Crossing the Lines

by Jacob Ganani

  “Well, sorry, but it took longer than I thought. I hope you just confirmed it tentatively,” Cantor’s tone was unintentionally apologetic.

  “No! Not tentatively at all. Didn’t we say we’d stick with Gilboa’s schedule? It’s too bad you don’t inform me when you disappear for a month... but forget it, it doesn’t matter anymore, since I canceled ten minutes ago.”

  “Sorry.” Cantor decided not to be drawn into an argument. He looked around and noticed people were beginning to listen to their conversation, and he didn’t like it.

  To his dismay, Haddad persisted. “Didn’t you say it’d only take a few minutes with Ami? Is there a problem I should know about?”

  “Definitely not,” Cantor lied with a dismissive wave of his hand as if the matter was irrelevant. “We just started talking and lost track of time, and then I had something else to do.”

  “What did he even want?” This could have been just a matter of interest. Or perhaps it wasn’t.

  “Nothing special. I'll tell you about it later.”

  “Got it. So why did it take you three hours, anyway?”

  “I had some errands to do. Maybe we could try to reschedule with Gilboa?”

  “No, he already revised his calendar and gave me an earful about how unprofessional we are. How’s your investigation going? Any progress?”

  “Nothing new. So far, no leads indicate a leak,” Cantor lied.

  “Wrong.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me.”

  Cantor rested his chin on his palm, looked at Haddad and then said slowly, pronouncing each syllable, “I’m not sure I understood. Can you explain, please?”

  Haddad motioned for him to join him at his desk. Then he scanned the nearby desks as if to make sure no one was listening in, and lowered his voice.

  “Suppose I show you that there was an opportunity, even a slight one, that any one of us could have leaked this op. Then will you agree to investigate this possibility further?”

  Cantor nodded in agreement.

  “I had such an opportunity.”

  Cantor hoped his eyes would not betray him. “Bullshit,” he lied resolutely. “I was with you from the moment the briefing began until the teams were deployed. You didn’t leave the compound or have access to your phone. Yeremi also remembers it that way. Basically, unless you had telepathic powers, you couldn’t have leaked any info.” His pretend rage sounded fairly convincing.

  “I actually had a very simple opportunity to do so.”

  “So it must be like that riddle where a man’s murdered in a locked, windowless room and he has the only key… I never understood how to solve those things.” Cantor felt that it was way too easy to connect to the gifted liar within him, and somehow it didn’t feel quite so good.

  Haddad grimaced and shook his head from side to side as if he was skeptical of Cantor's inability to solve such riddles. “It’s very simple. I saw the diagrams the night before in Ami's office.”

  At that moment, Cantor wished he could see his own expression. Yet he didn’t need a mirror, as he could imagine the look on his face - that of a foolish liar caught in the act. He pursed his lips as he listened to Haddad's version of the story he had heard from Ami Zweig.

  “Okay.” Cantor restored his composure. “Okay, so there was a hole in my theory since you presumably had a whole night to disclose the plans to whoever you wanted -”

  “Now do you see?”

  “I see. So, while we’re on the subject, was it you? Are you the leak? Can I tell Azar that I solved the case?”

  Haddad chuckled. “Leak? Stop whitewashing it, just say ‘traitor!’ But no, Cantor, unfortunately, I have no confession for you. I’m not the man you’re looking for.”

  “That’s such a relief, Albert!” He lied without hesitation, recognizing that a denial did not automatically clear Haddad of any suspicion. “But we can’t waste any more time now. My meeting with Ami? Listen, he remembered the surprise visit you paid him, put two and two together, and that’s why he called me this morning. He delicately hinted at this possibility and I sent him to hell.” Cantor knew he was releasing information that would eventually reach Haddad in any case. He observed Haddad’s astonishment.

  “Oded, you’re a lying piece of... I wonder where you learned to lie like that.” Haddad shook his head in disbelief. “I don’t think I can ever trust another word that comes out of your mouth.”

  “Did I have any choice? That’s why I was late,” Cantor said, “because after that talk with Ami, I had to get my thoughts in order.”

  “Okay, but hold on a minute. I can actually understand Ami, and maybe even you. Although, I must say, I’m a bit jealous of anyone who can tell such convincing lies and to someone he considers a friend. I'm beginning to understand what it takes to be a Mossad agent,” Haddad said, winking at Cantor, who wasn’t actually sure if he was joking. “The question is whether Ami’s already reported this further up?” Cantor wondered if he could detect a tone of concern in Haddad's voice.

  “He said he didn’t and I believe him. He wanted me to check with you first, so I'm going to speak with him in the hope that this will put an end to it.”

  “Tell me something, Oded,” Haddad scratched the back of his neck, “don’t you find it a bit odd that Ami, of all people, decided not to report this? Why would he take such a risk?”

  “Good question. It does look rather strange, but on the other hand, the fact that he’s a square doesn’t mean he can’t exercise some judgment in such sensitive matters. Don’t you think?” Cantor wondered.

  “Judgment that’s contrary to procedures?” asked Haddad.

  “I agree, that's a problem.”

  “And another thing,” Haddad continued, “did you say ‘square’?”

  “Are you kidding me? He’s the king of squares! Isn’t he? By the way, you know what his hobby is?”

  “Do you think that’s really his hobby?”

  Cantor smiled, “Yeah, I see what you mean, but putting together jigsaw puzzles is still considered a hobby, although a strange one.”

  Haddad gave him a strange look. Or did he just imagine it?

  Haddad said he needed thirty minutes to run some errands. He picked up his car keys and left. Cantor’s thoughts returned to Ami Zweig, a man who was markedly “free from suspicion,” which posed a problem right there. The saying “Nothing is ever as it seems” reverberated round his head.

  CHAPTER 14

  Cantor glanced at his watch. Haddad's sudden departure gave him a little time to clear his head before he returned to the investigation. It was time for updates from the field, the bread and butter of every detective. It was the third time during these past two weeks that his CI had called to ask for an urgent meeting. The first two times, he had refused. The informant, who was a serious drug addict, had tried to sell him nothing more than rubbish in the last six months. Yet, this time, he thought he heard something more in his cracked voice. Possibly. Well, he would give him another chance. One last chance. He picked up his keys and left.

  The CI, Shimi, spent his days in southern Tel Aviv on the intersection of Allenby and Rothschild. At first, it had seemed like it was worth investing in the guy because his brother was a well-known figure in the city’s underworld. But then disappointment followed disappointment as he was unable to provide anything useful. Cantor thought he knew why. His brother just saw the obvious and kept his guard up when he was around.

  Cantor stopped the car about twenty yards from the intersection and watched Shimi drift along the sidewalks with a nervous, restless motion. A grotesque, skeletal figure ravaged by drugs, he was a man young in age, but old and decrepit in appearance. Cantor got out of the car and quickly caught up with him. He tapped Shimi’s shoulder lightly, making him jerk in panic. He turned around, revealing a shriveled face, expressionless eyes with pupils the size of pinheads and an almost toothless mouth. Behind them was an empty shop. Cantor stared at the informant’s reflection in the shop�
��s window, avoiding making eye contact.

  “How’s it going, Shimi? You feeling okay?”

  “Mr. Oded... you scared me. I just really need some -”

  As Cantor pulled out a fifty from his pocket, Shimi's eyes fixed onto it. Cantor withdrew his hand and asked, “How's your brother, Shimi? Have you heard from him lately?”

  Shimi's eyes darted in all directions. His fear was real, but the draw of the money that would serve to finance his next fix did its job. His words came out in a hoarse whisper and at a dizzying speed, treading upon each other. Yes, he had heard his brother talking to someone over the phone. They talked about “taking someone down...” He stopped and reached toward Cantor's hand.

  Cantor moved his hand further away and asked, “Shimi, did you hear a name?”

  “Yes... but...” he stuttered, his eyes fixed on Cantor's clenched fist.

  Cantor reached into his pocket and pulled out a twenty. Shimi, his body trembling like a leaf in the wind, uttered a name. A familiar name - all too familiar. If this proved to be true, then he would have to recalculate his entire course of action.

  He pushed the two crumpled bills into the informant’s shirt pocket. He thought he saw a clear glimmer of relief in his eyes, perhaps even a sign of something resembling happiness. He knew the bills would be on their way to the “white death” dealer in a matter of moments.

  He turned and hurried to his car, thoughts spinning in his head. His mind was putting together the name he had just heard with what had happened to him. Was this further proof that there is no such thing as coincidence - that the accident in Vietnam was an attempt to kill him?

  CHAPTER 15

  The policeman lay on the bed in his dark room. He was on his back with his right hand hanging down as he felt the cold of the half-empty bottle of vodka. His service revolver was on the bedside table. His hand rose, as if of its own volition, to caress the barrel of the gun. As his fingers felt the power emanating from the cold steel, his mind incessantly painted a picture of the woman he had fallen in love with. This was the first time he had become so attached to a woman that he had lost himself completely, becoming obsessive, codependent and unable to control his own life - the first time he had lost interest in anything that was not this woman. It was also the first time he had experienced the greatest happiness he had ever known, a joy that had turned his existence from a burden into something worthwhile, a life to which he rose happily every morning with the promise of a new day. How sure he had been that his bad luck had finally turned.

  And then, just at the peak of his happiness, he was hit by a blow that would shatter him. The cruel abandonment. The spit in the face. The used garment being discarded - in a sudden, casual telephone conversation in which she curtly ended things… with such indescribable cruelty! It left him paralyzed. Thunderstruck.

  Tears flowed from his eyes and ran down his neck. With his fingertips, he could feel the cool metal trying to lure him to do the right thing, to end this misery for once and for all…

  But to end it like that? To give everyone reason to believe that he was no more than a pathetic loser? No! Something else must be done!

  The angel of chaos he had dispatched was already on his way to do what was needed. Soon, everyone would know who the real loser was!

  He reached for the bottle, tipped it to his lips and sipped it dry. A few minutes later, he sank into a blessed unconsciousness.

  CHAPTER 16

  Cantor recalled his conversation with Haddad at the hospital - the conversation in which Haddad accused him of being paranoid, insisting that the accident was nothing more than a hit and run, and that seeing that Kawasaki in front of the hotel was a mere coincidence. So who was paranoid now? And what was he to do with this new information? Should he share it with Haddad? Procedures determined that he was obliged to report it to his team leader. But on the other hand, the credibility of this information was dubious. How had he even become a target? How did he end up with a contract on his head? Who had sufficient reason to justify the risk of murdering a police officer? Who had he managed to anger or distress enough to want him removed for good?

  No, he should know more before he shared the matter with Haddad. The report would have to wait, and there was no point in worrying about the possible implications.

  What about the matter itself? Cantor, whose body and soul still bore the scars of the Vietnam saga, suddenly felt a pang of fear. If this was a follow-up to the first attempt on his life, then it was clear that these guys were not playing around. He felt rage rising within him and taking control of his thoughts. If this was a game for his life, he would show them what kind of player they were dealing with. Now he needed an immediate plan of defense. Ignoring the information he had received was not an option.

  When he got back to his desk, a message was waiting for him from Haddad. Their conversation would have to be postponed till tomorrow. There was no explanation. It turned out that Haddad had his own urgent and mysterious business. But this worked out well for Cantor. He was even pleased for the time out he had earned, especially since the request to postpone did not come from him. His investigation beckoned. He decided to spend the remaining part of the day working on his assignment. On his computer, he found new emails from Messiah. At least someone around here was quick and efficient. He made himself a cup of coffee, put on his headphones and opened the first file.

  The next time he looked at his watch, it was 6:00pm. He picked up the phone and dialed a number that belonged to another life.

  “Cantor? Wow, I was just thinking about you -”

  “And besides thinking, what else did you do?”

  The voice on the line laughed. “Well, at least I don’t need to apologize to you. How’s it going with the men in blue?”

  “Better than I expected. But don’t get carried away about the blue - I’m in civilian clothes. Avi, I need something from you.”

  “Something that won’t put an end to my career, I hope...”

  “Some career… nah, just kidding. I need a car warning sensor with a cellular transmitter.”

  “Are you serious?” Avi’s voice expressed surprise. “You suspect someone’s -”

  “Something like that. Can I stop by tonight?”

  “Come on over, I’ll have one ready.”

  “Thanks, bro.”

  CHAPTER 17

  Wednesday - Evening and Night

  Cantor parked his car in front of his apartment building. He could see the bedroom window from his parking spot. He climbed the stairs to the third floor and, as he opened the apartment door, he was surprised to find the table set for a candlelit dinner, complete with a white tablecloth and a bottle of red wine. He immediately thought that he had misjudged Daphne’s intentions and was flooded with feelings of joy. Could it be that, in spite of everything, things were going to work out between them? Suddenly, the negative experiences of the last few months seemed to have only been imagined. Could this mean that she really wanted him? That she hadn’t given up on them, and still believed in the connection they shared? Was it possible that the recent arguments and quarrels were no more than a natural release of steam?

  Daphne appeared, wearing an elegant, black dress and a bright smile lit her beautiful face.

  “Don’t worry, Cantor, I didn’t cook… I just ordered out for Italian,” she said in a soft, affectionate tone.

  He looked at her bright smile and couldn’t imagine why he had thought their relationship was about to become history. I want her, and I’ll fight for her with all I’ve got, he thought and then reached for her and kissed her, a long passionate kiss.

  “Let’s start with the wine. The food will arrive any minute,” she said and looked worriedly at him. “You look beat.”

  “I know. I can’t remember when I last got some sleep. But now nothing else matters except the two of us. Let me take a quick shower and clean up since you’ve made such an effort.” He stroked her shoulder gently and, on his way to the shower, he stopped by t
he table, lit the candles and poured wine into the crystal glasses that glimmered with flickers of yellow and red.

  “Wow, and I thought you were hungry...” she said ten minutes later, as Cantor appeared in a bathrobe, his hair still wet.

  “I am hungry.”

  “Ah... and you’re also glad to see me...” She laughed as her eyes scanned his toned body and lingered on the bulge below the belt of his robe.

  He stepped forward, took her by the waist and lowered her gently onto the thick carpet.

  “You must have done something really bad.” She sighed with pleasure.

  “Me? Something bad? When, exactly? No way... I’m just spoiling my love,” he whispered, slipping off the robe.

  “Wait a second, this is my best dress.”

  “We’ll buy a new one, I can’t wait…” He reached under her dress to pull down her panties. He knelt between her legs and her sighs turned to moans as he entered her in a burst of passion that swept through them like the blow of a hammer, leaving them both breathless.

  “That’s good... so good...” she moaned.

  “God... don’t stop, don’t stop...” he cried, exploding inside her.

  For a few moments, they lay intertwined on the carpet, feeling the pleasurable weakness spread from their toes to their heads, and then Cantor rose and disappeared into the bedroom. When he returned a few minutes later, Daphne was waiting for him with a glass of wine in her hand.

  “Wow, you’re dressed up like a Hollywood star!” she exclaimed with delight.

  “Just for you, sweetheart,” he replied, sitting beside her.

  They picked up their glasses, entwined their arms and drank with their heads touching. A new beginning, he thought.

  They sipped their wine and kissed and sipped again. It was the beginning of a wonderful night.

  Yet the new day carried bad tidings.