'The superintendent's shitting green,' said The Claw. 'He wants to know what the hell you think you're doing.'
'Right now, dear, I'm reading the papers. Sorry he's having trouble with his bowels.'
'Cut the crap, David,' she said. 'People around here think you're the leak.'
'So what can I do about it? People can think what they like.'
'People can also wonder why you're looking for a lot of trouble.'
'I'm looking to close out my case. If Latsky would listen I'd explain to him why he ought to divide it in two. Let the national headquarters big shots investigate the bombing conspiracy. Just let me wrap up the homicides.'
'Hmmm. Interesting idea.'
'Why don't you see that it gets around.'
'I just might do that,' said The Claw. 'Of course, this isn't official.'
'Of course not,' David said. He grinned at Anna. 'So tell me: How long, really, are your nails?'
'The Dome's one thing,' he explained to Anna, 'a political-religious conspiracy. That's solved for now, though I haven't the slightest doubt that sooner or later fanatics will try to blow it up again. The killings, however, are something else.'
'You feel that way because of Gideon.'
'Sure, I admit the case got personal with me, but there's another reason too. Latsky says: 'Don't rock the boat. You saved the Dome. Isn't that enough?' Not nearly enough! To leave it at that is to tell the Security Services: 'You can get away with murder.' So what message does that send to people who work in all the other special bureaus? 'You're immune from Justice. You can do anything in the name of National Security. You can kill and go unpunished.' That's intolerable. When people start believing that, then Israel is finished.'
Later he said to her: 'Sure, maybe someday they'll bomb the Dome, but if they do I think they'll be surprised. They'll have their riot all right, they'll have their war, but their Messiah won't appear.'
Even as he said that he was startled by his tone: He knew he'd sounded just like his father.
Just after lunch, Rafi called him in.
'Okay, you've got the go-ahead. Cohen and his four goons will meet you in front of the compound tomorrow at seven A.M. Colonel Levin's ordered them to submit to arrest. You can hold and interrogate them for a week. Only condition: So long as they're in custody here they're to be kept separate from everybody else.'
'Private cells? Must be afraid we'll bunk them with informers. What about the girl?'
'She was just a secretary.'
'They've cooked something up, haven't they, Rafi?'
Rafi tapped out his pipe. 'If I were them I sure as hell would,' he said.
Two hours into the preliminary questioning David understood their strategy: Deny any connection to the homicides; produce unimpeachable alibis from impeccable Israeli citizens; stick to a claim that they constituted a special unit assigned to infiltrate right-wing Jewish terrorist groups.
Ephraim Cohen had brought along a file of his orders, each one properly dated and signed. He tried not to smirk as David read them, but couldn't disguise his confidence that very soon he'd have to be released.
At eight that evening, David called his people together. 'We're going to have to scam these guys.'
'They're tough motherfuckers,' Uri said.
'Right, so first we've got to wear them down. They think we're finished with them for the night, so in half an hour we'll start in on them again. Hard tough questioning. Make them go over everything ten, fifteen times. Start chipping at those phony alibis. 'What color shirt were you wearing?' 'What color shoes?' 'What did you eat for dinner that night?' Make them think their stories maybe aren't meshing all that well. Every so often ask if they're sure they don't want a lawyer. Confer in whispers. Smile knowingly. I don't care how tough they are. Cohen chose them because they're goons. If we play them right, we can make that choice backfire in his face.'
Because his prisoners had put together a phony story, he reasoned that sooner or later it would have to fall apart. He didn't spend much time with them; he'd drop in every so often, but mostly he listened and watched from the observation rooms. He was looking for stress points, the little things that made them hesitate. Their reactions to each other too, the particular way their eyes would move at the mention of their colleagues' names.
When he did enter one of the tiny basement interrogation rooms he went out of his way to sound reasonable: 'Need anything? A sandwich? A glass of water? A lawyer? You're not being mistreated, are you? No one here's going to be abused or hurt.'
He stayed completely clear of Ephraim Cohen. He knew Ephraim would wonder about that, prepare himself to be on guard when and if he did appear. Maybe he'd wonder if David had been taken off the case, or if he'd disqualified himself because of Gideon.
At the end of the second day, he had them sorted out. Two sets, he decided, the first smarter and more efficient than the second. The two European-types who'd been in the office, Gabi and Yoni, were the senior men. The two North Africans who'd stood before the gate, Ari and Shlomo, were the thugs. The senior guys had done the planning; the thugs had done the bad stuff. They'd picked up the victims, dumped the bodies, fired on him from the van, killed and dumped Peretz.
By the third morning David's people had narrowed the weak spot down to two: Ari, the Tunisian who'd set him up at the zoo, and Yoni, the short muscular one who'd pulled the gun in the Lover of Zion Street office and had stored the van out in Ein Kerem.
Uri and Micha liked Ari, because, they said, he seemed the angriest of the lot. Dov and Shoshana preferred Yoni, because, they felt, he had the most to lose.
'Why should Yoni do heavy prison time for Cohen?' Dov asked. 'He followed orders, and he never actually killed anyone.'
'Yeah, but Ari's bitter,' Micha said. 'He knows he's got no future here. And just because he was a triggerman doesn't mean he wants to spend the rest of his life in prison, especially when he thinks of Ephraim Cohen strutting around free in his hand-tailored British suits.'
They turned to David for a decision. He said he liked Yoni best.
'They don't know we found the van. Yoni stored it out there, so on that he's vulnerable. If we play him right, he'll think he was betrayed. If he asks for a lawyer, we'll know he's ready to deal.'
'Shouldn't I go out there and unwire that ignition?' Micha asked.
'No, we're going to be using that. Leave it just the way it is.'
They drove out to Ein Kerem after lunch in a three-car caravan, Yoni with Micha and Uri in the lead, Dov and Shoshana with the videotape equipment just behind. David, with Ephraim Cohen and two pairs of high-powered binoculars, trailed the two lead cars by several hundred meters.
'Where are we going?'
David glanced at Ephraim. 'Out for a drive,' he said. Ephraim smiled. He looked, David thought, particularly handsome today, an idealized Israeli male with fair hair, clear eyes, and tanned and sculpted cheeks.
'I know you're pissed at me,' Ephraim said. 'And not just because of Peretz. On account of Gideon.' Then, before David could respond: 'I wish you could believe this-I considered him my closest friend.'
'Almost like a brother?' And then, when Ephraim nodded: 'Little bit like a lover too?'
Ephraim turned away. When he answered his voice was subdued. 'Yes, that too for a while.'
'So tell me something, Ephraim-since you cared for him so much, why did you betray him the way you did?'
'Oh, David, really-I didn't.'
'He thought you did. Doesn't that maybe make you feel just a little bad?'
'He was unstable. You know that.'
'You exploited his instability.'
'It wasn't like that. I didn't deliberately-'
'Oh, I get it,' David said. 'Your blackmail was unintentional.' He showed Ephraim his most sarcastic grin. 'Yeah. I understand.'
They drove on in silence after that. Then Ephraim turned to him again. 'Because of you, David, the Dome plot came apart. In some circles you're a hero now.'
'So?'
'Why not rest on your laurels?'
