Disappearance (A Mystery and Espionage Thriller)

by Niv Kaplan

  The second day out on the Ein-Geddy gorge, climbing a rocky cliff over a gushing waterfall, they had kissed for the first time. She had slipped a little, sliding between his legs and he, stooping to break her fall found himself looking into her dark playful eyes from an impossibly close distance. They froze for a brief second, eyes locked, then he bent down and kissed her gently on the lips. She did not resist so he kissed her again and again, then he lay on top of her and they became entangled, kissing one another hungrily.

  That night, at the little caravan they had reserved on the outskirts of Kibbutz Ein-Geddy, they slept together enjoying each other's bodies as if nothing else existed.

  He had learned that she and her mother were regarded as outcasts in their community. Her mother was an attorney with a private practice in Haifa. She had never remarried or hinted at any interest in other men and people naturally assumed she still carried a flame for her disreputable husband. She lived alone with her daughter on her husband's property which encompassed five acres of farmland which was leased away. The farmers at the Moshav, who had long ago settled in the area for the purpose of farming, did not consider it an appropriate attitude. The land was for cultivating, cows were for milking, and chickens for laying eggs, and they expected anyone who owned farmland in their farming community to carry on the tradition or live elsewhere.

  Noga's mother, described by her daughter as extremely dynamic and independent, did as she pleased. She was out most of the day and ignored her neighbors bickering.

  Noga, however, spent most of her day at the Moshav and felt uncomfortable with the rumors surrounding her father abandoning them and why her mother was still waiting for him to return.

  So far he had not learned anything significant. She had not talked much about him, making Nadav wonder how much she really knew about her father. Falling in love with her had confused matters and every scheme he had devised of extracting information withered away when she hugged him or kissed him. It became difficult to discern between the girl he was in love with and the daughter of the person involved in Karen's abduction.

  Standing next to her on the wind-swept ridge, he wanted to delay carrying out his primary objective for as long as he could, not wishing to spoil the pleasure of being with her. But he knew he could not avoid it much longer.

  "Is it difficult not having a father around?" he asked gently, intently studying her face for a reaction.

  "Why do you ask?" she queried, her gaze still fixed on the valley below.

  "Oh, I don't know," he said, "I was just thinking what it must be like and how I would have felt if my dad wasn't around."

  "It's like missing a part of your body; having one eye, or one leg, or one arm. Nothing ever feels complete."

  "Will you ever see him again?"

  "I may, but it'll never make up for what's been lost," she said and turned to him.

  "I'm sorry," he said gently, hastening to embrace her. He had touched the chord and felt guilty for it. He kissed her face, licking a salty tear.

  She giggled at his gesture. "It's OK Nadav, I'm allowed to cry. It's healthy sometimes."

  "It wasn't fair asking you about him," he reasoned. "I should have waited for when you were ready to tell me."

  "It's OK, honest; you have the right to know. It’s not every day you get involved with a girl whose dad disappeared."

  He looked at her somberly.

  "Disappeared?"

  She nodded. "He never left with another woman like those assholes think. He simply vanished one day; something to do with his job. He was working part-time for the Foreign Service. Occasionally they would send him on diplomatic assignments for lengthy periods. Four years ago he left on one of those assignments and never came back."

  Diplomatic assignments in the Foreign Service, Nadav mused. It had some truth to it, he had to admit.

  He studied her face. She did not project grief for a lost parent. There had to be more.

  "And do you know what happ…"

  She pressed her long index finger against his lips, shutting him up.

  "We know," she said with a crafty grin on her face. "Now take me home."

  They got back in the Jeep and drove in silence to her house. "Wanna come in?" she asked playfully as they walked to her front door "Mom's in Tel Aviv today."

  He flashed a conspiratorial smile at her and followed her in. Noga prepared tea and they nestled on the large living room sofa in front of the TV. After an hour of harmless foreplay she drew him to her room and they fell onto her bed. As he reached for her, she sprang up again, went to her dresser and fished around one of its drawers.

  "Remember I told you we knew what happened to my father?"

  Nadav nodded, careful not to appear eager. She came over and sat by his side, leaning against the pillows to switch on the bedside lamp.

  "We were convinced he was dead for almost a year until I received a postcard," she explained, producing a letter size envelope, tipping its contents onto the bed.

  There were three postcards and a photo.

  "No one at the Foreign Office would help us," she continued. "We were both going crazy with grief until this arrived."

  She picked out one of the postcards and showed it to him. It showed a whale and a couple of dolphins leaping out of the water in a large exhibition pool with spectators roaring in delight. It read 'SeaWorld' on the bottom right corner.

  He turned it over, looking at her for approval. It read: "My lovely Noga, I'm still around. Don't be sad. I'll explain later. Love, Dad."

  The postmark was dated 2.23.85 and on the bottom it read: 'SeaWorld, San Diego, California.'

  "Since then I’ve received one postcard a year. Mom has more contact with him but she keeps it mighty secret. She even went to see him last year and brought me back this." She picked out the photo. It showed her mother and father holding a sign that read: 'Love You Noga'.

  Nadav felt deep compassion for her.

  He studied the photo. They were a handsome couple and looked to be at ease with one another. He was seeing them both for the first time. Noga's mother had her hair bleached blonde and cut very short and she looked to be a seasoned version of her daughter. Her father was older and rougher, yet he was almost a perfect male replica of his daughter. The resemblance was uncanny. His hair and eyes pitch black, his forehead high; his nose straight, and his lips shapely. But the most striking resemblance was the lively smile which had the same sweeping magnetism as Noga's. He looked happy in the presence of his wife and he obviously adored his daughter. Nadav couldn't help but wonder what made him choose a path that separated them so callously. It was hard to imagine the couple in the photo forced to spend their lives apart.

  It was also quite clear why the two of them, mother and daughter, treated the matter with such composure. In their eyes, Nadav reflected, it was only a temporary, necessary distraction. He could see that they still loved each other and were expecting to reunite.

  He studied the other two postcards. Noga did not protest. One displayed a ski resort named "Snowbird" and on the back it read: 'Don't lose hope, Love Dad.' The postmark indicated it was sent from Salt Lake City on 3.17.86. The other postcard showed the lighted skyline of Omaha, Nebraska. It read simply: 'I miss you, Dad.' It was sent from Omaha on 4.25.87.

  "This one was sent after Mom went to see him," Rachel remarked. "It's not as encouraging as the other two."

  "Where did she meet him?" Nadav asked, instantly regretting it.

  "She wouldn't say. Said he made her promise to keep this a secret. I'm not supposed to show these to anyone," she said pointing to the postcards on the bed. "Will you keep it a secret?"

  He nodded awkwardly.

  She sensed his discomfort and moved closer to him. "Sorry to spoil our evening but you asked for it," she said softly, kissing his ear then moving her lips down his jaw toward his mouth. He let himself inhale her fragrance sensing the smooth touch of her lips on his skin until she reached his mouth and he kissed her back.

&nb
sp; His feeling of deceit worsened as they began undressing each other but a thought in the back of his mind kept him just poised enough to go through with the charade.

  He was thinking that he would have been willing to do the same had a similar fate been handed to Noga.

  -------

  "Hasson's in the States," Sarah said without preamble as she and Yossi Gadot sat down to drink dark, steaming coffee in the village of Paradise just off the Mediterranean shore, halfway between Haifa and Tel Aviv.

  "He's been there for four years," she proclaimed. Gadot nodded approvingly.

  "You already knew that?" Sarah asked in surprise.

  "The same source who told me about Beit-Nirim suggested that, but I couldn't be certain. How did you find out?"

  "We followed your lead and found he has a daughter. Nadav worked his charm and got her to show him postcards he sent from the States."

  Yossi smiled astutely.

  Sarah smiled back. "It appears she's quite a looker. Nadav seems to have gotten more rapt than intended."

  "As long as he sticks with the program, it may not be all bad," Yossi remarked. "She can help us. What else did he learn?"

  "She claims her father disappeared while on an assignment for our Foreign Service, four years ago. About a year after his disappearance she received a postcard from him. It was sent from San Diego in February of ‘85. Since then she’s received two more postcards from him. One sent in March of ‘86 from Salt Lake City, and the third and so far the last, was sent in April of ‘87 from Omaha, Nebraska. She also said that her mother went to see him sometime last year. She brought back a photograph of the two of them. Apparently her parents have secretly been able to stay in touch."

  Yossi became thoughtful and Sarah waited patiently, knowing he was never hasty about offering insights.

  "My source," he began after the long pause, "indicated that Hasson was dismissed from the Mossad in disgrace. The official cause proclaimed that he suffered "a mental breakdown", since no one there would ever admit system failure, but anyone who's anyone knew they were waiting for him with handcuffs at Ben Gurion."

  "The entire account may never be fully known but to a chosen few, but from bits and pieces it's apparent that he took money from both sides. My source confirmed that his dismissal transpired in the wake of the PhotonTek case. Hasson became a marked man, high on the Mossad's hit list, until the kidnapping of Karen Glass. Since then, he’s not been mentioned one way or the other."

  "If what we suspect is accurate, then he may have played a major part in this affair. Using the father as a shield and kidnapping the girl in Israel, making it look like a Mossad job, certainly has all the makings of an individual who knew exactly what soft spots could be exploited. With one brilliant stroke he managed to free himself from the threat of his ex- employers and earn his money with his new ones."

  Sarah took time to digest the information. Yossi was making definite headway and she needed to stay with him. He had confirmed that Hasson had turned traitor and revealed that the Mossad had him marked. Hasson, in an effort to save his skin and make some money, had planned and executed the kidnapping of Karen Glass with the cooperation of her father who was the head guy at the company Hasson had been sent to harass. Performing the deed in Israel, using his own identity to point blame on the Mossad, and then threatening to expose the affair, had masterfully achieved his objectives. The Israelis, not wanting to be blamed for using improper methods to bully American business, step back instantly, covering their tracks, and the Americans are left in the dark. Hasson retains his freedom along with a bundle of cash and his new employers are free to continue whatever they were doing.

  "Does he have to remain at large now that he supposedly has them off his back?" she finally asked, hinting at a suspicion that was forming in the back of her mind.

  "I imagine he will never be able to return to Israel but I don't believe he has to remain in hiding, unless…" he paused, waiting for her to fill in the blank.

  "Unless he's still involved in our little affair," Sarah said bluntly, finding no inspiration in the revelation.

  "Precisely," Yossi exclaimed. "Why would he be moving around so much, yet allow himself to keep in touch with his family? He would never have sent his daughter postcards or been able to meet his wife while he was targeted. Being able to do this means he's no longer afraid for his life. He’d managed to completely out-maneuver them and he probably has, stashed away somewhere, a life insurance policy in the form of a video tape or authentic documentation. The Mossad would rather leave him be and take the humiliation than have this story surface. As you and I both know, some pretty important people have their prints all over this, including the ones who caused my brother's death."

  "He could be involved in other things," Sarah pointed out.

  "He certainly could, but I'd bet my life he's still involved with Karen. He may even be getting paid for keeping her out of the way all these years."

  "Did your source say why he was sent after Glass in the first place?" she asked, hoping to tie in what they already knew.

  Gadot hesitated just a fraction before speaking.

  "His objective was to force Glass to cease the development of a laser- guided system that was to be sold to certain terrorist factions in Southern Lebanon as a portable anti-aircraft missile".

  CHAPTER 35

  The house, perched in an upper class neighborhood, was quite formidable with ample space around its perimeter separating it from neighboring houses. Between its lavishly green exterior and the fence surrounding it, was a well-kept lawn, now icy from the freezing weather. There were a few trees and neatly-trimmed bushes spread about the grounds and a narrow red brick driveway that led from the secured gate to a small roundabout by the front entrance. The driveway and front entrance were cleared of snow and the general exterior looked to be properly painted. No casual observer would have any reason to suspect it was not occupied.

  Lisa had indicated that it was bought by William Devon, the elderly man seen by Mikki at the Cascade office in the San Fernando Valley, for $245,000 back in October of 1985 and she had estimated it to be quite expensive compared with the average property value in the area for that time.

  Mikki had arrived in Provo late the previous night, having driven eleven hours straight from Las Vegas, managing a few hours of sleep in a nearby motel before showing up bright and early hoping to observe the early morning activity, if there was any.

  It was almost noon. He had been surveying the house from various angles for the last five hours and could detect no activity.

  They had decided to inspect the house after receiving word from Sarah. Mikki was at the end of his fifth day in Vegas, alternating between keeping tabs on the Cascade office and following Steve Carson around, when Lisa called the hotel and excitedly conveyed the news. She had told him beforehand about her escrow database findings and they had discussed the possible implications, but it wasn't until they heard from Sarah that they felt they had an end of a rope to latch on to.

  Two of the three locations indicated by the postcards matched locations where Cascade had purchased houses, and both houses were purchased several months prior to the postcards being sent by Hasson/Arbel to his daughter. The one in Provo was purchased five months before Hasson had sent his postcard from the ski resort near Salt Lake City. The one in Omaha was purchased in September of ‘86, seven months prior to Hasson sending a postcard from there. The postcard from San Diego was the exception but the two others provided them with enough justification to visit the house in Provo guessing that Hasson’s roaming around the United States may follow a reasonable path, possibly related to the particular Cascade Real Estate transactions.

  During his trip from Vegas Mikki had debated within himself what approach to take with house tenants, if need be. He knew his Israeli accent was an instant give away if he tried to impersonate anything American, so he concentrated on choosing a profession that would require the kind of dialogue that would be expected f
rom a foreigner yet allow him to ask the questions he intended to ask.

  Armed with a photograph of Karen and a sketch of Hasson's face Nadav had produced from memory, he was dressed in gray overalls with an empty tool box by his side, an outfit he had purchased at a wayside Wal-Mart, intending to impersonate a telephone technician, carrying out home phone extensions.

  At two he saw a neighbor across the street, take out a shovel and begin clearing the accumulation of ice and traces of snow around his garage door and driveway. The man labored steadily for ten minutes then walked back to his house, opened his garage from the inside, and carefully drove out a large Cadillac, parking it in the driveway with the engine running, visible streams of white steam coming out the two exhausts.

  Mikki was parked behind a red pickup truck, under a large and now quite bare tree, on the narrow street between the two houses. The neighbor, a lanky fellow who looked to be quite elderly, had his back to him now, poking his head under the hood of his car.

  Mikki considered whether or not to approach the neighbor. His experience at Vegas revealed that neighbors were not very aware of their neighbors' activity or were not willing to meddle in their business. It was, indeed, quite different from the way things worked back home, he thought, smiling to himself in the rear view mirror. Back there, a neighbor's business was, without a doubt, everyone's business. He finally decided he needed a touch of Middle Eastern meddling to make some headway with the investigation. But first he needed to dispose of the outfit he was wearing. Scrambling around in the car, he changed his clothes in a hurry and stepped out into the frosty air. The neighbor had finished poking around under the hood of his car and was slamming it shut when he noticed Mikki.

  "Well good day," he said cheerfully, turning to Mikki who had stopped outside a small gate that barred the brick footpath to the house. The neighbor came forward and stood on the other side of the gate with seemingly no intention of letting Mikki through.