Disappearance (A Mystery and Espionage Thriller)

by Niv Kaplan

  But before he could begin justifying this new insight and plot his retreat, the man with the black raincoat pushed open an invisible door at a side entrance of one of the buildings and quick as a flash hauled him in.

  A single light bulb weakly illuminated the place and Chester saw that they were standing at the bottom of a bare staircase next to a large garbage disposal container. The man was reaching for something inside his black raincoat. Chester gasped for air and shielded his face with one hand. The man seemed to ignore the pitiful gesture and proceeded handing him a white envelope. Chester took it, almost bowing with relief.

  "This should cover what we owe you," the man spoke for the first time and Chester cautiously allowed himself a glance at him. His voice was deep with a heavy New York accent. His hair was crew cut short and his features were dark with eyes to match. His lips barely moved as he spoke.

  He reached inside his coat pocket again, took out a single photo and showed it to Chester.

  "Recognize him?" The man asked.

  The photo was of a man getting out of a car at an airport. It was taken some distance away from the back of the car but the face was visible.

  Chester strained for a moment, and then it hit him. "Yeah, that's the guy who met Lisa," he said excitedly.

  The man nodded. "Recognize the car?"

  Chester strained again looking closely at the photo, turning it to the light. "No, not really," he said cautiously as if expecting the man to strike him for bad behavior.

  "It's your boss's car.”

  "Eckert?"

  The man nodded.

  "What's he got to do with…?"

  The man cut him off. "That's what we want you to find out Mr. Caldwell.”

  It was the first time the man had ever used Chester's name and it chilled him to the bone. This was not a request. This was an order.

  "We'll double your fee and pay you every week until we get what we want.”

  A thousand dollars every week! But that also meant they wanted a report more frequently than before which meant he would have to spend more time tending to them instead of doing his work. He would surely be late with his assignments plus it was going to be much tougher tracking Eckert than it was Lisa. He had no access to his office, and there was never a time he could snoop around or listen in on phone calls.

  He looked at the man hesitantly, not daring to disobey but conveying discomfort.

  "Six thousand and we'll rent you a car so you can follow him whenever he uses his."

  The man shut off the light and opened the door to the street. "Be at this spot a week from today," he whispered threateningly and disappeared without leaving Chester an opportunity to respond.

  Chester waited in the dark. He never intended to protest. He needed time to concede to the idea that they had him seized. He had crossed the line. Now he was trapped. He waited a few minutes then slipped out into the dark and cold New York streets, noting where he had to report to in a week.

  CHAPTER 28

  Yossi Gadot did not take his usual route back home. He had left the office early and headed south on the coastal highway toward Tel Aviv. Near the Hadera power station he exited and drove to Caesarea. He parked at the entrance to the old city and walked along the stone footpath among the ancient ruins and historic columns that marked streets and markets of ancient days. An archeological gem, he marveled, noting that he should bring the kids.

  It was turning dark when he reached the old port of Caesarea and took a seat by the waterline at the Crusaders restaurant. He had been there only once before with company guests. The place was ideally situated, slightly elevated above the old port and had an excellent reputation for its fresh fish and seafood.

  He looked out at the water as the last rays of sun blended in with obscured light sources that kept the port area softly illuminated. Most of the old Caesarea port was under water, but the outline of what was once a sizable port was easily traceable.

  A tall, skinny waiter brought him his beer and he sat back enjoying the ambience.

  Sarah showed up ten minutes later.

  They went about the usual small talk. He ordered salmon, she just a salad.

  She seemed a little different, he thought. A touch of makeup and a tight black turtleneck shirt, showing off her slender upper body, combined with the unique background in which they sat, made her look remarkably attractive.

  He complimented her, figuring he was allowed, she being just about half his age. She blushed and blamed it on a previous interview she had before coming to meet him.

  "Any word from Mikki?" he asked.

  "He called last night, just back in LA from following Glass to Washington and New York. Said they’d discovered a major defense company and a heavy duty Wall Street personality involved in some super-secret project that also involves Glass. They also found that Glass's company was on the brink of bankruptcy some five years ago. Mikki thinks this project saved the company and that Glass may have been forced to take some extreme measures to secure it."

  "Five years ago, you say?" Yossi remarked thoughtfully. "Let's see, the company gets into trouble; to save their ass they get involved in a questionable project, which causes the Israeli Mossad to apply some serious heat… what would you have done in their place?"

  "Why, that's obvious," Sarah said facetiously, "I'd have my daughter kidnapped."

  "Seriously, Sarah," Yossi said, smiling at her mockery.

  "I'm serious," she insisted, back to her normal voice. "I'd have her kidnapped in Israel, making it look like a Mossad job."

  "Then what?" Yossi pressed on.

  "Then I'd threaten the Israelis to get off my back or I blow the story."

  Yossi nodded approvingly. "The last thing the Mossad needs is to be found meddling in American business."

  "But neither side seemed very eager to pursue the matter," Sarah insisted, crossed at the indifference of it all.

  "Then the threat certainly worked," Yossi commented. "For the Mossad it must have been a simple case of washing their hands of it as quickly and as efficiently as possible. Regardless of whatever we might have protested, the Americans would have been all over us had even the slightest hint of our involvement been suggested. For the sake of keeping at peace with Uncle Sam, we buried the investigation along with my brother."

  He was sounding bitter as he went on.

  "As for the Americans, it would have been a pretty difficult investigation, not getting any real assistance from the host country,” Sarah speculated out loud.

  “We can only assume that under such circumstances, if Glass was indeed involved, the girl's family did not press real hard," Yossi suggested.

  "They may all be involved," Sarah remarked, assuming her journalist's role for a brief moment.

  "I doubt it," Yossi said. "It must be the father. The mother and sister couldn’t stand up to him and he probably assured them he was handling matters. Three years later she's still missing but it seems they have already accepted it. Strange people these Americans."

  "It's the most bizarre tale I've ever had the displeasure of being associated with," Sarah commented, shaking her head.

  "Did Mikki tell you the name of the company?"

  Sarah nodded and stood up drawing some folded scrap paper from the back pockets of her jeans. "Matlock Defense," she read to him, straining to decipher her own handwriting.

  "I've heard of them. What about the Wall Street guy?"

  "Mikki wouldn't give his name. Said it was too sensitive."

  They ordered coffee and apple strudel for dessert and sat staring at the ancient port.

  “What is it you had for me?" Sarah finally asked.

  He had initiated the meeting and it was understood that it was up to him to decide when, where, and how much he would become involved. She was expected to keep their association as confidential as she could.

  "I know where Dan Hasson lives," he said. She was instantly alert, eyes searching his.

  "To be more precise, I know where
his family lives; where his house is. I don't expect to find him there."

  "Where?" Sarah asked eagerly.

  "Beit-Nirim. It's a Moshav, a farmer's community, in the Jezreel Valley."

  He would skip telling her how he had obtained the information, knowing that even with her journalistic instincts, she was would not dare ask. It was understood that his information was privileged and that she may use it, or not, without asking for supporting evidence. He knew she trusted him and would never question his integrity. They both had a common objective; his was even stronger than hers. After losing a brother and losing a job he was looking for vengeance, pure and simple. She was looking to salvage her journalistic integrity and self-respect.

  Fortunately for him, it allowed him to work behind the scenes and pick and choose. Unfortunately for her, she was an accessory to murder and bound by the outcome of the hunt for the girl.

  He had gotten the information from Goffer, an old friend who he had fought with back in ‘73 on the Suez Canal. He had rescued him from a minefield after Goffer's tank took a hit and his all his crew were killed. Goffer vowed to remain in his debt for life.

  After the war and a five month trek in South America, they parted ways. The next time they met was when Yossi applied to work for the Shabac; Goffer turned up as one of his evaluators. He had joined the Israeli Ministry of Defense and become an Intelligence specialist for both the Shabac and Mossad and was well on his way to a successful Intelligence career.

  The two had not seen each other until a business associate mentioned Doron Goffer's name at a luncheon, two weeks earlier. Back then no one had ever called Goffer by his first name. He was simply known as Goffer. But when Yossi heard the name mentioned he hurried to inquire more and found that his buddy of old had left the Mossad and was running his own security consulting firm.

  He had called him at his office in Tel Aviv and they met for lunch two days later. After catching up on twenty years, Yossi brought up the subject of Dan Hasson and ended up describing how he thought his brother was killed. Goffer, who had been retired from the MOD just two years earlier, said he had been out of the country at the time. Yossi had offered his analysis of the present situation, leaving out the people who were involved and anything incriminating, then prudently asked for help.

  Goffer had given him what he wanted, but for a price. Eltron Limited was to hire GSS, Goffer Security Services, for a full year's worth of security consulting services. Goffer reasoned it would help his company get off the ground but Yossi knew better. He had known several ex-Mossad, ex-Shabac people, who before ever putting their signature on an office lease, already had more clients than they could handle. But he did not argue the point and Goffer vowed to him, for the second time in his life, to keep silent.

  "Anything else?" Sarah asked, hopeful.

  Goffer had actually given him more, but he had decided to keep it to himself for just a while longer. It needed more verification. He felt an obligation to be absolutely certain she could use whatever information he gave her. He had to buffer for her the same way she buffered for him.

  "Yeah," he said, "when you look for his house, look for Arbel, Dan and Rebecca Arbel. Hasson is just his cover name."

  -------

  "Hasson is an alias," Sarah informed Nadav when they met the following day at the Pam-Pam. "He lives at Beit-Nirim in the Jezreel valley and his real name is Dan Arbel."

  "That shouldn’t be far from Eitan's kibbutz," Nadav commented. "He may even know the family."

  "Let's call him," Sarah said and they stuffed the rest of their lunch down and hurried to the closest public phone. It was noon and Eitan could not be located so they agreed Sarah would call him from work to set up a meeting.

  She caught him in the kibbutz dining room an hour later. "Know anybody at Beit-Nirim?" she asked as she heard his husky breath cradle the receiver.

  "Not in particular, why?" he said, recognizing her voice instantly.

  "Can't say over the phone; we need to talk. When can we meet?"

  "Anytime; just come on down. Is Nadav with you?"

  "He will be. Let's meet at that restaurant at that junction near your kibbutz. What's it called?"

  "The junction is called Alonim and the restaurant is Ziva's Kettle. And it's about time you Tel Aviv snobs knew this part of the country."

  "We'll be there at eight tonight. Make sure you're not off chasing some wild pigs."

  She heard him laugh before he hung up. Then she called Nadav.

  They drove out in her Beetle, Nadav in civilian clothes, arriving half an hour late. Eitan, his usual self, arrived fifteen minutes after them.

  "Ran out of excuses with Naomi," he explained. "She's discharged from the service now and it gets harder to slip away."

  His explanation was partially true since he had also spent the last ten minutes surveying the restaurant from the outside, making sure there wasn't anybody there who knew him.

  "So how did you manage to get away?" Nadav asked.

  "Oh, I just gave her what she wanted, and she let me go."

  The three laughed and followed the hostess, steering her to a corner table at the empty half of the restaurant. They ordered drinks and plunged into conversation. Sarah reported on her phone conversation with Mikki and the meeting with Yossi Gadot. Both she and Nadav looked at Eitan expectantly as the issue of Beit-Nirim came up.

  "I know few people from that Moshav," Eitan said. "They attended a different high school and we don't have much contact with these people."

  "Who do you know there?" Nadav inquired.

  "Oh, just a couple of guys who hunt; none of them called Arbel though."

  "Can they help?" Sarah asked.

  "What did you have in mind?"

  "We'll need to get close to these guys," Nadav remarked. "Get a little friendly, drop in at the house, take a tour of the Moshav, and get to know the place so we may learn something about the Arbel family. Maybe even get to know them."

  "It can't be me," Eitan said. "It would be too suspicious if I suddenly took an interest in those guys. I never have before."

  "It would be a little awkward for me," Sarah said, looking oddly at Nadav. "Women don't go around chasing men in these parts, you know."

  That remark drew a smile from both Nadav and Eitan.

  "There you go being a snob again," Eitan said, then, thinking of Naomi, he added, "though you may have a point."

  "Eitan, could you arrange a barbecue? Invite them over and introduce us? I may be able to handle this one, but only on weekends when I'm off," Nadav said.

  "We might be able to arrange something this Friday,” Eitan said thoughtfully. “I just need to find someone who's friends with them."

  “Would you let me know?” Nadav pressed.

  “Only if make sure you use the right cologne when you show up," Eitan joked, caressing Nadav on his cheek, drawing a giggle from Sarah.

  "While you impress the boys," Sarah said between giggles, "I'll be heading for Paris."

  They both looked at her.

  "Glass will be there next week and Mikki wants me to follow him. Did I forget to mention this? I'm sorry," she said, still giggling.

  "Who's paying for all this?" Nadav asked, suddenly serious.

  "Lisa is," Sarah said, somber again. "She's been paying Mikki's way."

  "How much money does she have?" Nadav asked irritably.

  "Mikki wouldn’t talk about it. He’s been evading the question ever since he reached the States. I've asked him about this but he never admitted anything until he asked me to go to Paris. When I told him I was broke, he finally admitted Lisa is financing him and has committed to finance us all until we find her sister. Then he told me to pick up tickets at the EL AL offices in Tel Aviv and that they were wiring my bank account two thousand dollars for expenses."

  Eitan whistled in astonishment, drawing some attention from a neighboring table.

  "They must be filthy rich," he whispered.

  "I wouldn't trade places wit
h her for all the money in the world," Nadav commented, still irritated. "Their dad has them screwed so bad they'll probably have to spend what's left of it on shrinks."

  There was a moment of silence as each evaluated the surprising new development of having enough money to go on. For a while they were under the impression they had reached their limits. Each had contributed his last shekel to finance Mikki's trip to New York, and they all knew there was no other source to draw from. They even had a lengthy argument on whether the trip was worthwhile, before Mikki had them agree.

  "I bet he had it all planned out," Eitan mused. "That schemer probably counted on using her money, he just never bothered telling us the plan. How else would he figure to go on?"

  "So when are you going?" Nadav asked, shifting away from the touchy subject.

  "I leave Sunday morning and come back Wednesday evening unless our friend has a change of plan."

  "Will you come to the barbecue?"

  "I don't think she should," Eitan said. "Naomi is agitated enough as it is with my disappearing acts. I can do without additional drilling about Sarah."

  Sarah could tell Nadav was irritated by the remark. The two did not always see eye to eye.

  "Eitan's right," she said quickly, "the fewer people see us together, the better."

  Nadav grunted and sipped his coffee. He would miss her company, especially on the ride over and back, but he knew they were right. He needed to concentrate on his mission alone and with minimum distractions.

  "What time shall I be here?" he addressed Eitan stiffly.

  "We'll probably start at eight or nine. I'd say any time after nine would be fine."

  Eitan signaled the waitress. They each contributed to cover the bill and tip, and walked outside.