When the Israeli army killed two Hamas leaders with missile strikes, a few colleagues asked what I thought about it. I had been forced to join that band of Jews who wavered between views.
But you always had to draw a line somewhere. A number of Israeli citizens had participated in a string of crimes that had already resulted in the deaths of eight people. Even though I was a Jew, I felt the line had been crossed, and it was easy for me to pick sides.
“Here they come!” Simolin said.
Simolin, Sillanpää and I were sitting in the international transit hall at Helsinki-Vantaa airport, trying to look inconspicuous. We gave a pretty credible impression of three mid-level businessmen travelling abroad to make mid-size deals.
I recognized the woman immediately, even though she was wearing an El Al flight attendant’s uniform. She was the same woman I had seen walking a dog in Sibelius Park.
She was accompanied by a thirty-year-old man in an El Al co-pilot’s uniform. He was carrying a black leather satchel. I closed my eyes, covered my face with my hand, and played the role of a dozing businessman. I could hear the woman’s heels click past. I waited for a second and cracked one eye open. They stopped at the gate to the El Al flight.
“Now,” Sillanpää said, and we jumped up. I could see the man trying to open the glass door giving onto the jetway, but it was locked. He said something to an airport attendant and noticed us at the same time.
He grabbed the door again and jerked ferociously. The door shuddered but didn’t open. The woman tried to help, but it was too late.
Sillanpää showed his police ID and informed them that they were both under arrest. The woman attempted a smile and asked what was going on.
“Please come with us. You’ll find out.”
“The plane’s about to leave.”
“Come with us. It won’t take long to clear this up.”
A member of the El Al ground personnel rushed up, loudly demanding an explanation. An airport police officer grabbed him and half-forcibly dragged him off.
“I’m just going to inform the captain,” said the man in the co-pilot’s uniform, pulling out his phone. I snatched it from his hand.
“I want you to call the Israeli embassy immediately,” the woman demanded sharply.
We guided both of them into the customs officers’ room, where they and their belongings were searched. After that, Sillanpää ordered that they be taken to the airport jail and detained in such a way that they couldn’t speak to each other.
The crate was waiting for us at the air-freight office. It was a solid plywood box, a good three feet long, about thirty inches wide, and eighteen inches deep. The contents had been noted as computer equipment on the airway bill.
The clerk brought Sillanpää a crowbar. Sillanpää shooed him off before twisting the lock open. The lock bore the diplomatic mail seal of the Israeli embassy.
The interior of the crate was lined with cellular shipping plastic. A tightly bound, grey-haired man lay there, legs bent and mouth gagged. He was secured at the hands and feet to hooks in the sides of the crate so he couldn’t budge. He appeared to be unconscious.
“And now we’ll find out who the hell you are,” Sillanpää said.
The man’s eyes remained closed. I felt his pulse. His heart was beating slowly but steadily. Sillanpää gave me a self-satisfied smile and held out his hand.
“Are we square?”
I shook.
Simolin examined the man and his confined quarters.
“So this is going to turn into an international incident, isn’t it?”
We both looked at Sillanpää.
“No, not necessarily.”
“What do you mean, no?” I asked, surprised.
“We’re not going to broadcast this one to the world yet. Every move has to be considered carefully. If we play our cards right, we have a gold mine on our hands.”
“What do you mean, play?” I asked. I was getting a bad feeling. Whenever black or white started being tinted with grey, I feared the worst. I was a police officer, and a police officer didn’t play or cut deals, except in the traditional sense.
“So what’s the plan, squeezing a special price on oranges out of them?”
Sillanpää could immediately tell that he needed to choose his words more carefully. We knew far too much, so it was in his best interests to maintain a working relationship with us. I was the lead investigator and I answered for communications about the case. All the trumps were in my hand, if we started playing for real.
“I mean that that investigation is still under way. At least your friend Kaplan is still missing.”
“If you’ve been shadowing the Israelis the whole time, maybe you have some idea of where he might be.”
“Not the whole time, only since yesterday.”
Sillanpää’s phone rang. He glanced at the screen and pressed the speakerphone so we could hear the conversation.
“Hello, Mr Klein.”
Sillanpää smirked.
“We received a call that the police have arrested two Israeli citizens who are El Al employees.”
“Your sources are accurate and fast.”
“What’s it all about?”
“Routine criminal investigation.”
“What type of crime is in question?”
“A very serious one.”
“How can a flight attendant and a co-pilot be involved in a serious crime?”
“Anyone can. Even a police officer.”
“The flight will be late if they’re not released.”
“Unfortunately that can’t be avoided. You’ll have to find new personnel to replace them or cancel the flight.”
“What if I arrange to have a representative of your police force accompany them on the flight?”
“The Finnish police don’t interrogate suspects in aeroplanes, they do it in jail. And anyways, I don’t make those decisions.”
“Have you taken into account the possibility that this might simply be a misunderstanding? Do you understand that this incident could have extremely grave consequences for relations between our countries? ”
“I understand the gravity of the situation all too well. It’s part of my job.”
“Would it help at all if our ambassador contacted someone?”
“I don’t think so. Besides, if the media discovers that you’ve tried to exert pressure and prevent the police from investigating a serious crime, then…”
“I’m not talking about exerting pressure… this just happens to come at a very delicate time. Our foreign minister will be visiting Finland, and at the same time citizens of our country, who are in the service of the state no less, are arrested during the Jewish New Year, and on Yom Kippur of all days. You know how sensitive we are in Israel about things like this.”
“At the moment they’re only simply in detention.”
“Who’s investigating the case?”
“I hear it’s Detective Kafka’s.”
“Why? He’s also the one investigating the Linnunlaulu case, isn’t he?”
“I don’t know yet. I haven’t spoken with Kafka, and it’s not my jurisdiction, at least not yet, not as long as it’s a matter of a common crime. But unfortunately, I have to go now.”
“Could you keep me in the loop? Please understand my position. This could not have happened at a worse moment, with the foreign minister’s visit and Yom Kippur.”
“Of course I understand, but Kafka can be touchy. He won’t tell us anything, and he’ll tell you even less.”
“We need to meet as soon as possible to discuss the minister’s visit. You do understand, don’t you, that I will be forced to report this matter to the ambassador, and that won’t be the end of it, either. From there it will go to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and who knows where.”
“Of course. You’re just doing your job, but I’m not worried. Luckily, Israel is a democratic country, and everyone there understands how things work in a democracy.”
<
br /> The airport doctor arrived five minutes later and examined the man, who had been lifted from the crate onto a sofa.
“He’s been given a powerful sedative. He’ll probably still sleep for hours.”
“Is he in any danger?” I asked.
“I don’t think so. His heart is beating steadily, but it would be wisest to move him without delay to a place where he can be monitored safely as he comes to.”
I asked the doctor to order an ambulance and choose a suitable hospital.
Sillanpää stood off to the side, talking into his mobile and glancing at me intermittently. He hung up and walked over.
“I spoke with the commander. He feels that due to the delicacy of the situation, it will be to everyone’s advantage for the Security Police to take over communication responsibility for this. We’ll also handle the interrogation of the suspects and the man from the crate. All information necessary from the perspective of the criminal investigation will be delivered to you immediately.”
“So you’ll decide what’s necessary?”
“Sorry, but that’s how this one’s going to go. The higher-ups called it.”
I had forgotten Simolin, but he hadn’t forgotten me. When Sillanpää went over to consult with the doctor, Simolin walked up and pulled me aside.
“Did you get information on the listening device?” I asked.
“The guys from the phone company went and retrieved it. It was probably being monitored from a vehicle in front of the house. The range is about a hundred yards… And the fingerprints of the man who got hit by the train came in from French Interpol. Looks like we’re on the wrong track when it comes to him, and the other guy too.”
“What other guy?”
“Weiss’s killer, the Focus man. The fingerprints found in Laya’s Focus have also been identified.”
By the time Simolin finished, I knew I’d sleep just as poorly that night as I had the night before.
22
Although I had wriggled my way free of many traditions, there were a few I still clung to. Yom Kippur was one. I knew I would never completely free myself of it, nor did I want to. Even though working as a cop could harden just about anyone, Yom Kippur still managed to rouse memories in me that were both poignant and as tender as an open wound.
Yom Kippur was like the mournful melody of the Kol Nidre that welled up inside you and brought you so close to tears that the only way to avoid them was to close your eyes. It was also loved ones remembering their dead with the Yizkor prayer, downcast faces, and the synagogue growing dim as the Al Chet prayer drew near.
On Yom Kippur, Dad was always at home and there was no arguing. When I was a child, Dad read Eli, Hanna and me a blessing that every Jewish father read to his children before leaving for the synagogue. During the blessing, he asked God that we would become like Ephraim, Rachel and Leah. As he finished, he would smile at us and read his personal addition: “If at all possible.” Eli, Hanna and I would look at each other and giggle.
Those four extraneous words were like Dad’s secret gift to us, a gift that Mum knew nothing about. If I ever have a child someday, I’ll continue this tradition and complete the blessing by adding, “If at all possible.”
My uncle must have been waiting for me in his entryway, because he opened his door as soon as I stepped out of the elevator. The clank of the elevator carried into the apartment, so he knew I was approaching. He was wearing a dark suit with barely discernible pinstripes. He held the door wide and let me in. We looked at each other, and my uncle, brows knitted, clapped me lightly on the shoulder.
My uncle muttered something in Hebrew but so softly I couldn’t hear what it was.
He noticed my puzzlement and said: “It seems as if God and I understand each other better and better every year. When you’re as old as I am, you don’t have the time or the energy to commit much concrete evil, but you commit all the more in your thoughts. You’d never believe the nasty, ugly things that go through my head. Only a scribe or a lawyer could ever imagine that listing your sins one by one will earn you forgiveness. And God is neither a scribe nor a lawyer.”
“Or a policeman,” I said.
My uncle laughed.
“And yet God has granted the powers that be a sword so that it might be used wisely and for the good of all.”
It was as if my uncle had once again read my mind. I explained briefly what we had discovered during the investigation and what I intended. He lowered a hand onto my shoulder.
“I don’t envy you, Ari, but as I said, you have been given a sword so that you might use it. I know you will do the right thing, and that it would be impossible for you to do otherwise.”
It was as if my uncle’s words had swept away all my doubts and fears. I was in the right, and it was impossible for me to do otherwise.
Both floors of the synagogue were full, the women bareheaded above and the yarmulke-capped men below. In addition to my uncle and me, the Kafka family was represented by my brother Eli. Next to him sat Max Oxbaum and his teenage son.
Dan entered in the middle of the service and sat at his father’s left side, his eyes nailed to the floor. Suddenly he turned and looked at me. We were about six yards apart. At first Dan sized me up, then he smiled.
I stood and moved sideways towards the exit. Dan stood too. I made it into the foyer before he did and retreated towards the main doors.
“I’m here to pray, but it looks like you’re here to work. What would our old religion teacher Rabbi Motzkind say?”
“Put your gun on the floor,” I ordered.
“No, that’s not what he would say,” Dan sneered. “You don’t think I’d come to the synagogue armed, do you? I’m among friends here.”
“A lovely gesture. Are you sure you had enough time to ask forgiveness for all your sins?”
“Looks like for once you outsmarted me. You knew I would come here on Yom Kippur. What are you planning on doing now?” Dan asked casually.
“We’re going to get into the car that’s waiting outside and drive to Pasila. You’re under arrest.”
“It’s that simple for you?”
“Yes. Out.”
I opened the door and let him pass.
We stood in the glistening, rain-washed courtyard, eyeing each other.
“Aren’t you going to give me a chance to defend myself?” Dan asked.
“There’s no time, and it wouldn’t change anything.”
“It wouldn’t? Maybe I’m just a common murderer to you, but to plenty of other people I’m a lifesaver.”
“A lifesaver saves lives, he doesn’t end them.”
“What do you know about me? I’ve saved the lives of dozens, maybe hundreds of Jews, adults and children. Saijed and Bakr had murdered dozens and would have murdered more if we hadn’t stopped them. And believe me, many local Jews helped us in that effort voluntarily.”
“Without knowing what they were involved in,” I pointed out. “Did you find Bakr?”
“You can forget him. He’s already on his way to Israel. We believe he’ll be able to provide us with a lot of useful information.”
“So you’re working for Mossad these days?”
“Good pay, long holidays, get to see the world.”
“The only downer being that you have to kill now and again.”
“It’s not always such a downer.”
“It was for Weiss.”
“He was always over-confident. I wouldn’t have given them a chance.”
“Like you didn’t give Tagi Hamid either.”
“Don’t blame us for things we didn’t do. We wanted Saijed, but the bastard went and fell under a train. Hamid was one of ours; we were paying him to organize contacts with Arabs and give us information about them. He was useful to us, but then Saijed and Bakr began to suspect him, and Saijed killed him.”
“But you finished the job and mutilated his face.”
“That was improvisation, but we’ve been trained in it. He would have died
anyways. If you want to play for time, you have to muddy and confuse your tracks.”
“Ali Hamid was one of your men too, but you killed him. Mossad’s not a very nice employer.”
“He was starting to choke, and he and his cousin were plotting against us. See how much I trust you?”
“What about Laya and the kid in the car?”
“Unfortunate accidents. We suspected that Laya had found out about us from Tagi. The plan was to use a remote detonator, but then you found the car and screwed everything up. Our men had to get out of there and activate the detonator. Laya shouldn’t have put his woman up to it. The kid’s death was just bad luck. Weiss was carrying an incendiary device that we were going to use to destroy Oxbaum’s minivan when we were done with it. The kid must have played around with it and set it off.”
“How did you find Bakr?”
“By the dog. I saw the woman walking it at Linnunlaulu. But don’t think for a minute she was just there taking it for a piss. Bakr must have suspected that the meeting was a trap and she was watching his back. She surprised Weiss – in other words, for all practical purposes, she killed him.”
“And that’s why you killed her?”
“I thought I sensed something developing between you two. A beautiful woman, I must admit. We didn’t kill her.”
“Who did then?”
“Bakr knew that we were right on his heels and eventually lost his nerve. He began suspecting she would talk as soon as he left, so he strangled her. We have it all on tape. It doesn’t make for pleasant listening. And she loved him, too, or at least she claimed to.”
We looked at each other in the light of the street lamp. The drizzle had soaked my hair, and drops were trickling down my face and collecting at my chin. I wiped them away. Dan looked at me. He wasn’t smiling any more.
“Can you guess why I trust you?” he asked.
“Because I’m a good Jew?”
“Wrong.”
“Because I’m your friend?”
“Are you?”
“Not any more.”
Nights of Awe Page 22