by Adam Palmer
“Just a minute… yes I can. It’s a lockup.
“And is that where he’s going now?”
“No… right now he appears to be headed for Chalk Farm, but he’s not going the route for that address, although he does appear to be heading towards that general area. The map shows that on previous days he’s been at another address, but not so long or so frequently.”
Dovi clicked on another tab and looked at the transcript of the phone intercept.
“Good God, he’s going to kidnap her now!”
“What as in… right this minute?”
Dovi’s voice took on a new urgency.
“Yes Sarit! Right this minute!”
“You’ve got to call the police!”
Dovi wondered how Daniel was reacting to his side of the conversation. With his perfect Hebrew, he would know that Sarit was agitated about something and that something urgent was going down. But from what Sarit had said, he would not know why.
“I’m calling them now, but I can’t be sure they’ll take it seriously. If I say it’s happening they’ll ask me what colour car he’s driving. Look there’s no other choice Sarit, you’re going to have to go there!”
“And leave Daniel?”
“Yes Sarit! Leave him! He doesn’t need you to babysit. But his niece needs you to stop this thing from going down.”
“Shall I — ”
“No don’t tell him a thing. Just tell him that it’s something urgent and you’ll tell him when he gets back!”
“Okay.”
“Oh and tell him not to answer the phone.”
Chapter 34
Peter Hackett had been hesitating for a long time. As Daniel’s solicitor, he was protected by privilege. Indeed he was duty-bound to keep that privilege and not disclose any privileged information. And the act of passing on the witness statements and post-mortem report was not in anyway a breach of the rules.
Even if his client had been in custody, he could quite lawfully have handed over copies of those documents to him. With the exception of cases involving terrorism or national security — which this case plainly wasn’t — the accused is allowed to see all the prosecution evidence that his lawyer sees. And an accused is entitled to see not only the evidence that the prosecution intends to use, but also any unused evidence that they have considered but deemed to be of no relevance to the prosecution case.
So Hackett had no concerns about passing on that evidence to Daniel’s eMail address and he hoped that Daniel would be prudent about accessing it. Not that he wanted Daniel to remain at liberty. But he knew that it would be better for Daniel to turn himself in of his own accord than to be tracked down and re-arrested, not to mention being charged with the additional charge of unlawful escape and possible supplementary charges involving other murders.
But that in turn led right back to Hackett’s other dilemma: how to handle Daniel’s request for information about the police search of Martin Costa’s home? He had reservations about asking the question. But his client had requested it. And it could provide some useful information for the defence. He had to make the call to DCI Vincent.
“I was basically wondering if the search of Martin Costa’s flat revealed anything.”
“If it had we would have told you. Look don’t worry Mr. Hackett, you’ll get all the material well before the next hearing. But right now we’re still waiting for the records from the phone company. I’m surprised you’re not asking about that.”
“Well that I assumed you would give me as soon as you’ve got it. But the reason I was asking about Costa’s flat was because of what Klein was saying about the image that Costa sent him. He said it looked like a manuscript and so I was wondering about the original.”
“Well presumably it was destroyed in the fire — if it existed at all. I mean Costa was supposedly all set to bring it to the meeting.”
“That may be a probability. But it isn’t a certainty. Klein thought it might still be at Costa’s home.”
“What do you mean thought? When did he tell you that?”
Hackett realized that he had to think quickly.
“At the court… at the remand hearing. It was one of the things we talked about.”
Hackett realized that he was actually contributing to an escalation of Vincent’s suspicions. He wasn’t supposed to be revealing what specifically he and his client had been discussing. The fact that he was — and that he was gabbling — was practically advertising the fact that he had something to hide. By now, Vincent probably knew that Daniel had called him. But it was too late to go back now.
“For the record, Mr. Hackett, we didn’t find any ancient manuscripts at Martin Costa’s flat, nor indeed anything that might be mistaken for an ancient manuscript. We didn’t find any ancient artefacts or antiquities, nor any forgeries. We did find plenty of books about forgery techniques and how to identify forgeries. But given the line of work we know that Costa was in, that’s hardly surprising.”
Chapter 35
Bar Tikva was waiting in Chalk Farm, in the cheap van that he had bought from a man in a pub. He was parked down the road from where Julia Sasson had taken little Romy for her gymnastics lesson. This was going to be difficult to pull off alone, but he had promised his revered father that he would do it and he intended to keep his promise.
It was going to be difficult for two reasons. First of all, this time he had no back-up whatsoever. After the fiasco last time, he didn’t think it wise to approach Chienmer Lefou or her underworld contacts. He had probably alienated them by getting two of them killed the last time. They for their part probably thought he was a loose cannon and would not be inclined to trust him.
Furthermore, he had read somewhere that mainstream British criminals are not into child-abduction, even if it were purely for blackmail purposes. He knew that he would probably get a rough reception from them if he had approached them about this project.
The other reason it was dangerous was because he couldn’t actually drive. In Israel, because of Shomrei Ha’ir’s refusal to recognize the State of Israel or participate in any of its institutions or official processes, he and other members of his sect had never learned to drive. He did in fact have some practice, from when he was in the Williamsburg neighbourhood of Brooklyn, with other members of his sect. But he had never passed a driving test or acquired a driving licence. So he could control a car — at least an automatic like this one — but he didn’t know the driving laws or understand the road signs.
This time, Julia had stayed in the cafe, rather than taken the twins elsewhere. So all three of them would be together when she led them to the car that she too had parked down the road.
He waited nervously as the minutes ticked by, praying to HaKadosh, Baruch Hu — the Holy One, Blessed be He — that he would succeed in this plan and fulfil his obligations to his father and to Shamayim — Heaven.
Finally they emerged: Julia, holding Romy’s hand, and the twins on their mother’s other side. She led them down the street on the same side as the sports centre and then as they were about to cross the road he gunned the engine and drove straight at them. He was not planning to hit them: only to get them to react exactly as they did.
He saw the look of terror in Julia’s eyes as she scooped up Romy and shouted at the twins to get back. They obeyed their mother’s instructions and Julia followed them, leaping back to the pavement and practically dropping Romy as she lost her balance. Bar-Tikva flung the passenger door open and reached out, trying to yank little Romy, who was now crying like her sisters, while Julia tried to assess the damage and the overall situation. He was just about to grab her when he heard a screeching sound and beheld a sight that terrified him.
For with that screeching sound came a motorbike like the one that had slammed into him a couple of days before, preventing him from killing Julia’s brother.
No, not “like the one” — the SAME one!
And as it screeched to a halt behind his van, he saw the same black-l
eather clad rider. His first reaction was to panic. But then he noticed that the rider was actually quite small. And it occurred to Bar-Tikva that he would probably beat this man in a fight. But then he saw the rider reaching for something and he remembered that the rider also carried a gun — and knew how to use it.
Realizing that he didn’t stand a chance, he pulled his large frame back into the van and slammed the door behind him. For a split second, he considered reversing into the bike and throwing the biker into the air. It would be sweet revenge for the painful knock he had taken last time, as well as for this time. But that hand was still poised to produce the gun and he knew that the biker could probably roll clear and then put a bullet or two in him just he had dealt with the two gunmen he had brought with him on the previous job.
It wasn’t worth the risk, he realized.
It angered him that he had been thwarted twice. But if this was the will of Hashem — the Name — then he must accept it. He put the van in gear, put his foot down on the accelerator and drove off at speed.
Chapter 36
“He was telling the truth after all.”
DCI Vincent was briefing Sergeant Connor and the rest of the core team about the phone company records in a corner of the Incident Room
“Do we know the contents? Or just the fact that they were in contact?”
“We’ve got the actual messages. Everything was exactly the way he said, practically verbatim. His recollection was pretty damn good.”
“That doesn’t mean he didn’t kill Costa. They could’ve had an argument. Costa might have changed his mind.
“Could have, might have… that’s all just speculation. The evidence checks out. As to what went down there. We know that Klein was telling us the truth about the build up to the final events. Why should we doubt his word about what happened when he got there?”
“‘Cause it doesn’t make sense. Why would anyone else try to kill them? And why by fire? And what about the tip-off about Klein siphoning off petrol?”
The Chief Inspector smiled.
“Oh yes, the famous anonymous tip-off.”
“Anons are frequently reliable. And the caller didn’t even ask for a reward.”
“That’s what makes it unreliable.”
“Why?”
The DCI smiled at his sergeant’s naivety.
“Look at it this way Joe, if you were an ordinary citizen and you saw the chance to help the police catch a criminal and make some money for yourself at the same time, wouldn’t you do so?”
“That’s why I became a copper sir,” said Connor, smiling.
Vincent smiled back at the sergeant’s smart-Alec reply.
“Okay but you know what I mean. The reward can be paid anonymously. People often call Crimestoppers for precisely that reason. But this one didn’t bother about the reward… like maybe he had some other agenda.”
“Isn’t that also speculation sir?”
“It is. But let’s just call it informed speculation. I mean an anonymous tip-off is only useful if it leads us to some real solid evidence or to investigate some one so that we find the real solid evidence. But in this case, the only evidence we have left — that incriminates Klein — is the anonymous tip-off itself. That’s about it.”
“Have we got the test results back about the quantity of petrol in the tank and the fuel consumption estimates?”
“We’ve got the results, but the margin of error’s too big.”
“But what’s the bottom line?”
“The bottom line is that he probably didn’t siphon off petrol from the tank. So even that’s a point in his favour.”
“And what about the escape?”
“Based on what the surviving guard said, it wasn’t so much an escape as an attempt to kill him.”
“But what about the man on the motorbike sir? I mean he didn’t force Klein to get on the back and ride pillion. Klein made that choice.”
“That’s the hangnail in this whole scenario. There seems to be a third force at work here — or maybe even a fourth force. I’m losing count.”
“Well whoever it was, was pretty ruthless. I mean he took out those two gunmen without a moment’s hesitation.”
“Yes, but that’s the thing sergeant, he only killed what might be called the guilty. He didn’t touch the innocent.”
“Maybe he was trying to silence them?”
“That makes no sense.”
“Why not? Maybe he set the whole thing up. He was using them to spring Klein and then when they’d done their work, he silenced them.”
“But if the plan was to spring Klein, then why did the man dressed like a Hassidic Jew aim his gun at Klein, like he was trying to kill him?”
“Maybe he wasn’t aiming it at Klein sir. Maybe he was trying to kill the third guard.”
“Then why didn’t the man on the bike let him?”
Connor thought about this for a few seconds.
“Cause he panicked?”
“And why did the man on the motorbike let the big man live if he was trying to silence him? Why not shoot him too, if the aim was to silence him and not merely stop him?”
“That’s a good question. But he did send him flying when he rammed him with his motorbike. And his principle aim by that stage did seem to be to get Klein out of there.”
“Exactly. Whereas the others looked like they were trying to kill Klein.”
Connor backed down, deflated.
“So you don’t think they were on the same team sir?”
“No sergeant. I think we’re dealing with two separate forces here: one trying to kill Daniel Klein and the other trying to keep him alive.”
At that moment, a member of the team manning the phones waved to get the DCI’s attention.
“What is it?” asked Vincent.
“It’s a call from the Met. There’s been an attack on a woman called Julia Sasson and her children… by a man dressed as a Hassidic Jew.”
“And?” the DCI murmured, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
“Well it was also foiled by a man on a motorbike… who then drove off.”
“Let me speak.”
He strode across the room and grabbed the phone.
“DCI Vincent.”
“Hallo, this is DI Wilson, Met Area 2, Colindale. I suppose you got all that?”
“Yes, but what sort of attack was it And who was the victim?”
“Well we’re still gathering evidence and getting down the details, but it may have been an abduction attempt on the daughter of a woman called Julia Sasson.”
“And what do we know about this Julia Sasson?”
“Well that’s the interesting thing. She’s the sister of Daniel Klein.”
Chapter 37
“Are you incapable of getting anything right!”
Shalom Tikva was unable to contain the rage inside him that was prompting him to pour out his scorn on his own flesh and blood. His son had let him down once again and he well knew why: arrogance! Baruch had tried to do what was beyond him. How could he kidnap the girl all on his own with no back up and without even being fully qualified to drive? The operation was doomed from the start.
Maybe, Shalom Tikva could console himself, by accepting that it was the will of Hashem. But would it have failed had his son not been so arrogant?
And yet, what choice had their been? He knew that Baruch couldn’t go back to Chienmer Lefou after the previous fiasco. It had taken a long time to win her trust and to learn to trust her. And now she would probably never trust either of them again. His son had burnt a bridge there. And yet…
There was another thought nagging at Shalom Tikva’s mind.
How far can we trust her?
This was what lie at the heart of the problem. For it was becoming increasingly clear that some one was trying to stop them. But it was some one who knew what they were up to. Could it be that Chienmer Lefou was playing a double game? Had she arranged to help Baruch kill Daniel Klein and then betrayed hi
m? That didn’t make sense. It was her own men that she sent along, or at least criminals whom she had hired.
Maybe she considered them expendable? She had that quiet aura of a ruthless matriarch.
But why did she help them in the first place? Why not refuse? And what, in that case, would she be trying to do? What was her game? If she wanted merely to kill Baruch, there were simpler ways.
Maybe she wanted to discredit Shomrei Ha’ir. After all, they believed in Judaism — a religion she hated. They believed in the Talmud — a document that she despised. And they believed that the Seven Laws of Noah were obligatory upon the Gentiles — a concept that she found abhorrent, not because she necessarily wanted to commit murder or theft or adultery or incest — nor even because she was against the creation of law courts — but simply on principle. Was it possible that a woman in such a mental state could really be trusted to help them, just because she hated the Zionists even more?
The more he thought about it, the more convinced Shalom Tikva became that it was Chienmer Lefou who had betrayed them.
But there was just one problem. Chienmer Lefou had known nothing of this last operation. Baruch hadn’t told her about his plan to kidnap Daniel Klein’s niece. That put her in the clear. And yet it was too much of a coincidence that this man on the motorbike had been able to turn up twice and foil both the assassination attempt and the kidnapping. There had to be a spy in the camp.
But who?
It was inconceivable that any one of his own people could have betrayed them. Indeed, with the exception of two other rabbis in the movement, no one knew what they had been planning. He had conferred with the two other rabbis, because although he was recognized as the most learned scholar among them in the finer points of Jewish Law, he considered himself to be first among equals and he wanted to be sure that he stood on halachically safe ground when he authorized the kidnapping. This wasn’t even the abduction of a goy, but rather of a Jewish girl. So he had to tread carefully.