Asylum City (28 page)

“They say the girl who was murdered was making trouble for you,” he said as they shook hands.

Yariv pulled his hand back quickly.

“She filed a complaint against you with the Bar Association.” Borochov wagged a finger at Yariv as if he were a naughty child.

“Oh, that? That was nonsense. I certainly wouldn't call it trouble.”

“Of course not. Like you say, it's nonsense. I'm on the Bar Association Review Board, and I have to tell you, Yariv, I was very upset by what she said about you. I can imagine how mad it must have made you.” Borochov gave Yariv a piercing look.

“Not really. It was nothing to get worked up about,” Yariv said, forcing himself to smile.

“A woman scorned. That's how I'd characterize it. It was obvious from the complaint that she was still in love with you. She was trying to get back at you. She heard you were getting married,” Borochov said quietly.

Yariv stared at him in surprise. How did he know about his former relationship with Michal? There wasn't a word about it in the complaint. And how come he knew about his impending wedding?

“Well, I'll be going, Yariv. I wouldn't want to keep you,” Borochov said, patting him on the back.

Yariv nodded, glad that this incomprehensible conversation was finally over. Borochov walked to the door. He reached out for the handle and then stopped and turned around again.

“Let me leave you with one piece of advice, my friend,” he said with a grave expression on his face. “Watch out for yourself. There are bad people out there who want to hurt you, who don't want to see you succeed.”

“What are you talking about?” Yariv spluttered. The man was making him very nervous.

“Don't worry, I'm on your side. I've got your back, I'll look out for you,” Borochov said, fixing Yariv with his eyes. His smile was gone.

“Look out for me? How?”

“Sometimes people make mistakes, especially when they're drunk and not in control. You know how it is. You have too much to drink and you lose your head. Particularly if you're mad at someone. Then somebody else has to clean up the mess so your career isn't ruined because of one silly mistake. That's why you need friends like me. Don't worry, Ninio. Like I said, my motto is cooperation. People work together, they help each other out, and everything's fine, everyone's happy.” Aside from his lips, not a single muscle moved in Borochov's face.

“I still don't know what you're talking about,” Yariv said. His mouth was dry.

“I think you do, Ninio. I think you know exactly what I'm talking about.”

IT
was only when Itai caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror that he realized he'd unthinkingly smoothed back his hair. He wondered why. Where did he think he was going?

Bringing Nachmias along suddenly seemed like a bad idea, but he had only himself to blame. He'd been pressuring Dahlia for days to allow him to take Liddie to see Gabriel, but to no avail. Dahlia insisted that Liddie was too fragile, both mentally and physically. She wasn't ready to face Gabriel yet. Even Liddie herself didn't appear eager to visit her brother, although she never said so explicitly. When she first arrived in Israel she didn't seek him out, either. Then she was too ashamed of what had happened to her in Sinai. Now, in addition to the shame, she had to cope with her sense of guilt. Actually seeing her brother behind bars, surrounded by felons and prison guards, would merely add to her distress.

Itai didn't give up. He'd tried using the media, tried to convince Arami to talk, but nothing had worked. And now that Arami had left for France, he was out of ammunition, as well as ideas. He didn't have much time until a plea bargain was signed and they'd pass the point of no return. Liddie was his last hope. If Gabriel could see his sister, he'd understand how much she needed him, and then maybe he'd change his mind and recant his confession. That was the plan, at least. Itai finally succeeded in breaking down Dahlia's resistance (“I can't take any more badgering. I didn't know you could be such a nag!” were her precise words), who, in turn, managed to persuade Liddie. But she would only agree to visit her brother if Itai went with her.

The three of them—Liddie, Dahlia, and Itai—had gone to the jail the day before yesterday. Itai had called ahead to be sure there wouldn't be any problems, and had even borrowed his mother's car for the occasion. They made the ride to the Hadarim Detention Center in silence. Liddie sat hunched up in the back, shivering slightly, although he turned the heat up to the maximum. Dahlia sat beside her, cradling her in her arms, stroking and reassuring her.

It never entered his mind that they wouldn't be allowed in. He knew Dahlia would have to wait outside, but he didn't have the slightest doubt that they'd let Liddie see her brother. He'd been told on the phone that detainees were permitted visits with members of their immediate family. But it turned out that this regulation had certain provisos. The guard at the gate demanded proof that Liddie was in fact Gabriel's sister, and since Liddie didn't have any papers, she couldn't produce such proof.

Itai's attempts at persuasion didn't make the slightest impression, nor did flashing his attorney's credentials and threatening to file a complaint against the guard. “No one gets in without ID. What part of that don't you understand?” she asked hostilely.

Defeated, Itai called Gabriel's lawyer, Yossi Knoller, who refused to get involved. How did he know that she was his sister? Attorneys could get themselves in serious trouble by trying to sneak people into the detention center who weren't supposed to be there, he said. He didn't want any part of it. The case was enough of a headache already.

It was only when they got back to Tel Aviv that Itai thought of Nachmias. She was the main reason Gabriel was in custody in the first place, but Itai couldn't forget the sensitivity she'd displayed at Michal's funeral. Even Gabriel said she was kind to him, at least compared to the other cops. Besides, he didn't have a better idea.

“It's not right, not letting his sister in to see him,” Nachmias said when he told her the story. “Take her back there tomorrow. I'll make sure there's an entry permit waiting at the gate.”

Itai expected Nachmias to take advantage of the opportunity to make some sarcastic remark about the Internet item, which quoted him accusing the police of being insensitive and incompetent. To his surprise, she didn't mention it. He wondered whether she was showing restraint or simply didn't attribute any importance to it.

Alone in the OMA office that night, it suddenly occurred to him to ask her to accompany them. If Nachmias witnessed the meeting between Liddie and her brother, it might convince her that Gabriel wasn't a murderer. What did he have to lose? And he had to admit that he didn't want to be alone with Liddie. It was only too obvious that men frightened her, and he couldn't blame her. He didn't feel comfortable imposing his presence on her. But Dahlia couldn't make it tomorrow, and he hadn't been able to find another woman to take her place.

Nachmias surprised him again by agreeing immediately. He was so encouraged by her response that he suggested they pick Liddie up together. They could meet at the shelter. It was such a sad place. It got to everyone. For his plan to work, he needed the detective to be sympathetic, to understand the circumstances.

Itai started giving her directions to the shelter, but he soon realized that he was making a mess of it. “Forget it. I'll pick you up at the police station,” he said, admitting defeat. Navigation wasn't his strong suit.

ITAI
figured it was for the best. They'd be alone in the car on the way to the shelter, and that would give him another chance to explain to Nachmias why Gabriel couldn't have killed Michal. Maybe he could finally convince her the cops were making a big mistake. But for some strange reason, when the time came he was flustered and seemed incapable of forming coherent sentences.

When Nachmias climbed into the car, she appeared less like a cop and more like an ordinary woman his age. Actually, a very attractive woman his age.

“I didn't want the uniform to frighten her,” she explained when she saw him looking at her clothes.

Itai nodded. He'd been so preoccupied trying to come up with a plan and making the arrangements that he'd forgotten something so basic. He was pleased that his instincts about Nachmias were right. She was a sensitive and perceptive woman.

“I guess we have to thank your mother for the ride,” she said, breaking the silence in the car.

“You're a real Sherlock Holmes, Nachmias,” he said. Itai had intended it as a joke, but even he could hear the cynical tone in his voice. “How did you work that out? The color?”

“Elementary, my dear Watson,” Nachmias answered, laughing. Itai was glad to see she hadn't taken offense.

“Actually, it's not the color of the car that gave it away, but the color of the lipstick. It's not your shade,” Nachmias said, pointing to the cosmetics scattered around the gearshift. “The driver's license stuck on the sunshade was another clue.”

Itai laughed sheepishly.

“If we're already talking about your mother, can you turn the radio to a station that plays something besides the news?”

“To be honest, that's me,” Itai admitted apologetically.

“You're a news freak?”

“I think it's called a masochist, no?”

“Things aren't always that bad,” Nachmias said.

“In my business, they're usually very bad,” Itai answered, his tone becoming serious.

“You're right. As far as that goes, I imagine we have a lot in common.” Nachmias was interrupted by a text message. Itai glanced in her direction while she read it. She had a dimple in her cheek that he hadn't noticed before.

“Good news?” he asked when he saw her smile.

“Yes, very good. Something I've been waiting to hear for a long time.”

GABRIEL
had vowed to be strong, not to break down. Itai had warned him that Liddie hadn't recovered from the brutal treatment she'd been subjected to, but he hadn't imagined it would be so hard to keep his vow. He barely recognized his sister. Her face was bruised and she was hunched over and walked with a limp. She seemed to have aged ten years since he'd last seen her. The most upsetting part was her constant coughing. She reminded him of those people in the refugee camp in Sudan, the ones everyone kept their distance from, the ones they knew would be dead soon.

What happened to his little sister? What did they do to her? Gabriel's heart was breaking.

Their father called his baby girl “princess,” and the name stuck. After he was killed, she became Gabriel's responsibility. With no one else to provide for the family, their mother had to work. She couldn't look after little Liddie. Gabriel took her with him wherever he went. Even to school. He carried her on his back for miles, told her stories, sang to her. She was only two years old, but she was already learning to read and write. “Your princess is very clever,” the teacher, Mr. Jackson, used to say whenever he saw their mother, and she'd grin from ear to ear. Gabriel remembered his mother's smile very well. He hardly ever saw it again after their father was gone.

He loved his sister, and he was proud of how smart and beautiful she was. When his mother told him to leave and take Liddie with him, he raised no objections.

Gabriel missed Liddie's bubbling laughter. He'd been picturing the first moment of their reunion for a long time. She'd laugh, and he'd laugh along with her, and everything that had happened when they were apart would be forgotten.

The broken woman in front of him bore little resemblance to the laughing girl he remembered. He should have fought harder for her in Sinai. He shouldn't have been so weak. Maybe if he'd stood up to them, they would have left her alone. What would their mother say if she saw Liddie now? She'd say he hadn't kept his promise, that he hadn't protected his little sister.

Despite his determination to stay strong, Gabriel couldn't stop the tears that streamed from his eyes when he saw her. Without a word, he went and hugged her to him. His tears fell on her hair. Liddie sobbed in his arms. Gabriel could feel how thin and fragile she was. He wouldn't normally embrace his sister, especially not when people were watching, but he didn't care. He ignored Itai and the policewoman. He had to show Liddie that she could count on him from now on, that he would keep her safe and never leave her again.

“Do you remember,” he whispered in her ear, “when the driver suddenly ordered us out of the truck on the way here?” Gabriel released his grip and looked into Liddie's eyes. It was shortly after they crossed the border into Egypt. The man told them to get out, and when they hesitated, he forced them out of the truck and drove away. They were left standing in the middle of the desert without any food or water. Just the two of them. All alone.

Liddie nodded through her tears.

“Do you remember how we thought it was the end? That we'd never get out of there alive?” he went on.

“You said we would be all right, that God would save us,” Liddie whispered.

“And He did, Liddie, He did. He answered our prayers.” Gabriel was glad to see that Liddie was responding, sharing the memory with him.

“He'll save us again,” he said, gazing into her wet eyes. “You'll see. You have to be strong and God will save us.”

“He told me,” Liddie replied, nodding her head toward Itai who was standing next to the policewoman, “that you killed somebody to rescue me.”

Gabriel remained silent. He looked over at the two Israelis. The policewoman's eyes were trained on him expectantly. He lowered his gaze.

“You're not a murderer, Gabriel,” Liddie said, grasping his hand. “You couldn't hurt anyone. I don't want you to say you killed somebody because of me.”