He came to question them in regards to the assault of a person whose name he was not able to reveal at this time, he said.
Amos Uzan was suspected of involvement in the assault, and, according to information that had reached the police, there was a romantic tie between him and their daughter. He wanted to know when was the last time they saw Uzan or heard from their daughter of his whereabouts, because according to suspicions Uzan had fled and the police were hoping to arrest him for questioning.
The mother broke out crying even before he finished speaking.
She was also in her fifties, but looked much younger than the father. She wore black tights and a white sports shirt and sneakers, and Avraham assumed she had just returned from a health club or a Pilates lesson. She said, “Ever since the day she met him she hasn’t been the same girl. You don’t know how much we tried to convince her to break it off with him. Ilanit’s a good girl, she’s not involved in anything, but since they met I lost my girl.” The father’s participation in the conversation was minimal. He placed his hand on his wife’s shoulder while she spoke.
Avraham asked the mother in a soft voice, “Where is Ilanit now?” and she said to him, “I swear to you I don’t know. She hasn’t been home for four days and hasn’t called. She said she’s going away with him to see some friends but didn’t want to tell me where.” She took her cell phone with her but it was turned off and they hadn’t managed to reach her, and she hadn’t responded to their text messages. Avraham sought to deepen her fear for her daughter’s fate when he said, “You are correct that Uzan is a dangerous person, and this is an additional reason why we want to locate him and Ilanit as soon as possible,” at which she broke down and explained to him that after Ilanit visited them at their home and told them about the trip, she discovered that one of her credit cards was missing. She suspected that Ilanit had taken it out of her wallet, and when she checked with the credit-card company they informed her that it had been used at a supermarket in Eilat. She hadn’t canceled the card.
Avraham still had not revealed to her that the victim of the assault was Chava Cohen. He asked her to tell him about Ilanit.
She was twenty-three years old, born February 1990, and before she met Uzan, the previous winter, she still lived at home. Since then she had slept at his place, sometimes for weeks straight, and returned home only when they fought or when Uzan was out of the apartment. She hadn’t been accepted for active service in the army because she had a birth defect in her leg, a slight disability, but she volunteered and served in the Education Force as a teacher. After she was released she started studying early-childhood education and worked at daycares, but then suddenly quit her studies, under Uzan’s influence, and only informed her parents of this after the fact. She hadn’t kept in contact with most of her friends from high school or the army, and she didn’t speak about her relationship with Uzan. She met him at a club, and he was her first serious boyfriend. They didn’t know who her friends were now, and hoped that she wasn’t using drugs. And mainly feared that Uzan would get her pregnant. Avraham didn’t hold back and asked, “And where does Ilanit work now?” And the mother said to him, “She’s not working. They fired her from a daycare just before the start of the year.”
He asked her why her daughter was fired and she didn’t know.
Before leaving, he asked to see her room, and the mother led him down a short hallway and turned on the light in an almost empty room.
Avraham entered the room but didn’t know what to look for.
There were no sheets on the bed, and the writing desk was devoid of papers and books. Apart from these things there was only a television, hanging off a metal arm, and a wardrobe, and the mother said, “We kept the room for her, but she took almost all her things.” Afterward he asked for a photograph of Ilanit and the mother took a picture off of the refrigerator in which Ilanit was in uniform holding an M16 rifle. It was taken during basic training, she said. He felt an uneasiness, because he hadn’t revealed to them that their daughter was also a suspect in the assault and that she would be arrested as soon as she was found, but he couldn’t have acted otherwise. The mother promised to inform him if Ilanit contacted them, and wrote down on his notepad the number of the credit card that had been stolen.
Upon leaving the neighborhood Avraham stopped his car and called Ilana.
“They’re in Eilat,” he said to her, and she asked, “How do you know?”
He told her briefly about the conversation. Ilana said that she herself would update the Southern District, and he added, “We need to inform the terminal in Taba so that they won’t cross the border into the Sinai.”
“And do you understand better now what happened there?”
“No. Her parents have no idea why she was fired and they don’t know anything about the assault.”
She asked him what he planned on doing and he said that he would return to the station in order to scan the picture and pass it on to the Eilat police, and would wait for updates. He carried out all the urgent investigative activities, and even succeeded in tracking down the suspects, but the feeling that he was wasting time on the wrong case wouldn’t let go of him. Uzan and his girlfriend hadn’t been caught yet, but the case was as good as closed and he hadn’t dealt with the burning investigation, though time was running out. At 10:00 p.m., from his office, he called the detective overseeing the surveillance of Chaim Sara and heard that the suspect had driven to his mother’s that afternoon and brought his children back home. But he was no longer a suspect, and Avraham should have ordered the tracking to be taken off of him. He did not do this.
Did Sara’s children know where their mother was?
Sara told him during questioning that his wife had flown to the Philippines in order to take care of her father, but she wasn’t in the Philippines, and her father died years ago. And if he wasn’t involved in the placing of the bomb or the attack, why had he lied? And why was he traveling with his children to the place where he said his wife was even though she wasn’t there?
He didn’t know anything about Sara’s children, just that one of them was seven years old and the other was three and went to Chava Cohen’s daycare on Lavon Street. He didn’t even know their names. Did they know where they were flying to on Friday morning? He wanted to see them, and it seemed to him that if he looked at them, he’d understand something he hadn’t understood until now. He could simply knock on Sara’s door and ask, “Why did you lie about your wife and her whereabouts?” He also could have called Ilana and asked for permission to continue the investigation, but he decided it was better to wait.
In the meantime he opened the e-mail that he received from Anselmo Garbo and read that Jennifer Salazar was born in Manila in September 1970.
At the top of the brief report, the logo of the Philippine police was displayed: a sun of sorts inside of which was a man with a club in his hand.
Jennifer Salazar did not have a criminal record and had never been investigated by the police. When she was twenty she got married, but her marriage to Julius Andreda lasted only four years. In 2002 she traveled to Israel for the first time and stayed there for a year, and after an additional period of time in Manila returned to Israel. The last time she entered the Philippines was on July 11, 2005, and she left two weeks later. According to Garbo’s report, Jennifer Salazar did not have children, apparently because she didn’t inform the authorities in Manila about the birth of her sons in Israel, just as she didn’t inform them about her marriage to Sara. And since 2004 she hadn’t paid income taxes in the Philippines.
Avraham looked at the old picture that was attached to the report and had been taken more than twenty years ago.
Jennifer Salazar’s hair was long and black and her face was wide. It seemed to him that he saw a mole under her lower lip. He tried to imagine the young Filipino woman in the company of Sara and was unable to—perhaps because in the picture she was so many years younger than he was.
A little before midnight
Avraham received a final report from the credit-card company: two hours earlier the card stolen from Ilanit Hadad’s mother had been used again, at a restaurant on Seagulls’ Beach in the tourist section of Eilat. They had indeed fled to Eilat, but other than that it seemed they were doing everything possible in order to get caught, and Avraham recalled Uzan’s smugness during the interrogation, the constant smile below his well-groomed mustache. Uzan was simply too arrogant. He joined those gathered around the suspicious suitcase next to the daycare, took off running from the beat cop who asked him to identify himself, waited patiently long hours in the interrogation room, and didn’t reveal any fear. While he sat in the police station, Ilanit Hadad called the daycare that she had been fired from and declared that the suitcase was “just the beginning.” And all that time the smile had barely left his face.
When Avraham was on his way to the station again, the following morning, after a short sleep at home, he was informed that Uzan’s black Honda was identified on Barnea Street in Eilat.
Uzan continued being reckless. At the restaurant where he paid with the stolen credit card he spent time in the company of Ilanit Hadad and two male friends, one of whom was known to the police. Eilat district detectives discovered this after a short questioning of the restaurant’s owner, and before morning, when they arrived at the building where the man known to the police resided, in the Palm neighborhood, they discovered Uzan’s Honda. It wasn’t even covered up. Did his smugness stem from his certainty that Chava Cohen wouldn’t regain consciousness? Maybe he was also convinced that even if she did wake up, she wouldn’t reveal her assailants, just as she had lied in the matter of the suitcase? Something about the violent connection between Chava Cohen and her assailants wasn’t clear to Avraham, but that morning, word from the hospital came that she still couldn’t be interrogated. He hoped that the arrest would be carried out soon, mainly because he wanted to speak with Ilana about Sara and his wife and thought that after Uzan and his girlfriend were caught she would be available to listen to him, but the Eilat detectives didn’t break into the apartment immediately because they didn’t know how many people were staying there and if they were armed.
In the meantime, Avraham called the border police to ask the question that wouldn’t let him go during the night, before he fell asleep: “Is it possible that Jennifer Salazar didn’t leave Israel, even though on the police computers there appears an exit registration?” The clerk was adamant. She said that “There’s no way that’s possible,” but afterward added that entry and exit records are also maintained by the Population and Immigration Authority of the Ministry of the Interior and that he should check there as well.
A clock ticked inside him, like the clock that was lying inside the suitcase found next to the daycare.
Though in his imagination it was a stopwatch and was connected to the picture of Jennifer Salazar that he saw last night, and to Sara’s face, and to the plane that was getting ready to take off for Manila tomorrow with Sara and his two children.
Ma’alul came into his office in order to get an update on what happened in Eilat and just then Ilana called to tell him that Uzan had left the apartment on Barnea Street, accompanied by Ilanit Hadad. The district detectives drove after him in their Citroën, and when they got on Highway 90 leaving the city, three mobile units blocked the way after the Eilat Interchange. At eleven Ilana called again to announce that the hunt was over. Uzan had tried to turn the car around and flee when he saw the police barricade but was caught after a short chase.
“That was quick. We did great work,” Ilana said, and Avraham asked, “Can I come see you in an hour?”
She asked if he wanted to talk about the next step in the investigation and he said yes, though that wasn’t what he wanted.
AND ILANA LOOKED AT HIM WITH amazement, like the day before in the corridor of the hospital, when he told her why he had come. She was eating a salad when he entered her office. The family picture with her husband and children again wasn’t in its place on the desk and the wall clock was resting at an angle on the floor. Her mood was improved, perhaps because of the quick arrest, before Avraham told her that he wanted to arrest Sara and bring him in for urgent questioning.
“Arrest him for what, Avi? We arrested the assailants two hours ago. And there’s already a match between Uzan’s fingerprints and prints we found at the scene. What do you want to question Sara about?”
He knew this was what she’d ask, and he didn’t have a clear answer.
He wanted to question him because the stopwatch connected in his imagination to the picture of Jennifer Salazar was ticking fast and because Sara had lied to him during questioning. And also because he couldn’t succeed in resolving the contradiction between the exit registration and the report Garbo sent him, according to which Jennifer Salazar hadn’t entered the Philippines since her brief visit there in 2005. And perhaps mainly he wanted to interrogate him because he couldn’t bear the thought that tomorrow Sara would get on a plane to Manila with his children before he could manage to find out what he was hiding and why.
Ilana ate the salad from a red plastic container and listened to him. At the beginning of their conversation she was still patient. She said, “It’s impossible to arrest him because he lied to you during questioning, Avi. He’s not a suspect at present for any crime, and besides that, I’m considering sending you to Eilat to interrogate Uzan and Ilanit Hadad. They’re keeping silent and you know the story better than anyone else, maybe you can get something out of them. Or at least out of her.” She stopped and examined the surprised look on his face, then added, “I also want the resolution of this case to be in your name. From the beginning to the end. And it still isn’t closed. We don’t know what the motive was for the assault, and why Chava Cohen hid the fact that Uzan and his girlfriend placed the fake bomb, or why she agreed to meet with them. Do you remember that we said we’d close the case before Yom Kippur? We’re almost there. And I want this victory to be all yours.”
He had no intention of flying to Eilat. Or of interrogating anyone other than Sara, at least until he clarified where Sara’s wife was. And the “victory” in the assault case didn’t interest him.
“What do I need to fly to Eilat for?” he asked. If he could succeed in persuading Ilana that he was focused on the assault investigation but that he had a few spare hours, maybe she’d agree to allow him to question Sara, he thought suddenly. He said to her, “Why don’t we bring them here? And you know what? If they don’t talk and we want to get a confession out of them, despite the fact that we have enough evidence, we could use the accident trick on them on the way from Eilat,” and she looked at him and smiled.
“That’s not a bad idea. Is it possible Uzan doesn’t know about it?”
Ilanit Hadad definitely didn’t know about it.
And it was possible to change the trick a bit: to switch it from an accident trick to an infiltration trick, for example.
Ilana picked up the phone but didn’t dial.
It was necessary to give Uzan and his girlfriend the feeling that the police in Eilat didn’t know what to do with them. To extend their arrest in Eilat and tell them that they’re not being interrogated because enough evidence had accumulated against them regardless—but that they wouldn’t see any detectives until after Yom Kippur. On Sunday morning they would be put in separate police cars and transported to Tel Aviv, and then the trick would be pulled on them on the way. Ilana spoke to the commander of the Southern District Investigations Unit and Avraham waited. She asked for a cigarette from him during her conversation and he lit one for himself as well. He tried to sound relaxed when he said to her, “So I don’t have anything to do until after Yom Kippur, right? It’s impossible to question Chava Cohen. Does that mean you’re authorizing me to bring Sara in for questioning?”
But she again refused.
She said to him, “When you’re capable of explaining to me what crime you suspect him of and what you want to question him about, we ca
n talk again,” and he responded without thinking, perhaps because of the things said in his phone conversation with Garbo, “Suspicion in his wife’s absence. Is that a good enough reason?”
Ilana was no longer smiling.
She said to him, “No one submitted a complaint about an absence,” and put out her cigarette, and Avraham added, “Ilana, I have a feeling he’s going to harm his children.”
Did he understand what he said and how she was interpreting his words? Perhaps he did, because he didn’t say anything else. They were silent for a few moments, and finally Ilana said, “I’m not letting you do this, Avi. I think we both understand what’s happening here, and I won’t be a party to it.”
“Be a party to what?”
“To the fact that you’re inventing another missing-persons case in order to make amends for what happened to you with Ofer Sharabi. You know full well that this is what you’re doing, I see it in your eyes. Maybe I shouldn’t have sent you the report I wrote. Yes, you’re inventing another missing-persons case and another father who’s going to harm his children in order to make amends for what you may have done wrong back then. But Sara isn’t Ofer’s father, and his children aren’t Ofer. There’s no saving Ofer, you understand that, don’t you?”
The ticking of the stopwatch stopped for a moment when she fell silent.
There was quiet in the room.
Was Ilana correct when she said he was aware of the connection between the two investigations? He said, “That’s not what I’m doing, Ilana. I’m not trying to save Ofer Sharabi. I’m trying to save these children.”
“But save them from what? From a trip to Mom in the Philippines? Have you considered the fact that Sara didn’t lie to you during questioning? Because of your prior investigation you’re completely unable to comprehend that this, too, is a possibility.”
He didn’t understand what she was saying. Sara lied about the place his wife supposedly traveled to.
A Possibility of Violence Page 17