A Walk in the Darkness - [Kamal & Barnea 03] Page 8

“What did you do to them?” Ben asked, even more leery now.

  “Asked them to leave.”

  “That’s all?”

  “This was an illegal arrest and interrogation. I doubt they wanted to draw any more attention than necessary.”

  “That never stopped them before.”

  “It stopped them today.”

  “Actually,” Ben said, walking alongside the man in black toward the lead Humvee, “you did.”

  “Don’t worry: you’ll be given a chance to return the favor.”

  * * * *

  CHAPTER 17

  I

  guess I owe you some thanks,” Ben said to the dark man, a while after the Humvees had pulled away from the abandoned Israeli storage dump where he had been interrogated.

  “You owe us nothing, Inspector,” the man said without turning from the road.

  “Where are we going?”

  The dark man didn’t answer, but Ben didn’t have to wait long to find out. A half hour into the drive through the West Bank, the convoy passed just outside of Hebron, following signs for “Kiryat Arba.” The drive was made along a trio of roads that only Israelis were permitted to travel on, allowing them to move between settlements and cities without ever drawing close to a Palestinian village or even seeing a Palestinian. Palestinians, on the other hand, were forced to use circuitous routes often hours long to cover absurdly small distances—and only if they could secure a pass. The stories of Palestinians losing long-held jobs and missing the funerals of loved ones for failure to secure such a pass were as commonplace as they were tragic, and showed no sign of letup.

  Finally, Ben’s driver turned off the main route onto a guarded, private road that was smooth and straight in contrast to the constant state of neglect and disrepair of Palestinian roads. An Israeli settlement laid out like a fort appeared at the very end. Heavy gauge chain-link fence topped with barbed wire rimmed all of the perimeter Ben could see. There were a pair of guard towers and a series of buildings that had a prefabricated bunker look to them. Simple beige-colored rectangular structures, so plain they looked ugly.

  A pair of armed guards opened the gates manually and Ben instantly saw a number of settlers strolling leisurely about the grounds. The men and boys all wore black pants, white shirts, and yarmulkes atop their heads. The boys sported a neatly curled strip of hair hanging past their temples, the men had beards of varying lengths. The women Ben saw all wore long dresses and head scarves, consumed by their daily tasks.

  It was difficult to gauge the number of residents from the surroundings, but not the level of security. In addition to the two guard towers, uniformed men patrolled the grounds in regular grids. Jeeps armed with pedestal-mounted machine guns sliced through the surrounding fields, driving slowly as if expecting an intruder to be hidden behind every tree and bush. Ben also saw what looked like cement bunkers placed strategically about the grounds, rising just enough over the surface for gun barrels to be wedged through their openings. Beyond them, construction vehicles and workers were busy erecting a host of new structures in various stages of completion. All simple and plain, their drab oatmeal shade rendering them virtually indistinguishable from each other.

  Ben’s eyes fixed finally on a number of men erecting a large apparatus with a tripodal base that reminded Ben of the depressions he had found at the crime scene in the Judean Desert.

  “What’s going on there?” Ben asked the dark man.

  “They’re looking for water. Life will be difficult here if we can’t tap into the primary underground supply.” The dark man led Ben away. “Now let’s get you fixed up, Inspector.”

  * * * *

  T

  he complex’s infirmary was more like a small hospital. Inside the infirmary, Ben’s wounds were cleaned and dressed, he was given painkillers and a change of clothes. He used a sink to wash his face and hands. Opened a brand-new toothbrush to brush his teeth. In his exhaustion, the cushioned hospital table looked desperately inviting. But Ben fought back the temptation to lie down and exited the room.

  His large, unnamed escort was waiting when Ben emerged and immediately led him back outside toward a centrally placed building marked by a Star of David over the door. Splotches of sweat had begun to soak through the man’s shirt, spreading as he walked in the building heat.

  The dark man preceded him through the door, and once inside Ben felt as if he had stepped into a wholly different world. Instead of stark white, the walls were beautifully paneled in a light wood. High-back rows forming pews had been laid out neatly before a stunning pedestal platform in stark contrast to the utilitarian and featureless world outside. The platform featured a pair of ornate lecterns and the familiar markings of the ark where the Jewish Torah scrolls were stored between services.

  This is a synagogue. . . .

  The dark man stopped where the pews began and nodded at Ben to continue on his own before retreating through the entry doors that rattled closed.

  As he walked down the aisle, Ben noticed a figure seated in the front row directly in front of the ark. Drawing closer, he could see the man had long salt-and-pepper hair, a yarmulke held to the top of his dome with the help of a clip. His right hand trembled atop a wooden cane marred by dents and chips. He used it to indicate the seat next to him with a tap when Ben approached.

  “Sit, Inspector. Sit.”

  Ben got his first good look at the old man and froze. He wore sunglasses that covered his face to the temples. The glasses and the angle at which he held his head seemed to indicate he was blind. He was heavyset with big, hairy forearms sticking out from his dark, ceremonial robes.

  The old man again indicated the empty seat next to him. “You do not wish to join me, Inspector?”

  In fact, Ben wanted to sit down more than anything. The inside of his head felt like a bell’s clapper was clanging off one side and then the other. He was woozy, unsteady on his feet, and thought he might pass out at any moment. He ran his tongue around the inside of his mouth, found that even his teeth hurt.

  “I’d prefer not to, no,” Ben said anyway.

  The old man cradled his cane in both palms. “Then I suppose introductions are not necessary.”

  “You’re Rabbi Mordecai Lev, head of the Amudei Ha’aretz. The Pillars of the Land.”

  The Amudei Ha’aretz, the most radical of all Jewish sects, had first appeared on the scene after the Six-Day War of 1967 when they arbitrarily seized Palestinian land in Hebron, claiming they were exercising their historical right to settle there. The Israeli government later allowed them to build the large settlement of Kiryat Arba on vineyards confiscated from a former mayor of Hebron. But this concession did little to either placate or control the Amudei Ha’aretz, who were vehemently against any territorial compromise with the Palestinians and swore they would take up arms if the Israeli army ever tried to evict them from land they believed was biblically theirs.

  In fact, Ben knew the Amudei Ha’aretz firmly believed that the entire West Bank belonged to Israel and someday would be returned, which meant the eventual banishment of all Palestinians. Extraordinarily few other Jews, fortunately, shared these radical views and the Amudei Ha’aretz had virtually no friends outside of the several thousand in and around Kiryat Arba. Ben had read somewhere that the sect’s spiritual leader, Rabbi Mordecai Lev, was building a separate settlement for a few hundred of the most faithful of the Pillars of the Land, but had no idea of its precise location until today.

  “I may have saved your life this morning, Inspector,” Lev said pompously. “It would serve us both if you kept that in mind. I ask only a small favor in return.”

  “A favor?”

  “I believed you have something that belongs to me,” Mordecai Lev said. “A video recording disc.”

  Ben gave the old man a long look, forgetting again it could not be returned. “Commander Moshe Baruch of Shin Bet believes, on the contrary, it belongs to him.”

  “And his Israeli goons would have killed you for it
. You will find me infinitely more hospitable.”

  “Have you forgotten that I’m Palestinian, Rabbi?” Ben asked acerbically.

  “I ask that we put our differences aside for the time being.”

  Ben bristled. “I cannot put aside the fact that you and the Amudei Ha’aretz do not believe Palestinians are entitled to our land, any land.”

  “The Bible clearly denotes this land to be part of greater Israel.”

  “There’s nothing greater about the Israel you and your right-wing Jewish fanatics envision.”

  “I didn’t bring you here to discuss religion or politics,” the old man snapped caustically. “Tell me where I can find that disc and you can be safely on your way.”

  “It’s gone.”

  “Is that what you told the soldiers?”

  “Yes, because it’s the truth.”

  Lev took a deep breath and his features relaxed a bit. “What would you say if I told you it was in your best interests to give the disc to me?”

  “I’d want to know why.”

  Rabbi Lev tapped his cane on the floor a little harder. “Sit first. Come, you owe me that much in exchange for freeing you from your captors.”

  Ben reluctantly took a seat next to him in the pew, but still kept his distance.

  Mordecai Lev turned slowly toward him, sightless eyes focused nowhere. “Are you a religious man, Inspector?”

  “No, Rabbi.”

  “Religion for the Amudei Ha’aretz, of course, is everything. The secular world bears no meaning for us. Neither, in fact, does the outside world. We do not serve the army or the government. We serve only God as we await His coming. You do believe in God, don’t you?”

  Ben swallowed hard. “I used to.”

  “You are a Christian Palestinian, I’m told,” Rabbi Lev said, not disapprovingly. “And being a Christian, at the very least you must believe in the existence of Jesus Christ as the son of God, the Messiah.”

  “To tell you the truth—”

  “We believe in the Messiah as well, Inspector. In fact, we have dedicated our lives to His eventual coming. It will happen here, in the West Bank, and that time is fast approaching.”

  “How’d you make the Israeli soldiers who interrogated me leave?”

  Mordecai Lev continued to ignore Ben’s remarks. “The old gospels hold the signs and warnings. They have predicted the world as it has unfolded, almost to the day. But the writings of Him taking His word to the world were lost long ago to the ages. Writings that contain the clues to His coming. We must prepare ourselves. We must be ready to do His bidding and stand by His side. That day is soon.”

  “What does this have to do with me?”

  “Nothing, not directly anyway. It has everything to do with the disc you came to possess.”

  Ben thought briefly. “How did you even come to know the disc existed?”

  “That is not your concern.”

  “Maybe not. But I know the Bedouin guard with the camera almost certainly made a number of other tapes as well, and if you know about this one, my guess is you’ve very likely already seen them.”

  “As I said, that is not your concern,” Lev said.

  “But why should it concernyou, Rabbi? Why bother if whatever happens outside your settlement means nothing to the Amudei Ha’aretz?”

  Rabbi Lev turned again to the front of the synagogue, where the ancient Torah scrolls were stored. “What were the Americans looking for in the Judean Desert?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “What if they were looking for one particular thing, Inspector? What if they actually did find it?”

  Ben thought of the cave he and Danielle had been on the verge of entering when Moshe Baruch had appeared. “The proof would be on that disc. That’s what you’re saying.”

  Lev nodded slightly. “That’s why they had to die, Inspector. To protect the secret, to keep the Amudei Ha’aretz from the truth.”

  “What secret, Rabbi?”

  “Where is the disc, Inspector?”

  “It’s gone, I told you.”

  “Then you must help us find it.”

  “Why should I?”

  Lev’s lips quivered. “Because you are in grave danger, Inspector, and we are the only people who can save you.”

  * * * *

  CHAPTER 18

  D

  anielle awoke to the smells of breakfast and sounds of her brothers jabbering away with her father. For an instant, just an instant, the illusion lingered at the edge of her dream, and then consciousness dawned, stealing it away. The power of those brief moments amazed her, how they could set everything right, making her feel warm and good until reality intruded.

  The dreams were especially potent at the times she was under the most stress and the latest had been no exception. She lay in bed wondering what would happen when Hershel Giott, and the protective shroud he cast over her at National Police, were gone. Her celebrity was fleeting, forgotten in the months that had passed since her name had again made headlines. Danielle remembered she had wanted to melt into the scenery around her, and now that quest for the ordinary might well contribute to her undoing.

  She lay in bed fading in and out of sleep, snippets of scenes from her lost family rotating with those featuring Ben Kamal. For the past few months, their relationship had been the one thing that made her truly happy. She had even begun believing they could live like this forever, free of both formal commitment and the recriminations it would undoubtedly bring. But her pregnancy had changed all that. For a time after she realized, she debated whether to tell Ben at all, or tell him the baby was someone else’s. Why bother? He would know she was lying, would know the baby was his. More than that, he deserved to know, deserved the truth. The truth was something that Danielle had run from long enough. She had been running from lots of things.

  Too many, Danielle thought as she lunged out of bed. But one less before the morning was out. . . .

  * * * *

  S

  he found Hershel Giott in the bakery shop around the corner from National Police Headquarters, seated in one of the two tables tucked against the window. A long line of people holding paper numbers waited their turn to order as Danielle squeezed past them.

  “Some coffee, Pakad?” Giott asked, looking up from his freshly baked roll. He always drank it black and the small steaming pot smelled strong.

  Danielle took the chair across from him. “We cannot let Commander Baruch run roughshod over us, Rav Nitzav.”

  “We had this discussion yesterday.”

  “But didn’t finish it. We gave in too easily,” she insisted. “Because we were scared.”

  “There is a big difference between fear and caution, Pakad.”

  “Not in this case, since either allows Commander Baruch to dictate our actions. Don’t you see? We’re giving him more power, not less, when his agenda is not about to change anyway. We’re fools to think it might, both of us.”

  “You’re talking about confronting Commander Baruch head-on. Those who have tried that in the past have come out the worse for the effort.”

  “He’s hiding something,” Danielle insisted, the luscious smells of the bakery suddenly making her very hungry. “He was involved in that dig team’s work much more than he can afford to admit. My guess is he will want to avoid confrontations at all costs.”

  Giott weighed her words, flecks of his roll dropping back to his plate as he held it. “There’s nothing more we can do.”

  “I think there is,” said Danielle.

  * * * *

  CHAPTER 19

  M

  ordechai Lev settled as far back as the wooded pew would let him and rested both hands on the head of his cane. “You are aware of the Dead Sea Scrolls and other prominent finds made in the Judean Desert,” he continued.

  “The Scrolls anyway, yes,” said Ben.

  “We of the Amudei Ha’aretz have been looking for other similar scrolls for years, scrolls that may finally give us the info
rmation we have long sought. All our best analyses of the ancient texts tell us the coming of the Messiah is not far away. We believe the Americans were looking for the scrolls, or a single scroll perhaps, that would foretell exactly where and when this was going to occur. And, we believe, they found it.”

  “You’re saying that’s why they were murdered.”

  “To protect a secret our common enemy would much prefer never to be revealed.”

  “And is this ‘enemy’ the reason you’ve moved a segment of the Amudei Ha’aretz to what looks more like a fortress than a settlement?”