by Adam Palmer
“So Mr Tikva, I understand you want me to use my contacts to make certain arrangements for you.”
He coughed nervously and spoke in an uncharacteristically awkward tone.
“Yes. Both personnel and equipment.”
“Specifically?”
“I need a driver — a good one. Also a couple of men with guns who know how to use them.”
Chienmer Lefou didn’t flinch.
“That’s it?”
“Oh and one other thing. Three L-109 hand grenades.”
Chapter 25
“Your Honour, my client is a respected academic with no criminal record whatsoever. He has a tenured teaching post at University College London. He has published numerous scholarly papers in prestigious academic journals. He has participated in conferences around the world. He has but one residential address, in London and is a UK resident for tax purposes and has been on the electoral roll in the United Kingdom since his eighteenth birthday without abatement. He is a man of unblemished record and of good character, as attested by these affidavits from various colleagues both in the UK and abroad — which m’learned friend has accepted uncontested. For these reasons I would ask that he be released on bail and that bail be set at a reasonable amount.”
Because the charge was murder, the bail application had to go through a Circuit judge in the Crown Court, as a magistrates’ court lacked the authority to release on bail a person charged with murder. The judge, a tall man in his sixties, sat impassively through Peter Hackett’s brief presentation. Hackett was responding to the prosecutor’s initial submission that where the charge was murder, bail could not be granted unless the Court was satisfied that the accused would not harm anyone else while on bail. Hackett had responded by dismissing the suggestion that Daniel would harm anyone as absurd and then went on to argue for bail, instead of letting the prosecutor lead off with additional arguments against bail.
This was an unusual approach — as there was always a legal presumption in favour of bail — but it was not unheard of. The judge inclined his head towards the prosecutor.
“Mr Richmond.”
Hackett sat down and Anthony Richmond for the prosecution rose from his seat.
“Briefly, Your Honour, the Crown opposes bail and asks that the accused be remanded in custody until the Committal Hearing. Whilst it is true that he has no previous criminal record — nor indeed Cautions, Reprimands or Warnings — it is a matter of undisputed record that on a previous occasion he left the jurisdiction of the Court and went abroad using a foreign passport while on bail for another murder.”
Hackett stirred, as if poised to respond. But Richmond pre-empted him.
“Now the Crown concedes that Professor Klein was wholly innocent of that murder and indeed further freely concedes — without being prompted — that he was instrumental in identifying and physically apprehending the real killer in Israel where said killer was subsequently convicted of serious offences involving terrorism. The Crown also concedes that although Professor Klein left the jurisdiction of the court without authorization, and breached other bail conditions, he did finally answer to his bail upon his return to the United Kingdom, whereupon the Crown took the view that it was not in the public interest to prosecute him for his breach of bail conditions.
“However, the fact that Professor Klein was ready and able to breach his bail in such a brazen manner — going so far as to flee the country — means that there is a significant risk that he may do so again in this case. Furthermore, Professor Klein has a substantial — one may even call it a vast — network of contacts abroad as a result of the international nature of his work. The Crown concedes that he is resident in the United Kingdom and that he holds a tenured position here at a prestigious university and that his sole residence — as far as we know — is located within the jurisdiction of this Court. But he has relatives and contacts in the United States and Israel and could easily escape the jurisdiction of this Court, should he be minded to do so. That, in conjunction with the fact that he has done so on a previous occasion, renders him — in the submission of the Crown — ineligible for bail.”
Richmond sat down and Hackett rose again, not waiting for the judge to call on him to do so.
“Your Honour should know that if this is the main source of the Court’s concern, then Professor Klein is willing to surrender his passports to the Court. Indeed I have it here in my possession now for immediate surrender, should this satisfy Your Honour.”
Hackett sat down. The judge turned to the Crown’s representative.
“Mr Richmond?”
“Unfortunately, Your Honour, we don’t know how many passports Professor Klein has. He may have an Israeli passport for all we know. And even without a passport, he has shown himself quite resourceful in crossing borders when he is really determined.”
This was a reference to Daniel’s daring escape from Egypt in a speedboat that he hired in Sharm-el-Sheikh, followed by a hair-raising underwater swim while being shot at by Egyptian border guards. At the time it had been a white-knuckle ride adventure. Then, after that, it was a moment of glory to be joyously relived. But now it was coming back to haunt him, cited as proof that he was a flight risk and thus disqualified from being released on bail.
“Do you wish to add anything Mr. Hackett.”
The defence lawyer had shot his bolt. He knew that he had no more ammunition.
“No Your Honour.”
The judge shuffled his papers and appeared to be giving the matter some thought. Finally he spoke.
“My decision is as follows. Firstly, with regard to Section 114 of the Coroners and Justice Act 2009 as written into Section 6ZA of the Bail Act 1976 by way of amendment, I am satisfied that the accused is not likely to harm anyone if released on bail. Secondly with regard to Schedule 1, Part 1, 2 sub-paragraph a, of the Bail Act, I am satisfied that the accused would surrender to his bail.”
On hearing this Daniel was beginning to get his hopes up.
“However with regard to Schedule A, Part 1, 2 sub-paragraph b of the Bail Act, namely committing an offence while on bail, it should be noted that leaving the jurisdiction of the court is an offence. And whilst the accused was not charged with such an offence on the previous occasion that he was released on bail, it is a matter of undisputed fact that he committed said offence and therefore the possibility of a repetition of the offence is a distinct possibility that cannot be ruled out.”
It was like a knife twisting in his gut. One minute it looked like he was going to be released and the next minute, the prospect of freedom was whisked away from him.
The charge of murder still held no fear for him. The case against him was obviously weak, and he had every confidence that he would be cleared when the police did the back room work that would verify his account of events. But for now it looked like he was going to be spending some time behind bars.
“The accused is therefore remanded in custody for 28 days, pending a full investigation of the defence’s exculpatory claims. In the event that the prosecution wishes to proceed with the indictment, the defence may make a further application for bail at that time.”
Chapter 26
A feeling of dejection swept over Daniel as he was escorted back to the van. The guards actually seemed quite sympathetic towards him. There was no smugness or gloating as they slammed the van door behind him. It was if they realized that this was no “toe-rag” or “scrote” living a life of crime, nor even a man who thought he was above the law, but just an ordinary man swept up in a wave of circumstances.
This did not mean that they thought he was innocent, nor on the other that he was guilty. Just that he was an ordinary man who had somehow fallen afoul of the system and who now had to adapt to it, whether it be for a few weeks, a few months or a few years.
That last did not appeal to Daniel. But then again, in his mind, it wasn’t going to happen.
What evidence have they got? I was lured into a trap and some one set the place on
fire? That’s not a case!
But as he felt the van moving, he realized there was more to it than that. What about the anonymous tip-off? They couldn’t even use it. So what did they have? Suspicion — naked suspicion. That was all.
In the darkened windows of the van, he saw flashes of light and he realized that photographers were holding up cameras, taking pictures, hoping that with the flash they would be able to capture his face. But the guard had been kind enough to position him facing the other way. At the time he wondered why. Now he realized.
His mind returned to his more serious predicament. Would they be able to check out his hired car and confirm that he hadn’t siphoned off any petrol? Would they “proceed with the indictment?” Peter Hackett had told him that if they did, it could be up to seventy days before the committal hearing.
Daniel was used to living in Spartan conditions, but he didn’t relish the thought of spending nearly four months behind bars.
At least it’ll be a British prison, he tried to reassure himself.
All those movies and TV series about prison rapes in the showers in American prisons didn’t exactly appeal to him.
“Cheer up mate,” said the guard in the van. “It might never happen.”
This was the kind of perky small talk that he could well do without. However, he couldn’t help but smile. The guard evidently meant well.
Daniel closed his eyes and tried to relax, feeling himself carried along by the smooth movement of the van. But his equanimity was shattered by the sound of an explosion. He opened his eyes to see panic on the eyes of the guard and hear machine gun fire raking the van. Peering though the heavy tinted glass between the rear and the driver’s section, he saw that the windscreen was not just shattered but was no longer there and the driver and front seat guard were slumped across the dashboard, unmoving.
He heard shouts from outside and saw the guard reaching into his utility belt first for his TASER and then for his CS-spray canister. For a second, it looked as if the guard was going to use them on Daniel himself. But then the guard turned to the door. There was a second explosion, but this one was much louder than the first — and more damaging. It smashed the double doors from their hinges and sent them flying, still locked together into the passenger cabin, smashing into the guard and slamming him against the partition between the cabin and the driver’s seat.
Daniel too was hit by it, but he turned away just as it happened and because he was further in, the impact was much less severe. It slammed hard into his left arm and shoulder with a powerful thump, causing a throbbing pain that lingered. But it was muscle pain. The door had impacted upon his flesh, but none of his bones were broken.
And it was then that Daniel found himself facing a most extraordinary sight. For standing outside the van, looking straight at him was an extremely tall, bearded man in the black costume of an ultra-orthodox Jewish sect.
Daniel’s mind was reeling from what was happening.
Has he come to rescue me?
But he had killed people. The driver and front seat guard had been either shot or blown up — possibly both — and the guard in the cabin was moaning in agony and bleeding profusely. Daniel hadn’t asked for this! He couldn’t accept freedom on these terms. It would be as if he had asked for this.
And then Daniel saw two things that began to put it into context. Firstly the tall, bearded man was holding a hand grenade in his left hand and a submachine gun in his right. Secondly, the man was raising the submachine gun into a firing position. But why?
Who is there left to shoot?
And then Daniel realized.
For a split second, he felt the urge to duck or squirm or cover his torso with his arms. But then he realized how pointless it would be. This was it: the “oh shit” moment.
And then it happened again.
There was a roar, like the gunning of a powerful engine and then another roar this one in a deeper pitch, but rising in pitch as it grew louder. And as the bearded man tried to position his finger on the trigger — made awkward by the grenade that was dangling from it — his eyes darted round and a look of terror broke out on his face as he tried to dive for cover.
He didn’t make it.
Instead he was hit by a large, powerful motorbike that sent him flying. The bike came to a halt directly behind the rear exit that had been turned into a gaping hole by the second explosion. And on the motorbike was a figure covered from top to toe in black leathers, face hidden by a fibreglass visor.
The figure’s head was turned so that he must have been looking squarely at Daniel. But who was he? Whoever he was, he was Daniel’s saviour. But what was Daniel to do now?
The figure looked round, in the direction that the bearded man had gone flying and signalled Daniel — with a sweeping gesture of his arm — to get out of the van and onto the motorbike. But Daniel hesitated. The same reservations applied as before. Even if the biker had not carried out the attack, to flee under these circumstances would make him look guilty. The authorities would have no way of knowing that the van was attacked by some one and that he had been rescued by some one else.
The man on the bike looked around frantically again and then produced a handgun and squeezed off two shots in what seemed like two different directions. The next thing that Daniel heard was a car engine roaring and receding. Again the man on the bike signalled Daniel, this time with the hand wielding the gun, but did not at any time point it at Daniel.
In the driver’s section, Daniel could hear voices on the radio suggesting that the police dispatcher was aware that something was up. But it was the next thing to happen that surprised Daniel most. The man on the bike lifted his visor to reveal his face and at that point Daniel saw that the he was in fact a she. And it was a face that he recognized. She had been baptised Siobhan Stewart.
But Daniel knew her as Sarit Shalev.
At that point his hesitation gave way to relief. He ran to the back of the van, leapt out and onto the motorbike, holding on to Sarit without fear or concern. The bike roared to life and swept past the fallen bearded man just as he was beginning to recover. Daniel felt the rush of wind and adrenaline as the powerful motor carried him away from the scene of the carnage. And in the distance he heard the sound of an approaching police siren.
Chapter 27
“How could you let this happen!”
“I don’t know who he was! One minute I was all set to kill him and a second later I was hit by the motorbike!”
This exchange between Baruch Tikva and his father was taking place over the phone. But their voices were so loud, they could have been standing eyeball to eyeball in the same room.
“But why were you standing in the middle of the road?”
“I wasn’t. I was standing directly behind the police van.”
“Then why did the motorbike hit you?”
“That’s what I’m telling you! It was deliberate!”
“What do you mean, deliberate?”
“After the bike hit me, he shot the two men who were helping me. They were professionals… men with guns who knew how to use them… and he just pulled a gun and shot both of them.”
“I thought you had three men with you?”
“Yes, but one was the driver.”
“And what did he do?”
“He ran away — the coward! He left me there. I nearly got caught. I had to run away… and I was limping. I thought he broke my leg.”
“You could have made up a story. Said you were a bystander and said the man on the motorbike was part of it.”
“But then I’d’ve been in the public eye. They’d ask me to tell them everything I saw. It’s better this way.”
“It’s not better, Baruch, it’s very bad!”
“I know… I know.”
Baruch Tivka was genuinely apologetic. He knew that he had let his father down and he felt guilty. He revered his father and would do anything for him.
“Do you have any idea where he has gone?”
/> “No. It came completely out of the blue. I don’t know how anyone could have known what I was planning.”
“Is it possible that the shiksa betrayed you?”
“ Chienmer Lefou. I don’t think so.”
“You know she hates all Jews?”
“Yes, but she made it clear that she was ready to work with us because we are against the Zionist heretics.”
“Then who could it be?”
Baruch Tikva tried to think.
“Maybe there’s a spy in the camp.”
“That’s impossible. I told no one but you.”
“Do you think they’re watching us?”
“Possibly. Or maybe Lady Lefou is being watched. She’s quite a controversial figure, you know. She attended the holocaust conference in Teheran.”
At the other end of the phone, there was silence. Finally the old man spoke.
“That would have brought her to the attention of the British authorities. They probably are watching her! You should have been more careful.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Well at least we are not being watched.”
“But what are we going to do?”
Baruch had always wanted to impress his father with his initiative — as he had when he found out about Daniel not being dead. But now he too had failed to kill him. And worse still, he had effectively helped Daniel escape from the police. Apart from that, he had got two of Chienmer Lefou’s men killed. And the driver would probably go running back to her with tales of Baruch Tikva’s carelessness. He would get the blame.
And worse still, the people she hired were probably not her own. They were gangsters. That meant they had their own friends and contacts who would be looking out for them.
What if they think I lured them into a trap?
He knew now that he would have to lie low for a while, not only from the police but also from Chienmer Lefou and her network of contacts. Fortunately, she didn’t know where he was staying. All she had was a mobile phone number. And he knew that he could blend in with other ultra-orthodox Jews in Golders Green or Stamford Hill. The only thing that marked him out was his height.