midsection, rattling his thoughts as the painful memory of the disastrous day became real once again. He looked in astonishment at the person who was partially responsible for ruining his life.

  The German went on. "I figured the person was someone they had sent to learn about the girl's plans but I kept wondering why the call did not come from my regular contacts.”

  Mikki remained silent, thinking of how totally ignorant they had been of the threat.

  "I finally learned that the call was not placed from Israel and that no one had been sent to watch the girl," Kollsmeyer continued indifferently, then flashed a thin cruel smile, as he prepared for his dramatic finale.

  Mikki waited with a sense of dread.

  "It was an American who called me that night, most likely from the States," the German proclaimed. "This person was the only one who could have known of her plans on such short notice and the only one who could both conspire such a scheme and be so concerned with the victim's safety.”

  Kollsmeyer paused again.

  "Get to the point," Mikki hissed.

  "The American who initiated the kidnapping had to
be a close relative of the girl, so close, I would dare a guess he was her own father!"

  Mikki felt as if someone had pumped the air out of his lungs and left him in a vacuum. His mouth went dry. He rose off the bench and took a few steps in the direction of the lake. Eitan remained in his stance, stone- faced, gun leveled firmly.

  Mikki felt a great urge to get as far away as he could from the cold and calculating German mercenary, and take time to deal with the shocking reality that had just revealed itself in its ugliest form. He was also instantly aware that the most frightening part of this outrageous accusation was that his own intuition confirmed that it could pass as reasonable.

  It took him a few minutes to gather his wits and formulate his next line of questioning. He strode back to the bench and went on the offensive.

  "That is one preposterous theory, Kollsmeyer," he proclaimed, looking at Eitan for support.

  "Then give me a better one," the German challenged.

  "I can think of an infinite number that would make more sense.”

  "Give me just one.”

  "Your PLO troops kidnapped an American girl in Israel to weaken Israeli ties with the US," Mikki tried, bothered by his feeble argument and his temptation to accept the outrageous theory.

  "Then why use me? They have found much more creative ways of achieving those goals without my services.”

  "You're the money man.”

  "They've got money coming out of their ears.”

  "I'd be crazy to accept your theory, Kollsmeyer. I'd be the laughing stock of my entire country.”

  "I warned you, kinder. You may not like it, but it's the best I can do.”

  "You expect to be let go for this?"

  "Look, it may sound crazy but I've crossed checked this theory with other sources. I never grasped the complete picture, but if you intend to investigate further, focus on the father, he's key. The girl was not sent to Israel for fun and games. She may have been an instrument used by some pretty powerful forces.”

  Karen's words suddenly flashed into Mikki's consciousness.

  "Nothing is ever what it seems…" Her words echoed in his head.

  The two stood over their prisoner, uncertain of how to proceed. The German gave it one last shot.

  "Just think of what I've told you, and it'll begin to make sense. The phone call, the instructions, the concern for her safety…" He gulped as Mikki signaled for Eitan to move a step closer.

  "If you doubt me, think of how it was possible for anyone to know she was in that car, at that time, in that particular gas station. They had her followed the entire day before they moved in. Trust me, I know. I was the one who sent them after her.”

  Mikki was fighting his instincts. He was the only one who could confirm the German's theory and he knew it had merit.

  "Why'd you bother looking into this?" Mikki insisted, stubbornly trying to discredit the man.

  "I check out anyone who's supposed to pay me," Kollsmeyer retorted.

  Mikki motioned Eitan to the side and spoke in soft Hebrew. "Did you get all that?" he asked, knowing Eitan's rather poor English.

  Eitan nodded, keeping the gun pointed at the German.

  "What do you think then, is he messing with us?"

  "Truthfully Mikki, his story is so off the wall I'm inclined to buy it.”

  "I have to admit it sits pretty well with some of the things Karen had said on a few occasions, back when we were together.”

  "Oh," Eitan muttered, surprised, taking his eyes off the German for a split second.

  "I did not pay much attention at the time but with this new information some of the things she said begin to make sense.”

  "Such as...?" Eitan inquired, keeping his eyes focused on the German.

  "It happened a few times, especially when we'd get real personal. She would sort of get drawn back into her own little world and begin to recount how miserable she really was and how her life was only a facade to a terrible world. She may have even hinted that her parents abused her in some way.”

  "Did she ever refer to a specific plot or was it just general disturbed feelings?"

  "I kept thinking she was actually trying to tell me something but I couldn't put my finger on it. I certainly never suspected she was in such danger.”

  "I still say there has to be one heck of a motive for a father to pull such a stunt on his own daughter, unless..." Eitan stopped in mid-sentence and focused on the German again.

  "Unless what?" Mikki beckoned.

  "I don't know Mikki, it's too crazy… forget it.”

  "No Eitan, I want you to say what you think because I may be thinking the same thing.”

  "Then you say it!" Eitan whispered harshly.

  Mikki was taken aback but was too emotional to drop the issue. "Did you want to say she may have played along?"

  Eitan nodded but did not look at Mikki.

  "I've considered that for a long time without reaching any conclusions, but I must say that if it's true, then motive or not, we may as well pack up and go home because this here is none of our business.”

  "Was it ever?" Eitan contested.

  "Maybe not for you but certainly for me, after all she was my girlfriend and was kidnapped from my car. The entire country was overturned to find her, governments became involved, and a police captain lost his life. I certainly wanted to know what happened and I was also in love with her.”

  "Sorry Mikki," Eitan muttered, "but I think it's time we make a decision. We can't stay here forever.”

  Mikki nodded in agreement. "If we want to pursue this further, I think we must take his theory at face value and assume Karen was an innocent victim.”

  "What do we do with Herr Kollsmeyer?" Eitan asked.

  "We let him go; what else can we do?"

  "He may warn his people.”

  "It's a risk we'll have to take. We can't go on eliminating anyone who crosses our path. I haven't fully recovered from our first endeavor.”

  Eitan had no qualms about killing the terrorist, albeit it was done rather recklessly. The terrorist had had to be eliminated and he felt the German should be handed the same fate if only the circumstances allowed it; but they were on foreign soil and not ready to test the authorities.

  They set Kollsmeyer free after confiscating his passport, two additional passports and a small black address book found in his briefcase. The passport they argued would be used to prove his "death" to the Raul clan. The address book they felt may come in handy. They politely advised him to mind his own business, threatening to use his false passports to discredit him. He protested over the loss of his belongings but hurried away as soon as they cleared him a path.

  The syringe containing tinted water and the 22 caliber pistol were thrown in the lake and the two rode the bicycle back to the hotel, making a sizable detour around the slumbering town, ensuring they were not being observed.

  At seven the following morning they checked out of the hotel, returned the bicycle at the central railway station, and flagged down a taxi to the airport.

  CHAPTER 20

  Lieutenant Nadav handed his officer's credentials and ID card to a polite and a rather attractive young lady who began fidgeting with the computer keys affixed at her post. He briefly surveyed the sequestered area. The attendants sat behind an elevated wooden counter that stretched across the room from the entrance to the gray steel doors that divided the sacred facility from the rest of the world.

  No one ever called the Mossad headquarters by its factual name.

  The room had several portholes situated up high, almost touching the ceiling, mainly for air circulation. Several guest couches with matching coffee tables, stood bare by one corner with portraits of the current and former prime ministers and presidents hung ceremoniously above on the white painted walls. Two heavily armed soldiers were situated at the entrances at both ends of the room; the registering guests lined up in a single file next to the counter, confined by a chain affixed to knee high silver steel poles.
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  The attendant motioned to him, catching his attention. The tag attached to her shirt identified her as Sharon. She suspiciously looked up at him a few times comparing his catalog photos with the original, making him quickly shift his gaze.

  In less than five minutes he was handed a visitor's badge and was escorted, through the steel gates and sliding glass doors, to the main control building. His escort left him in the lobby where he rode the steel rimmed elevator two floors down to the basement where he stepped out and slid his badge through a magnetic apparatus attached to more steel doors. A brief sharp buzz was heard and the doors opened mechanically, letting him through. As he made his way down the neon-lit corridor, he was well aware of the surveillance cameras attached to the ceiling, recording his every move.

  The corridor led him to an air-cooled, dust filtered hall, known to be the heart and soul of the Mossad's data control center, the central computer complex. He was buzzed in once again through sliding glass doors, and slowly made his way among a bank of monitors and electronic equipment. The ever-present, low, continuous hum of computer equipment was extremely familiar, resembling Northern Command’s intelligence computer center. He had been at the complex twice before on special assignments, tasked by his superiors.

  The current visit was his own initiative.

  Despite his top secret security clearance authorizing him to research classified files, computer research appointments at Mossad headquarters were by no means routine. Above and beyond the numerous basic requirements, two major obstacles had to be overcome: an official request had to be filed through his commanding officer and an invitation by a Mossad operative was essential at the gate.

  His commanding officer approved most of Nadav's requests without a hitch, and though he had questioned him more in depth about the nature of this particular request, he approved the urgent research assignment in pursuit of code names for IDF collaborators in Southern Lebanon.

  Over his two years’ service in intelligence, he had made quite a name for himself as a bright and reliable officer, qualities which did not go unnoticed in the tight, secluded intelligence community. Both the Mossad and Shabac had offered him positions once his military obligations were fulfilled. He had met with quite a few Mossad operatives for recruiting purposes and for exchanging information. He now decided it was the appropriate time to use his contacts.