Triple Identity (14 page)

“Her mother is worried because she hasn't heard from her yet. Tell me, who made the reservations for Ariel's room?”

“We don't keep formal records of these things, but let me look.”

He leafed through his book and said, “Yes, just as I thought, the room was paid for in cash. I remember now; a man called and made the reservation. When I asked for a credit card to guarantee the room, he said that he'd send a messenger with cash. Sometime later somebody came with an envelope with cash. It was odd, because most people send in personal checks or charge the room to a credit card.”

I was convinced DeLouise had made these arrangements to distance himself from Ariel. But why? He must have felt the heat. In the end, he'd been justified.

“Do you keep a record of messages or phone calls? Mrs. Bernstein is very upset about missing these calls.”

“No,” he said, and added in a defensive tone, “we are a small pension, only twelve rooms. We give our guests their messages and we don't record them.”

Mina had left the sitting room and was coming to join me. When Mr. Bart saw her he said, “Mrs. Bernstein, this has just come in for you,” and handed her an envelope.

Deftly, I grabbed the envelope out of his hand. There was a typewritten line in the center: “Mrs. Mina Bernstein, Pension Bart.” There was neither a stamp nor a return address.

“How did it come in?” I asked Mr. Bart.

“A boy on a bicycle gave it to me moments ago and said a man in a car stopped right outside the pension and gave him a tip to bring it in.”

“Are you expecting any mail here?” I asked Mina.

“No,” she said. “Nobody but Ariel knows where I am.”

I bent the envelope to see if there was any object inside other than paper. It bent just fine. I looked for signs of oil stains, which could indicate explosives. There were none. Mina followed me as I went outside the building to open it carefully. There was only one sheet of paper inside. I carefully pulled out a typewritten letter.

I handed the letter to Mina. She went pale and held it with a shaking hand. “She was kidnapped!” Mina said dazedly. “It's all because of Dov's dirty business. I'm sure of it.”

“What do you mean?”

“It wasn't enough that his work ruined our marriage! Now it has to hurt our child too!”

“What work?” I asked, hoping to hear something new she might have held back from me. “It couldn't be the Office — he left it more than thirty years ago. Was it his banking activity, or was there other work that affected Ariel that you haven't told me about yet?”

“Look at the note and see for yourself. These people don't want ransom money. They want something Dov gave her. I have no idea what it might be.” She sounded desperate.

“Come,” I said, “let's go inside.” We returned to the sitting room. Mina sat down, cradling her head in her hands. I looked at my watch. It was 6:
55 P.M
.

Puzzled about a line in the letter, I turned to Mina and asked, “Goons?”

She was surprised I'd asked the question. “You know, the men from your Office. They came here three days ago after I realized that Ariel was missing and decided to call them and take advantage of her father's old job. Isn't that how you've come here to see me?”

I felt my stomach turning. The Mossad was here? I almost asked but luckily didn't. Mina thought I was with them and I had failed to deny it. A real mess could be brewing.

“There is no time,” I said, and almost pushed her to the telephone. “Call this number,” I demanded, giving her the number that appeared on the ransom note.

She dialed. The phone rang ten times but nobody answered. “Try again,” I ordered. Obediently, she dialed again.

Mina signaled me with her hand. I put my ear close to the receiver she was holding next to her ear; I heard a voice say, “Hello?”

In broken German, Mina asked, “Excuse me, I was asked to call this number, can you tell me where it is?”

The person on the other end, in a very youthful sounding voice, said, “It's a pay phone at the corner of Schillerstrasse and Bayerstrasse, right here in Munich. I just came to the phone to call my mom and you were on the other end. I didn't even start to dial.” He sounded timid.

“Is there anyone else waiting near the phone?”

“No,” he said. “This place is empty.”

Mina hung up.

“We need to get the police on it,” I said decisively.

“Absolutely not!” she exclaimed. “They'll kill her.”

“Do you know what papers they refer to?”

“I have no idea,” she said in despair. “I haven't seen or spoken with Ariel since I came here. I have her luggage in my room, but there's only clothing in it. Maybe she received papers from her father?”

This was also my assumption. Ariel probably received some papers from her father and put them in the safety deposit box at Mielke Bank. That's why she rented the box. That's what they were after. And the Mossad? They could either be after the same documents or simply be trying to help an ex-Mossad operative in distress. The people who kidnapped Ariel must be very desperate to get the papers. They could be the ones who killed DeLouise. But I didn't want to jump to conclusions. Clearly, a person who had multiple identities could also have multiple enemies.

In the Mossad Academy we had received several lectures on hostage taking and negotiations. “Set your priorities,” the psychologist had told us. “You want to enter a vineyard and steal grapes, but the guard is in your way. You must decide what's more important: to wrestle with the guard and force yourself in, or sneak around the fence and eat the grapes.”

If the people who kidnapped Ariel had murdered DeLouise, they must have feared something more than a loss of money. This was not simply a
dispute over stolen money. The prize in this case could be the papers at Mielke Bank. If that was true, then by killing DeLouise they had revealed that they knew he no longer had the papers. The kidnappers believe that Ariel was now holding the papers or could be traded for them. So why had DeLouise been killed? Suspicion and speculation abounded, but no facts. I wanted to ask Mina about the Mossad operatives who came to see her, but I couldn't do it. That would have blown my false-flag tactic. I had to keep Mina away from them and get her to Mielke Bank.

One thing puzzled me though. Who had called Mina at the pension? Why hadn't the caller been persistent enough to try again or, like me, come to see her? Why hadn't the Israeli Consulate told her about DeLouise's murder and asked her to identify the body? Inefficiency, perhaps. Or maybe Mina wasn't telling me everything. I'd have to find out.

It was clear that the Mossad operatives had decided to keep the German police out of the loop. Otherwise there would have been swarms of German police at the pension. A weird theory crept into my mind: the strange disinterest of the Israeli Consulate could indicate that they knew where Ariel was and that they believed she wasn't at risk. However, it could also be a simple case of bureaucratic stupidity or apathy, or both. Or — the absurd thought crept in once more — maybe the Mossad was in cahoots with DeLouise after all. I brushed it off again.

Some things were starting to fall into their logical places in my jigsaw puzzle, but new and far more complex questions kept coming up. I thought of Greek mythology, of Tantalus, king of Sipylos, son of Zeus. The gods punished Tantalus by putting him in an underworld lake where he couldn't reach the water when he wanted to drink, and, when he wanted to eat, the grapes above him disappeared. With each forward step I made, DeLouise's money seemed farther away than ever.

It was clear to me that I had to keep the competition away. Somehow I felt that there was more than one client bidding for DeLouise's assets in this crowded marketplace.

“Ariel should be safe,” I concluded to Mina, omitting the words “for now” that were on the tip of my tongue. “She has something that these
people want — the papers her father gave her. They won't harm her until they have them. I still think you should call the police.”

“No, they'll harm her. I don't trust the police here. I can't be certain that they'd put Ariel's interests first.” She looked determined.

“In that case,” I said, accepting her decision against my better judgment, “we have to make contact with these people and understand what it is they want. We must insist on talking to Ariel.” What I didn't say was that we had to make sure she was still alive, despite my assurances to her that Ariel wouldn't be harmed while the kidnappers thought they needed her. “Maybe she could tell us exactly what papers these people want.”

Mina looked at me appreciatively. “I see that you have a lot of experience in these matters.” She gently squeezed my arm, “I trust you.” This compliment was totally undeserved. In actuality, I was hoping that by acquiescing in Mina's determination not to involve the German police, I wasn't harming Ariel.

“Go to sleep,” I said. “I'll pick you up tomorrow morning. Have your passport ready.” To my surprise, without any resistance, Mina nodded and went upstairs. I was troubled by that. Mina had just found out that her ex-husband had been murdered and that her only daughter had been kidnapped. She refused to call the police, and then retreated obediently to her room. That was it? I knew I didn't have the whole picture.

I started walking toward my car. Then I returned to the pension and walked around the block, approaching my car from the other direction. Just a little precaution. The street was empty. I drove back to my hotel. There were no messages and only second-rate movies on TV. I laid down to think about the amazing labyrinth I had wandered into. Only two weeks had passed since David assigned this case to me, but it felt like eternity. I was completely focused on DeLouise, putting aside almost everything else. It was time to call my children in New York.

“Tommy is with some friends playing video games,” said Karen, when she answered my call. “Dad, when are you coming back?” There was a ring of concern in her voice.

“Soon, honey, I hope soon,” I said, not knowing whether I was telling the truth or speculating. “Is there a problem?”

She paused, “Not exactly, but you've never left us for such a long period. We miss you.”

A mixture of guilt and pride flooded me. “I miss you too, sweetheart. It won't be long, I promise.”

I was angry at myself for being so preoccupied with DeLouise. I fell asleep vowing to wrap things up as soon as I could.

The following morning I called Mina and picked her up at the pension. “Where are we going?” she asked, as I navigated through the narrow streets.

“To a bank,” I said. “Ariel rented a safe-deposit box.”

Mina's pleasant demeanor turned to suspicion. “How did you find out?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.

“A combination of legwork and good luck, I guess,” I said briefly. “Trust me,” I added, attempting a bit of comfort. I couldn't tell her more, certainly not until I found an explanation for her unexpected reaction last night. I looked in my mirror to see if we were being followed. Nothing unusual, though there are several ways to set up a tail without detection. Certainly, if the same person follows you then you can eventually recognize him or her. However, you can be tailed in a relay; each follower tracks you for just a short stretch, then you're “picked up” by the next.

Then there's the ultimate trick: each follower stays where he is but keeps an eye on you as you pass. When you've gone a certain distance, he radios ahead that you're approaching. The next guy watches you pass, radios ahead, and so on. It takes a lot of people to pull off this leapfrogging act, but since no one actually follows, except by eye, it's highly unlikely that the subject will notice he's being watched.

During my Mossad training we spent two weeks learning how to shake off, or “dry clean,” followers, but I'd never had the opportunity to practice it in real life. I had always been the pursuer, not the target. Was I becoming one now?

As we entered the bank I gave Mina her instructions: She should ask to be added as a co-owner of the safe-deposit box and then appoint me as her attorney-in-fact to allow me access as well.

“Why would they listen to me?”

“Because Ariel left instructions concerning you.”

“So why do you need to have signature rights as well?” she asked.

“Ariel is still away, and her safe return may be dependent on these documents. If only one other person, namely you, has access, it could be complicated.” I didn't want to say
dangerous
. My earlier statement to Mina that she and Ariel could be in danger wasn't exaggerated. If Ariel's captors had also killed DeLouise, they would not hesitate to harm Mina, if that's what it took to get what they wanted.

She looked at me carefully, then reached her decision. “All right, I trust you.” She touched my arm again. The drill-sergeant assistant manager who saw me a day earlier wasn't there. Good, that would save me a lot of squabbling. In her stead we saw another woman who looked a bit more kindly. She checked Mina's passport, went to her office, and returned with Ariel's original signature card.

“Yes, I see here. Miss Peled informed us that you'd be coming to cosign.” She handed Mina a pen and she signed the card.

“Is that all?” she asked, looking around at us.

“No,” I said, “I'm here to be appointed as an attorney-in-fact for that box. Can you please prepare the paperwork?”

She looked at Mina as if to obtain her approving look.

“Yes, of course, Mr. Gordon is helping us,” said Mina.

There were forms to be filled out. I showed my Israeli passport, then I asked her for a key.

“That takes a few hours to process.” She went back to her office and returned with a grim face.

“I'm sorry but there is another problem. My manager tells me that joint permission of all owners of the box is required to give a power of attorney to another person. Therefore, you'll have to bring Miss Peled to sign her consent to let you have access to the box.”