A Walk in the Darkness - [Kamal & Barnea 03]

by Jon Land

  Inside the plane, a flight attendant opened the main door and waited for a portable stairway to be wheeled into place. After it was secured against the plane’s exterior, the colonel climbed the steps and entered, followed by the four police officers.

  “Welcome to Palestine, my brothers and sisters,” he greeted. “I am Colonel al-Asi of the Protective Security Service and I am here to assure that your trip remains safe and secure.” He began walking slowly, dramatically, down the aisle, trailed nervously by the eyes of those he passed on the way. “However, it has been brought to my attention that a very small number of you are traveling with false papers in violation of the agreement signed by our president with the Israeli government to allow your entry into the country.” He stopped even with Ben and Danielle. “Therefore, I have no choice but to check your papers so the identities of those not in compliance can be ascertained. I promise to cause you as little inconvenience as possible,” he added over the groans of protest and disappointment.

  The colonel leaned over and seemed to pick something off the plane floor. He extended it toward Ben with a slight smile.

  “I believe you dropped this.”

  Ben took the object in his palm: a chip from the Oasis Casino.

  When Ben looked up again, two of the Palestinian policemen who had accompanied al-Asi onboard had begun the arduous task of inspecting the papers of the passengers, starting in the front. Instead of assisting them, the other two policemen veered toward the colonel in the back.

  “Please join these men in the rear galley,” al-Asi said to Ben and Danielle.

  Ben looked at the way the two men were smiling and realized they weren’t policemen at all. “My brother sent them . . .”

  “Indeed,” acknowledged al-Asi. “It appears I was wrong about him, after all.”

  * * * *

  M

  inutes after Ben and Danielle, dressed in the police uniforms previously worn by Sayeed Kamal’s two contacts, exited the plane on either side of the colonel. Danielle had tightened her hair into a bun that fit well enough beneath the standard Palestinian police beret. Her disguise would not stand up to close scrutiny, but the Israeli soldiers had remained at the outskirts of the tarmac, content to watch from a distance.

  Playing the role of al-Asi’s bodyguards, Ben and Danielle settled into the backseat of his Mercedes on either side of him. Then his driver headed off directly through an Israeli checkpoint at the airport exit, slowing only long enough for the colonel to toss the nearest soldier a wave.

  At the police headquarters in Gaza City, al-Asi led Ben and Danielle into an empty office where fresh fruit, sandwiches, and drinks were waiting for them on the desk.

  “Your brother expected the two of you might be hungry, Inspector,” explained the colonel. “So did I.”

  “Thank you,” Ben said. “For everything.”

  “Thank your brother as well. I could not believe it when those two men contacted me. I have been looking for them for months. Pity I learned only today that they have fled the country once again.” Al-Asi turned toward Danielle. “I understand congratulations are in order, Chief Inspector.” He extended a hand and shook hers warmly. “You have my best wishes.”

  Danielle nodded her thanks, afraid to look at Ben.

  Ben drained a glass of ice-cold soda and poured himself another. “What now?” he asked the colonel.

  “I have fresh Palestinian police uniforms for the two of you to put on.” Al-Asi looked toward Danielle. “A problem for you, Chief Inspector, since virtually our entire force is made up of men. However, women have recently begun to serve in a clerical capacity, so we can hope an administrative position with a ranking commander will serve as sufficient cover.”

  “Me a ranking commander?” Ben asked.

  “A disguise, Inspector, nothing more, meant to get you out of the Gaza Strip and back to the West Bank.”

  “I need to get into Israel,” Danielle interjected.

  “That may not be wise under the circumstances,” al-Asi told her. “You have been placed on the primary watch list.”

  “On what grounds?”

  “Subversive activities and suspected collaboration with Palestinians.”

  “That’s ridiculous! They could never make it stand up!”

  “It is merely a pretext to detain you, Chief Inspector. You know better than I how your people work.”

  “Baruch?”

  Al-Asi nodded. “I believe that’s a safe assumption.”

  “He knows I killed his mistress, his handpicked choice to serve directly under the new commissioner. Well, the bastard still doesn’t control National Police. If I can get there, to Giott, and explain what was really going on in the Judean Desert, we can bring Baruch down. He’s running a rogue operation here the government will never tolerate.”

  Al-Asi smiled slightly. “Your country’s politics amaze me, Chief Inspector. Sometimes I think you dislike each other more than you dislike us.”

  “You wouldn’t be far wrong, Colonel.”

  * * * *

  I

  t’s too dangerous,” Ben argued after al-Asi had left to complete the arrangements.

  “You think it’s safer for me to stay in Gaza?”

  “I agree with the colonel. You’re risking too much.”

  Danielle shook her head. “I’ve got to get back to Giott.”

  “Al-Asi was right about the politics, wasn’t he?”

  “Commander Baruch wants a Shin Bet puppet running National Police. We can’t allow that. And this isn’t just about me. Hershel Giott helped build National Police from the ground up. It’ll destroy him if the force falls into the hands of Baruch and his cronies.”

  “What can you do?”

  “Go public with the existence of oil in the West Bank. An American geological survey team murdered while under the protection of Shin Bet . . . Baruch will be lucky to keep his job for a week.”

  Ben weighed the impact of her intentions. “And in the process the Palestinian Authority will find out your people intended to steal the oil right out from under us.”

  “The Israeli government will label it a rogue operation, apologize profusely, and then offer to share the billions of barrels down there in a magnanimous gesture.”

  “How generous.”

  “You mean, political.” Danielle hesitated. “What about you?”

  “It’s time to learn the rest of the tale Winston Daws uncovered a half century ago.”

  Danielle frowned skeptically. “You’ll need plenty more than a magnifying glass to read those pictures he sent to his sister.”

  “And I know just where to find it,” Ben told her.

  * * * *

  CHAPTER 82

  I

  t was nine o’clock that night by the time Danielle reached National Police Headquarters in Jerusalem. Even from the street she could see a light burning in Hershel Giott’s top-floor office and waited outside a side exit until a pair of off-duty clerical workers emerged. Danielle ducked in past them and entered the building unobtrusively.

  She started up the stairs, more nervous than she’d been since the Palestinian police car carrying her and Ben approached the Israeli checkpoint at the Gaza border. Unlike the West Bank, whose long and rugged border was almost impossible to seal, Gaza was surrounded by an electrified fence with crossings for both workers and official or diplomatic personnel. Al-Asi had provided passes for them to enter Israel on police business, handing the passes over with an approving stare cast toward Danielle.

  “That uniform suits you well, Chief Inspector.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Should circumstances ever require it, please know that a more proper and permanent change of clothing would be yours for the asking.”

  “That shouldn’t be necessary, Colonel.”

  “But keep it in mind.”

  As a result of those passes, the Israeli soldiers at the checkpoint monitored Danielle and Ben only cursorily before waving them through. Ben h
ad dropped Danielle off in Jerusalem before heading back to the West Bank himself.

  Now, an hour later, she climbed toward the commissioner’s office with the news that could preserve his legacy and her job. She found his door open and, at this late hour, no secretary to bother with.

  “Rav Nitzav,” she said as she entered, trying to think of where exactly to start when the commissioner’s chair turned slowly around to reveal an unexpected hefty shape seated within it.

  Danielle felt her heart skip a beat. Her breath caught in her throat.

  “Good evening,” greeted Commander Moshe Baruch of Shin Bet.

  * * * *

  T

  he olive trees of the Jordan Rift Valley shook lightly in the breeze as Ben approached the home of Ari Coen. Upon reaching the outskirts of Coen’s land, Ben saw additional guards had been posted, armed with automatic weapons instead of shotguns. A few wore flak jackets and had grenades clipped to their belts.

  Ben found suitcases stacked in the foyer when he was ushered into Coen’s home, after another drive through his marijuana-scented fields. What remained of the furniture had been covered up, much of it having already been removed.

  Ben heard Coen’s heels clacking against the stone floor a moment before he appeared, looking haggard and worn, stray strands of hair having escaped his ponytail.

  “You just caught me,” Coen said shortly.

  “You’re leaving?”

  “Apparently the Israelis have learned that the reports of my death were greatly exaggerated.”

  “Was it my fault?”

  “We’ll never know, will we?”

  “Where will you go now?”

  “When you no longer have a home. Inspector, it doesn’t matter.” Coen waved him forward. “We’ve got to make this fast; I want to get out of here before midnight.”

  “You haven’t packed up your computer equipment?” Ben asked, falling in step behind him.

  “I don’t plan to. I’d rather leave it for the Israelis and let them waste their time trying to make sense of everything.”

  Coen led the way into the computer room. Ben had never been inside its glass solarium walls at night before and the dark world beyond gave the room the feel of a jail cell. True to Coen’s words, though, the equipment itself remained untouched, at least for the moment.

  “Now,” he said. “What have you got for me?”

  * * * *

  I

  regret to inform you that Rav Nitzav Giott has been hospitalized,” Baruch said expressionlessly.

  “What happened?” The words felt like marbles sliding out Danielle’s mouth as she stood rigidly halfway between the door and the big desk that had always dwarfed the small man who had helped forge her career.

  “A stroke, I think. He was rushed to the hospital late yesterday. I’m afraid the prognosis is not very good.” Baruch rocked the chair forward and stood up the better to face Danielle. “You came here to tell him something?”

  “That’s between me and the commissioner.” Still marbles, but smaller ones now, emerging more smoothly from her mouth.

  “Then it is between you and me, Chief Inspector, because I have been appointed to fill this role until a successor can be chosen.”

  “Too bad Captain Shoshanna Tavi wasn’t available.”

  “Most regrettable, in fact,” Baruch said, holding her stare with a strange lack of emotion. “For now I can only tell you that a permanent replacement for Commissioner Giott is on the verge of being named.”

  Danielle swallowed hard and remained silent.

  “Of course,” Baruch resumed, “none of the positions immediately beneath him have been filled, and Captain Tavi’s unfortunate demise leaves both available. Nitzav, commander, and tat nitzav, deputy commander, are still open. Would you be interested in one of those positions, Pakad?”

  Danielle understood the game he was playing and the stakes involved. Not even the death of his mistress Shoshanna Tavi seemed to have moved Baruch at all. Danielle realized he had used Tavi in one way, just as he was trying to use her in another.

  Baruch strolled out slowly from behind Hershel Giott’s desk, keeping his eyes on her the whole time. “I understand your reluctance. You have been an investigator with National Police and a field operative with Shin Bet. But a commander or deputy commander must practice politics instead of forensics. Knowing what to say, when to say it, and to whom. Everything is dictated by necessity with the long view in mind, not the short. Do you follow me, Pakad?”

  Danielle remained silent.

  “The person chosen for nitzav or tat nitzav must be someone capable of exercising discretion, of being able to prioritize. That means putting the concerns of the state first, of knowing when to yield. Sometimes it means compromising one’s values to work toward a consensus and achieve a greater whole. Are you such a person, Pakad?”

  “No,” Danielle said finally. “I don’t think I am.”

  Baruch bristled. “That would be regrettable, a terrible waste.”

  “Like the loss of your military career?” Danielle watched Baruch’s face redden as she continued. “I know why my father reprimanded you. I know you executed a Palestinian prisoner in the field. You want to blame my father for never having advanced, go ahead. You want to get your revenge on me, fine. Anything to avoid taking the responsibility yourself, including turning your wrath on all Palestinians.” She lowered her voice. “That must be what the oil the Americans found in the Judean is all about, isn’t it? You’ve gone to such great lengths to keep its existence a secret, because somehow you’re going to use it against the Palestinians. Right or wrong, Commander?”

  Baruch fought to remain calm. “It appears I have misjudged you again, Pakad. I thought there was hope for your future, I truly did. I was willing to overlook your indiscretions and what could be construed as the high treason that you committed in the United States.”

  “What?”

  “You killed an Israeli national who was duly retained to arrange your detention. That leaves me with no choice other than to conclude that the initial reports of your suspected complicity and collaboration with certain Palestinian officials may have some validity, after all.”

  Baruch seemed to be enjoying every word and phrase he uttered. Danielle almost expected to see him smile. Indeed, he looked like a man trying very hard to hold back his pleasure over holding such a great advantage on her.

  “Go to hell,” Danielle said, anyway.

  Baruch scowled. “You think you know what hell is, Pakad? You don’t yet, but you will.”

  “I already do,” Danielle snapped at him. “It’s a world where schools are closed for no reason, where men are detained without cause and incarcerated for months without trial. Sound familiar?”

  Baruch’s face was turning bright red. “It sounds like treason.”

  “I quite agree.”

  “I was speaking of any Israeli who would level such charges.”

  “And I was speaking of the man who helped enact those programs in the West Bank, Commander.”

  Baruch tried hard to keep himself calm. “Well then, I guess that makes me the devil.”

  “More than that. I understand Rabbi Mordecai Lev knew the truth about what was really going on in the Judean Desert as well. That means you must have told Lev everything about the American geologists. You were working with him from the beginning.”

  Baruch’s eyes popped. “Your Palestinian friend, Ben Kamal, told you this, didn’t he? The Palestinian you collaborated with. You incriminate yourself with your baseless accusations, Pakad. You are a traitor.”

  “Who is the real traitor, Commander? What’s your connection to the Amudei Ha’aretz? Why bother protecting oil that’s useless for the foreseeable future?”

  “I’m going to let you leave, Pakad.”

  “Because you’re afraid to arrest me.”

  Baruch took a menacing step forward, hands held taut by his sides. “I have other plans for you.”

  “No do
ubt you do.”

  “You are dismissed.”

  Danielle finally backed up for the door. “I’m going to find what it is you’re hiding, Commander. And I’m going to destroy you.”