One of the males turned up first, but to David's surprise not from Jerusalem. He appeared suddenly from the west, wrapped in an Arab cloak, an apparition out of the stark and desolate hills.
'An Arab?'
David watched him. 'Israeli,' he whispered. 'Maybe a little stoned.'
As this first figure reached the ruin, a second young man and a girl, also cloaked, appeared.
Shoshana blinked. 'Someone giving a party out there? Where the hell are they coming from?'
They waited two more hours until the house was silent. The three had built another little fire, and again the smoke hung in the air and the jackals howled. Fortunately no dogs lurked about to give them away as David and Shoshana crawled closer in. David wanted to surprise the three but didn't know whether they stood watches or slept in separate rooms, and, most important, whether, if they were cornered, they would make a stand and fight.
At a quarter past twelve, Uri, Dov, and Liederman were forty meters away, approaching from the other side. David had been through many busts but each time he felt the same tension and fear -tension waiting for the best moment to strike, fear of not striking quickly enough so that the instinct to resist could be vanquished even before it was aroused.
He gave the signal and a moment later the five of them were galloping across the stony fields. David could feel hormones of urgency rushing through his blood.
The young people did not fight and that was fortunate. When David yanked the first boy from his sleeping bag, Dov found a 9 mm. Browning automatic, clip filled and bullet breached, beneath the rolled-up cloak he'd been using as a pillow. The boy glared. His hair was cut short, he wore a Hebrew University T-shirt and gym shorts with a faded stripe. When they yanked his wrists behind his back there was a moment when his pale eyes showed pain. He squeezed them shut as he was cuffed; when he opened them again they showed injured pride.
'The naked couple sprawled together on the bedrolls in the second room gazed up at them perplexed. The boy was dark and bearded, the girl beautiful-fine features, fine pert breasts, magnificent flowing golden hair. When the boy reached toward his clothes Uri squatted beside him and leveled his pistol at his head. Their weapons, another Browning and a small Beretta, lay beneath their jeans.
David yelled for Shoshana. She ran in, took the girl away, and a moment later, when David turned on his radio, Micha announced he'd intercepted a second girl carrying groceries walking down the path. From the time the five of them had entered the house until the four were captured only twenty-five seconds had elapsed.
Shoshana came back, pushing the blond. She was still nude. She didn't try to cover up but planted herself arrogantly with her legs apart.
'She won't dress,' Shoshana said.
'Not even underwear?'
When David smiled the girl spat at his feet.
'Angry child,' David said. 'Okay, go naked if you like. We're going to take you in anyway. You'll be smart at least to wear some shoes.' He signaled Shoshana to take her away, then turned back to the bearded boy. 'You want to go naked too?'
The boy was shaking. 'Who betrayed us?'
'Who sold you the pistols?'
The boy turned to the window. His girl friend was dressing angrily. When he saw the second girl, the one who'd been carrying the groceries, his mouth trembled and his eyes turned wet.
'Georgie, wasn't it? She's the traitor. It was her. Wasn't it?'
'Better get dressed,' David said.
Separate the suspects, put them into tiny harshly lit interrogation rooms, then begin the questioning. Use every little piece you can wrench from one to intimidate the others, make them think their friends have talked. Play on their fears. Tire them out. Suggest betrayal is in the air. Create an atmosphere of insecurity so that their old camaraderie will lapse and they'll begin to think that the only people they can trust are their new friends, the interrogators, who, though they have a job to do, will try and help them beat the rap.
Soon a story emerged. Georgie, the girl with the groceries, was an American. Slave of the other three, she was full of the resentment every slave must feel. She ran errands, brought in food and water, was mad for the boy who slept downstairs. They had never trusted her; now they thought she was their betrayer. So go ahead, Georgie: What have you got to lose? Betray.
They were drug dealers, she said, intermediaries. They bought from smugglers, who brought the stuff in from Lebanon, then sold it to street dealers they met out in the hills. No, there weren't any narcotics in the house-they stashed everything in caves. Actually she didn't know all that much; she'd only met them a week before.
David ran their names through the police computer. Information was rapidly returned. The lovers were kibbutzniks: Zvi had served with the paratroopers and had studied biology; Hannah was a triage nurse who'd dropped out of medical school the year before. Aaron, the boy Georgie was in love with, the tough one with the crew-cut who slept with the loaded gun, was the only son of Brazilian immigrants. He had studied mathematics at Giv'at Ram, had served in a tank recon unit, and had fought and been wounded in Lebanon.
Disillusioned youths, David thought. But he sensed something in Zvi-a connection in his head between women and betrayal. Work on that, he decided. Of the three in the house Zvi was the one who would bargain. Hannah was stubborn, in the midst of some kind of irresolvable rebellion, and Aaron was just too tough.
'That Hannah,' he began, 'quite a girl. Refusing to dress. Spitting fire.' David laughed. 'Funny what a couple of hours of stressful interrogation will do. Now she and Shoshana are gabbing away.'
Zvi glared at him.
'We're not narcs, you know. Personally I don't give a shit about drugs. A person wants to abuse his body, that's his choice. He wants to be an asshole, let him. He wants to OD-good riddance. Does Israel need more self- destructive creeps? I don't think so. Do you?'
He walked behind the boy, placed his hands on his shoulders. 'It's okay, son. Georgie didn't lead us to you. Matter of fact we backed into your little operation by mistake.' He circled Zvi again, then sat down, looked hard at him, and shook his head. 'We were after something else, but we found you.' He shrugged. 'Now we can't just let you go. Especially not after Hannah spilled.'
Zvi studied him. 'You're bluffing. She didn't say anything.'
'Have it your way. But you know better. The women always squeal.'
Another glare.
'It's true. They get lighter sentences, the courts are more disposed toward them. We point this out. Then, if they're smart, and most of them are, they do what they have to do. When the chips are down people always think about themselves.'
'Bastard!'
'Don't be pissed at me, Zvi. I didn't do anything. I wasn't even looking for you. You trusted her, she squawked. Seems to me that's more your fault than mine.' David shook his head again. 'Georgie folded fast. Why shouldn't she? She knows Aaron doesn't give a damn about her, just uses her as something nice to fuck. Give Hannah credit. She cares for you but in the end she made the intelligent move. Now it's your turn. Are you bright enough to take it? I wonder if you are. I got odds from the other guys that you'll be the final hold-out, that, in the end, you'll be the one who burns…'
A half hour more of this kind of merciless talk and Zvi was trying desperately to hold back his tears.
'…maybe you can help us,' David said. 'You don't have to betray anyone. There's another abandoned house on the opposite slope. Bad stuff going on in there a couple of months ago. People coming and going, mostly late at night. Did you see anything? If you did, and you tell me about it…well, maybe, we can work a deal.'
A pause while Zvi calculated. He spoke tentatively at first. 'We thought they were cops.'
'Really? Why?'
'I don't know. Aaron thought so. He said it was something about the way they moved.'
'So?'
'So we laid low a while. We watched them.'
'And?'
'We decided they weren't cops.'
'So then what did you do?'
'We thought they might be a rival group using the place occasionally to do a trade.'
