The Kabbalist (5 page)

The galley was getting
out of control. The Captain stood on the bridge, shouting. He was holding on to
the railing with much difficulty, and looked totally helpless. Philippe
estimated that within a few more swings, the waves would overflow the deck,
placing the galley in immediate danger of capsizing. He realized that he must save
himself and the valuable asset he was carrying. The only way, dangerous as it
might be, was to jump into the water and try to hang on to something. He might
then be saved by another ship or drift to the shore, which could not have been
too far away.

He made his way to the
starboard side of the deck, but the crowd of people blocked his path. He
unsheathed his sword and raised it threateningly, clearing a path that led him
toward the railing. However, before he could reach it, the galley swung hard to
starboard, and Philippe lost his step and slid down the sloping deck. He hit
the railing, which was already immersed in water, and was flung over it,
finding himself diving in the salty water of the Mediterranean.

He felt intense pain in
his thigh, as his razor-sharp sword cut through flesh and muscle, and
immediately lost consciousness.

I
t was 5 PM on a cold
winter day. Yossi Luria sat behind the desk at his office, browsing his
computer screen. He was examining pictures, which documented a
rendezvous
between a man and a woman. They chronicled the encounter from the start at a hotel
lobby to the climax in one of the hotel rooms. The pictures were sampled from
HD videos, which documented the rendezvous in a graphic and conclusive way,
allowing the faces of the couple to be easily identified.

Luria then gazed at the
printout resting inside the open file on his desk. There was no doubt about the
man’s identity. He was a known character in Haifa, something of a local
celebrity. His client will surely get her money’s worth.

Luria smiled. His smile
had little to do with the joy of victory of another solved case. There was the
mirth of vengeance there and some bitterness. A private eye spying on
unfaithful husbands… How lower can you get? He did not like what was happening
to him. This was not his dream. He was a top-notch investigator, and knew it.
Until four years ago, anybody who was somebody in the northern region of the
Israeli police knew it. Everyone knew that Superintendent Luria was a rising
star who would go far. The detective unit he had built from scratch became a blueprint
for other regions. He brought with him the enthusiasm and passion from the
elite reconnaissance company he had led and commanded during his military
service in the IDF. He saw the admiration in the eyes of his subordinates and
enjoyed the appreciation of his superiors. He felt so sure of himself that he
became blind and arrogant. His hubris facilitated his fall…

The telephone brought
him back to reality. It was his secretary. “What is it, Noga?”

“There is someone here
to see you; Attorney Porat.”

Luria glimpsed at his
calendar. “I don’t have any appointment planned for now.”

“I know. He never made
one. Is there a problem?”

“Well... No. Just give
me a minute before you send him in.” He
ejected
the DVD from his computer drive, opened a drawer and shoved the DVD inside, along
with the file containing the documents and printouts.

The man who stepped in
was in his forties, good-looking, well-groomed and well-dressed. He was holding
an elegant black leather briefcase in his hand. Luria recognized him. Yigal
Porat was a very successful criminal lawyer, among whose clients one could
count Ze’ev Srur, the heaviest criminal shark in Haifa. Luria loathed Porat. He
was also sure that the fact that Porat was the very man whose picture was now tucked
in his drawer, was no pure coincidence.

“Mr. Luria,” the man
extended his hand and smiled for the record. “I have heard a lot about you.”

Luria joined the
charade. “Only good things, I hope. And you, of course, are Attorney Porat.
Glad to meet you again.”

“Have we met before?” Porat
feigned surprise. Luria hated it.

“Yes. About four years
ago at the Haifa Police headquarters. I summoned Ze’ev Srur for questioning,
and you managed to extricate him and ruin my career in the process.”

Porat looked at Luria
for a few seconds, and then grinned. “Yes, of course, I remember the case now.
So you are
that
Luria … a classic case of a cop who did not know his
place.”

Luria strained to
control his growing anger. He pointed at the chair in front of him and sat down
on his side of the desk. Porat stretched himself in the chair, looked at Luria
with his all-knowing eyes, and said nothing.

“What can I do for you,
Attorney Porat?”

Porat kept staring at
him. “Do we have to play this game?” he asked eventually.

“Excuse me?”

“You know very well why
I am here.”

“Do I?”

“Really, Luria, you
should know by now that you must not underestimate my intelligence. Please stop
this charade.”

“Can you please
explain?” Luria was actually starting to enjoy this.

“So you do insist on
playing the game. OK, I’ll play along, then. I want to strike a deal with you.”

“What deal?”

“I know my wife paid
you a visit, and I know that you are gathering material on me. I am willing to
double whatever she is paying, to have you conclude this investigation with
negative results.”

Luria kept silent.

“With what you are
getting from her, that’s three times…”

“Attorney Porat, please!”
It was now Porat’s turn to turn silent.

“Even if what you say
were
true,” said Luria quietly, “what you are asking me to do is criminal and is
also in violation of every ethical rule in the book. You are insulting me!”

“What ethical rules?
Don’t make me laugh! Since when do ethics have anything to do with your
profession?”

Luria stood up, noisily
pushing his chair back. “Good night, Mr. Porat, our conversation is over.”

Porat understood he had
gone too far. “Wait a minute, Luria, don’t lose your temper. Please forgive me.
I never meant to insult you. Let’s get this conversation back on its proper
tracks.”

Luria stayed on his
feet. “Mr. Porat, I am afraid you do not understand. This has nothing to do
with me being insulted. I just cannot help you.”

Porat grew red with
indignation. “I am not sure you have taken into account the consequences of a rash
act by yourself, Luria”

“Is this a threat?”

“I am just asking you
to reconsider. My wife is leaving tomorrow for a long vacation in Europe, and
this leaves us some time. I will expect to hear your final answer in a few
days. Shall we say Monday?”

“Don’t expect any of
this to happen. Really, Mr. Porat, this conversation has exhausted itself.
Good-bye and good night to you.”

Porat rose from his
chair and started walking out. Before reaching the door, he turned around.
“Luria, you are a clever guy. Please do not play with fire.
You
of all
people should know this. My advice to you is to think this over again.” He
slammed the door behind him.

Luria dropped into his
chair. A small vein beating in his right temple testified to his anger. He was
not sure what made him angrier. Was it Porat or was it the nature of the work
he had found for himself? Yossi Luria was not the type to be intimated. Threats,
in fact, had the opposite effect on him, driving him to fight back. Porat and
his friends did not scare him, but he would have preferred going into battle over
worthier causes.

The phone rang again.
“What is it now, Noga?”

“There is somebody here
to see you, and yes, she has made no appointment.”

“I am having nausea.
Can you push it to tomorrow morning?”

“Tomorrow you are out
of the office all day. You had better see her now.”

Luria hesitated. He
needed some time for himself, but Noga was right. “OK, Send her in.”

“Good. She does not
speak Hebrew. Try English or French.”

Almost immediately, the
door was opened by Noga, who usually never bothered to escort clients into his office.
Luria stood up. Into the room walked a young woman of twenty-five or so, who
seemed to have stepped out of the cover of
Vogue
. She was undoubtedly
one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen. She walked towards him and
extended her hand. “Mr. Luria, my name is Jeanne. Jeanne de Charney.” Her
English had a conspicuous French accent.

The smell of her
perfume distracted Luria for a moment, but he immediately came to and shook her
hand. “Yossi Luria, but you can call me Luria. Everybody does.” He pointed at
the chair. “Please sit down, Ms. de Charney. What can I do for you?”

Noga remained frozen in
her place, with her eyes glued to the guest and Luria had to remind her of his
existence. “Thank you, Noga." She gave him an embarrassed smile and left.
The two sat down, facing each other across the desk.

Jeanne looked curiously
at Luria’s face for a while and then smiled. “Interesting,” she said, “you remind
me of somebody I know.”

“I hope he is a nice
somebody,” Luria was happy to join her attempt at ice breaking.

“Well, yes, definitely.
My cousin Louis is one of my closest friends, a charming and capable young man.”

“So, I do hope I will
not disappoint you.”

Jeanne smiled again,
and Luria felt he was melting. “What would you like to drink, Madam?” he asked.
Before she could answer, the door opened and Noga marched in with a tray of
coffee and cookies. “A short espresso, just like you asked, Jeanne,” she stated
ceremoniously, and proceeded to arrange the cups, saucers and cookies on the
desk. Luria was surprised. This type of service was reserved by Noga for VIPs only.

“You run a most efficient
office,” laughed Jeanne. “Thank you, Noga”

“The pleasure is mine,
Jeanne.” Noga beamed and left the room. Luria thought that if she had a tail,
she would have probably been wagging it. Noga was obviously enchanted with his
guest. He never saw her act this way. And the two were already on a first-name
basis…

Jeanne took a sip from
her cup. Even the way she lifted the cup to her lips had a certain grace and
aristocracy about it. She enjoyed the taste for a few seconds. Then she put the
cup down with that same effortless grace and looked at him. “Mr. Luria, I have
heard good things about you, and I need your help.”

“It is Luria. You can
drop the Mr. Where did you hear about me, may I ask?

“My uncle Charles is a
senior officer in the Caen police. He inquired with some colleagues in the
Israeli police about private investigators in the north of Israel, and your
name came up. And, by the way, you can call me Jeanne.”

‘So Commander Arnon
still thinks well of me after all,’ thought Luria, finding the thought
comforting. “OK, Jeanne,” he said, “I will be glad to help. What is this all
about?”

Her big blue eyes
looked at him over the brim of the cup. She then lowered the cup, considering
where to begin. “Well,” she said eventually, her beautiful face becoming all at
once serious, “this is a long story. I hope you have the time and patience to
hear me out.”

Luria reached for his
coffee cup, raised it to his lips and sipped the bittersweet liquid, his eyes
fixed on the young woman in front of him. “First,” he said, “there is the
matter of the fee. This conversation will cost you nothing, but after I
understand what is required of me, I will specify my fee. It is only fair to
tell you that my services are not the cheapest in town.”

Jeanne smiled that
disarming smile of hers. “I fully understand. I believe we can reach an agreement
that will accommodate both of us.”

“Fine,” Luria relaxed
in his chair. “I, too, believe we are going to have no problems here, but these
things must be said. Let us begin. We have all the time in the world. I am
listening.”

“Thank you,” said
Jeanne. “I’ll begin by telling you about my family.” She rolled back her chair
and crossed her legs, somewhat impairing Luria’s concentration. “Well,” she
began, “the de Charneys come from Normandy, France. The first de Charney we
have a record of is Jules. He was a young cavalry officer in the service of
William, Duke of Normandy, also known later as William the Conqueror. Jules
fought side by side with the Duke in the battle of Hastings in 1066, when
William defeated the army of Harold II, King of England and changed the course
of English history.”

Jeanne glimpsed at
Luria’s face to make sure she did not lose him. History was never Luria’s forte,
but from his expression one could imagine that William the Conqueror and the
battle of Hastings were household names with him.

“In this battle, Jules saved
the Duke’s life. William, who soon became William I of England, never forgot
his debt to the bold cavalry officer and with a gesture of endearment, young
Jules, now Jules de Charney, won a title and an estate in Normandy. Since then,
our family tree has included a wide variety of public figures and free traders,
but mostly army officers. De Charneys served in the crusades, helped defeat the
Holy Roman Empire in the Thirty Years War, served the great King Louis IV,
fought the English during the Seven Years War in India and North America,
participated in the French Revolution, and served under Napoleon Bonaparte,
Napoleon III and in the two World Wars of the 20
^th
century. In
short, my family’s story is a lesson in French history.” Jeanne paused for a
moment and smiled. “I hope this history lesson has not worn you down. This was
just the background. I am now coming to what brought me here.”

“I find your story
fascinating,” said Luria. “Please continue.”

Jeanne smiled again. “I
am a student, and I am working on my master’s degree in French History. A few
months ago, I had to come up with a subject for my thesis. I chose to focus on
one of Napoleon’s unsuccessful campaigns – his Holy Land Campaign, the one in
which he was defeated in Acre. I chose this subject because one of the de
Charneys actually participated in this campaign, and I was hoping to discover
in the family archives something I could use in my thesis. With this in mind, I
drove to the old de Charney estate in Normandy, to visit my uncle Claude, who
lives there. In the cellar of the house, we have piles of boxes filled with
letters and documents, some of which are very old – a real treasure trove for a
historian. With the help of Louis, my beloved cousin, who volunteered to assist
me, we started digging into the dusty boxes. After a few days of hard work, we
found something.

“It was a pack of crumbling
letters from 1799, sent from Captain Pascal de Charney of the expeditionary
force of General Napoleon Bonaparte in Egypt, to his father Roland in France.
Some letters were sent directly from Egypt, and some were written in the Holy
Land and sent to France via Cairo. This was fantastic stuff and as soon as I
started reading it, I knew I struck gold. There were descriptions of important
battles and methods of warfare. There were some new, juicy details about
Napoleon’s generals and their intrigues… in short, everything I could dream of.
I had all I needed for my thesis and more. And there was something else that
greatly aroused my curiosity, perhaps this is the woman in me…”