by Roger Herst
Zvi Zabronski arrived twelve minutes later, flashed an accusatory look at Gabby's dress, then bolted over a pile of books into the apartment's hallway. "Quite a mess," he declared after a preliminary survey. "Most criminals who break in know what they're looking for. Throwing things around only makes their job more difficult and gives the impression they're out of control. And no criminal wants to let the police know he's lost it. Russians are different; they just don't give a shit."
"Why Russians?" Gabby asked, once again wondering how she might tell about being abducted without revealing that she had seen Tim.
"They obviously think Professor Matternly's got something they want. Any ideas?"
"Nothing to my knowledge. He hasn't been home since the affair at Qumran. Why would he want to leave anything valuable in an obvious place?"
"He could have given it to you to hide."
She thought quickly. "True, if we were in contact, which we aren't."
"Isn't that why you've been going to Mea She'arim? Don't tell me you went there for spiritual enlightenment." She hesitated before repeating the story she had told her abductors. "I'm a Reform rabbi and like to get close to the Orthodox roots of my past."
"How touching. But that won't wash. You didn't need to dress in Hasidic clothes for that. And when you were there, you didn't enter a shul or synagogue. I think you met with Matternly, who's probably also masquerading as a Hasid. You're protecting him, for all I know, conspiring to steal state property. If you try that bullshit story once arraigned, you'll be in more trouble than you already are. Why not just tell me what these guys were looking for?"
She surveyed the disorder, thinking that it would take a lot of time to discover what it was. Not a particularly tidy individual in her own right, she might not even notice. "If I told you I haven't the slightest clue, you wouldn't believe me."
"No, I wouldn't," the major answered. "There's the possibility this place was ransacked to make a statement."
"A statement?" Gabby asked, voicing her incredulity. "To whom?"
"You or Professor Matternly."
"And what message would that be?"
"Usually when a criminal breaks in like this he's saying, 'Look at me. I can violate you whenever I want. Dr. Arad is on his way over here now. You can explain to him your trips to Mea She'arim. In the meantime, I'm going to bring people to take photographs and do fingerprinting. Routine police stuff, but they might find a clue or two."
"Can I change my clothes?"
"No. I want Arad to see you dressed as you are."
By the scowl on Itamar's face, Gabby sensed she had lost both his patience and his good will. After a lengthy survey of her apartment, he returned to address her in the vestibule. "You just don't get it, do you? Tim Matternly is in big trouble and you're protecting him. From what Zvi has told me about your trips to Mea She'arim, I now believe you know where he is."
"I don't," she answered in a sharp, forceful voice.
"I wish I could believe you. When a woman protects her man, we usually consider that as an act of love and loyalty. But when she harbors a criminal, that's another story. When she withholds vital information from a criminal investigation, that's outright obstruction of justice, both here and in the States. Why didn't you tell me you were going to meet Tim?"
She said nothing, fearing anything she might say would reveal more than she wanted.
He drove a hand through arrant strands of wavy graying hair, settling them back against the sides of his head. "I'm afraid I misjudged you, Rabbi Lewyn. You conned me into believing we had an understanding, which clearly we didn't. You pretended to help me. But you've been going behind my back. I could have Zabronski arrest you on suspicion of theft. And I'm angry enough to do it. But I'm still hoping you'll tell me where Tim is first."
"I don't know."
"That's a generic, fit-all answer. Does that mean you don't know exactly where Tim is at this very moment? Let's get more specific. Is he in Israel now?"
"Yes, I believe he is."
"How about in Jerusalem?"
She paused again, trying to marshal her wits and not utter a falsehood that might later incriminate her. "Yes, I believe he's in Jerusalem."
"In Mea She'arim?"
"Yes," she said, almost in a whisper.
"Have you seen him?"
She hesitated before lying, "No." "Any idea where we should begin searching in Mea She'arim?"
Thinking of the bakery on Ein Yaakov Street, she compounded the first lie with another. "No."
"I'm going to recommend that Zabronski hold off arresting you. But you can't remain alone in this apartment until we get this matter sorted out."
"What does that mean?"
"It's too dangerous. Do you have friends to stay with in Jerusalem?" She let her eyes fall to some clothing thrown on the floor. "Many, but I haven't contacted them. How could I explain what's going on? I can't lie to old friends."
"I'm a new friend and you don't seem to have trouble lying to me," he said sarcastically. He stepped closer and, for an instant, softened his tone, "I've been thinking about inviting you to stay with me. I've got a large home in Katamon. The empty bedrooms cry out for occupants. But, now that Major Zabronski and I are convinced you're helping Matternly, I don't think that would be a good idea… for you or for me."
"A nice invitation. Thank you anyway. I'll be all right here."
The forensic team photographed and fingerprinted each room in the apartment. A police inspector asked Gabby questions, writing everything down in a handheld PDA, connected wirelessly to an off-site server. He flashed on the screen a series of headshots of potential intruders for Gabby to identify, just in case she might have noticed someone lurking on the street. The faces looked Eastern European. None registered.
"I'd be willing to help you put this place back in order," Itamar said, in a softer tone, almost as a peace offering. "I'm curious about what the intruders were looking for."
"I haven't the foggiest idea."
"Maybe when you start putting this back into place, it will jog your memory."
"Thanks, but I don't need your help. I'm perfectly capable of cleaning up myself."
"No argument there, Gabrielle. I'm not certain I understand you these days, but I'll be willing to bet you'd like a shower and to get out of those clothes. I'll be back this evening, after dinner."
Neither Gabby nor Itamar believed it could be accomplished in one night, no matter how late they worked. Itamar started in the kitchen. So much had been thrown onto the floor that it was difficult to decide where to shelve dishes that had not shattered. Broken shards disappeared into a black plastic garbage bag. Except for a few dents, the pots and pans had survived intact.
Gabby began in the bathroom, restoring to their previous locations personal hygiene items, bottles of shampoo, combs and brushes, along with her hair dryer. Towels and washcloths needed to be refolded and returned to a shelf below the washbasin. With this task accomplished, she decided to help Itamar in the kitchen and had stepped from the bathroom only to stop short in her tracks. He glanced over at her seemingly lost in thought. Rather than intrude, he finished gathering several Pyrex mixing bowls.
"What's up?" he said after she had remained immobile and in the same state of distraction for more than a minute.
"Tim's razor. The one with three blades. I know I saw it on the countertop two nights ago because I was determined not to touch anything. But I've put everything back and the razor wasn't on the floor, or any place else."
"Are you sure?" "I wouldn't be if I hadn't vowed to keep my hands off his things. You can see the bathroom is cramped and we fight bitterly when one of us moves something essential. You don't want to search for your toothbrush in the morning when you're in a rush. To Tim, a bathroom is as sacred as a sanctuary is to me."
Itamar rose from his kneeling position and stepped over to her. "If you're right, does this mean what I think it does?"
"Tim's been here."
"And ran
sacked his own apartment? Why?" She thought about that for a moment, shaking her head until she said, "Maybe he came after the hooligans trashed this place. That's a possibility. I'm not saying it's true, but it's a possibility. Isn't it?"
Itamar was slow and pensive. "Of course. Anything else missing?"
She turned to look again, with Itamar on her heels. There was barely space in front of the washbasin, so they stood close together, looking through the bathroom door. She was aware of his proximity and ought to have stepped away, but didn't. Instead, she concentrated on the bathroom, reviving a mental image of Tim's possessions. She ticked them off in her mind while pointing with her index finger at specific locations on the countertop. Everything seemed to be in place, yet the balance of items felt wrong. What was missing eluded her until her finger pointed to an empty space near the corner. "Tim's anti-cholesterol medication!" she blurted out. "That's it. I don't see the orange bottle with his Lipitor. He must have taken it along with his razor."
"That's what Zvi Zabronski said, remember? People on the run return home for necessities. So now you can't pretend about Tim anymore. It's time for you to tell me what you know, for your own welfare, if not for his."
Together they stepped away from the bathroom and weaved a circuitous route through the mess back toward the kitchen.
"Tell me the truth because I have a confession to make to you," Itamar said.
"I've already told you everything," she said. "What confession, nu?"
He hesitated before saying, "When we were standing close together outside the bathroom I was wishing you weren't involved with Tim. There's a part of me, Gabrielle, that hopes he won't show up. Marriage was good for me. I was never attracted to other men's wives, or their girlfriends. That may not be common with Israeli men, but then it isn't rare either. Since Becky died, no woman has challenged me as you have."
"You've been a wonderful support, Iti. I'm not sure how I would cope without you. But I came to find Tim. Now I know he's alive and probably nearby."
"He's a fugitive. Antiquities theft is a very serious crime in this country. It's like desecrating Jewish history and you as a rabbi ought to understand how sensitive Jews can be about their past. Despite how much I want to help, I'm a government official. I have two jobs: one, to take possession of everything found in Cave XII and, two, to arrest anyone with historical artifacts that don't belong to them. There are probably mitigating circumstances, but Tim is suspected of looting. He's also a prime suspect in the killing of the Bedouin youth."
Anxiety and anger caused her face to flush. "I know he's in big trouble," she said while thinking about his discovery of a lifetime and his presence in Mea She'arim. Eventually, she'd have to disclose what she knew, but for the moment, she didn't feel ready. "Let's finish up here for the night. I'm exhausted and, to tell the truth, this apartment gives me the creeps."
He returned to the kitchen, calling to her. "We have to find a safe place for you."
She stopped stacking books and shuffled over the floor to the kitchen, speaking to Itamar's back. "Now that I know he's in Jerusalem, he might need my help."
Itamar eased back and lifted himself from his knees, staring at her across the kitchen. "Think about what you're saying. The law will deal with you the same way it deals with Tim. Both of you will be punished, and I won't be able to protect you."
"That's a chance I must take. Every bone in my body tells me that Tim's no criminal. We don't have the full story. When we do, it won't be the way it appears."
"If he hasn't stolen anything, why is he hiding? Believe me, Gabrielle, you don't want to be complicit in this."
The argument continued until both realized that no headway was being made. Gabby asked Itamar to leave, pleading exhaustion and saying she needed rest.
"Bolt the door after me," he said. "And check the locks on all your windows. Don't answer the door for anyone unless you're absolutely sure who it is. Keep the chain lock on as you look into the corridor. If you suspect anything, call Major Zabronski's office immediately. They'll be able to send help faster than I can."
CHAPTER SEVEN
Senior officials at the Antiquities Authority rarely bothered to knock before entering the office of a colleague. Shmuel Navid, a fastidious scholar who generally confined himself to the science rather than the politics of Israeli antiquities, was eager to share a discovery with Itamar and barged into the director's office. Itamar was on the phone, so Shmuel was forced to wait for the conversation to end, then announced, "I've followed up on your request, Iti, and compared the University of Pennsylvania's time sheets with their GPS records. You had the right instincts. They don't jive."
Itamar stiffened in his chair. More than anyone, he wanted to figure out how the looters had discovered Cave XII when nobody at the Authority had a clue. But at the same time, he had secretly hoped that the answer to this question would not come through association with the University of Pennsylvania's Qumran expedition. Shmuel brought both good and bad news. He said in a low voice, "This will cost us our jobs, you know. The PM will have our heads for this."
From the moment he learned about Cave XII, Itamar believed he would soon be asked for his resignation. His lack of progress in finding what was looted or arresting Tim Matternly exacerbated the situation. But after meeting with the deputy prime minister, he came to appreciate that secrecy in the Qumran matter was even more important to the powers that be than accountability. Aware that Shmuel had a penchant for take the negative side of issues, Itamar had long since given up trying to counter this pessimism with brighter pictures. But knowing his scientific director wasn't good at thinking politically, he countered by saying, "The ministry can't clean shop without attracting attention. As long as the government wants to keep the cave at Qumran under raps, we're safe. God help us when this leaks to the press. So what did you find?"
"The U of Penn expedition billed us for twenty-seven days of on-site work."
"How can I forget? I had to justify to the Ministry spending $364,000 for discovering absolutely nothing. Nada."
"Not exactly nothing, Iti. I found only twenty-six days of GPS records. They billed us for twenty-seven working days, but provided documentation for only twenty-six."
"So you think they discovered something on a day they didn't report?"
"We were taken for a ride, and a very costly one."
"With all the checks and balances we instigated, how did they get away with it?" Shmuel carried with him oversized records folded into thick wads and secured with oversized rubber bands. He spoke while unfastening the package. "All this is on digital disks, but I've printed hard copies to make it easier. We know now the exact GPS coordinates for Cave XII, so I decided to work back from these bearings and revisit what Penn recorded at this location. I punched in the precise coordinates for the cave to bring up the radar scans the project coordinator left with us."
"Did they show something we didn't see?"
Shmuel unfolded his papers, pointing to a GPS map of Qumran, with a penciled circle marking the cave entrance. "What's interesting is at the precise GPS location, the Penn report doesn't show any depression in the earth. No cave entrance. No cavity. Nothing but solid sandstone."
"Obviously, someone doctored the results," Itamar said.
"Someone who knew we would carefully review these GPS findings. And we did. You first, then me, and at least four others in this office."
"And did you check the technical settings for the radar transducer as I asked?"
"I did. And here's where they outfoxed us. The university's on-site radar operator must have discovered the cave with the transducer operating under normal power. But he later went back and rescanned the same terrain using a much lower power setting. That gave him a negative sounding for the same location. He simply destroyed the earlier chart showing the cavity and submitted to us the negative scan taken with lower power."
"So simple," Itamar declared with a deep sigh. "That's why we never recognized the ruse. Assumptions
always bedevil us. It just never occurred to me that someone would turn down the juice."
Shmuel became more animated as he capped his argument. "And this explains the difference between the billing and the work days. The expedition's administrator sent the bill for the twenty-seven days his team was on site, unaware that the scientific-technical team provided one less day of GPS radar reports. My guess is the operator deleted the findings for a day when they scanned at some distance from the cave entrance. Then, if we had noticed the discrepancy, he would have produced the negative report, chalking it up to a clerical error. We would then have scrutinized the missing day's report, maybe even had the area rescanned, but, finding nothing, would have been convinced everything was kosher. The operator bet that we wouldn't review reports on the days that had been properly documented. And we didn't."
"Any idea who's responsible?" Itamar snapped.
Shmuel shook his head from side to side. "We're now reviewing the signatures for all the operators who signed off on the work."
"I remember how we certified everybody. Each technician had a special identity badge which I personally signed."
"Should we apprise the university president?" Shmuel asked.
Itamar withdrew into his thoughts for a moment before saying, "How can we do that with the Qumran fiasco still unresolved? Besides, we know Penn will deny everything and throw an army of American and Israeli lawyers at us. I'd prefer to first pinpoint the culprits before making this into a casus belli."
"Without American assistance, that's going to be tough. If we identify who screwed us, maybe he'll lead us to the looters."
Itamar showed the first signs of impatience. "I'm not certain they're the same people."
"If he didn't want to profit from his discovery, why would a radar operator go to all this trouble?"
"This sounds to me like the work of a technician who never intended to loot the cave himself. That's why he waited two years. If you want my guess, he waited patiently, then sold the cave location to people prepared to pay."