Jonah composed himself. “May I buy you another?”
By the time Ruth had finished the second drink, she could barely sit on the barstool without sliding off. She finally decided to stand up, wavering in her high heels. “I must be going. I need to take the long train back to Greenwich.”
Jonah placed his hand under her left arm. “If you don’t mind, I would like to make sure you get home safely.”
“That’s very kind of you. I’m a little tipsy and a strong arm would be of reassurance.”
During the train ride into Borough of Greenwich, Ruth passed out on Jonah’s shoulder. As the train pulled into the station Jonah gently shook Ruth.
“Yes.”
“We’re at your stop. Let me help you off the train.” Jonah looked at his watch. It’s twelve-thirty in the morning. I’m glad there’s no one in the station.
“I’m only three blocks away from here. I can make it home now.” Ruth walked up the stairs, and then stumbled.
Jonah caught Ruth before she fell.
“I guess I’m not as steady as I thought,” Ruth said grabbing the handrail.
“I’ll walk you home.” Jonah put his arm around her for support.
“We have to go two blocks and then make a left.”
Reaching the house, Ruth struggled with her keys. “Please unlock the door for me. I live alone, so I can’t ring the bell to get help and I certainly don’t want to wake up the neighbors.”
Jonah helped her up the flight of stairs to the second story flat and unlocked her door.
“Please come in and make yourself comfortable. I’ll be right back.” Ruth staggered to the bedroom.
Jonah viewed the rooms and layout. I better not touch anything.
“Jonah, be a dear and pour me a drink. If you’d like, take one for yourself. The Drambuie is in the cabinet next to the fridge.”
Finding the bottle and the appropriate glasses, Jonah filled her glass three quarters high, while pouring himself a small amount, diluting it with water. In her state, I doubt she can tell the difference.
Ruth emerged from the bedroom wearing a silk full-length robe, but for all intents and purpose it didn’t cover much of her negligee.
Jonah watched her approach. It’s obvious she has other things on her mind besides Drambuie.
“Thank you.” Ruth then proceeded to drink almost half the glass before setting it down.
Jonah sat on the couch. This woman is very drunk, which could be the answer to the dilemma I’m in.
Ruth sat next to Jonah, touching his leg. “What do you do?”
“I’m a student at Hadlow College and will graduate next year.”
“And what will you do after that?”
“Graduate studies in the United States.”
“That’s quite a change from Hadlow.”
Before Jonah could answer Ruth turned and kissed him, her tongue darting in and out of his mouth.
I feel like I’m back at the pool in Tel Aviv, thought Jonah. Ruth was practically on top of him when Jonah said. “I would like another drink and may I get you one?” Ruth composed herself only for a moment. Her robe was open and one breast was hanging on the edge of her negligee as she leaned over him, with only the nipple keeping it from falling out.
Jonah tried his best not to stare.
“Would you spend the night with me?”
Jonah had more visions of the pool incident. These women have no respect for their bodies.
Handing Ruth another full glass of Drambuie Jonah said, “Yes, I would like that very much.”
Ruth could hardly make it to the bedroom. Jonah carried her and placed her on the bed.
“Excuse me for a minute. I need to use the bathroom,” said Jonah.
Ruth removed her robe. The negligee did little to cover her almost naked body.
I need to stay focused, Jonah thought entering the bathroom carefully, using his handkerchief to open and close the door.
Returning, Jonah found Ruth passed out on the bed. He watched her for a minute then carefully turned her head towards him and placed his middle finger down her throat until she threw up. He made sure the vomit was on the bed and pillow. Again he placed his finger down her throat. As she continued to throw up he rolled her on her back. The remainder of the vomit obstructed her windpipe and she suffocated.
Jonah waited ten minutes, making sure there was no pulse. In the bathroom he washed up and found a bottle of medicinal alcohol. Picking up his glass he thoroughly cleaned it then placed the glass back in the cupboard. He carefully used his handkerchief to open and close the cabinet doors knobs after cleaning them.
The glass Ruth had used was still on the nightstand. Jonah cleaned the outside of the glass with the alcohol and placed her hand around it to make sure only her prints were left. He placed it back on the nightstand.
Meticulously, Jonah wiped the bottle of Drambuie to remove his fingerprints. Again using his handkerchief, he carried it into the bedroom and placed both of her hands around the bottle several times, returning the bottle to its original location. He carefully went over the entire flat and cleaned the doorknobs leading into the rooms.
As Jonah left the flat he closed the door, listening for the latch to catch. He turned the knob but it wouldn’t open. He cleaned the doorknob of the flat and the entrance door to the building.
Satisfied, Jonah left the premises and walked to the Lewisham entrance to the East London Tube. He took the next train and exited at Whitechapel. There he tossed the empty bottle of alcohol into a garbage container. Finding a payphone he called Bashir Moussa.
A sleepy Bashir lifted the handset after several rings saying, “This better be important.”
“Bashir, I took that woman home because I couldn’t take a chance she could identify me. She was very drunk and passed out. I took advantage of the situation. She’s dead and I made it look like she suffocated on her own vomit. I cleaned everything I touched with alcohol leaving no fingerprints.”
Bashir bolted up, getting out of his bed. “Are you sure she’s dead?”
“She didn’t have any pulse after ten minutes. She’s dead.”
“What about fingerprints or items that could be traced to you?”
“There are none. I went over everything twice including the front doors.”
“Did anyone see you with her?”
“Not after we left the club and I don’t think with hundreds of people in the disco anyone would remember us leaving together.”
Bashir responded nervously. “I’ll call Wael and Faris. What’s that payphone number you’re at?”
“020 7943 5555.”
“Stay there and wait for my call.”
It was three-fifteen in the morning when Bashir contacted the other two mentors. They were both shocked.
Faris was most upset. Had five years of careful planning been exposed? “Tell Jonah not to return to Hadlow at this time. We will call him with information on how to proceed.”
Jonah was half asleep when the payphone rang, startling him. He picked up the receiver, “Hello, Bashir?”
Bashir was emphatic. “Yes it’s me. Don’t take a taxi or any form of transportation that could be traced. You will ride the train until eight o’clock in the morning and then call me.”
Jonah followed Bashir’s instructions and set out transferring from one train to another. He rode the train to the end of the line then back to another station. It was boring, but at least he got a chance to sleep before having to make the next transfer.
Precisely at eight o’clock, Jonah called. “I’m at Richmond Station. The payphone number is 940 8545 5555. What’s next?”
“Wait there until I talk to Faris.”
Thirty minutes later the payphone rang. “Yes,” said Jonah.
“I’m calling you from another payphone, take this number. Don’t use my home phone until we can have it checked by an electronics expert. He won’t be able to do my flat until this afternoon. He’s monitoring Wael and Faris’s r
esidences first. You can go back to Hadlow and call me at this payphone at six o’clock.”
Jonah took the National Rail back to Tonbridge from Richmond, making three transfers to avoid the Greenwich station.
Jonah arrived at his dorm at Hadlow at eleven thirty.
Still fully clothed, he lay down to rest and fell into an uneasy sleep until five. Upon waking, Jonah noticed that he had perspired through is clothing and soaked the bed sheets. His reoccurring dream, the death of his mother and father, had once again appeared to him with all the terror he felt at that moment seventeen years ago.
Bashir Moussa, Wael Qassem and Faris Shurrab arrived separately at the London Central Mosque, changing trains and making sure they were not being followed.
Faris Shurrab pulled Bashir aside. “I want to know every move you and Jonah made yesterday.”
Bashir recounted his and Jonah’s timetable and the events that lead up to the meeting of the woman.
Faris was uneasy. “I can’t imagine how the Mossad could have known you and Jonah were going to that particular disco. It has to be a coincidence. Are you sure she was drunk?”
Bashir was adamant. “Faris, the woman was right next me and she was truly inebriated, slurring her words and holding onto the table to steady herself.”
Faris was not convinced. “We’ll wait at the Mosque until the technician from the Embassy confirms that none of our homes are bugged.” It was several hours later before Faris heard from the technician that all was clear.
Faris explained the new rules he was putting in place. “I believe it was a freak accident, but I’m not taking any chances. I want Howard and Daniel to immediately take rooms near their respective universities. The only conversations will be payphone to payphone. Once Howard and Daniel are relocated, I’ll set the schedule, location and payphone numbers to be called. This will be the only way that contact will be made for all cell members and physical contact with the mentors is forbidden.”
Wael said, “We have to get the men ready to apply for their U.S. Visas. How long do you anticipate we’ll go without contact?”
“I can’t give you a timetable. I’ll monitor the situation and review weekly with you here at the Mosque. I suspect that tomorrow when this woman does not show up at work and her body is discovered, all hell is going to take place within the Mossad.”
At six o’clock Jonah called Bashir at the payphone as arranged. On the first ring Bashir answered, “Jonah?”
“Yes.”
“Here’s the plan. No further direct contact, only payphone to payphone. I will be at this number next Sunday at one in the afternoon. Call me for the new operating procedures.”
“What did Faris say?”
“He thinks tomorrow all hell is going to take place within the Mossad.”
Jonah laughed as he hung up the phone.
Bethlehem Stone Imports
The company had been in business for eight years. By 1980, Jacob Keinan had branched out to import stone to the United Kingdom, establishing Bethlehem Stone Imports, Ltd. in London. A year after the London office opened, Jacob was approached by the Mossad. Two agents posing as sales representatives would be housed within the building. The sum he was being paid was more than the company made from its legitimate operations.
In 1984, Jacob appointed his daughter as president of the London operation. It was in Ruth’s best interest to keep the business profitable since she would eventually inherit half of the company.
When Ruth Keinan hadn’t arrived at work by early afternoon, her secretary grew concerned. She placed several phone calls to Ruth’s home without any response. Apprehensive about her absence, the secretary walked to the far end of the building beyond the warehouse where a small group of offices existed. Everyone at Bethlehem Stone Imports had been told to not enter this section.
When the intercom buzzed it startled agent Dennis Penefield. Dennis tapped Abraham Stevens on the shoulder. Abraham removed his earphones. Mondays were always the busiest, monitoring communications from the various Middle Eastern embassies.
“Someone’s at the door. I’ll see who it is.”
Abraham nodded yes, replacing his earphones.
Dennis opened the hinged back wall of a maintenance closet. Carefully shutting it behind him he placed a mop and bucket against the wall. The buzzer was still sounding as he entered the office, closing the outside door to the maintenance closet behind him. Who would dare violate the strict rules on entry? Dennis opened the office door.
The secretary rambled, “Ruth has not come in or called all day and it’s already past one o’clock. This is not like her. Our phone calls go unanswered and we’re all getting very worried.”
“Are you sure she isn’t at a meeting?”
“Yes, in fact, we had to reschedule a customer whom she had an appointment with.”
Dennis thought for a moment. I better not get involved and compromise our position. “She probably had a meeting that she didn’t tell you about. Best you call the local authorities and have them contact her.” Dennis then escorted the secretary out and returned to the monitoring room.
Abraham gave a puzzled look to Dennis as he entered the room. “What was that all about?”
“It was nothing. Ruth Keinan hasn’t come in today and they’re all worked up over it.” Dennis didn’t give it another thought.
The Investigation
Ruth’s secretary was nervous as she called the Greenwich Police Station.
“This is Sergeant Lawrence speaking. Can I help you?”
“I’m with Bethlehem Stone Imports and our boss is missing.”
“When did you last talk to him?”
“It’s not a man. My boss is Ruth Keinan and the last time I talked to her was on Friday afternoon. We haven’t heard from her since.”
The Sergeant went on to ask several questions including Ruth’s home address. He then contacted Police Constable Simon Clark to investigate. “Simon, we have a request to locate a woman who hasn’t shown up for work today.”
“How long has she been missing?”
“Since nine o’clock this morning.”
“I thought we waited twenty-four hours before investigating missing persons?”
“Usually, but she missed two important client meetings today and the secretary said this is highly unusual, and they can’t contact her.”
The constable made the fifteen-minute walk to 349 West Grove.
The three-story building was completed in the mid-nineteenth century in the typical Victorian architecture. The constable verified the name on the buzzer for the second floor as Ruth Keinan’s. After no response he tried all the buzzers, finally getting an answer from the third floor.
“Constable Simon Clark from Greenwich Police station,” he shouted into the intercom. “I would like to ask you some questions about Ruth Keinan who lives on the second floor.”
After being let in Constable Clark made the climb up to the third floor and saw the tenant standing in the doorway.
“Have you seen Ms. Keinan today?” The constable asked, wiping the perspiration from his brow.
“We haven’t seen her, but that’s not unusual. You should go to Saxton Real Estate on Blackheath Hill Road. They’re the leasing agents for the building.”
“That’s just where I came from,” muttered Constable Clark to himself as he trudged down the stairs. Stopping at the entrance to Ruth’s flat he placed his ear against the door. Not hearing anything, he broke all protocol by turned the knob to see if the door was open. Finding it locked he went to locate the rental agent.
Probably shagging some bloke out in the countryside this past weekend and decided to take an extra day, the constable surmised as he trekked back to Blackheath Hill Road.
By the time the constable found the renting agent and walked back to the flat another hour had passed. He hoped this was going to be quick; his shift ended at three.
The rental agent, a heavyset woman who could barely make it up the stairs to the
flat, was the one to find Ruth in the back bedroom. Her wail, “Oh my God, no,” brought Constable Clark running.
Outside of the vomit on the bed and pillow, Ruth Keinan appeared to be asleep except there was no color to her skin.
The constable called the station. “Constable Clark here. I found the body of Ruth Keinan in her flat.”
“Any sign of foul play?”
“There’s nothing apparent.”
“Stay where you are. I’ll send someone from homicide and forensics.”
Constable Clark went over to the rental agent who was fanning herself on the couch in the living room. “I’m sorry, but the detectives are on their way and you must wait until they interview you.”
By the time detectives Paul Barkes and Frank Evenett arrived it was already four o’clock and Constable Clark was resigned to the fact it was going to be a long night. The detectives brought Andrew Cousins from forensics along with them. After questioning the rental agent and taking her fingerprints, they let her go, continuing to check the flat, room by room.
No foul play could be discovered. Andrew Cousins lifted prints from the glass found on the nightstand alongside the bed. He then checked all the doorknobs in the flat including the front and entrance door. The remaining contents of the glass were sent to the lab for analysis.
“What do you think?” asked Detective Barkes to Andrew Cousins.
“It appears she suffocated on her own vomit. But let’s wait until the coroner has a chance to examine the body and all the tests come back. Then I’ll finalize the report.”
The following day, the coroner’s report was completed. There was no sign of sexual activity or rape; no bruising to indicate a struggle and blood alcohol level of .30 milligrams was twice the level for impaired balance and movement. The report’s final statement read: Death from suffocation and acute alcohol poisoning.
Detective Paul Barkes arrived at Bethlehem Stone Imports late in the afternoon, asking for the office manager.
“He’s in the warehouse. I’ll get him,” the secretary lied.
Agent Penefield introduced himself, shaking the detective’s hand. “Please call me Dennis.”
The Third Cell Page 14