Disappearance (A Mystery and Espionage Thriller)

by Niv Kaplan

  Glass knew that most of the financing came from the European venture with some operational money raised by Langone's Barons investment firm. He had estimated that between himself, Matlock, and two other major subcontractors, they had already pumped over forty million dollars into the PAAM project. Future ample returns were expected but so far, debt was rapidly accumulating.

  It was not the first time the partners had threatened to cease the transfer of funds. They had withheld payments for several weeks on various occasions but ended up paying when the contractors threatened with default. This time, Glass felt, they meant business. If the production lines did not begin pumping out units in time, according to the already revised schedule, the project would be seriously threatened, maybe even abandoned. It was rumored that potential customers with signed contracts, who had deposited heavy down-payments for their initial orders, were threatening to pull out if further delays hampered the project. In the environment of the unpredictable and complex defense industry, it was rare to find clients risking such large amounts of upfront money on a new product.

  Langone turned to leave.

  "Edgar!" Glass stopped him. The banker turned slowly, noticeably harassed by the wind.

  "I need to clean up some personal matters," Glass said nearly shouting over the increasing cries of the wind.

  "In due course," the banker replied, eager to seek the shelter of his vehicle.

  "When?" Glass asked, standing his ground.

  "You get the production happening; then we'll talk.”

  With that, the banker escaped into the Land-Cruiser and signaled the driver to take off. Glass remained in his stance as the four wheel drive spewed sand in all directions and sped away.

  CHAPTER 24

  Martha was exceptionally nervous.

  Naked, she went into the bathroom and gulped down another valium pill hoping to calm her nerves. Albert, her current lover, had just left and it seemed impossible to get organized in time. She threw his shaving cream bottle and used blades into the trash can and cleaned the sink of any whiskers.

  Once again she went into the bedroom to change the sheets. The unused condoms were left on the drawer on his side of the bed. She had a momentary vision of herself popping one open, slipping it on and guiding him into her. Her muddled senses awoke for a split second beckoning her juices to begin flowing again.

  The half empty bottle of apple schnapps stood on the drawer by her side of the bed. She took a quick sip and hid it in the dressing closet next to a half empty bottle of scotch and an unopened bottle of gin. She dragged the sheets into a pile, threw them on the carpet, and reached for a fresh set in the drawers above the dressing closet. As she began making the bed she caught a glimpse of herself in the large bedroom mirror. Her body was still smooth but seemed pathetically frail, borderline anorexic. Her breasts had shrunk to barely just nipples, her rib cage and hips were conspicuously revealed, and her crooked thin legs resembled those of a famous cartoon character. She shook her head in disapproval and continued tending the sheets.

  She noticed her daughters' framed photographs faced down on the oak bookshelf next to the TV. She never could have their smiling faces upright when engaging in sexual escapades behind their father's back.

  He no longer shared her bed or her room but somehow it seemed inappropriate. She corrected the frames to an upright position and wiped some dust off with the palm of her hand. She stood for a quiet minute staring at them then burst into tears.

  Her marriage had ended the day Karen disappeared and her life, she thought, had become a nightmarish hell.

  She forced herself into the bathroom and crawled into a warm tub where she lay motionless for a while letting the hot water and pungent Eucalyptus soaps relax her body and drain the terrible hangover. After an hour of unsettled hallucinations, she lifted herself out of the tub, wrapped herself in a large towel and returned to the bedroom.

  She picked out a light blue frock she felt was the most appropriate for welcoming her daughter whom she hadn't seen for almost a year and a half.

  It was ten thirty by the time she had completed putting on her makeup and felt ready to face another trying day. Lisa had surprised her by announcing she was using a work assignment on the West Coast as an opportunity to visit. She was to catch a morning flight out of New York and was due to arrive in Westlake sometimes early noon. Martha, being routinely more intoxicated than not, did not leave the house much and did not offer to wait for her daughter at the airport. She did, however, instruct Estella, the live-in help, to prepare one of her special Mexican plates for dinner.

  -------

  The two women, mother and daughter, sat in quiet desolation facing one another across the large dining room table. Lisa could still recall herself and Karen sitting on plastic booster seats, gulping down their milk soaked Corn Flakes every morning, at that very same table.

  Lisa looked at her mother closely. Upon arrival she had detected slightly withdrawn behavior that would have made sense under the circumstances. They had not seen each other in eighteen months and their personal ill fortune still loomed heavily overhead. Her mother was thin, thinner than usual, but she looked rather well kept and attractive. Her silver hair was cut very short, flaunting her pretty face and her skin was hardly wrinkled. She was formidably dressed and her make-up was carefully and appropriately applied.

  At forty-eight she still commanded respect, Lisa thought, but the sparkle in her eyes had been considerably subdued for quite a while. Skepticism and melancholia had replaced the grace that had once radiated from her mother's eyes. Lisa felt they had been quite close through the initial part of their tragedy. They still spoke on the phone once or twice a week but had drifted apart since she left for New York.

  "Are you OK, Mom?" she asked gently, hoping to strike a nerve.

  "Certainly dear," her mother replied, eyes shifting from side to side, avoiding direct contact with her daughter's probing stare.

  It felt cruel not revealing what she had learned about Karen, but they had decided they could not afford to risk even the remotest possibility of a leak. Her mother would be better served not knowing the truth a while longer, giving them the opportunity to reunite her with her daughter.

  --------

  Mikki took residence at the Thousand Oaks Inn, not a mile from the Glass estate. He and Lisa had flown into Los Angeles on different airlines, but arrived at about the same time and shared a taxi to Westlake Village. Lisa had insisted he reside close by and in the path of her regular jogging route, so they could meet without restriction.

  He had settled into the large, comfortable room, spreading his belongings on the extra double bed, throwing the heavy drapes open to let the bright California sun invade his room. He opened the glass window and stood for a while, buoyantly surveying the valley.

  It was a typical Southern California day, sunny and warm - a welcome change from the dreary New York ambience. A gentle breeze blew in from the Pacific west, caressing his face. Mikki inhaled the unfamiliar, yet pleasant scents. A gray haze hovered over the valley, partially obscuring the opposite ridge. He scanned the diverse mixture of houses and condos nestled within the ripe vegetation, sloping down the valley toward the more crowded plains of meshed streets and freeways bordering an array of large industrial complexes, office buildings and shopping centers.

  He tried to visualize himself standing there with Karen, her frail white hands hugging his waist, her nose rubbing against his cheek, her lips nibbling at his ear. He strained to savor the now vague memory of her until he could no more and retreated back into the reality of his room.

  He showered, changed, and went out looking to explore the attractive town. He began walking toward what appeared to be a central region with a colorful shopping stretch and busier traffic, but soon realized that unlike New York or Tel Aviv, the distances between inhabited places were just too great. It took him almost twenty minutes to reach Thousand Oaks Boulevard, the town's central avenue, and there he realized he was qu
ite helpless without wheels.

  He was finally able to find a taxi and instructed the driver to drive him around with no particular destination. Since their first night together, by the kibbutz security fence, he had longed to explore her town. The picture she had drawn for him stuck in his mind and he eagerly looked for traces of what she had described. It seemed important to view it as she had, but close in person, things looked a shade more bare than lavish and a shade more yellow than green. Only when they had reached the lake, with its colorful reflections of the houses surrounding it and the calm rocking of the boats tied to the small wooden piers on its small island, was he able to get an inkling of what she had meant.

  The driver dropped him at a busy shopping center not too far from the Inn. He window shopped, then ate a hearty supper at a restaurant by Lindero Canyon road, after which he slowly climbed the small incline back to the inn, allowing the pasta to settle in his stomach.

  Before turning in for the night, he stood a while watching the dimming town. He felt a sense of calm he thought may have stemmed from being at her place, fulfilling the craving in his heart to see her world. It was as if his presence there brought them closer to each other.

  Lisa came by in the morning, dressed in her golden Pepperdine jogging suit. She had called ahead from a pay phone and he waited for her in the lobby. Her hair was collected back into a ponytail revealing her captivating face and long smooth neck. She was at the half way point of her jogging route and sweat beads had formed on her forehead and around her green eyes which sparkled with energy.

  "Join me?" she asked, standing a little bent to catch her breath.

  "Back to your house?" he asked, a smile forming on his lips.

  "Yeah, I'd like to introduce you to my dad," she replied sarcastically, still catching her breath.

  "Give me one minute," he said and disappeared up the stairs. They ran toward the lake. It was quite some time since Mikki had run such a ways and it took his body a while to adjust and fall into a rhythm. Lisa, silently running by his side, seemed to be in good shape, and kept increasing the pace until it became an all-out sprint to the banks of the lake.

  After recovering from the trying morning spurt, they had walked around the lake chatting carelessly about everything but the task at hand. She had seemed much more at ease than she had been back at her New York apartment and it made her riveting and beautiful. She joked and laughed and Mikki found himself admiring her wit.

  "I'm going to meet him today," Lisa said after they had settled into their seats and ordered breakfast at the Serenade coffee shop by the lake.

  Mikki looked at her. She looked a shade frightened.

  "I'm not sure I can face him," she said, looking away.

  The waiter brought coffee and two glasses of freshly squeezed orange juice. Mikki drained his and Lisa slowly sipped hers. A family of ducks, mother at the head and her six ducklings pedaling in pursuit, sailed by forming a symmetrical arrowhead of shallow swells that dislodged the smooth mirror-like image of the placid lake.

  "Were you able to find anything in the house?" Mikki asked, not sure how to respond to her previous statement.

  "Not a damn thing. Mother went out with her boyfriend and I had the house to myself for most of the evening. I damn near tore it apart. It doesn't surprise me that there is nothing there. The house would be the last place he would dare keep anything.”

  "I suppose you're right," Mikki said thoughtfully, mulling over the first setback which had been anticipated but rattled him all the same.

  "I guess this leaves the plant," he said.

  Lisa nodded. "If there's anything to be found, we'll most likely find it there.”

  They were silent again.

  "Will you be alright?" Mikki asked.

  Lisa looked determined. She took a deep breath and nodded. "I'll do my best.”

  -------

  Her father did not seem surprised to see her. He walked in from the departing cab and stood underneath the large oak doorway looking uncomfortable, but expectant.

  Lisa felt paralyzed. Her mother was standing in back of her and a little to the side. She wanted to hold on to her. Engulfed by a powerful sense of dread, she suddenly doubted her ability to deceive him. It felt as if he could see through her. As if he had the power to unravel the secrets of her mind.

  She forced herself to look at him, noticing he had aged quite a bit in her absence. His stance was somewhat crouched to one side, there were deep lines forged across his forehead with stress wrinkles under the sockets of his lethargic eyes, and considerable amounts of silver hair now around the rim of a balding head. She also realized that he now regularly wore rectangular black plastic-rimmed glasses where before he had needed them only for reading.

  Their eyes met and he managed a crooked, anxious smile before shifting his gaze. He walked past them, put his briefcase and suit hanger on the floor next to the living room couch and approached the bar. The two women followed. Martha sat on the couch but Lisa remained standing.

  "I received a call from your boss a few days ago," he began, pouring himself a glass of bourbon without offering any to anyone else, "said you were doing some research on the laser industry?"

  Lisa nodded but no words would come out.

  "It surprises me my own daughter has to have her boss call ahead.”

  "It's customary at our firm," Lisa replied, "Mr. Eckert or Mr. Lambert call ahead of every junior executive who is sent on an assignment of this kind.”

  "Mighty nice of ‘em," he said and Lisa could sense the contempt and ridicule in his voice. For a moment, she was back in the eighth grade standing in front of him with a history paper she had worked so long and hard to perfect only to have it mocked by cynical comments of how insignificant eighth grade history was these days compared with what he had to go through.

  Insignificant! That's how she felt in his presence, never being able to measure up to some outlandish standard set by him long ago. No matter what she had or would accomplish in her life, it would always seem as insignificant, by his standards, as learning to ride her bicycle had been, or the history paper, or a perfect math score, or getting her driver's license, or her senior prom.

  "I'd like you to show me around PhotonTek," she managed to say, her voice noticeably tense. In twenty-six years she had never once shown an interest in his company. She had never discussed nor visited his life's achievement, not even as a little child accompanying daddy to work. 'The company' was his own private world, and one that had never accommodated the rest of his family.

  It suddenly felt as if her request had been judged an invasion of privacy and found herself forced to return his appraising gaze again, afraid he could uncover her true motives.

  "Who's the work for?" he asked.

  "That's privileged, Dad. I can't say."

  "It may be a competitor.”

  "It's strictly civilian; nothing in defense, I checked."

  "What's the topic?"

  "Diode pumped lasers," she recited from the Dunn & Bradstreet review of her father's company. There had not been much there since PhotonTek was a privately held company. Most of the analysis was pure speculation, but she was thankful for the brief outline and proper description of his products.

  "Why me?"

  "I mentioned you were in the business and Eckert thought it may give us an edge.”

  "What will give you an edge?"

  "The fact that I'm your daughter and that you are the best in the business. Besides, all I'm really looking for is to understand the technology enough to be able to anticipate advantages and drawbacks before I recommend my client a course of action. If there was any conflict of interest, I would not have agreed to approach you.”

  It was one final argument that seemed to mollify him. He sighed and poured himself another drink. Lisa felt shaken but she had survived the opening round.

  "You can join me tomorrow," he said. "I leave at seven.”

  He gulped down his drink, picked up his belongings, and
crept out of the living room without giving his wife as much as a glance.

  -------

  The plant was a low, two-storey complex, isolated by a tall fence that featured an intimidating mass of barbed wire.

  They slowly approached the lone, steel gate, and stopped in front of a small white hut beside it. A security guard approached them, dressed in an official looking outfit displaying his company's name on his shoulder, ornate with some meaningless gold tailored insignia. Greeting them wearily he pressed a hidden button to raise the brightly painted red and white barrier. Glass pulled a plastic card from his shirt pocket and slid its magnetic stripe through a magnetic slot decoder which authorized them through and recorded their arrival time.

  He parked the Lincoln Town Car in the a parking slot reserved for PhotonTek's chairman and CEO and briskly led his daughter through glass doors to a neatly-kept lobby occupied by a formally-dressed receptionist, busy directing calls, and a tense security guard, both seated behind a low, wood paneled counter, facing the entrance. Lisa handed in her driver's license and was given a visitor's badge.

  They took the elevator down three floors and stepped out into a long and rather stuffy corridor. They walked through a web of corridors flanked by neon lit offices and laboratories buzzing with activity and entered her father's reception room at the far end of one of the corridors. Doris stood up when she saw them enter. Introductions were short and blunt, after which Glass ordered them coffee and instructed his secretary to summon a few of his aides for a short meeting. They entered his office and he shut the door.

  Doris came in almost immediately. "It's Langone," she said.

  Glass shot her an annoyed look. "I'll take it in the conference room."

  He slipped through a side door sliding it behind him, leaving Lisa standing in the middle of his office. She hesitantly looked around for a few seconds then circled his desk and sat in his chair.