Disappearance (8 page)

CHAPTER 6

Naftali Mizrahi was nervous.  He kept rubbing the sweat off his forehead as he anxiously paced the tunnel inside the gate. His shirt was soaked and large wet circles had formed under his armpits.  He angrily loosened his tie, took off his jacket, and lit another cigarette.

He hated his boss for giving him the dirty jobs.

He was in his early forties, average height, dark skin, very bulky with enormous arms and an unpleasant stare under black, bushy eyebrows that met at the bridge of a very large crooked nose.  He was in top physical shape that was getting harder to maintain.  His sideburns were turning gray, his ears began to grow hairs, and he was losing his eyesight.  They'd fire him on the spot if they knew.  He knew his days at the Shin Bet were numbered and he dreaded the thought of leaving the job.  He could live on the pension, but he would be crushed without the activity.  He was part of the team.  He belonged. He needed a reason to wake up in the morning.

His orders were clear.   Say nothing, reveal nothing.   Keep them in the dark, avoid the major issues until reaching headquarters, and most important, keep the press away.

The girl's parents were due to arrive on El Al flight 002 from New York at 3:15 PM.  He was to meet them in the tunnel, before they reached the gate, escort them through the restricted area, bypass customs and immigration, and lead them out through a side exit into the waiting unmarked police car.

He had 15 minutes.

He reached down and jerked the short wave radio from his belt and checked with his driver and two agents.  The car was in place ignited and ready to go.  Agent Alef was at the side exit accompanying a special airport envoy who was to open the gate.  Agent Gimel was at the main terminal.  He reported that the press had gotten wind of this most anticipated arrival and were piling in.

“Too bad...” Mizrahi thought with satisfaction. They'll never get to see them.  He had no compassion for the press.  They were the real enemy in his eyes.  Having influenced too many delicate operations, they had no regard for keeping their traps shut about classified operations.

The cumbersome El Al Boeing 747 was slowly approaching its parking site.  Mizrahi alerted his agents, put on his jacket, straightened
his  suit,  demolished  his  cigarette,  and  stood erect.  The plane halted and shut off the piercing engine noise and soon the passengers began filing out.  They climbed down a flight of stairs onto the tarmac and boarded the buses which transported them to the Arrivals terminal.

Mizrahi stood back and surveyed the passengers.  His heart missed a beat as he saw the girl.  There was no mistaking.  He had seen her pictures in the files, with the search crews, on the evening news, and in all the papers.  It was either her or her twin sister with the parents by her side.  They were stumbling along trying to keep up with the mob, a bewildered expression on their faces. He swallowed hard and stepped forward.

"Mr. Glass? Mr. Paul Glass?"  he inquired, blocking their path, speaking English with a heavy accent.

The three stopped and looked at each other, confused.  Glass stepped in front of the women and nodded.

"Naftali Mizrahi, Israeli Foreign Ministry." Mizrahi formally introduced himself, producing ID showing his picture and an official looking golden badge.   He then held out his hand.

It was a long, awkward moment before Glass responded, studying the agent carefully before extending his hand.  "This is my wife Martha and my daughter Lisa," he said in a hoarse voice.

Mizrahi shook their hands.  He wasn't aware the sister was coming.   He noticed the dark rings under the women's reddened eyes.  The makeup couldn't hide the anxiety and distress.  They put up a respectable front, but seemed ready to burst into tears at any moment.

"We've taken special measures to expedite your arrival," he said putting his identification back in his jacket's inner pocket. "Please follow me."

He pointed to the direction from where they had just arrived. The family was too exhausted to question his authority and obediently swung around and followed him back out onto the tarmac where a security car pulled up.  They filed in and drove away passing parked airplanes and cargo hangars.  The agent met them at an isolated exit.  Mizrahi got out and approached the airport representative who disconnected the alarm system at an adjacent electrical power box, produced a large key bundle, fumbled with it and opened the gate.  They all filed into the unmarked, gray police car, which took off the instant the doors slammed shut.

"Where are we going?"  Mizrahi heard Mrs. Glass ask in what sounded like a whisper.

Sitting next to the driver, he turned his head and addressed them.

"First, I'd like to say on behalf of the Israeli government and everyone involved that we share your grief and that we are doing our very best to resolve the situation.

“You'll have anything you wish at your disposal for as long as it takes and that includes a car and a driver 24 hours a day. We are also paying for your accommodation at the Tel Aviv Hilton."

The three in the back stared at him blankly as he continued. "We  are  currently  on  our  way  to  meet  the  heads  of  the investigation. They will brief you on what transpired from the moment your daughter disappeared."  He abruptly stopped and faced the road, turning away from them.

"Mr. Mizrahi," he heard Glass begin to speak, "what do you mean disappeared?  Are you considering a possibility she was not forced against her will?"

Mizrahi turned around.  Glass was trying to control his rage but his eyes gave it away.  He was ready to burst.

"Mr. Glass," he began calmly, "I was never in your position so I won't claim to know how you feel at this moment. I understand you need answers right away but I ask you to be patient until we reach headquarters.  I have no knowledge of what  has  been  established  and  even  if  I  did, I have no authority to discuss it here.  You've been flying for over 20 hours - you must be exhausted.  I suggest you try to relax, we should be there in a few minutes."

He noticed Mrs. Glass putting her arm on her husband's shoulder.  Fighting to control his emotions he finally looked away and said nothing.

"What about our luggage?" he heard the daughter ask.

He turned and gave her an obnoxious smile noting that up close, she looked different from her sister. She was sitting between her parents, barely able to fit in her long slender legs.  Wearing a white blouse and a tight pair of jeans her hair which curled down her shoulders was a shade more brunette than blond and the color of her eyes transformed from gray to green coinciding with the location of the sun.   The skin on her plumb nose and traceable cheekbones was partially pealing from a tan but her expression was one of worry.

"Your luggage will be waiting for you at the Hilton," Mizrahi said then turned around and did not look back until they reached their destination.

-------

Mikki lay on his back, oblivious to the surroundings, studying the different shapes created by the shadows on his ceiling. Sleepless for days he had countless fantasies and endless visions, picturing her in a myriad of circumstances, one more terrifying than the other.  It was all he could do to try and reason such chaos.

Did she run away?  He mused, shutting his eyes in dismay wondering what was making him consider such a possibility. It felt terrifying but made no sense.  Too drastic a measure for the kind of relationship they had had.  She could have just as easily walked away.

“Nothing is ever what it seems…” he recalled her saying.  “Nothing is ever what it looks like on the surface…”

"What an odd thing to say, Karen," he whispered to himself thinking that her disappearance almost seemed predetermined; a prophecy that had fulfilled itself.  It now seemed as if she had considered herself condemned all along, anticipating such fate; then it happened, quick and merciless.

With his mind in such turmoil, it was becoming difficult to form a clear vision of her in his head.  Her beauty and charm became distant and vague.  She had offered a glimpse of her forsaken world the day she disappeared, now seeming ages ago, and she had wanted to talk then, but something curtailed her.  He remembered her reaction when he had asked about the scar.  The question had terrified her, and not for the first time.

“It's a dark world, Mikki, sick and frightening…”

He wondered what caused such pain.  What could be so frightening and so terrible that she wouldn't be able to tell him?

Nothing made sense but his mind would not stop racing.  The shadows on the ceiling were forming a train.   He could see passengers; he could see her again; she is smiling, she is happy…

A dark shadow erased the image. The ceiling turned black. Was he a butt of a joke, or a prank, or just another incidental element in some plot he wasn't aware of?  Anything seemed possible.  He recalled the agonizing first weeks of uncertainty, watching from afar as she got accustomed to kibbutz life.  He had almost given up, thinking it was pointless to chase such trouble, when they suddenly clicked.  He tried to envisage the relationship that would have evolved but could not get very far. It had started out so beautifully.

The images came back, haunting, threatening…

“Where are you, Karen?  Give us a sign,” he thought as his eyes closed and he fell into fitful sleep.

C
HAPTER 7

Captain Gabi Gadot was perplexed.

Having just left the Shin Bet headquarters in Tel Aviv, he was driving north on the coastal highway to Haifa, wallowing in morbid thoughts.  To the west was the Mediterranean Sea, the sun a red ball of fire disappearing beyond the darkening horizon.  He loved these sunsets and would often get off the highway, find a quiet patch of beach, take off his shoes and sit for a while, feet buried in the sand, enjoying the tranquil moment with the cool feel of the sand around his feet and the twilight sea breeze caressing his face.  But he was not enjoying any of it today.  Replaying the encounter over and over in his head, his mind filled with tormented faces and puzzling questions.

The briefing at headquarters turned out to be a disaster.  They had nothing to offer.   Unable, or unwilling, to give the distressed family any  relief,  they  had   made  a  joke  of themselves.  He could see their faces, shocked and confused. The father in a rage, the mother in tears, and the beautiful sister stunned.  Glass had ripped them apart and they sat there and took the abuse.  The heads of the most powerful and sophisticated intelligence agencies in the world, the Shin Bet and the Mossad, were totally baffled by a mere kidnapping case.

Gadot was not convinced.  He had seen these agencies operate.  He had seen them perform miracles. Something was up.  There had to be a reason for this sudden show of incompetency and he needed to understand it.   It was his investigation and his game to lose.   His prestige was on the line not to mention his career, his status, maybe even his job. He was not about to give it up on account of some obscure politics he did not understand, and he thought he knew what he needed to do.

Storming into his dark, empty office an hour later, he switched on the light and reached for the phone.  He quickly dialed and anxiously awaited, noticing the neat piles of phone messages, unopened mail and unattended files laying on his desk.  It will all have to wait for this unfortunate affair to be resolved, he thought.

"Dori here," he heard the phone being answered.   Captain Amir Dori was a personal friend.  He was also the airport police station chief.

"Dori, it’s Gadot," he said, skipping the customary pleasantries. "Sorry to bother you at home but where is that goddamned Volvo?"

"Gadot... are you OK?"   Dori asked, genuinely surprised.

"Dori, this is urgent. I'm calling you from my office. I need to know where that damn car is. Do you have it?"

"I got it back from the lab yesterday but Resnik sent a couple of his goons to pick it up. I released it this morning."

Gadot slammed his fist on the table in anguish. "These goddamn crooks will cost me my job!" he blurted falling back in his chair.

He continued before Dori had a chance to respond. "Listen Dori, I'll fill you in later.   Meanwhile, this call never took place. Promise me."

"If it involves Resnik, you better be careful, but if there is anything I can do, let me know. I hate those assholes as much as you do."

"Thanks Dori, I'll be in touch."  Gadot slammed the phone down and cupped his face in his hands, enraged at his own stupidity.   I should have seen it coming, he thought, tormenting himself, then he sat there for a while assessing his options.

He only had one.  He picked up the phone again and dialed.

"Hello," answered a female voice.

"Hi Gila, it's me," he said, trying to sound cheerful.

"Hi Gabi, where are you?"

"At the office.  Is Yossi around?" he asked, cutting the chit chat short.

"Yeah, sure, hold on," Gila said, taken aback. They were good friends and would normally chat.

Yossi Gadot was his only brother.  Three years his junior, he and his wife Gila lived in Ramat Aviv with their three-year-old daughter, Ronit.  He worked for the Shabac.

Yossi picked up the phone. "Hey big brother, what's up?"

"Yossi, the Karen Glass case. It's turning sour!  I need to see you right away!"

"Where are you?"  Yossi asked, surprised by his brother's bluntness.

"Haifa, at the office.  Meet me at Disengoff square in two hours!"

He didn't wait for a reply.  He hung up the phone and stood up.  It would take him an hour and a half to get there. He had a half hour
to change into civilian clothes and get a bite to eat.

-------

Coffee houses, restaurants and shops were humming with activity.   People sat around smoking and drinking.   Tourists from the surrounding hotels swarmed the square enjoying the warm weather and spicy food, adding color to the festive atmosphere.   Captain Gadot ordered a  Falafel to  go  with tehina and humus, picked up a Kinley orange soda, and sat on a wooden bench at the edge of the square.

Yossi arrived on time.   The captain watched him as he approached the bench.  He was two inches taller than himself, thinner and more agile.  They both had blue eyes and red hair cut very short.   The captain admired his form.   He had a catlike walk, swift and effortless. They train them well, he admitted to himself watching his brother approach.  My men should look this good, he thought.

Yossi sat on the bench and quietly waited for his brother to finish his dinner.  His expression gave nothing away.  He seemed perfectly calm with an aura of self-assurance that helped the captain relax.

Gadot stuffed the rest of the Falafel in his mouth, gulped down the soda, and threw the bottle in an adjacent trash can.

"Have you eaten?" he asked politely, anticipating the answer.

His brother nodded. 

He went on.  "Are you familiar with the Glass case?"

"Only from the media coverage.
  I'm not assigned to the case. We have other duties you know…"

Gadot ignored the cynical remark.

"It stinks Yossi, all the way up to your cherished boss!"

It was Yossi's turn to ignore the scornful remark. "Are you in trouble big brother?"

"Big trouble, little brother, and you're my only hope."

Yossi didn't flinch.  He patiently waited for the captain to go on.

"Her family flew in today.  We had a briefing at headquarters. I think Resnik and Tavori are setting me up."

"You're paranoid big brother?"

"We have nothing Yossi.  Four days of investigation and we got zilch, zero, nada.   They won't cooperate. I can't use the informants. I can't use the satellites or intelligence photos.  I can't use any electronic intelligence and they won't let me talk to any of you.

“The father blasted us and rightly so.  I looked like a fool. Resnik and Abramov just sat there and took the abuse.  I've never seen them so latent.  Those bastards know something Yossi, and if I don't find out what it is, I'll be history."

"What do you think they're hiding?" Yossi asked, not convinced but willing to listen.

"In the last four days we've reached nothing but dead ends. We found no clues at the abduction site or the immediate area.   We were going around in circles 'till the Volvo was found at the airport.  The girl was in it.  We found an earring and a hairpin that belongs to her.  We are certain of that.

“That's when I thought I got my break.   We checked every passenger list, security tape, ground crews, and flight crews of every airline.  We went as far as checking every airport and sea port in the country and guess what?   She never left the country.

“We next sent the car to the lab and let me tell you: whoever pulled this off
did  a  thorough  job;  false license plates, no  finger  prints. It left me one last recourse - tracing the car owner by the manufacturing identification number through Motor Vehicles, but guess what?  No one bothered to get me this information and Dori just told me that Resnik seized the car."

He paused for effect then went on.

"Whatever they know has got to be connected with the car, Yossi.   It's my last and only avenue and I need to find out where the Volvo is so I can get that damned ID number!"

They were quiet for a while.  Gabi's plea was out in the open. Yossi took his time.   It was risky but he could do it. 
The faster, the better.  Who knew what Resnik was up to?  His brother made a crucial mistake that could prove costly to them both.  They could both lose their jobs and possibly more…

The captain read his mind.

"Yossi, I thought we were working together so I let them handle it.  They obviously traced the car and found something that could get them in trouble.  I fucked up.  I should have done it myself! So, shoot me, what can I say?"

Yossi smiled for the first time.   He turned, looked at his brother and started to chuckle. 

"What a country," he said shaking his head in amusement, "if it wasn't for the Arabs, we would have done ourselves in by now."  Their eyes met and they both started to laugh a desperate laugh.  "Why did I ever follow your lead?" Yossi heckled between gasps, referring to his chosen career.

They calmed down, the hysterical outburst subsiding.  They were rational again. 

"Go home Gabi," Yossi said, "Rachel is worried.  She called an hour ago.  Get some rest and wait for my call."

"Can you handle it alone? I…"

Yossi cut him off.  "It's the only way I can do it, Gabi.  I can't trust anyone with this."

They stood up.

"Sorry little brother, I ran out of options," Gadot said.

Yossi shook his hand.  His eyes had a spark in them signaling he was ready.  "Wait for my call," he said and disappeared in the crowd.

-------

Mikki felt drained.  He had slept and eaten little in the last four days.  He had no appetite, no stamina, and his weakened body ached.  He had been questioned and interviewed and was by now wary of everyone. Reporters flocked the kibbutz and would not go away; television and radio crews set up shop to flash hourly news bulletins to their affiliates around the world, and the police, along with various security and intelligence agencies, kept coming back for more details.

Everyone was after him and he had no place to hide.  Now, Karen's father had called from their hotel.   They were on their way and he was in no shape to face them.  He felt guilty; he felt pity, and worst of all, he knew nothing of consequence that would help shed light on the fate of their daughter.

He sat in the lobby of the kibbutz's guest house.  The Geffen guest house was a luxurious inn which offered accommodation to those touring the Upper Galilee and Northern Israel.   As one of the oldest and most established guest houses in northern Israel, it was known around the world for its enchanting setting and Sabra type hospitality, providing tourists with comfortable proximity to all attractions while granting a firsthand look into kibbutz life.

May was an average month, but with members of the media swarming for scoops, the place was packed.   To his amazement, Mikki realized word had gotten out about the family's arrival.  Members of the kibbutz managed to keep the media out of the lobby, but outside cameras were rolled out of the news vans, lights were being set up, tapes were reeling, and eager reporters stood ready with pencils and notebooks. A buzz of excitement had rippled through as everyone tensely awaited the arrival of the woeful family.

Mikki noticed his coffee mug shaking.  He put it down, got up and nervously began pacing the floor.  The  lobby  was relatively empty, the only people in it being a small group of newly-arrived  guests  being  attended  to  at  the  reception counter and a few curious onlookers who kept out of his way. He blessed the kibbutz for giving him the support. They kept reporters away and handled matters with the authorities.  His family and friends were there when he needed them.  Meeting Kare
n‟
s family was a matter he felt he needed to handle alone and had asked David and his parents to stay home.

He was trying to establish justifications to the general lack of information surrounding Kare
n’
s disappearance, feeling guilty about the benign effort that had been administered.  He had remained with the last of the search crews, doing everything within his power to help.  When they pulled out he organized his own search team with Shlomo and Ronni.  They searched everywhere and questioned everyone with no success. He met Gadot's police investigators and together they traced their entire route once again looking  for  clues,  pestering, questioning anyone who might have noticed something, anything. When the Volvo was found, he was asked to get to the airport to take a look at the car and the possessions found inside. He identified the ear-ring and once again replayed their trip over and over in his mind trying to recall whether the car looked familiar in any way, but came up empty.  Frustrated at not being allowed to get more involved, he had watched from afar as veteran detectives from every discipline of Israeli investigative bureaux threw everything they had at solving the mystery, but with no results.

He stopped pacing.

A gray, four door sedan, pulled up to the curb in front of the lobby and was instantly mobbed.  Mikki anxiously watched as the family stepped out of the car, shielding their eyes from the flood of flashing lights.  He watched Shlomo, Ronni and other kibbutz members shield off zealous reporters with their bodies, creating a flimsy corridor  for  Karen's  parents  and sister to pass through.  The two women lowered their heads and hastily trotted toward the lobby door.  The father held his head high and slowly followed behind, conspicuously unaware of the commotion, his expression concerned, his eyes focused straight ahead.