treatment. 'Surely he knew you'd be discreet. You wouldn't tell the Air Force.'
'He knew that, yes, but still he was afraid even to be seen making regular visits here. Afraid too that your mother would find out.'
'What was going on between them?'
'Mother and son? Ah!' Dr. Blumenthal smiled. 'The answer to that would have been the quest of the therapy-another reason your father could never succeed with it.'
' He was a soldier,' he told Anna, 'and my mother loved him for it. The sharp uniform, the perfect haircut, the beautiful clean-shaven chin. He was the favorite warrior-son with the strong tanned arms and legs. He was also-and it hurts me to say this-a bit of a fascist too. He was particularly vicious in hand-to-hand combat training, and he gloried in the Israeli war machine. The helmet visors, the zippered flight suits, the cult of manliness. Muscled flesh, polished paratrooper boots, smart salutes-the whole esprit of the pilot corps. You wonder why he didn't run away. Where could he go? Cyprus? England? The United States? Without his aircraft, without the cult, he was nothing and he knew it. Fact is, he had no place to go except into the sky…so that was where he flew.'
Rafi called David in. He looked embarrassed. Superintendent Latsky had assigned a case to CID with the strong suggestion it be assigned to Pattern Crimes.
'What kind of case?' David asked.
'Actually a species of street scam.' Rafi glanced up, met his eyes, then focused on Sarah Dorfman at her smaller desk across the room. 'Small gangs. Three or four kids. One of them, eating a sausage sandwich or ice cream, picks out a well-dressed tourist, approaches him, then stumbles against him smearing mustard or syrup on his clothes. Profuse apologies. 'Oh! Dear sir! Dear Madame! I'm so sorry!' Enthusiastic efforts, then, to clean off the disgusting mess. Other kids come forward. 'Let us help. We have a rag.' Soon three or four of them are working the poor guy over, dabbing at his garments, thoroughly grinding in the mustard or syrup. Meantime, of course, expertly removing his wallet, passport, and watch. The tourist is so upset by the horrible mess they've made of him that it's only later that he realizes he's been picked completely clean.'
David stared at Rafi. 'You can't be serious?'
'It is a pattern crime, David. Though not, I admit, our usual kind.'
'Rafi, this isn't new. Arab kids have been doing it for years. It's petty street crime.'
'Yeah. Of course. But the point is, Latsky wants it stopped. The mayor's office has been complaining and the Ministry of Tourism says it costs us friends.'
'But why use detectives? All you need are a couple of cops.' He felt a welling up of bitterness.
'I have the impression Latsky's got it in for you, David. You caused him trouble with the minister. So now…' Rafi shrugged.
'Do you have it in for me too?'
'Of course not!' Rafi spread his arms. 'When Latsky proposed this I told him it wasn't for us, but he wouldn't budge. He's a pissed-off old man without the guts to call you in and chew your ass. His is the old bureaucrat's way: Humble the subordinate, assign him a degrading task.'
'Listen, Father-I don't want to embarrass you, or pry into your business, or reproach you about something that happened in the past. Just two questions. No explanations required. None needed. No apologies either. All right?'
Avraham nodded. 'That sounds reasonable.'
'Who was Gideon's lover?' David blurted the question out.
'Oh, David…' His father's voice was filled with pain.
'Do you know his name?'
Torment now disfigured Avraham's features. He turned away.
'For years, Father, we left all this unspoken. Maybe it's time now to talk it out.'
When Avraham turned back to him the mixture of fear and relief on his face reminded David of Gutman on the night of his arrest. 'It was his old schoolmate Ephraim Cohen.'
Cohen! 'You're sure?'
'Gideon told me.' Avraham shook his head. 'What's question number two?'
Now David was almost afraid to broach it. But, having pushed so far, he knew he could not retreat.
'What was the pressure Gideon feared? What was he afraid he'd be compelled to do?'
Avraham grimaced with disgust. 'The pressure, I assume, was that the affair would be revealed. As for what Ephraim wanted him to do -I haven't the faintest idea.'
'But he didn't do it, did he?'
'No, he didn't. Which is why I think he killed himself.'
'So as not to have to bear disgrace? I think he could have handled that. I think he was strong-'
Avraham cut him off. 'Disgrace he could have handled. But not betrayal. You see, David, I think he was so wounded by Ephraim's threat, he couldn't bear to live.'
'You never pursued this?'
'No. How could I?'
'You could have discussed it with Ephraim.'
Avraham shook his head. 'Gideon was gone. What would have been the purpose?'
A long pause then before David spoke: 'Thank you, Father. I know how painful this has been. I'll try not to bother you with this again.'
David assigned Shoshana to be the decoy in his scheme to entrap the mustard-and-syrup pickpocket gang. Now she had to assemble a suitable wardrobe.
'How far can I go?' she asked.
'Far as you like so long as you end up looking rich. You know: nice rich Jewish-American girl on her first UJA leadership tour.'
'She'd stay at the King David.'
'Naturally.'
'So what about a handbag from that gorgeous leather shop in the Cardo?'
'Sounds good.'
'Expenses?'
'See Rebecca. She'll get you an advance from The Claw.'
'Afterward, David-do I get to keep the stuff?'
But before he could tell her 'no' she had disappeared.
He put Micha on Ephraim Cohen.
'We know he's Shin Bet, but not much else.'
'What do we want to know?'
'Everything. Military background. Reserve unit. Marital status. His private life too. Any weak spots you can find. Particularly any rumors about outside love affairs.'
'This'll be hard, David. A Shin Bet guy. How can I sniff around without his finding out?'
'Just do the best you can. Go for what you can get out of the files. But use your own contacts on this one, Micha. Whatever you do, don't cut in Police Intelligence. They're in bed with Shin Bet. They share with each other all the time. There's more loyalty between them than between PI and us.'
'It's shit, David. The whole compound knows about it. David's Dogs doing patrolman's work.'
Dov's face expressed his fury and disgust, also his feelings of betrayal. Uri wore a similar expression, but less intense because he was less outraged. He was older, had more years in and thus more experience with the ups and downs of being a cop.
Dressed in various combinations of T-shirts and track pants they were lounging against a wall just inside the Jaffa gate. For four days they'd been staking out Shoshana, who, in her high fashion garments, was strolling now around Omar Ibn El Khatab square inspecting trinkets in the windows of the tourist shops.
'Thing that gets me,' Dov said, 'is that even after you bust your ass to make detective, they can break you back down this way.'
'Take it easy,' Uri said. 'Remember we were riding high a while back. Couple of weeks ago we were David's Dogs. Now we're being punished so we're the Rabies Squad.'
'Rabies Squad-that's not bad,' David said. 'Maybe we can do something with that.'
'Foam at our mouths and drool?'
