Disappearance (10 page)

‘ “
I will not accept this kind of incompetency and I will not rest until my daughter is found." He ended with an emotional reckoning.

‘Mr. and Mrs. Glass vowed to stay in Israel for as long as it took and do whatever was necessary to find their daughter.’

The article continued on with the reporter providing some of her own insights and speculations of the allegations.  Gadot threw the paper on the table in dismay.

"The son of a bitch didn't waste much time," he muttered in anger.

"Better stay away from the office big brother," Yossi suggested a tired grin on his face.

"Give me the damn number," Gadot demanded impatiently.

Yossi handed him a small envelope.  He ripped it open and took out a white slip of paper. The Volvo's manufacturing ID number was handwritten on it:

"… J-h-k-m-n-5-6-4-2-l-l-0-0-2-9-3-5 …" He read it to himself a few times trying to memorize it but quickly gave up.  Instead, he took out a pen, pulled up his sleeve, wrote the number on his left forearm and covered it. He then put the white slip of paper back in the envelope, and stuffed it in his shirt pocket.

"Where did you find it?" he asked focusing his attention back on his brother.

"I can't tell you that," Yossi said.

"What do you mean?" Gadot snapped, notably tense, his eyes constantly moving from side to side, looking for suspicious observers.   He lowered his voice to a whisper. "I need to know where that stinkin’ car is in case I need proof."

"Proof… of what?" Yossi shot back.

"Look Yossi, if it turns out the car is the key to this case and I can't produce it..."

"Why didn't you ask me to simply bring you the car?"

"Because it would have alerted the entire damn country!
   I don't need to implicate you and I don't want to expose my intentions.  Resnik would never hand over the car unless I threaten him with evidence!"

Yossi considered the argument.  He did not want his brother poking his nose into Shin Bet business.  He felt a sense of loyalty to the bureau and wanted his brother isolated from its internal affairs. It would also be safer for the both of them, he thought.  The less his brother knew, the better their chances were of not being linked to working for the same cause.  It was dangerous to get involved in someone else's case without proper authorization and it was deadly to undermine the boss.

However, he had to admit, something was disturbingly wrong for it took some effort to locate the car.  There were only a handful of places where he knew a vehicle would be kept and he found it at the most unlikely location of all, in the underground parking garage of the  Shin  Bet  main headquarters in Tel Aviv.   No vehicles, other than those belonging to Shin Bet operatives, were ever parked in that garage, especially ones under investigation, and it took Yossi some doing to come up with creative excuses to get himself entry into the building.  The place had only one automobile access gate that was guarded around the clock and he had to squirm to evade some attentive guards and watchful surveillance cameras in order to sneak into the lot through the pedestrian entrance and copy the Volvo's ID number.

Yossi knew their methods well.  In the last ten years he had been involved with investigations encompassing the complete range of society from drug traffickers spreading heroin to political figures accused of white collar crimes.  The Shin Bet stopped at nothing to extract information.  Beating, mental abuse and deception were commonly used in dreadful interrogation dungeons.  Suspects could be held for weeks without a court order.  The bureau followed a different set of rules and a few they made up along the way.  Any policy was subject to change and conventional police procedures were often ignored.

But the one sacred rule they all followed was never to leave dirty tracks.  They would always make sure nothing could ever be traced back to the bureau, and keeping the Volvo at headquarters was a blatant violation of that rule.

He had confirmed that it was the boss who had given the order to cease the car and that was very troubling. "I'll tell you what big brother," he finally said, "if and when you find your evidence, I'll let you know its whereabouts."

Gadot realized there was no point in arguing. His brother had sacrificed plenty to help him.   He had to respect his wishes and follow his guidelines if he was to continue relying on him.

"Where will you be today?" 
he asked, trying to hide his disappointment.

"I should be in the office all day, but don't call me direct.  Let Gila know where you are and I'll track you down."

Gadot gulped the rest of his coffee and got up.  "Where is your car little brother?"

"I took a cab just to be safe."

"From Ramat Aviv? It must have cost you a fortune."

"It did and you'll be getting my expense report as soon as this mess is cleaned up."

Gadot forced a smile. "If I still have a job, I'll gladly pay you."

Yossi reached for the newspaper and settled back in his chair.

"How will you get back?" the captain queried.

"I'll be on the first bus to Tel Aviv at six," Yossi muttered from behind the newspaper.

"Can I keep the front page?"

Yossi appeared irritated.   He separated the front page from the  rest  of  the  paper,  handed  it  over,  and  went  back  to reading.  Gadot folded the front page, stuffed it under his arm and turned to leave.

"Gabi..." he heard his brother call from behind the newspaper.  He stopped without turning his head.

"Better work fast.  They won't keep the car intact for very long!"

The captain nodded, took a few quick steps, and was out the door.

CHAPTER 8

Captain Gadot did not return home that morning, nor did he go anywhere near his office.  He remained in plain clothes hoping to stay anonymous long enough to track the owner of the Volvo and shed some light on the enigma that was threatening his livelihood.

The Haifa Department of Motor Vehicles was in the same building where he worked, the Northern Police Headquarters. He called his private line and was relieved when Ruthi, his personal secretary, answered the phone.  

"Gabi, where are you?" she uttered urgently when she heard his voice.  "The entire country is looking for you. Have you seen the papers?"

"Relax Ruthi; I've seen it and I'll be in as soon as I settle a few matters."

"But Gabi, the district chief has already called twice, there is a mob of reporters outside waiting for our reply, and Avner walks   in   here   every   two   minutes   ranting   and   raving threatening to hang you.  It's a freakin' mad house..."

He realized the pressure had been turned on and his secretary was taking the brunt of the charge. He needed to work fast.

"Ruthi, listen to me,” he commanded, trying to get her focused. She obeyed.  He gave her the Volvo's manufacturing ID number and instructed her to trace its owner through Motor Vehicles.  "No one at headquarters is to know you are tracing this car,” he instructed.  “Don't use the phone.  You are personally going there to retrieve it.  If anyone questions you, you haven't spoken to me and you don't know where I am.  Be cautious, this is extremely delicate.  I'll call you on this line in two hours.”

He hung up before she could reply.  The less she knew, the safer she was, he  thought, recognizing how  loyal  she  had always been.  He hated to get her involved but knew he had no choice. She was among the few he could trust.

It was a typical, activity-filled Thursday morning, in the hustling
port city of Haifa.  He had left his car in a parking garage downtown, and was moving around on foot and by means of city buses, a form of transportation he had not used in years.  The streets were jammed with traffic, restless drivers irritably blowing their horns at one another, vendors were lined up in small shops behind counters loaded with goods, noisily trying to attract  attention,  and  pedestrians  hurried along, stopping only to pick up a magazine or the morning newspaper at tiny newsstands found at every corner. Restaurants and coffee shops were busy serving breakfast at out-of-doors tables set up on the sidewalks, and occasional ambulance sirens from numerous directions could be heard above the general racket.

He took the bus to midtown Haifa, jumped off at Hertzel Street and walked several blocks to an out of the way coffee shop that offered him a concealed observation spot. He ordered a light breakfast and settled himself at a corner table by the window, making sure he had a clear view of the street and anyone entering the coffee shop.

He was not accustomed to being one of the crowd.  Joining the force meant he would always stand out.   From handing out parking tickets as a rookie, to traffic tickets, to busting drug dealers, he loved the power of authority that came with the badge.

Across the street from where he sat, a few stores down toward Weissman Square stood the Falafel Palace, a favorite hangout for everyone at headquarters.  Elbaz, the Falafel king, treated them well and they would turn a blind eye now and then if his delivery trucks parked on the sidewalk or blocked traffic at one of the busiest intersections in town.  Elbaz was a fountain of information.   He would obediently serve and carefully absorb valuable, and at times, classified information, the Haifa police top brass would carelessly disclose to impress anyone who cared to listen.

Gadot was certain the newspaper headlines of police incompetency had all but guaranteed a very informative day for the Falafel King and his plan was to milk some of the particulars out of him during his break. He had an hour before he needed to call Ruthi and four hours before he could go after Elbaz.  He made himself comfortable.  The Arab waiter served him his breakfast of two eggs over easy, a Greek salad filled with Feta cheese that he loved, a glass of orange juice, pita bread with butter and jam on the side.   Several strong cups of coffee with plenty of sugar would help keep him awake for the remainder of his stay.

He needed the time to put the worrisome recent events into perspective, worried he was losing sight of the overall picture
because of senseless paranoia.  He could not afford to stay in hiding for very long.   There were over thirty policemen and women out in the field that were ultimately his responsibility. There were units patrolling the streets and investigating hundreds of cases, some just as troubling as the Glass case. The apparent ignorance of the intelligence bureaux could actually be legitimate, he reflected.  They may have as much trouble with the case as his own investigating teams, and it may indeed take some more creative effort to crack it.

He also realized that he was now a front in a case that, besides the media, the United States government would not hesitate to put extra pressure on the Israeli authorities to resolve. If resolved, it will blow away; if not, it was becoming clear that he would be the one taking the fall.  He will be their scapegoat and pay the price for everyon
e’
s negligence, a fact that would surely cost him his job.

He lost his appetite.  Disgusted, he shoved the plastic plates away and ordered the waiter to bring him his coffee. Engulfed in self-pity he eagerly waited to make his call.   At exactly11: 00
AM he went to the public phone at the back entrance by the tiny restrooms and dialed his dedicated line once again. Ruthi gave him the name.

He then dialed his brother's home number and instructed Gila to have Yossi call him at the coffee shop.   The phone rang five minutes later.

"Yossi, I have a name!" the captain declared excitedly.

"Let's have it." Yossi said levelly.

"Dan Hasson," Gadot said. "Ruthi checked the police records as well.  She gave me his ID number and residence address. He has no criminal record.”

Gadot read him the details, impatiently waiting as his brother jotted down the details.

“Can you check him at your end?"

"Sure can Gabi, where will you be?"

"How long will it take you?"

"A couple of hours.”

"Call me at this number.”

"Will do," Yossi assured him and clicked off.

Gadot went back to his table by the window.  He signaled for another cup of coffee and politely asked the waiter to fetch him the afternoon paper from a nearby kiosk.  The waiter was back in no time.  Gadot gave him a generous tip and settled behind the headlines, occasionally peeking from the side, carefully watching the Falafel Palace.

Yossi was on the phone two hours later.  Dan Hasson turned out to be ex-Mossad.

The captain had what he wanted.  His brother then disclosed the whereabouts of the Volvo and asked him to cease contact for a while.  Gadot thanked him, feeling he had gotten his evidence.  He killed another hour, adding significant amounts of caffeine to his system, and was off to interrogate the Falafel King.

-------

He found him in a small room at the back of the restaurant, slumped on a worn down swivel chair, behind a huge office desk, going through piles of invoices and receipts.  The room was cramped with filing cabinets, food supplies, and cleaning accessories.  The air, heavy with cigarette smoke and cooking odors, stood still.   Elbaz, burning cigarette glued to his lips, looked up from behind the desk and quickly stood up.

The captain wasted no time.   He leaned
across  the  desk looking hard at the trembling frame and growled in a low, threatening voice, breathing into the Falafel maker's frightened face.

"Spit it out!" he snarled.

"Spit what out? What are you talking about?" complained the frightened restaurant owner, taking a step back.

"Tell me everything said in here today about me and my investigation.”

"Captain," the merchant pleaded, "who am I to know what's being said. I'm a simple Falafel maker.”

Gadot swiped his hand across the top of the desk sending the piles of receipts flying across the room.

"How long have we known each other?" he exclaimed.

Elbaz didn't answer.  He had his face shielded with his hand avoiding the Captain's gaze.  Gadot went on, softening his approach.

"We've all been coming here for years.   You know more of what's going on than the big chief.  This is no time to play smart with me Elbaz. I need information and I need it now!"

Elbaz sighed and for the first time looked at the captain.  "Are you in trouble Captain?" 
he asked with forced concern.

"What did you hear?" Gadot snapped.

"Not much," the shopkeeper finally admitted. "A couple of them were discussing the article when Avner walked in.  He sat next to them but did not say much until Klinger showed up.   I was serving them their lunch when I heard Avner mention something about  a  stolen  car,  the  girl,  and  'a nightmare of an investigation' that could complicate matters at the station.”

"Come on Elbaz, use what's left of your brain cells and think a little harder!" The Captain pressed further.  Trying to control his temper, he looked ready to explode.  Elbaz felt it and took another
step back.

"Did they say anything more specific?" Gadot insisted.

Elbaz looked up at the ceiling, as if trying to remember.  The captain was ready to clutch the fragile, wrinkled neck, and squeeze the last ounce of life out of it.

"There was something unusual that was mentioned, now that I think of it," the Falafel King mused.  He looked cunningly at the Captain but did not dare hold back what he had to say.

"I'm guessing one of the two cops asked Klinger something about the father.   I did not hear the question but before Klinger could open his mouth, Avner snapped at the cop saying something like 'the father has them where he wants them'…”

"Is that all?"  Gadot asked.

Elbaz nodded.   Gadot moved a step closer to the shaky Falafel maker and whispered threateningly:  "This conversation never took place, you hear?  I was never here, and if I find you opened your mouth, I will hunt you down and make you sorry you ever started poking your ugly nose in police business.”

He let a few silent seconds pass, letting the threat sink in, before leaving the pitiful figure behind in the small greasy office of his Falafel kingdom.  He slipped out the back alley and stood hidden in the shadows, waiting for the city bus to arrive.

He had no reason to doubt Elbaz.   He saw both Avner Mimon, his station chief,   and   Boaz   Klinger, head of operations, visit the Falafel Palace.  He figured the merchant had told him all he heard.  Now he had to make a decision realizing that acting like a fugitive was not helping any in resolving the case.  He had a responsibility to fulfill as head of the investigation and he could not function in hiding.  As the city bus approached he came to a decision.  He had to bring his findings into the open and it needed to be done with a bang, right at the top.

Still, he had one last stop to make, just to play it safe.

-------

Avner Mimon stormed into Ruthi's office unannounced, slamming the door shut behind him.   Rising from behind a low filing cabinet, Captain Gadot's neatly dressed, petite secretary felt a paralyzing fear spread through her body as she turned, catching a glimpse
of  the  station chief's menacing stare.

"Sit down Ruthi," he said in suppressed anger.

She obediently took her seat behind her orderly office desk, giving him a pleading look.

"Where's Gadot?" he began in a threatening, uncompromising tone.

"I... I'm not sure..." she answered hesitantly.

"When did you last talk to him?" the station chief queried.

“A few hours ago, I'm not sure…"

Mimon lurched from his position by the door, leaned over her desk and spoke in a low, unrelenting tone.  "What exactly did he ask you to do?"

She did not respond.

"Did he make you go to the DMV or did you volunteer?  Did he force you to secretly send him information?   Does he possess supernatural forces that kept you from reporting to me?"

He stepped back and waited.  She gathered herself and straightened her gaze at him bravely.

He
lunged right back at her, interrogating her without mercy. When it was over, he realized she did not possess enough particulars to cast much light on Captain Gadot's bizarre disappearance.

Before leaving, he made sure she would never repeat the story.

"Ruthi, you realize the two of you are interfering with a serious investigation?"

She nodded submissively.

"You realize this little game could not only cost you your job but could get you serving time?”

The paralyzing fear struck every nerve in her body but she kept staring at him.

"Would you like to see your kids only during visiting hours for the next five years?" he continued terrorizing her.