the Hunted (1977) (11 page)

Davis looked over at Mati. He said, "Don't yo
u want something to drink?"

"No . . . nothing." Straightening awkwardly
, shaking his head.

Okay, he had tried. Davis looked at the light blu
e lawyer. "Are we waiting for something?"

"As a matter of fact, we're waiting for a phon
e call," Mel said. "But I want to take a little time, fil l you in first."

The guy was ahead of him, assuming things.

"I'm on leave," Davis said.

"So you got time. Good."

It wasn't what he'd meant. "My car's packed.

I'm ready to go." Shit, it still didn't sound right. "I
m ean I've made plans," Davis said. "I'm taking a trip."

"I understand that," Mel said. "All I want you t
o do is drop something off for me."

"Where?"

"That's what we're waiting to find out. How'
s your drink?"

"I'll have another one."

Mel pushed himself up and went over to the ba
r with their glasses.

"You recall the package, the money. You give i
t to Tali, right? She's the one set it up, she delivers it.

That's the way it's been. This time I want you to deliver it. You saw it yesterday? Two hundred grand?

That money." Mixing drinks, Mel spoke with hi
s back to Davis. "We get a phone call from an individual, a client of mine. He tells us where to make the delivery. You go there and give him the money.

He calls again, tells me he's got it. That's all yo
u have to do."

Mel opened the desk drawer and took out
a packet of bills. He walked over to Davis an d dropped the packet in his lap as he handed him a fresh frosty bourbon.

"A thousand U
. S
. bucks. That look about right?"

Davis picked it up, fingering the packet of cris
p hundred-dollar bills. He watched Mel get hi s Scotch and shuffle back to the couch, the big dealer.

"If it's such a pissy little job, how come a thousand?" Davis said.

"Looking for the catch, uh?" Mel grinned a
t him. "Well, I'm not gonna lie to you. There coul d be--there's a very slight chance of a complication.

But not if we do it right. Okay, you want the whol
e story?"

"I wouldn't mind knowing a little bit more,"

Davis said.

"I'm not gonna give you details, it's a lon
g story," Mel said, "but. There's a man by the nam e of Al Rosen living here who used to live in Detroit.

Three years ago he testified for the Justice Department before a federal grand jury. The Justice Department wanted to indict two individuals for murder and they persuaded my client, Mr. Rosen , against my advisement, to testify as a key witness.

Okay, the two individuals were never brought t
o trial and my client was left standing there in his underwear. You follow me?"

"You say his name's Al Rosen?" Davis said.

"Right, Albert Rosen," Mel said. "One of the individuals he testified against had a stroke. He's still alive but he's fucked up, paralyzed on one side , doesn't talk right. The other one served nine month s in Lewisburg on a separate, minor indictment--
c onspiring to defraud. One day my client's ca r blows up, killing a gas station attendant who ha d come on a service call. It was a cold morning, th e car wouldn't start. Otherwise it would've been m y client. You understand? So my client, with th e help--if you want to call it help--of the Justice Department, which got him into this, changed his identity and came here to live."

"Who sends the money?" Davis said.

"That's another story. Well, let's just say th
e company he used to be with," Mel said. "In th e mortgage loan business. The company's been carrying him the past three years and we're the only ones who know where he is. Everything's fine . . . relatively. So what happens? Rosen gets his picture in the paper."

"Here?"

"No, it wasn't even in the papers here. The stor
y was about the hotel that burned down last week i n Netanya. No, Rosen shows up in the Detroit papers and some others, picture of him standing out in front of the hotel."

Davis was nodding.

"You got it now?" Mel said. "Three days later
, not wasting any time, somebody makes an attemp t on his life. Yesterday two guys came to see me.

They want to know where he is. If I'm here in Te
l Aviv then it must be to see Rosen. So they're watching me. They're watching Tali. They're watchin g the kid here, maybe. Rosen wants to get the hell ou t and hide someplace else. Change his identity again.

But he has to pick up his money first, and we can'
t deliver it because these guys are watching. The y know who we are."

"Okay," Davis said.

"Just like that?" Mel seemed a little surprised.

"Great."

"You haven't told him," Tali said. "They als
o know who David is."

"No, they don't know him," Mel said. "Mayb
e they saw him talking to you in the lobby."

"It's the same thing," Tali said.

Mel was staring at her, giving her a look. "The
y don't know his name or what he does, where h e lives. That's quite a difference." He turned to loo k at Davis. "Of course it's up to you, Sergeant. I f you'd just as soon pass up a quick thou."

"I'll do it," Davis said. "Where's the money?"

Mel gave him his grin. "You're not getting an
y ideas, are you, Sergeant?"

Davis didn't say anything. He grinned back.

He listened to the plan Mel described. There wasn'
t much to it.

They had the metal box that the money had bee
n mailed in wrapped up again with paper and string.

When Rosen called, Mati Harari would take th
e package, walk through the lobby, get in the Mercedes, and drive off.

A few minutes later, Davis, with the money i
n Mel's briefcase and the briefcase in Davis' trave l bag, would leave by the service entrance. He'd cu t through the beach parking area next to the hote l and come out on Hayarkon, where his car wa s parked in front of the M&A Club. Some plan.

If anyone tried to stop him--well, Davis was no
t expected to resist. "Unless you want to," Mel said , and then asked him if he'd been in Vietnam. Davi s nodded. Mel said, "Well, as I say, it's up to you , considering the remote possibility anything happens. But I can't imagine a Marine taking any shit from anybody."

Davis said, "It's about all a Marine takes."

They sat around waiting. Mel would go into th
e adjoining room for a while and come out lookin g at his watch, showing Davis he was as anxious a s anybody. He'd walk around with his hands in hi s pockets, his shoulders hunched. Once he went ove r to the window and looked down at Independenc e Park, where the brides had their pictures taken an d people walked their dogs, and said he bet fags hun g out down there, it looked like a fag park. He didn'
t offer any more frosty drinks.

At about one-thirty Mel decided it was time t
o eat and asked Davis what he wanted. Davis said, I g uess shwarma. Mel said, What the fuck's shwarma?

And Davis told him--lamb and stuff inside pita.

Mel told Tali he'd have a cheese and mushroo
m omelette and fries. He didn't ask Mati what h e wanted. Tali did, and then got on the phone t o room service and began speaking Hebrew.

After a few moments she placed her hand ove
r the speaker and said to Mel, "They can't put th e dairy and meat dishes on the same table."

"What dairy dishes?"

"The omelette."

"Tell them eggs are from chickens, for Chris
t sake."

"The cheese in it," Tali said.

"Jesus Christ," Mel said to Davis. "You believ
e it? Then tell them to put it on two tables," he said t o Tali. "I don't give a shit how many tables they use."

That was as interesting as it got, sitting aroun
d waiting. Davis talked to Tali a little, asking he r about her year in the Israeli Army, and found ou t where she lived. But he couldn't relax and sa y funny things to her with Mel in the room.

Finally, going on four, the phone rang and Tal
i answered it. He knew it was Rosen from the wa y she turned and looked at him before she looked a t Mr. Bandy and held out the phone, nodding.

Davis didn't hear much from where he was sitting. Mel stood with one hand in his pocket looking up at the wall, saying, "Yes . . . of course . . .
w e've been waiting, we're ready to go," his ton e much different, being efficient and a little kissy-ass.

He waved the phone at Tali and said, "Here, yo
u get the directions from him. Make sure it's clear."

Then he said into the phone, "Rosie, don't worr
y about a thing. It's as good as done."

Tali spoke to him again. When she hung up sh
e seemed sad. "The address where he is is Rehov Bil u 30 in Herzliya."

"I know about where it is," Davis said.

"Write it down for him," Mel said. "What is it,
a house, what?"

"An apartment. Number 23 on the fifth floor. I
t belongs to a friend of his," Tali said. "There's a lif t you take."

Mati picked up the package and left, not lookin
g back when Tali said something to him in Hebrew.

A few minutes later it was Davis' turn, carryin
g the alligator attache case inside the Marine trave l bag and the thousand bucks in his back pocket. A t the door, Tali said, "If you come back this way o n your trip, please stop and tell me how Mr. Rosen is , how he looks."

Davis left, wondering if Tali was sleeping wit
h the guy. He was anxious to see this Mr. Rosen.

Mati got no more than three strides out of the elevator before Teddy Cass hit him with a stand-up bod y block, forearms into Mati's chest, and pushed hi m back inside. Valenzuela came in after them. Th e doors closed and the elevator went up. Teddy Cas s held Mati against the wall, his forearm now agains t the skinny kid's throat, staring at the kid's wide-ope n eyes while Valenzuela ripped open the package.

"Bullshit time," Valenzuela said. "Paper in a ti
n box." The elevator stopped. Valenzuela jabbed th e button for the lobby. "We'll bring him along."

Rashad was over by the taxi stand to the left o
f the hotel entrance, where a cement stairway le d down to the side street that sloped toward th e beach. Rashad waited for them as they came ou t with the Arab-looking kid between them, the ki d looking very frightened or sick.

"The decoy," Teddy Cass said.

"Car down the street's got a Marine thing on th
e windshield. They like to tell you what they do, don'
t they?" Rashad said. Next to him, on the cemen t wall at the top of the stairway, was a plaid overnigh t bag. "Looks like he should be along any time now.

It's one way, so he's got to come toward the hote
l before he turns to go anyplace else." Rashad picke d up the overnight bag. "I'll see you gentlemen."

He walked down the hotel drive toward Hayarkon and gave a little wave without looking back.

Valenzuela and Teddy Cass walked Mati over t
o the white BMW parked in the shade of the hotel.

HE'D GO WEST on Nordau to Ibn Gvirol, then cu
t over to the Haifa Road. He could keep going nort h after the stop in Herzliya, drive up to the Golan o r Metulla, see if maybe there was some action alon g the border--terrorists sneaking in. Maybe talk t o the troops up there on border watch. He could stil l make the Sinai in a day.

Davis put the Camaro in gear and got almost t
o the end of the block. The crazy Black Muslim cam e running out into the street right in front of him , grinning and holding up his hand. Davis recognize d him, couldn't miss him, as he braked to a stop. Nex t thing, the guy had the door open and was getting in.

"What way we going?"

Davis pushed the gear into neutral. He didn'
t like it, but he didn't have time to think.

"I'm going north."

"That's fine with me," Rashad said. "I'm read
y to see some country." Davis didn't move an d Rashad eased up a little. "I don't want to fuck u p your plans, my man. You don't want me along, sa y it. But I would appreciate a lift out of Tel Aviv.

Place is beginning to press down on me. . . ."

Davis started up, creeping, and made the turn a
t Nordau.

". . . All the nightlife, places like Norman's.

Man, it's warm and friendly, but it gets to you. Hey
, I thought we were gonna have some Chinese."