by Katz, Yoram
“Could this artifact have been the Kabbalistic or Christian text we are looking for,” said Jeanne.
Bennet considered this for a while and then his eyes lit up. “Perhaps it could be both.”
The two looked at each other. “I do not understand,” said Luria.
Bennet smiled. “My friend, you are a private investigator. We both make a living by picking up facts and coming up with theories to explain them. Now, the facts are,” he raised one finger, “the de Charney letter specifically mentions old scrolls.” He raised a second finger. “We have the Templar/Christian connection, and,” a third finger, “we have a source hinting at a Kabbalistic text lost in this context. OK so far?”
Luria nodded.
“Now we need a hypothesis to link these three pieces of information. Here is an option which has just occurred to me.” He sorted out his thoughts. “Suppose the text is a bridge between early Christianity and Kabbalah, a text which substantiates all that I have told you this evening, and perhaps even solves some more riddles.” Excitement was audible in his voice.
“So you do believe that such a document exists, don’t you?” asked Jeanne.
Bennet did not answer. His eyes were fixed in alarm on the window facing the garden behind his guests. Luria turned around instinctively to look through the window behind him, but saw nothing. It was already dark outside.
“Sorry, Madam, can you repeat your question?” said Bennet, but Luria noticed that the man had lost his former enthusiasm.
“I asked whether you believe that such a document really existed,” repeated Jeanne.
“Not necessarily,” interjected Bennet hurriedly. “I would be very glad if it did, of course, so I could substantiate my theories. Nevertheless, I have to disappoint you. I do not believe such a document will be found. I am sorry.” He looked at his watch. “Unfortunately, we have to finish here. I have to leave for another meeting. I have enjoyed our conversation very much.” He stood up.
Jeanne and Luria rose too, somewhat nonplussed. The three shook hands. Bennet walked them to the door where they exchanged some hurried greetings and parted.
A light drizzle was falling, and the two walked in silence to the car which was parked nearby. Luria felt Jeanne’s inquisitive look but ignored it and said nothing. He opened the car doors, and the two climbed in and sat inside. He started the engine.
“What was that?” Jeanne could not contain herself anymore.
“What do you mean?”
“He virtually threw us out. Something happened to him. I am sure you noticed it as well as I did.”
Luria did not answer. He turned the street corner and stopped the car.
“We’ll talk later,” he said. “I am going out for a few minutes. Meanwhile, please move to the driver’s seat, lock the doors and do not open for anyone but me. Leave the engine running and be prepared to drive away immediately when I return.”
Ignoring Jeanne’s alarm, he jumped out of the car and walked back quickly toward the house they had just left. The house next to Bennet’s was dark and from the look of its derelict yard, Luria concluded it was not populated. He looked around; the street was empty.
The gate had a locked chain around it but he just jumped over the stone wall and found himself inside the yard which bordered on Bennet’s garden, separated from it by a fence covered by a honeysuckle creeper. He approached the fence. A shelve supported by bricks stood near it, about forty centimeters above the ground. It carried a few flower pots with some dead, shriveled plants. Luria climbed on it and peeked through the creeper’s leaves into the adjacent garden. Seconds later, a beam of light flashed, scanning the garden from side to side. Bennet was standing in the back door of the living room which opened into the garden, holding a powerful torch in his left hand. There was something in his right hand too. Luria strained his eyes. It was a gun.
“I know you are there,” called Bennet suddenly. “I saw you.” Luria was alarmed. He flexed his muscles, getting ready to run. It took him a few seconds to realize that Bennet was not addressing him.
Bennet stepped into the garden, flashing his torch in all directions. He approached the fence, and Luria could actually hear the professor’s halted breath. “Step out,” called out Bennet. “Come out and face me, you cowards.”
Luria froze in his place, holding his breath. The professor stood silently at the same spot for a few more seconds and then moved slowly to the other side of the garden, his torch scanning every piece of turf around him. Luria breathed with some relief, and allowed himself to shift a bit in his place. Then, suddenly, the worm-eaten shelf under him gave way and collapsed.
Luria found himself lying on his back on the wet turf, next to the dead flower pots. With the silent background, it must have sounded as if a bomb had gone off.
Bennet turned around quickly. The beam of light hit the fence at the spot where Luria had been standing just a few seconds before, but Luria was gone already. He rolled a few meters on the ground, stood up and disappeared behind the other side of the house. Bennet approached the fence and attached his face to it, straining to see through the wet foliage. He shoved the torch through the leaves and flashed it into the neighboring garden. Luria was certain that the gun was cocked in his other hand.
“Cowards!” shouted Bennet. “Stupid fanatics! Next time I see any of you around here, I will shoot you down like rats.” He mumbled something, switched off his torch and went back into the house. The door closed behind him.
Luria was afraid that Bennet would now come out to search the neighboring garden. He quickly jumped over the garden wall into the street.
It was pretty dark, but Luria saw something. On the other side of the street, leaning against the wall of one of the houses, half-hidden by the foliage, somebody was standing. Luria strained his eyes. It was hard to discern any details in the dark, but he could pick out the figure of a tall man, wrapped in a raincoat with his collar up. He could not see his eyes, but could feel that the man was looking at him.
Rain was dripping into his eyes and he wiped them. When he opened them up again, the man was gone. He hesitated for a moment and then started walking fast back to the car.
“What happened?” Jeanne was alarmed but at the same time relieved to see him. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.” Luria tried to sound nonchalant, as if being all soaked up and muddy was perfectly natural.
“What happened?” Jeanne did not give up. “Where have you been? I thought I would die of fright.”
“Just go,” said Luria. “Let's get out of here. I’ll tell you everything later.”
37. Rachel Porat - Haifa, February 18th, 2010 (Thursday)
“So, you have eventually used the material I gave you,” said Eitan. They were sitting in Luria’s office to summarize the Porat file. Porat’s wife was scheduled to land later that morning, returning from her vacation in Europe, and Luria was to meet her early afternoon.
“Sorry?” Luria raised his eyes from the report he was reading.
“I gather that the material I gave you on Porat is already out there.”
Luria frowned. “What makes you say that?”
“Porat was hospitalized last night at the Rambam Hospital.”
“Hospitalized?” Luria did not understand. “What happened?”
“Orthopedic ward; he is suffering from multiple fractures.”
“Multiple fractures?”
“Yes. He broke his two arms and his two legs among other injuries.”
“Not a bathroom accident, I presume.” Luria was beginning to understand.
“He claimed to have fallen off his bicycle, but it looks more like a work accident. One that is typical to his professional environment. What have you done, Luria?”
Luria had not yet told Eitan about his encounter with Srur; now he did. “Now, Eitan,” he concluded, “the deal with Srur is that nobody knows anything about this. I did not mention your name in order not to involve you, so you know nothing. The mater
ial I am going to show Porat’s wife will not include your findings, either. I’ll use solely my material and mention only the first woman.”
Eitan started laughing.
“What is so funny?”
“It is you,” laughed Eitan. “It is the way you seem just barely to wiggle out of troubles, which you manage to get yourself into. I find this very amusing.”
“Well, this is not always the case,” noted Luria. “It did not work out for me four years ago. This time it did, and Porat is paying the bill. I bet he is not amused.”
Eitan stopped laughing. “I have no pity for this scum,” he said. “And if he allows himself to fool around with his employer’s secretary and mistress, especially when the name of this employer is Ze’ev Srur, then he is even more arrogant than I have imagined. Any way you look at it, he got what he deserved. This is poetic justice.”
Luria sneered. “I have no tears for him, either; the man ruined my career. And after his wife hears me out, she is going to have no tears for him either.”
He shoved the file on his desk towards Eitan. “Let’s review it now.”
* * *
Rachel Porat was in her mid-forties but intensive workout activity, along with minor plastic surgery, made her look ten years younger.
“Mrs. Porat,” Luria rose from his chair to shake her hand. “I am so glad to see you again. I hope you have enjoyed your vacation.”
The woman smiled at him, and Luria wondered why Porat ever had to mess around with women so incomparable with his glamorous wife. “Yes,” she said. “It was fun, a breath of fresh air. It almost made me forget the reason I had hired your services.” She looked tense. “I have arrived straight from the airport. I am a day early, so Yigal does not even know I am back…”
“First,” suggested Luria, “let us get you a cup of coffee.”
“Thanks, but this is not necessary. I prefer getting straight to the point.”
Luria was afraid of that. “Well, Mrs. Porat…”
“It is Rachel, please, and you can be frank with me. No dodging is necessary.”
Luria struggled a bit. This was not the first time he was giving the bad news to a betrayed spouse, and it was never a pleasant task. He had to adjust his message to the specific person and circumstances, and he judged Rachel Porat to be a strong person. “Well, Rachel, I wish I could tell you a different story, but I am afraid the findings are positive.”
He looked at her face. She was fighting for control but, as hard as she tried, she could not stop the tears from coming to her eyes. “Are you sure?” she asked at last, trying to control her breaking voice.
He nodded slowly.
“Do you have evidence?” He nodded again.
“I see. Can you show me what you have?”
Luria made a virtual sigh. The most difficult moment was approaching. He handed her the report. She put on her reading glasses and started reading. The tears started coming down almost immediately, and Luria gently pushed towards her a box of tissues, which was placed upon his desk especially for such emergencies. She took her glasses off, grasped a few tissues and wiped her eyes, smearing her mascara.
“Who is the girl?”
“Just a girl,” said Luria, “a secretary in another attorney’s office.”
“Do you have pictures?” her voice quivered a bit. He nodded and slowly pushed the rest of the file towards her. It contained an envelope with a few printed pictures and a DVD. She pulled the pictures out of the envelope and leafed through them, then turned them over and read the captions on the back of each. Her features contorted as she struggled for control, but eventually she gave up. She put the envelope and the pictures on the desk, covered her face with both hands, and wept. Luria turned around and stared through the window; he really hated these moments.
A minute or two later she calmed down. Rachel Porat pulled out a small mirror and examined her face. “My makeup…” she said. “I look awful.” She pulled out a small makeup kit and tried to fix it. Luria kept staring through the window until she was done.
“And the DVD?” she asked. “What’s in it?”
“All the prints you have seen, more pictures and some video.”
“Video…” She shook her head. “So we have a movie too… that’s really nice.”
She closed her eyes. “Luria, how much do I owe you?”
“My secretary will hand you the bill. But there is no hurry.”
“You have done your job and there is no cause for delaying your fee.” She stood up, trying to convey a business-as-usual attitude. “And thank you,” she added, “you have done a professional job.”
“Just a moment,” said Luria, “there is something else you should know.”
“Something else?”
“You said that you have arrived straight from the airport. I suppose you have not had any contact with your husband for the last twelve hours or so.”
She searched his face for a clue. “We have hardly spoken in the last few weeks.”
“I am sorry. I am not a harbinger of good news today.”
“What happened?” asked Rachel, her alarm showing through.
“Your husband was injured. He is in the Rambam Hospital,” said Luria. “Nothing critical,” he added quickly.
“What happened to him?”
“Two broken legs.”
“Two broken legs? How did that happen?”
“And two broken arms; he claimed it was a bicycle accident.”
She shook her head in apprehension. “He must have finally pissed off one of those gangsters he is working for.”
Luria kept a blank face. “I don’t know. I just got word of it a few hours ago.”
“Do you think I should visit him?” she asked. “Or perhaps that girlfriend of his should take care of him…”
“It’s your decision.”
“That was just a rhetorical question. Of course, I will take care of him. He is still my husband, you know…”
“Of course.”
“But I can assure you that he will not remain so after he gets well and we sort out this business.” She waved the envelope. “I have had my suspicions, and this clinches it. He will not touch me again, even after they remove those casts.” She extended her hand and he shook it. “Shalom, Luria, and thanks again.” She turned around and started walking toward the door.
“Rachel,” Luria called after her.
She turned around.
“You are too good for this… this man, you know. You deserve more than that… much more.”
She did not smile. “I guess this was meant as a compliment,” she said. “Thank you.”
Then she turned around and walked out of the room.
38. Yeshayahu Orlev – Jerusalem, February 21st, 2010 (Sunday)
Once again, the door on the other side of the bougainvillea bush opened and Professor Yeshayahu Orlev was standing there, beaming. A few days earlier Luria received a phone call from the professor. Orlev had read Jeanne’s letters and offered to resume their conversation. Luria, of course, hurried to set up a meeting.
“Please come in, my friends,” said the professor with joy that Luria felt was quite genuine. Once inside, Jeanne kissed Orlev on both cheeks like an old friend, and the elderly man’s huge brown eyes lit up even more. He shook Luria’s hand enthusiastically and led the two to the antiquated couches in his living room. “I’ll be right back,” he said once they were seated. “Your tea is on its way.” As before, they could see him picking leaves and herbs in the garden. A few minutes later, he was back with the tray and the familiar teapot and started fussing, until each was holding a glass in a silver sheath, filled with the hot greenish, aromatic liquid. Orlev sat on his couch and watched his guests. Like in a ritual with fixed and known rules, the two of them tasted the tea. Luria, as usual, added generous amounts of sugar. They expressed their unprejudiced opinion that this was the best tea they had ever tasted and then spent a minute or so sipping silently from their glasses.
“I read the letters,” said Orlev eventually. “I confess I am intrigued. The descriptions of the 1799 battles are interesting, but there are already known and detailed accounts of these battles. However, this is the first direct reference I have ever come across to documents taken from Safed. This is, of course, if we assume this letter is genuine.”
“Do you doubt the authenticity of these letters?” wondered Jeanne.
“Well, dear,” the old professor smiled at her, “I am a historian, and I cannot really be sure before I see the originals.” Jeanne blushed.
Luria moved uneasily in his seat. How is it that he never suspected Jeanne’s story? He had never seen the originals either and she had already shown herself capable of forgery… but why would Jeanne do a thing like that? He raised his eyes to her, and saw that she was looking at him. She was clearly reading his thoughts.
“I am sorry.” Jeanne turned to the professor, but Luria knew she was addressing him as well. “The originals are in a safe back in France.” She paused for a moment. “I can have copies of the French originals faxed here.”
Orlev waved his hand. “I am afraid I have offended you, my dear. It is just that I am trained to confirm my resources before drawing conclusions. Anyway, for the sake of this discussion, let us assume the authenticity of these letters. They are, in fact, compatible with other leads I have encountered before.” He gave Jeanne a long, searching look. “Have you found out anything new since we last met?” He asked.
Luria shook off his nagging thoughts. “After our last meeting, we paid a visit to Professor Bennet.”
The smile on Professor Orlev’s face disappeared. "Professor Bennet… did you show him the letters?”
“Yes. We wanted to hear his opinion…” said Luria, feeling a bit angry. Orlev had no exclusive right to this knowledge and no cause to complain.