Disappearance (37 page)

Mikki considered whether or not to approach the neighbor. His experience at Vegas revealed that neighbors were not very aware of their neighbors' activity or were not willing to meddle in their business. It was, indeed, quite different from the way things worked back home, he thought, smiling to himself in the rear view mirror.  Back there, a neighbor's business was, without a doubt, everyone's business.  He finally decided he needed a touch of Middle Eastern meddling to make some headway with the investigation. But first he needed to dispose of the outfit he was wearing. Scrambling around in the car, he changed his clothes in a hurry and stepped out into the frosty air.  The neighbor had finished poking around under the hood of his car and was slamming it shut when he noticed Mikki.

"Well good day," he said cheerfully, turning to Mikki who had stopped outside a small gate that barred the brick footpath to the house.  The neighbor came forward and stood on the other side of the gate with seemingly no intention of letting Mikki through.

"And a good day to you, sir," Mikki said and held out his hand over the gate.

The man shook it lightly as he gave Mikki a quick once over, his cheerful expression becoming slightly guarded.

"Can I help you with anything?" he asked politely.

"I was wondering if you knew the people who live in that house."   Mikki inquired, pointing to the house across the street.

"I may. Why do you ask?"

"I've been meaning to visit someone there, but I may have the wrong address."

Mikki held in his hand a scrap of paper with the address he had quickly scribbled before stepping out of the car.  The elderly man pointed to the piece of paper and Mikki handed it over.

"Let's see," he murmured, putting on a pair of reading spectacles that were hanging by a thin silver chain around his neck.

"Yap, 1452 Hillside Drive.
  It's the place alright.  Why don't you go knock on the door?"

"I did, but there's no answer.  I've been waiting for someone to show up since early this morning."

"Now why would you want to do that?"  The man asked curiously.

"I'm from Israel," Mikki said, making up a story as he went along.  "Three years ago a group of students stayed at my kibbutz for a few months, part of a student exchange program, and we became quite friendly. I haven't seen any of the group since and I was hoping to surprise one of them here."

The man was still eyeing him.

"Ah
.. it's a girl.  Name is Karen.  She gave me this address. It's... just that… the house looks empty."

"Three years is a long time," the man pointed out.

"I... I know, it's just that, since then, I had to serve in the army and I just got out.  I'm traveling here by myself and I thought it'll be nice to.. you know.. see her again."

The man seemed to relax.

"Kibbutz you say.  I've heard of those; never had a chance to visit one; heard it's quite different."

"It sure is," Mikki said, allowing himself to relax a bit.

"My son wanted to go to Israel a few years ago," the man continued, looking past Mikki.  "We Mormons have quite a lot in common with you folks.  He never did go in the end; too busy with his career."

He looked apologetic. "Ah well, maybe the grand kids."

Mikki remained quiet, waiting for him to come around.  The old man had a kind face.  His skin was pale and quite wrinkled but his eyes were a clear blue.   He focused his gaze on the house across the street then back at Mikki.

"Haven't seen anyone living there for quite some time," he finally said. "Didn't she leave a number or something?"

"I tried the number she had given me, but it just rings. I get nothing.   Not even a change of number message.  I figured they may be away?"

"No sir.  No one has lived there for at least two years.  There's a gardener that comes by once in a while but no tenants.  Let me call Alice, she may know more."

Leaving Mikki by the front gate, he walked to the house and stepped through the front door.  Alice accompanied him out a minute later.   She was also quite tall and had an aura about her.  Her hair was as white as her husban
d’
s, her face aged but well kept, and her stride was dignified.

She greeted him politely nodding toward the house.

"It exchanged hands a few times in the last three years.  I haven't been keeping track, but Zack here is right.  I haven't seen anyone living there for at least two years."

"They must've moved then," Mikki said, sounding disappointed. "Can I show you a picture?"

Without waiting for a response he fished Karen's photo out of his shirt pocket and handed it to Alice.  "This is the girl I've been hoping to see."

Alice looked at the photo, and then showed it to Zack.  Mikki studied their faces, eagerly looking for any sign of recognition. Alice began to speak, thought the better of it then seemed to reach a decision.

Mikki held his breath.

"When did you say she gave you this address?"

"About three years ago, in Israel."

"And she was Jewish?"

"I assume so.   They were on a Jewish student exchange program."

"It's strange.  We've lived here for twenty years.  There aren't many Jews in this area and I don't recall anyone Jewish living in that house or any house in this neighborhood.  Most of us are Mormons.  The
family who lived in that house for almost as long as we have, until they left three years ago, was definitely Mormon.  We used to meet them in church.  Since they left, we have not had any contact with the new owners. Come to think of it, I don't recall ever having the pleasure of meeting them."

"How odd," Mikki said, "she spoke of this place as if she lived here all her life."

"Someone did occupy the house for about a year after the Dillons left," Alice continued, staring at the house as if seeing it for the first time.   "I recall seeing a figure who may have been a girl with blonde curly hair, just like this one, looking out the second floor window from time to time.  I remember this because the Dillons had three girls, all with curly blond hair, and I kept wondering if they may have left one back there. Ah, but these were just my silly fantasies.   I didn't really believe they did.  But I never got to see the other girl.  It could have all been my imagination."

Mikki was looking at the window she had pointed to.  There was only one facing their house.  It was under the V-shaped roof and he could see the bare branches of ferns lacing to its protective screen.   He could also see the glass squares and white window frames, but beyond it was only darkness.

"Did the girl ever go out of the house?  Go to school?  Play with friends?"  he asked, trying to contain the spark of hope that had suddenly been kindled in him.

"She may have, but we never saw her," Zack answered. "We're retired now, but we used to leave for the office every morning at six and return rather late."

"What about weekends or holidays?"

"Young man," Zack was saying, "in our community, we do things together, weekends and holidays in particular. Everyone's invited but if someone wants to keep to himself, i
t’
s their own choice.  We do not force people to join and if they keep apart, they simply don't get the attention."

Mikki looked at the elderly couple.  They were both staring curiously at him now and he was not sure what it meant.  He had no way of telling whether he had offended them in any way or that they were simply expecting him to leave.

The account of the blonde girl in the window had more than provoked his imagination and if Alice wasn't confusing her recollections with the other family, the entire account could certainly be made to fit the scenario he had structured.  The time frames were certainly in place.  The behavior patterns of an incarcerated person could be applied, and it was difficult to imagine such close neighbors never getting to see the occupants of a house directly across the street for an entire year.

Mikki knew he was struggling to think rationally while intuition
was thrusting him forward.  His gut was telling him he had found the trail, but prudence required confirmation. He risked one last question.

"Did you ever see her parents?" he asked the elderly couple. They both stared blankly at him for a second then looked at each other.  Alice shook her head.

"No sir, I don't believe we have."

PART FOUR

THE SIGHTING

CHAPTER 36

“You sore at me?"  Eitan asked well into the night, as he watched her shift around restlessly in the crowded cabin of the New York bound 747.

She opened her eyes and looked at him.  She knew what he was asking.

"I still have nightmares," she said and shifted her gaze. "It seemed like the right thing to do," he muttered.

"It was horrible," she said.

He looked at her expectantly.

Sarah sighed. "You should've warned us Eitan, or… done something. It was just too...brutal."

He looked at her.  She looked quite snug under the airline blanket with her head propped up on two pillows against the window sill and her white socks peeking out from under the blanket on the empty seat between them.  They had been airborne for almost six hours and he was already counting the minutes though they had barely completed half the journey.

"They stop being human after a while," he said.

"Who are they?"   she asked, straightening up a little in her seat.

"The enemy, Sarah.
  They become those pieces of carton we use for target practice."

She studied him.   His physical presence was rugged and uncultivated but his expression conveyed remorse.  He was dressed as smartly as she had ever seen him, a welcome change from the usual blue working khakis he eternally wore on the kibbutz, but he still looked casual with simple jeans and a checked flannel shirt whose collar emerged from under a simple wool sweater.

"Did any of this ever bother you?" she asked.

"It was expected," he said.

"Did you like it?"

"Some of it."

"Would you do it again?"

"If I had to," he said without hesitation. "Do you think about it?"

"I thought about "the ox" for quite some time. Still do occasionally."

"Why about him?"

"Well, I guess I was a bit reckless."

It was the first time she had heard him admit to behaving out of character at that dismal affair.  She had often thought it hard to believe he could just go on as if nothing happened, but his disposition never gave much away.

A stewardess passed by the darkened passageway between the crowded seats, brushing into Eitan's shoulder.  As she knelt over apologizing, Sarah asked for tea and Eitan indicated he could use more coffee.

She was back after a few minutes with their order and two small packets of roasted peanuts.   Using the empty table between them to rest their hot beverages, they added sugar,
then began nibbling on their peanuts.

"You
ever been to America?" Eitan asked.

"Once, about five years ago as a student.
   All my caps are from there."

"You collect those?" he asked.

"Yep, got an authentic cup of every major league team except for the Texas Rangers and Houston Astros.  Couldn't find anyone going to Texas for some reason."

"How'd you get into that?" 
he remarked, sounding mildly cynical.

"They took us, a bunch of communication majors, to a baseball game.  They call it their national past time.  It was in St. Louis and the only thing I remember was the players all wearing these colorful caps.  So I purchased one.  Since then I've asked anybody who's willing and able to help me enhance my collection."

"You familiar with the game?"

"Not really, though it looks quite similar to a game we used to play as kids."

"What game was that?"

"It was called ‘Four Bases’ and it held the same general principle.  Baseball is just a little more structured and it actually pays people lots of money to participate."

Eitan knew the game she had mentioned. They used to play it at his kibbutz when he was a kid.  The idea was to throw a ball into a marked zone and round four bases before any of the defenders could ‘burn you’ by physically hitting you with the ball.   Eitan had always prided himself with having a good arm and he recalled being quite good at it.

"Let's go to one when we're there," he said.

"Great idea," she concurred, smiling, "if we're in Texas, I can get my missing caps."

The plane hit some turbulence, making Eitan put down his coffee cup and grab hold of his seat handles.  He still could not get used to the phenomenon.  Sarah was sipping her tea, quietly appraising him again.

She had her doubts about working so closely with him, finding it difficult to trust him after the Mustafa incident.  She felt she was as committed to the cause as any of them but she did not consider teaming up with Eitan, though Mikki, without providing any explanations, had insisted they both make the trip.  She would have preferred Nadav, only he was still in the service and could not leave the country.

She found it quite difficult leaving everything on such short notice.  Being freelance she could theoretically leave whenever she wanted but abandoning her obligations so abruptly meant hurting her career.  She was throwing business away with no way of generating an income or sustaining a position with her clients.  She wondered whether Eitan faced the same difficulties.

"Have any difficulty taking time off?" she asked him.

"A little," he admitted, "but I've got some vacation time coming to me next year so I convinced them to allow me to use it as credit.   Personnel director wasn’t keen but agreed anyway."

"What about Naomi. How did she take it?"

"She didn't," he stated.

"What do you mean?"

"She moved out," he said, "wouldn't buy into anything; demanded the truth which I couldn't give her."

"That's quite a sacrifice, Eitan," Sarah said surprised.

"More than you can imagine, but I promised myself to see this thing through."

"Even at the expense of your relationship?"   She asked, sounding harsher than intended.

He took it in stride.  "No, it's something I'm doing for her," he answered.

"How so?" she asked, becoming curious.

He stared dubiously at her for a brief moment, looking as if he
needed to make up his mind.  He took a sip from his coffee, drained the packet of peanuts into his mouth, looked around the dimly lit jetliner with its rows of occupants sprawled in odd postures, then straightened his gaze back at her.

"Ah, what the heck," he finally said, "it's just the two of us, a zillion kilometers up in the air…"

When Sarah did not respond, he just kept talking.

"Remember the first time Nadav and I came over to your place? You guys were ready to jump right in and I was the one who needed convincing.  Same thing after we went to see Mikki.   Hell, I was ready to quit after we couldn't find the ox and only just recently when money ran out."

Sarah kept silent watching him with curiosity.

"This thing… this attitude… it's kind of... restricting me," he managed to say.  He was struggling to explain himself, she could tell, but she was not yet sure what he was getting at.

"So…you needed more convincing than the rest of us. Nothing wrong with that," she remarked.

"It's more than just being hard to convince," he said, "it's…it's this reluctance to get involved. 
Kinda…how I am with Naomi."

Sarah was finding the exchange quite odd.  He was typically so rough and evasive she never anticipated him sharing any of his quandaries with her.  "I think you are no less committed than Nadav or me," she pointed out.

"Yeah, but I didn't really believe it would ever evolve into anything.  I played along almost as if I was doing you guys a favor."

Sarah leaned closer to him and whispered. 

"You call killing someone doing us a favor?  Weren't you even slightly affected by all this, or at least concerned this may get you in trouble?"

"Not really," he half whispered back, "I am not wasting any of my energy weeping over a terrorist and
I’
m certainly not worried about getting in trouble.  No one's going to dare report him missing.  With the type of activity he was involved in, they'll never even admit knowing he existed.   As for the authorities, if they ever find his body, they'll just cross him off the wanted list, thank the lord, and go on to the next case. Why waste the public's money on a terrorist who's been eliminated?"

Sarah considered what he said.  It was the same logic she had used time and again to calm
herself whenever the irrational fear of being charged with murder came nibbling at her mind. She knew it made sense but the vivid snapshots of the brutal act that had remained with her, would not allow the guilt she felt to fade.  She had initially put all of the blame on Eitan, unable to deal with the thought that she was just as accountable.  If Eitan was to attract any blame, it was only for the brutal method he had used, but Sarah knew they had all crossed the line.  She knew that the final outcome of kidnapping the terrorist had only one practical resolution and keeping him alive was not an alternative.

"A minute ago I thought I heard you say you acted recklessly and that you still thought about it," she muttered, feeling angry at her own frustration.

"I am not feeling guilty for what I did," he reasoned, "it's the way I did it that got me thinking' that in the heat of things, I had totally lost compassion for another human being."

"You've experienced that before, haven't you?"

"Yeah, with one exception.  The guy was totally helpless.  He was a prisoner.  I had total control of his fate and I butchered him.  Kinda scary to think we're capable of reaching the level of the people who put our grandparents in the gas chambers."

It bothered Sarah that he was using the plural sense but once again she realized it was a collective matter.  They were all responsible because they all let it happen.  She suddenly noticed their faces were just inches from one another.  She pulled back a little and took a sip from her tea.  Eitan did the same with his coffee.

"It's an attitude problem, is what I've been trying to tell you," Eitan finally said. "You were right.  I didn't do anybody any favors.  It's just that I kinda get lost in these types of situations."

"What situations?"

"Uncertain ones," he said.

"You don't seem lost to me," she said.  "You've dealt with uncertainty before, haven't you?   You've raided Southern Lebanon, that's pretty uncertain I would think.  Christ, it's probably as uncertain as it gets."

"I realize that," he said, suddenly looking sheepish, slapping the palm of his hand against his seat handle. "Flying in this metal tube feels even less certain, but what I'm talking about is different from getting shot at, or worrying about landing safely. I am quite OK carrying out missions.  My problem is not being able to deal with the uncertainty tha
t’
s not part of a set mission."

She suddenly understood what he was saying.  She had once done a piece on freshly discharged  soldiers and their difficulties leaving the rigid but often straightforward sanctuary of the military in favor of the flexible but extremely uncertain reality of civilian life.  They all took a while adjusting to making their own decisions.

"So if your commander had ordered you to go find Karen, you wouldn't think twice about doing it," she repeated, just to make sure she understood.

"That's right," he said.  "I've gotten so used to getting ordered around all through school and in the service that suddenly, making a personal decision about which way I should be heading looks awfully difficult."

"What about hunting and your hunting team?  You seem to be pretty much in control there."

"Hunting wild hogs can't remain the only thing I'll feel comfortable doing the rest of my life," he said, irritably.  "I want to be able to find interest in other things that come along."

The odd feeling of becoming privy to his dilemmas came over her again.  In her eyes he was a rare breed of person who she felt she could never truly understand.  

"I think you're being a little too hard on yourself," she offered.  "Give yourself some time.  It's a tough transition and it doesn't happen overnight."

"The point is Sarah; I've been acting like a jerk.  To you guys, to Naomi, to everyone.  I guess leaving the army has got me a little screwed but it's my basic attitude that's got to change."

In the six months they had known each other, she could claim to have superficially become familiar with fragments of his character, which she had to admit had exhibited certain traits that were offensive, but this was the Eitan she knew and she had no reference to judge him.  If he thought he could change for the better, who was she to object?

He went on.

"I never thought this crazy adventure would amount to much, but as things stand, now that Naomi has left me, I almost feel it's an opportunity for me to try and change.  I didn't think she would ever give up on me, but she did and it's my fault, not having read the signs.  Now it's up to me.  If I do things right, and that includes doing my best to help find Karen, maybe I can get her back."