Asylum City

by Liad Shoham

  He wasn’t allowed visitors, either. He saw his parents and brother in the courthouse when they brought him in for the remand hearing. Half hidden behind the reporters and TV crews voraciously filming and firing questions at him, his family waved and blew him kisses.

  Inbar wasn’t there.

  As he’d anticipated, the hearing was short. The judge extended his remand for five days and sent him back to Abu Kabir. At least she issued a total gag order. There’d be no mention of his arrest in the media. He couldn’t bear the thought of the whole world seeing him led into court like a common criminal. When this was all over, he’d be back, stronger than ever. He didn’t need humiliating press photos haunting him for the rest of his life.

  He would have liked Kobi to represent him, but he couldn’t. He’d probably be called as a witness. The attorney his parents hired didn’t have a clue. All he talked about was evidence, reasonable doubt, legal precedents, procedures. In the end, he fired him.

  Was he the only one who understood what was going on? It was all a conspiracy. The people who were trying to bring down Regev, and maybe Borochov, too, couldn’t touch them, so they decided to go after him. The bleeding hearts didn’t like what he was doing to the illegals and they wanted him out of the way.

  What other explanation was there for the sudden shift in the police investigation? They’d already caught the perp and he’d confessed of his own free will. So what changed? They were probably afraid the African would testify in court that he and Michal were lovers. They didn’t want people to find out the truth about all those aid organizations and the symbiosis between them and the cops. The cops were willing to collaborate with anyone, even enemies of the state, as long as they gave them what they wanted—quiet on the ground. Regev could tell them everything they needed to know about Michal. He was all too familiar with her from the demonstrations she organized outside his office. She was a constant thorn in his side.

  He wouldn’t be surprised if they got him drunk that night on purpose. Maybe he was even drugged.

  There was no way Yariv was going quietly. It would all blow up in the cops’ faces the minute Regev revealed the truth.

  Regev’s phone was still ringing, but he didn’t pick up. Yariv had finally reached him yesterday, but he didn’t get a chance to tell him why he was calling. Regev said he couldn’t talk; he was in the Knesset and they were about to vote on a crucial bill.

  This time Yariv was determined to make him listen. He needed his help. He’d explain that everything that was happening was part of a malicious scheme to get back at them both for the important work they were doing. He’d tell Regev what he wanted him to do, and if he balked, he’d remind him that he’d had full knowledge of the legal opinion Yariv got from the Foreign Ministry and he’d stashed it away with the politician’s blessing. He’d let him know that if he went down, he’d take Regev down with him. He’d say he realized immediately that the position paper was a game changer, but Regev persuaded him to keep it from the court because in his opinion the only good migrant was a dead migrant.

  They had a mutual interest here. They had to work together.

  But meanwhile, Regev wasn’t answering his phone.

  Chapter 80

  ANAT felt a tingle in her body when she saw him waiting for her in the café. It was very disconcerting. “Hi,” she said casually, extending her hand and lowering her eyes for fear he might be able to read her thoughts.

  “Hi.” His handshake was warm, his smile welcoming.

  “Sorry I’m late,” she apologized as she sat down. He was wearing a thick black turtleneck sweater that was a little small for him. It looked like it was choking him. In the right clothes, he could really turn heads.

  “You’ve been busy fighting crime?” he asked.

  “Bureaucracy more like it.”

  “That doesn’t sound very exciting.”

  “You should know. You were a lawyer, weren’t you? Bureaucracy is their business.”

  “Guilty as charged,” he said with a wide smile that revealed a row of bright white teeth.

  “Well, nobody’s perfect,” Anat replied. She was annoyed with herself. Was that the best she could do? Why did her attempts to sound witty always have to be so forced and heavy-handed? Especially when she was trying to make an impression.

  “So what happened? I mean, what made you see the light?” she asked in an effort to redeem herself.

  Itai shrugged. “Well, it was fine at the beginning. I interned with a Supreme Court judge and then I got a job with one of those commercial firms everyone’s dying to work for. People think the privileged few who work there rub shoulders with the high and mighty.”

  Anat nodded. She knew exactly what he meant.

  “It takes most associates a long time to realize they’re nothing more than modern-day slaves, but I knew after a few months it wasn’t for me. Making wealthy people wealthier isn’t my cup of tea. I was never more miserable than I was the year I worked there.”

  “Why did you stay?” Anat enjoyed listening to him talk. His voice was rich and deep.

  “Guilt and my mother,” he said with a chuckle. “Every other day she told me her doctor didn’t think her heart could take it if I left. ‘But of course it’s your choice,’ she always added.”

  Anat laughed. “It’s your choice” was one of her mother’s favorite phrases.

  “In the end they did me a favor and fired me,” Itai went on. “The managing partner told me they didn’t give a damn that I hated our clients. The problem was that I had less sympathy for them than I had for the other side. The next week I took a job with the Hotline for Refugees and Migrants. I was there a year and a half and then I heard OMA was looking for a new director and I applied for the position.”

  “What about your mother’s doctor? Did they revoke his license?” Anat asked lightly.

  “According to my mom, they reached the mutual conclusion that it was a case of divine intervention. God didn’t want her to die in peace. He wanted to torment her by making her see my law degree gathering dust on the living-room wall every day.”

  “The tragic saga of the Jewish mother.” Anat laughed.

  The waitress arrived and they both ordered draft beer. Anat didn’t usually drink, and never when she was working. But she liked Itai. She was hoping the beer would loosen her up a bit. She was having such a good time that she kept putting off the moment when she told him why she’d asked him to meet her here.

  She wondered if she would still find him attractive if this were a real date. Dates always made her nervous. She spent the whole time trying to decide if he was the one, if the relationship had a future, where they’d be a month from now. She wasn’t doing that now. Who would have believed it—Anat Nachmias was starting to let herself go.

  “By the way, I’m also a recovering attorney.” Anat decided to keep the conversation going a little while longer before she brought up the subject of Arami and Gabriel.

  “Really? You don’t look like a lawyer.” When he smiled, laugh lines formed engaging parentheses around his eyes, which she now noticed were a stunning shade of green.

  “So what happened? How did you go from being a lawyer to a cop?” he asked with what sounded like genuine interest.

  “My dad’s a lawyer. Ever since I was little, it was pretty clear that I’d follow in his footsteps. When the time came, I wasn’t so sure anymore. You and I must be twins who were separated at birth. My parents kept pushing me to get a combined degree in accountancy and law. I finally gave in. I did a specialized program in international tax law, and before you ask, yes, it’s just as fascinating as it sounds.”

  “You didn’t want to be a cop when you grew up? You didn’t dress up as a cop on Purim?” Itai asked in his warm bass. Anat realized it was one of the few times she didn’t feel she had to apologize for her job.

  “No, it was pure chance. Mainly because of the army. Of the options they gave me after basic training, attachment to the police force sounded the m
ost attractive. I didn’t know a lot about it, but I figured it had to be better than sitting in an office or spending two years making coffee for some colonel. They assigned me to the detective division. I planned to leave when I got out of the army and started college, but they asked me to stay on. I enjoyed what I was doing and the hours were flexible, so I took them up on the offer. The rest is history.”

  “Do you like your work?”

  “There are good days and bad days. What about you?”

  “There are good days and bad days,” Itai replied, laughing.

  “I’m guessing you don’t do it for the money,” Anat said.

  “Well, we don’t make huge salaries like you cops.”

  “It must be hard for you now, with the hate campaign against the migrants.”

  “That’s for sure. It’s not easy to do your job when the public is antagonistic.”

  “Tell me about it,” Anat said, and they both burst out laughing.

  Chapter 81

  ITAI shifted uncomfortably in his seat. The friendly atmosphere was ruined the moment Anat mentioned Gabriel and Arami.

  “We want you to e-mail him. Tell him you’re coming to France to raise funds and you’d like to get together with him to give him his last paycheck,” Anat said, detailing his role in their tactic to locate Arami.

  Itai didn’t answer. He noticed her use of the plural “we.” He didn’t like the idea of lying to Arami, and he definitely didn’t want to get him in trouble with the cops. What’s more, he wasn’t pleased that she’d gone behind his back and videotaped a message from Gabriel to Arami without his knowledge.

  “We just need him to point us in the right direction, give us some kind of lead. The man’s phone number, a description, anything. We’ll take it from there.”

  Itai wanted to trust her. The suggestion that they go to France together took him by surprise. He didn’t think the cops would make such an effort, but she said it wasn’t uncommon. There was a lot of red tape involved, but it wasn’t unusual for them to go abroad to question witnesses. This time they didn’t even have far to go. It was France they were talking about, not Australia. Besides, she added, this was a homicide investigation, so it had top priority. If there was any chance that Arami had information that could help them catch the murderer, they had to talk to him.

  Anat was very persuasive, but Itai was still hesitant. When he told her where to find Gabriel, she promised his arrest would be handled sensitively. But he found out later from Gabriel that the cops had charged at him in the park with their guns drawn.

  “We’re not going to get a lead on Michal’s killer any other way,” Anat said, pressing her case. “And without Arami’s statement, I won’t be able to convince my bosses to look beyond Gabriel’s confession.”

  Itai didn’t like the way Anat was pressuring him. There was nothing he wanted more than to see justice done, with Gabriel a free man and the real killer caught and made to pay for what he did. Anat knew that. It wasn’t fair of her to use it to get him to do what she wanted. When it came right down to it, she was the reason Gabriel was behind bars.

  “There’s no other option?” he asked.

  She shook her head.

  “I’m concerned for Arami. It wasn’t easy for him to get a travel document. There’s no way I’m going to jeopardize it. He doesn’t want to come back here.”

  “He has nothing to worry about. He’ll be fine.”

  “He has plenty to worry about, believe me,” Itai snapped, annoyed by her glib response. What did she know about the life of asylum seekers in Israel? About the danger they were in? Arami didn’t go to France for the food. He had good reason to get on that plane.

  “What, for instance?” Anat wasn’t convinced.

  “The Eritrean authorities, for one. They’re looking for him.”

  “That’s why we need your help,” Anat said after a short pause. “If we have to take other steps to find him, it might put him at risk. I’m sure you don’t want that.”

  Itai remained silent. He shouldn’t have let himself be drawn into this argument. The police had their own agenda. Despite Anat’s smile, he didn’t miss the implied threat in her words. The cops would find Arami with or without his help. Like an idiot, he’d just given them another lead. He could kick himself for being so naive, for being lured in by her charming smile and the way she seemed so interested in everything he said. For a while there, he even thought . . . never mind what he thought. She was a detective and she was just using the tactics she’d been trained to use to get someone to cooperate.

  “I’ll do it, but not for you, and not because you’re threatening me,” he said coldly, breaking the silence.

  “It wasn’t meant to be a threat,” she said with a shamefaced expression.

  “I’m doing it for Michal. And for Gabriel and Arami. That’s all.”

  Chapter 82

  BOAZ Yavin strode rapidly up Fein Street. Yesterday’s rain had flooded the streets, washing the garbage heaped on the sidewalks into the road. Cold and repulsed by the squalor, he pulled the winter coat Irit had bought him more tightly around him. People followed him with their eyes as he went by. The sullen look on their faces added to his disgust. He hated this place with a passion.

  When he was little, his granddad used to take his brother and him on outings to this part of the city. He remembered what it was like then, all the colorful fruit stalls and the toy stores around the bus station. It was all gone now. All that remained were dilapidated buildings, broken streetlights, and overgrown yards. A cloud of soot from countless buses hung in the air, mixing with the acrid smell of urine.

  A young man on a bike was hurtling toward him. He moved aside at the last minute, almost tripping over a pile of garbage.

  The arms deal in Argentina had gone off without a hitch, thanks largely to his own attention to detail. Even organized crime wasn’t profitable without a skilled accountant. He had to talk to Faro and convince him to get somebody else to make the rounds here. He’d paid his dues ten times over. Wasn’t it time they left him alone?

  Boaz turned and looked back at the white car that had brought him here. The two men inside were watching him with stony faces. Itzik had instructed them to drop him off at a different spot each time. He needed their business to be conducted quietly, with no unnecessary drama. That was rule number one: don’t attract attention. The altercation with Michal Poleg was an aberration that couldn’t be allowed to happen again.

  Boaz had dreamt about her a few days ago. In the dream she was lying dead in the street. It could have been any one of the streets around here. Was that how he’d end up, too? The Poleg woman was single, but he had a family. How would they manage if anything happened to him?

  The people who were waiting for him in the back room of the restaurant were scary. He was particularly afraid of the “General,” who was always scowling and barked orders at him like he was a soldier under his command. He asked Itzik about him once, who he was, why they called him the “General,” but he didn’t get an answer.

  A lot of money exchanged hands in that room. What if one of them decided to take him out of the equation? Itzik said they wouldn’t dare harm him, that they knew Faro would be gunning for them if they did, but that didn’t make him feel any better. He’d still be the one lying dead in the street.

  Another bike was heading in his direction. He managed to get out of the way in time, clutching the black briefcase tightly as he moved aside to make room for it to pass.

  It happened in a split second. Without warning, the rider turned the handlebars to the left and ran straight into him, hitting him hard. Boaz fell to his knees, losing his grip on the briefcase. He reached out for it, but the rider got there first. He kicked Boaz in the face, dropping him to the ground. Before he had time to react, the briefcase was gone and the thief was racing off in the direction he had come from. Shots rang out, the bullets whistling over Boaz’s head. He froze. Raising his eyes, he saw the white car tearing down the str
eet toward the rider, the man in the passenger seat firing a handgun through the open window. Panicking, Boaz covered his head with his hands.

  The rider turned into an alley and the car squealed to a halt. The shooter jumped out and took off after him on foot. The car sped off.

  Boaz remained where he was, curled up on the sidewalk, trying to shield his head from the bullets. After a while, he realized he was alone. They’d abandoned him there. He passed his hand over his face. It came away red with blood.

  People were approaching, moving slowly and warily. What was he supposed to do now? Where was he supposed to go?

  As the figures closed in around him, he suddenly understood what was happening. They think I’ve got money. They’re going to kill me. It’s a lynch mob. Pulling himself up quickly, he started running, not caring where he was going, desperate to save himself.

  It wasn’t long before Boaz heard sirens in the distance. He was already gasping for air. He was out of shape. If he kept this up, he’d have a heart attack, but he couldn’t stop. He didn’t want to have to explain to the cops why his face was covered in blood. Terrified, he kept running.

  Chapter 83

  THE first thing Yariv noticed was that Inbar wasn’t wearing her engagement ring. The costly ring he’d bought at a jewelry store near the Diamond Exchange, the ring he’d picked out for her with the help of his mother, the ring Inbar never took off—it wasn’t on her finger.

  The cops had stopped questioning him. The new lawyer he hired couldn’t say if that was good or bad. It was hard to tell. More than likely, it wasn’t good. It could very well mean they’d decided they had enough and were working on the indictment. He’d know more in three days’ time when they’d have to go before a judge if they wanted to hold him any longer. They’d be forced to reveal at least some of their cards then.

  He was led into a private room for the visit with Inbar, “for his protection,” the guards claimed. He suspected that it was because the cops wanted to listen in on their conversation.