Disappearance (7 page)

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The ride back down to the valley was as gorgeous as the rest of the day.  The sun was setting behind the Naftali mountains, forming long dark shadows across their eastern face.  Karen noticed the change in the landscape as the bare volcanic terrain of the Golan changed into the lavish fertile ground of the Hula valley.  They crossed the River Jordan and followed the winding twisting road along the Hatsbani River back toward Kiryat Shmona.  They reached the town just as the last rays of sun disappeared beyond the Naftali Mountains.  Karen looked back.   The Golan Heights were still scattered with sunshine. The valley was almost completely dark.

"We need some gas," Mikki was saying, pulling into a local gas station.

An attendant appeared from nowhere.  Mikki rolled down the window and spoke a few words in Hebrew.  The attendant spoke back.  Mikki seemed irritated.  He flung the door open and stepped out then stuck his head in the window.  "I'll be back in a minute," he
said and followed the attendant into the station.

Karen heard a car pull up behind.  She was tired.  The events of the day had drained her.  By now she was ready for a hot shower and a warm bed.  She heard a door slam, then some footsteps but paid no attention.

Someone was staring at her through the window on the driver's side.

"Miss Glass?" the figure was saying poking a head inside the window.   She turned, seeing a dark skinny complexion with black sunglasses and crooked teeth.

"Miss Glass?" the menacing figure repeated.

There was something horrible in his voice and she could tell he was struggling to keep calm.

She gave him a blank stare.

"Miss Glass, if you quickly do as I say, you won't get hurt," he said in fluent English with a touch of hysteria in his voice.  Then a gun appeared in his hand.   He cocked it and held it inches from her face.

"Take the bag and open your door," he said, losing his cool, teeth clenched, the veins in his neck threatening to pop.

She obeyed.  The door flung open and a huge hand grabbed her face covering her mouth and nose.  In a split second she was pulled from her car and thrown into another.   A heavy body landed on her crushing her face down, on the back seat. She heard the doors slam shut and felt the car begin to move. She wanted to scream but the huge hand held tight.

It took no more than twenty seconds.

The car picked up speed.   Karen needed air.   She tried to move but was pinned helplessly under the weight.  Her body was not responding and she thought she was going to choke.

The hand came off.  She moved her face to the side and coughed violently, fighting for air.  Her body was still pinned to the seat and she felt a face threateningly close.  Then her head was jerked upward and a black rag was proficiently tied around it leaving her in total darkness.  Her nose was blocked but she could breathe through her mouth.

She lay motionless.  Her body numb, her mind blank.  The vehicle swayed dangerously along the road pouncing on the uneven surface forcing the heavy body on top of her.  Panic began to take hold of her as the terrible reality began to sink in.   She gasped in horror, no longer
able  to  sustain  her growing anxiety.  Violently she began to claw at the man with her hands and wildly kick the car door with her feet.  She felt his breath warm on her forehead and suddenly felt him grab hold of her legs and clutch her face with his fingers causing her great pain.  She wanted to scream but could not produce a sound.  He subdued her forcefully, his fingers burning a hole in her cheeks.  She tried to bite at them but to no avail.  He finally let go and she let out a desperate howl then she began to cry.  They hit a ditch and she was flung in the air, the heavy body landing on her, hurting her more.  She reached up with her hand and pulled at his hair.  The man groaned in surprise then clasped her throat, depriving her of air.  The choking feeling returned and she began kicking and clawing once again using up the remains of her strength.   Finally her limbs slumped in the seat and she lay still.  After a while she began to shiver underneath the enormous bulk as  her  thoughts shifted randomly between past and present fusing the cruel image of her abductors with painful childhood memories. She shut her eyes hoping to erase the nightmare and whispered Mikki's name begging him to come get her.

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Raul shut off the headlights as he turned onto the dirt road. He stopped and waited a few minutes so his eyes could adjust to the darkness.  He also needed to make sure they were not followed.

Mustafa was in the back, pinning the girl to the seat.   They were thirty kilometers southeast of where they had snatched the girl.   They had retreated east toward the Golan Heights then turned and headed south along the Jordan at the bottom of the ridge. At the Daughters of Jacob
bridge they turned east again and began climbing the Golan ridge toward the Arab village of Jalabia, turning off the main road a kilometer or so past the lower Customs Station, a battered old Syrian building left uninhabited since the Six Day War.

Suliman was waiting in the orange grove.

Raul maneuvered the Volvo carefully.  The vehicle was not designed for such treacherous dirt roads.  It took them forty-five minutes to reach him. He appeared out of nowhere. Raul swallowed hard as the tall dark figure swiftly approached.  He stopped the car, shut off the engine and stepped out.

"Where is the truck?" he whispered urgently in Arabic.

"Hidden in the trees Raul, take it easy," Suliman said, trying to calm his anxious accomplice.

But Raul was in no mood to be calm.  He opened the back door and pulled out the girl.   She stumbled but was kept standing by Mustafa who followed close behind.

They each knew what had to be done.

Mustafa led the girl, supporting her with his arm and got in the front seat of the pickup truck.  Raul took the keys from Suliman, got
in the truck and fired the engine.  It caught and was immediately reduced to a quiet hum.  Suliman took Karen's backpack and rummaged through it, taking out a few items, then gave it back to Mustafa.  He then went around the truck and leaned against the driver's open window.

"No fuckups Suliman!" Raul grumbled in a hushed voice. "Make sure you get all of it in cash.  You should have the account number memorized."

"Alla be with you my brothers," Suliman saluted cheerfully, stepping away from the truck.

"Do you have the tickets?"  Raul asked, irritated.

"Right here," Suliman smiled patting the left part of his chest. 

"Salamtak Ya Suliman," Raul greeted him as he put the truck in gear and released the clutch.  With the girl sandwiched between them, they carefully made their way in total darkness, using only dirt roads, to the village of Jalabia.

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Suliman drove the white Volvo south staying away from the main roads.   It would take him longer but it was safer that way. He assumed word has spread by now and road blocks were a threat.

He  drove  along  the  Eastern  shore  of  the  Sea  of  Galilee beneath the Golan ridge.   To avoid Tiberius he proceeded along the Jordan  valley  past  Beit-She'an  and  climbed  the Gilboa mountains past the Arab triangle villages, to the city of Jenin.  Under cover of darkness he entered a deserted garage on the outskirts of the city and for the next hour washed the Volvo clean, leaving no dirt marks and no fingerprints.   He sprayed a heavy air refresher to get rid of the coffee and cigarette odors and changed the license plates.  From then on, he drove with gloves using the old coast highway to reach Ben Gurion international airport.

Traffic was light as he approached the permanent roadblock at the entrance to the airport.  This was his final but most difficult obstacle in completing his mission.  Though it served only as an initial filter in the everlasting combat against international terrorism, Arabs were often stopped and searched for no apparent reason.

He moved slowly behind a Volkswagen van and he could see several cars being searched.   The activity didn't seem out of the ordinary but he grew nervous, his stomach tensing, his pulse pounding in his ears.   The Volkswagen was waved through.  Suliman eased the Volvo ahead and stopped under a suspicious glare from the military policeman who aimed a blinding searchlight in his face.   The policeman walked around, studying the car both inside and out then walked over to the driver's side and motioned for Suliman to roll down his window.   He poked his head in, the nozzle of his M-16 machine gun pointed carelessly in Suliman's direction.

"Where are you off to?" the sentry asked.

"Picking up relatives," Suliman answered in fluent Hebrew, not wanting to divulge that he was actually flying out.

The nozzle seemed to be inching closer.

"Where are they coming from?" The guard persisted.

"London," Suliman replied without hesitation.

The military policeman shrugged and backed off, seemingly satisfied. He went back to his post and waved Suliman along.

He found the perfect parking spot at the corner of the lot, away from the main terminal and its beaming lights.  He took his bag, checked to make sure he had his tickets and passport then left the girl's hair pin and earring underneath the back seat spraying some of her perfume around before locking the car and disposing of the keys and perfume bottle in a nearby trash can.

By midnight he was on an Air France Airbus destined for Paris.

CHAPTER 5

Captain Gabi Gadot was among the first to reach the scene.

He was in the area, on his way back home to Haifa from the weekly regional briefing with his staff, when he received the urgent distress call over the police radio.   He responded instantly.  Turning on his flashing lights and sirens, he roared down to the gas station where he found a bewildered Mikki Dotan, sitting on the pavement by the service bay next to his car with Raffi, the gas station attendant, rambling on incoherently.

More police cars and army vehicles arrived by the minute.  He went straight to work taking control, barking orders left and right, sealing the entire gas station off with yellow tape and police officers.  No one was to enter without his approval. Convinced things were under control he then pulled Mikki into his car and locked the doors.  Calmly and methodically he began to question the youth, trying to determine what had transpired and how to proceed.

He learned that Mikki and his American companion, Karen Glass, had pulled into the Delek gas station at around five that evening and were met by Raffi, the station manager. Apparently, Mikki was out of cash and wanted to use the kibbutz gas credit to refuel the car.  Raffi objected pointing out that Kibbutz Geffen was late on its payments and that he was instructed to deny any further use of credit.  Mikki had asked to call his dad, Abe Dotan, the kibbutz's treasurer, to have him reassure Raffi that the bills will be paid. Raffi agreed and together they went into the station to use the phone.

Karen had stayed in the car.

It took some convincing before Raffi gave in and when they came out she was gone.  Mikki thought he heard a car pull up but  couldn't  be  sure,  being  too  involved  in  the  heated argument over the credit status to notice.

The gas station had two service bays.   One could easily be seen from within the station through a large window; the other, where Mikki had parked, was concealed, off to the side. Mikki estimated they were inside, on the phone, for at least seven minutes before he came back out.  His first thought as he realized she was not in the
car was that she had gone to the restrooms in the back of the station.  He waited as Raffi serviced the car and signed the credit slip then went to check the restrooms. Karen was not there.

With Raffi's help, they searched everywhere - inside and around the station covering all possible routes where it would be reasonable for her to go.  They stopped people and cars passing by and Mikki had even reached a shopping strip two kilometers down the road with no results.  The gas station was located at a major intersection just north of town. It merged the road from Metula and the Lebanese border with the road Mikki and Karen had taken coming down from the Golan Heights. It was normally an extremely busy intersection, but on Saturday evenings it was practically deserted.

No one saw or heard a thing.

Then it took Mikki an excruciating several minutes of pleas and threats to finally convince the telephone operator of the dire situation.  She thought it was another prank.  When she finally put them through to the police switchboard who alerted the units, five hours had gone by.

There was nothing more.   Raffi couldn't add anything of consequence and Gadot surmised they had nothing of consequence to latch on to.  He reported the sequence of events to the skeleton command group that had formed which included Kiryat Shmona's police chief and the Northern border military commander.  Road blocks were ordered up to a fifty mile radius.  Civilian and military vehicles were to be stopped and questioned.    All Arab vehicles were to be searched thoroughly.  Military and police search crews began to scan the area.  Air Force helicopters and anti-terrorist military units were called in.  Television and radio crews began to appear.

The scene was turning chaotic.

By 2:00 AM they had the area combed.  Nothing was found. At sunrise search crews were at it again.   Helicopters and military Jeeps traversed the entire Hula Valley and Golan Heights.  Specialists with dogs and detectors inspected every inch of the northern border security fence.   Every military unit positioned at the Northern border was alerted. Volunteers from nearby settlements searched  the  area around the town.

The search carried on into the following night with every angle being considered.  By the end of the second day they found nothing that could support any assumption.   The girl had vanished leaving no clues.

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The Volvo was found the following day.

Captain  Gadot,  getting  ready  to  leave  his  post  at  the field command  for  a  few  hours,  was  called  to  the  phone.  Exhausted and ready for some rest, having just completed a demanding two-and-a-half day investigation, he irritably turned and headed back to the communication hut.

A short man, five feet eight inches, Gadot was in his late thirties, a bit on the plump side, constantly battling his weight.  His red hair was cut short and his blue eyes were permanently hidden behind large, dark Ray Bans.   Compensating for his height deficiency with a relentless will and perpetual dedication, he was well respected on the force, even feared for his witty tongue and shrewd mind.  He was resourceful and very demanding with no patience for the inept and with a reputation for bringing quick results.

The disappearance of the young American tourist was proving no ordinary case and Gadot suspected he would not be able to show quick results in support of his reputation.  Two and a half days of intense investigation proved fruitless.  He had nothing but dead ends. 

Frustrated at his own incompetency, he felt he needed a break.  He also needed a shower.

The car, he was informed, was found at the airport.  A parking attendant reported it not  being  moved  from  a  restricted parking spot in three days. No keys were found so they had to break in, finding it squeaky clean except for a hairpin and an earring. They were still checking for fingerprints.

Gadot did not waste a minute.  Some of the girl's belongings had been brought in from the kibbutz and given to the search dogs but most of it remained in her room.  He called ahead to make sure all of it was located then collected it on his way to the airport.

He thought he had gotten the break he needed but his delight turned out premature.  When he got to the airport he found that the car carried   false license plates, produced no fingerprints and no significant evidence of any kind except for the hairpin and earring which were matched Karen's possessions.

It only added to the confusion.

Passenger lists were double checked, ground crews, pilots and flight attendants were questioned.  Passport control, customs and immigration documents were inspected.   Security surveillance tapes were examined. She never left the country.

The ordeal grew more bizarre by the hour and the Israeli internal security arm, the Shin Bet, the Mossad, Army intelligence, and the Police Central Investigation Division, were all getting involved.

Captain Gadot was running out of time. Pressure was mounting and he needed to provide some quick answers.