Dazzle - The Complete Unabridged Trilogy

by Judith Gould

  'Surely there's a VIP lounge,' she said. 'I can wait there while you get the luggage, and save you a lot of trouble. Besides, I can't walk around without my passport. If I remember right, it's against the law here not to carry identification papers on you at all times.'

  'Don't worry. I have strict orders, and your safety is our sole concern. The car is waiting outside.'

  The car filled with her family, come to welcome her home! Without further delay, she rushed forward and burst outside.

  The VIP representative was right behind her, guiding her toward a shiny old Chrysler limousine at the kerb. Still smiling, he gripped the chrome handle and yanked open the rear door.

  Daliah ducked inside the big car. Then she froze, half in, half out, staring into the barrel of a .44 Magnum revolver.

  The stranger holding the gun gave her a ghastly smile. 'Welcome to Israel, Miss Boralevi.'

  Finally she realized what was happening.

  If Daliah's beauty and talent could be attributed to her mother, then it was from her father, Dani, that she had inherited her almost Germanic streak of obsessive, stopwatch punctuality. Never once, in all the years she had lived at home, had she ever known him to miss a single flight or a train, or arrive late for any appointment. It wasn't his fault today that he and Tamara got to the airport late. They had left with plenty of time to spare, and there were just the two of them. Dani was driving the big black Cadillac de Ville, borrowed from the State Department, and Tamara sat up front on the bone-coloured leather seat beside him. At the breakfast table, Ari and his fiancée, Sissi Herschritt, had communicated something between themselves with their eyes, and had begged off.

  'There are some more things we've got to hang up,' Ari explained.

  'We forgot an entire bagful of decorations,' Sissi added.

  Tamara looked around the apartment and frowned. The living and dining rooms had been festively decorated the night before with balloons, crepe-paper streamers, and confetti; it looked rather like a goyische New Year's celebration was about to take place. A string arced between the widest walls, hung with bright cut-out letters: welcome home, daliah.

  'I see,' she said dryly. She did, too. It was merely a ruse for Ari and Sissi to take advantage of having the empty apartment to themselves for an hour or so. She'd suspected that they'd been sleeping together, and now she was certain. Wisely, she didn't pursue the subject.

  Then, just as she, Schmarya, and Dani were going out the door, a call from the Defence Ministry deducted Schmarya from the group as well.

  'Just my luck,' the old man muttered grumpily. 'The day my granddaughter returns, I'm called to Jerusalem for an emergency meeting.'

  'It isn't anything serious, is it?' Tamara had asked.

  Even after decades of living through late-night calls and early-morning summonses for Dani or Schmarya, she had still never gotten quite used to sudden emergencies. After all the wars and skirmishes and attacks, every time the phone rang she was certain it was a portent of tragedy.

  'No, no,' Schmarya assured her with a cantankerous wave of his hand. 'Some gonif at the ministry's probably gotten a bug up his tuchkas, that's all.' He smiled to reassure her. 'I have called the airport and checked. The plane is on time.' He smiled. 'Give Daliah a kiss for me. Tell her I will be back this afternoon.'

  She nodded absently and turned a cheek for him to kiss; then he clapped Dani on the back and strode out.

  So Tamara and Dani drove off to the airport by themselves. Nine minutes later, it became apparent that they wouldn't get there on time. They were driving down a narrow one-way street when the accident happened. Dani let out a shout of warning and slammed on the brakes so suddenly that if Tamara hadn't been wearing her seat belt, her head would have gone crashing against the windshield. As it was, the Cadillac fishtailed, but the brakes did the folks at General Motors proud. The big car skidded safely to a stop with several feet to spare. But directly in front of them, at the intersection, a van collided with a tractor-trailer. The big rig jackknifed and, in seeming slow motion, overturned and went crashing over on its side.

  Dani turned to Tamara. He was white-faced and obviously shaken. 'Are you all right?'

  'Yes, I think so.' She nodded. 'And you?'

  'Idiots!' He shook his head. 'Did you see what happened? The van had the right of way, and the tractor-trailer kept right on going!'

  'I ... I didn't see anything.' Her voice was low; she was trying to get her thumping heart out of her throat and back to her chest, where it belonged. 'It all seemed to happen so fast.'

  Dani had his seat belt off in an instant. He jumped out of the Cadillac. 'I better go and see if anyone got hurt,' he said grimly. 'Stay here. I don't want you to have to see anything ugly.' He ran off, squeezed around the sprawled trailer, and Tamara sat there and waited uneasily. A minute later he was back. She looked at him worriedly.

  'No one seems to have suffered any injuries, but since I'm a witness, the driver of the van wants us to wait around for the police. They shouldn't be too long. The driver of the tractor-trailer went to phone them.' He turned around. Already, impatient commuters behind them were leaning on their horns, creating a raucous symphony.

  Well, let them honk all they want, he thought angrily. Couldn't they see that he couldn't go forward, since the tractor-trailer barred the way, and that he couldn't go backward either, with them wedging him in from behind? His car was trapped.

  He slid back into the driver's seat. 'Damn,' he cursed. 'Today, of all days!' He hit the steering wheel with the open palm of his hand. 'Double damn!'

  Tamara reached over and touched his hand. 'You know that getting upset isn't going to help anything,' she said calmly. 'It's not your fault that that accident occurred. You should thank God no one got hurt.'

  He lifted his arm and glanced at his watch. 'By the time the police come, and we give our account of what happened, and that truck gets towed away, the plane will have long since landed.' He slumped glumly back in the seat. 'Daliah's going to think we've forgotten.'

  'No, she won't,' Tamara told him. 'If she doesn't see us, she'll wait for us in the VIP lounge.'

  He turned to her. 'I suppose you're right. I'm probably just overreacting.'

  'No, you're not. You're making noises like a father.'

  He smiled suddenly, then leaned toward her and brushed her soft cheek with his lips. 'And you, little mother, are growing more beautiful with every passing day,' he declared.

  'Dani!' She laughed and pushed him away. Playfully. 'What's got into you?'

  'Nothing. But it's true.'

  And to him, she was as beautiful as ever. At sixty-five, she could still make heads turn; he'd seen it happen, and there wasn't a younger woman he'd ever laid eyes on who could hold a candle to her. The years had been very kind. She didn't look a day over fifty, and her body was as perfect as it had ever been, thanks to her active life. Nor did she carry as much as a superfluous ounce of flesh on it. She had metamorphosed into a mature, natural beauty. Well, not totally natural, he amended. He knew that by looking at her vanity table, at the bottles of creams and lotions, and in the medicine cabinet, at the boxes of hair dye. The candy-floss white angel's hair, her cinematic trademark, was no more, but was instead dyed the exact shade of honey blonde she had been born with. He thought it suited her far better. Her skin was smooth and unblemished, but not the pale alabaster people admired in her old movies; it had become richly tanned from the relentless Israeli sun. Her teeth, capped on Oscar Skolnik's orders back in 1930, were as perfect as they had ever been. And her eyes— those beguiling emerald eyes, which, with her extraordinarily high Slavic cheekbones, had made her the most fabulous face of them all—were, despite the lack of false lashes and with only a hint of mascara and shadow, still as theatrically expressive as they had ever been.

  Now, her famous gaze fixed unblinkingly on the tractor-trailer lying on its side, Tamara sat, still as a statue, her mind on Daliah.

  She was smiling to herself with satisfaction, commen
ding herself on a job well done. She had raised Daliah right, she thought. Her daughter was a credit to both the Boralevis and the ben Yaacovs. Daliah had never sacrificed herself as just another pretty slab of Hollywood meat. Far from it. She was as famous for her off-screen campaigns, for sticking up for her rights and the rights of others, as she was for the roles she played so superbly. She championed causes, no matter how unpopular they might be, if she believed in them whole-heartedly, and always resolutely stood her ground and stuck by her commitments. And for that Tamara was immensely proud. From an early age, she had tried to imbue in Daliah a sense of what was important in life, and what was not, and Daliah had learned her lessons well.

  Tamara could sense Dani still staring at her, and then she felt his hand covering one of her hands. She closed her fingers around it and clasped it.

  She and Dani had been married for nearly forty years now, and their love for each other had only grown stronger with each passing day. He was two years older than she was, but how incredibly handsome he still looked with his craggy face, thick grey hair, and authoritative manner! With him she had created the three most momentous and poignant gifts of their lives—poor Asa, and Ari, who was about to be married, and Daliah—and her role as mother had been the most fulfilling part she had ever played.

  'A shekel?' he teased her softly.

  'For my thoughts? They're not that cheap!' She laughed, that tinkling silver-chime laugh he so adored. Then her expression sobered and grew pensive. 'I was thinking of Daliah, that's all. How much she's done, and how fast.'

  'You miss it, don't you?' Dani asked suddenly.

  'Miss it?' She blinked.

  'You know, the excitement. The glamour. Being where she is now.'

  Being a star, he meant.

  She shrugged. It was a simple, yet entirely eloquent movement, the kind the camera had always picked up so well. 'Sometimes . . . well, sometimes I still miss it a little, I suppose. I would be lying if I said otherwise. But it has been forty years, Dani! Retiring was my decision. And it was the right decision.' She smiled and her gaze held his. 'I'm not sorry I did it. I've never been sorry, not for a moment.'

  He gave her hand an affectionate squeeze. 'I just want you to be happy. You know that.'

  'I am happy! You, better than anyone, should know that! I've been happy for close to forty years, and that's a lot more happiness than most people in Hollywood can boast, believe me.'

  'You could always go back,' he said. 'You know, come out of retirement and do a picture or two.'

  'Dani,' she said. Her look was one he knew so well—one part theatrical chiding, one part humorous warmth. 'Not only don't I want to, but even if I did, too much time has passed. Acting styles have changed. I'm afraid I'd only make a fool of myself.'

  'You could never do that.' Dani shook his head. 'Besides, your fans are legion. I mean, today there's a whole new generation of young people out there discovering your movies. You were the best. You still are the best.'

  Tamara smiled. 'You're so terribly sweet and so terribly loyal. But I'm not that good. I never was. Now, Daliah—she's far better than I ever was. With her, acting is a natural talent. It's in her blood.'

  'You're a natural too!' he said staunchly.

  She shook her head slowly. 'Noooo ... I was a technician.'

  'What's the difference? You were always one hell of a fine actress.'

  'But there is a difference, don't you see? I had to learn. I had to study, and watch people, imitating them so I could make audiences believe I had slipped under a character's skin. You see, Dani, I acted. But Daliah . . . well, I don't know how she does it, but she becomes her characters, quick as you can snap your fingers. She's got what I think Inge meant when she always said my mother was a natural. You either have it or you don't.'

  'You have it,' he said loyally. 'Don't try to tell me otherwise.'

  She was about to tell him otherwise, when the wailing sirens of a police car and an ambulance rose in the distance. 'There,' she said. 'You see? Help's already on the way.'

  He opened the car door again and got out. 'Don't go away,' he teased. 'I'll be right back.'

  But he wasn't. She sat in the car, counting the minutes. Five. Fifteen. Twenty. When he finally returned, he was walking slowly, shaking his head and scratching it. 'How strange,' he said as he slipped into the driver's seat. 'It just doesn't make sense.'

  She looked at him, puzzled. 'What doesn't?'

  'Both the driver of the van and the driver of the rig . . . well, they seem to have disappeared. Poof! Just like that.'

  She frowned. 'You mean they left the scene of the accident?'

  He nodded. 'And not only that. When the police radioed in the licence numbers, it turned out that the rig and the van both have been reported stolen.'

  'A tractor-trailer like that? Stolen here, in Israel?' she asked. 'That doesn't make sense. Not in a tiny country like this. It would be discovered in no time.' She added slowly, 'Unless, of course, it was filled with a valuable cargo. If they wanted to unload it fast—'

  'But it wasn't loaded. It was stolen empty, and it's still empty. The same goes for the van.'

  'Well, maybe the thieves didn't know that.'

  'Could be,' he said. 'But I doubt it. Something just doesn't sit right about this accident. It's almost as if . . .' His voice trailed off.

  'As if what?'

  'As if it had been planned.' He shrugged. 'It sounds silly, I know.' He glanced at his watch. 'Anyway, we'd best hurry. If the plane came in on time, it's already been on the ground for five minutes.'

  When they reached the airport, Tamara and Dani split up. She checked out the VIP lounge, the various waiting areas, bars, restaurant, and ladies' rooms while he went to inquire about Daliah in the customs hall.

  Avraham Goshen, the inspector in charge of the customs officials, was an ugly beak-nosed man with a shiny bald pate and a ring of short black hair curving around his head from the back of one ear to the other. Beside him stood Micha Horev, who was everything his superior was not. Horev was a youthful sabra, all vibrant tan and flashing white teeth. They were both facing Dani. Behind them, Daliah's Vuitton cases were going round and round, solitary orphans on the otherwise empty luggage carousel. 'Of course I recognized her,' Horev was saying. 'She came through about twenty minutes ago. One of our VIP representatives whisked her through.'

  'Which representative?' Goshen, a solidly competent inspector who had worked at the airport for the last fifteen years, asked.

  'I don't know,' Horev replied.

  'You don't know?' Goshen thundered. 'You've worked here for four years, and you don't know? Surely you know everyone.'

  'He was new. I'd never seen him before today.'

  Goshen was frowning as he marched off to the nearest wall telephone and punched out a number. After a few minutes he returned, shaking his head slowly. 'No new VIP representative was on duty,' he said softly. 'Elie Levin was scheduled to meet her at the plane.'

  'It wasn't Elie,' Horev said definitely.

  Avraham Goshen was no man's fool. His beak nose was famous for sniffing out trouble, often long before it happened. It had never failed him yet, and he smelled trouble through those massive nostrils now. 'Call airport security,' he said without a pause. 'Get them over here right away. On the double.' Horev, his tan gone suddenly white, sprang into action.

  Tamara pushed her way through the crowds with such furious impatience that people snapped at her left and right, but she was oblivious of all the snarls of 'Watch it, lady,' and 'Can't you look where you're going!' She was too tense to notice anything but her own growing fears. Her body felt weak, as though an invisible leech had depleted her of all energy, and yet her pulse was racing and her heart was hammering ferociously. When she met up with Dani in the customs hall, they both looked at each other hopefully, and when both their eyes dimmed, neither had to speak in order to communicate.

  Blindly Tamara felt for the contoured plastic chair behind her and lowered herself listless
ly down onto it. Her shoulders slumped and her face was strained. 'She . . . she's just not here!' Her voice came out a quivering, hoarse whisper. She stared up at him, her eyes wild, and he knew that the memory of Asa had exploded into her mind. 'Dani, she's not here! I've searched everywhere!'

  'Don't worry. She might have gone home on her own.'

  'Don't be silly! Her luggage is still here. Daliah wouldn't just abandon it! And I ... I called home twice. Ari answered both times, and she hasn't arrived there.'

  They had her paged while teams of airport security men methodically searched the terminal from one end to the other.

  Tamara's head was spinning. Daliah has to be all right. She has to be. As they waited, she kept her hand glued to Dani's, seeking his comfort and reassurance, knowing that his presence was the only thing between her and instant madness.

  Finally Inspector Goshen sent for Dani.

  'You stay here,' he told Tamara.

  She jumped to her feet. 'No! I'm going with you.'

  'You will do as I say!' he said with such cold firmness that she stared at him in surprise. 'Sit back down!' Then, his face sombre, he followed the inspector's messenger and strode off.

  He was back almost immediately. As soon as he came in, Tamara jumped to her feet and grabbed him by the arm. 'Dani, what is it?' she asked, seeing his bewildered expression. 'Is she ... is she . . .?'

  He shook his head. 'No, it's . . . it's one of the airline employees. He's been killed.'

  'Oh, Dani! How awful!' But he saw the relief in her eyes, just as it had been in his, and he hated seeing it there at the expense of someone else's misery.

  He let out a brittle sigh, and for the first time he looked every year of his age. 'He's an El Al VIP representative,' he told her, 'Elie Levin, the one scheduled to meet Daliah's plane.'

  She shivered as though ice ran through her veins. 'Dani?' she said slowly in rising hysteria. 'First the accident with that tractor-trailer, as though it had been set up deliberately to delay us, then Daliah's disappearance, and now this.' She stared at him, her eyes huge. 'Dani? What the hell is going on?'