Asylum City (26 page)

“And the reenactment was perfect. Gabriel confirmed every little detail,” Anat said, not hiding her sarcasm.

“The reenactment will do just fine. Like I told you, the little show you put on made the brass even more determined to hold on to the only suspect we've got.”

“So you're saying it's my fault he's going to prison? With all due respect, David, that's bullshit,” Anat said angrily.

“That's not what I said, and you know it. Gabriel is going to prison because he confessed,” David answered, keeping his voice steady. He clearly had no intention of getting into a shouting match with her.

“But what you meant was I should have held on to Gabriel as the prime suspect and gone on investigating. I might have gotten a lead on someone else and things would be different now.”

“Not necessarily. We've still got a confession. The guy turned himself in. But you get the point. If you had your doubts about Gabriel, you should have handed him over to Yaron and conducted your own investigation under the radar. That's how it works. You have to offer up an alternative. You can't leave them empty-handed,” David said with a smile.

“I guess great minds think alike,” Anat said, returning the smile. “I've got one.”

David's eyes opened wide.

“Like I told Yochai, you've got a good head on your shoulders, Nachmias. Okay, let's hear it.” He leaned back into the cloud of smoke.

Anat poured out what she'd learned, excited to finally have someone who was willing to listen. She told him about Yariv Ninio's odd behavior when she questioned him in his office, the legal opinion he concealed, the lie he told her about how he got the bruises on his face, and, most important, the results of the blood test she had Grisha perform.

David listened in silence. A few times he leaned forward and scribbled a note to himself.

“Not enough, Nachmias,” he pronounced when she was done. “Forget it. You're not bringing Ninio in for questioning.”

Anat's heart sank. “Weren't you listening? I don't get it. Why not?” Her disappointment was evident.

“A million reasons. One, you're too late. The case has already been turned over to the prosecution. Two, if you want to swap out a migrant for an ASA, you're going to need much more than you've got. Three, nothing you told me about Ninio proves he's our murderer. It's just speculation.”

“So let's bring him in and find out. We can fingerprint him, get his DNA, compare it with the evidence from the scene,” Anat cut in.

“No way, Nachmias. I told you, let it go,” David said, raising his voice for the first time.

“He lied to me about almost everything. He got the position paper from the Foreign Ministry. He didn't get the bruises from falling off his bike. And when we compare his DNA with the blood we found at the scene, we'll be able to prove that he lied about not seeing Michal for months. He was there the night of the murder.”

“Do I have to remind you the blood was on the outside of the door, not in the apartment?”

“I know, but it's a start,” Anat said, undeterred. “We have to see where the investigation takes us. There were unidentified prints in the apartment. I'm willing to bet they're his.”

David remained silent.

“Why did he lie about the legal opinion, about falling off his bike?”

David shook his head.

“I told you, let it go. Do you know what it means to interview an assistant state attorney under caution? You need the consent of the Attorney General and the State Attorney. You're not going to get it on the basis of what you have. Especially not when they know that someone else confessed and his lawyer is trying to cut a deal.”

“We both know how much confessions are worth.”

“Okay, so explain to me why he confessed. Did you coerce him? Did you twist his arm?” David started to get up before remembering his broken leg.

Guessing what he was after, Anat went to the drawer at the far end of the desk and took out a fresh pack of cigarettes.

“A million reasons,” she said, quoting her boss. “One, because there was a search on for him. We touched base with all our informants, promised to pay for information. He couldn't take the pressure.”

David waved his hand dismissively.

“Two, because someone paid him to confess.” Anat could hear Itai Fisher's voice echoing in her head.

“Who? Ninio? That's your theory? Yariv Ninio killed Michal Poleg and then paid some random migrant to take the rap for him?”

Anat didn't respond. She didn't have an answer yet. David's question had been nagging at her ever since she started looking in Ninio's direction. There had to be some connection between Ninio and Gabriel. Someone could have brought them together. Maybe they met through Michal, or at Hagos's trial. She might not have an answer yet, but give her time and she'd find it.

“Don't eat yourself up over this, Anat. We've got a confession. The suspect has legal counsel. Let it go and we can move on to the next case,” David said gently.

“They can't convict on a confession without corroborating evidence. What evidence have we got?” Anat wasn't ready to give up.

“Gonen's testimony.”

“He identified the wrong man in the lineup.”

“Then the reenactment,” David said. He was losing patience.

“The one I conducted or your scripted one?”

“Okay, that's enough. I've already explained. We're just going around in circles.” David crushed out the cigarette with excessive force. “It's the prosecution's problem now. As far as we're concerned, the case is closed.”

ITAI
was surprised to see the name that came up on the screen of his cell phone. After their last conversation, he wasn't expecting to hear from Arami anytime soon.

“I'm leaving the country,” Arami announced as soon as Itai answered. “I got a travel document from your Interior Ministry.”

Itai was impressed. A travel document was the refugees' wet dream. Not only did it enable them to leave Israel, but it allowed them back in as well. They were issued very sparingly, to say the least. It goes without saying that a lot of people would be very happy to see the asylum seekers find someplace else to live. The problem was that no other country would let them in without an official guarantee that they could return to Israel if they wanted to, and the government was naturally reluctant to give such a guarantee. It preferred to send the message that Israel was like a prison: once you were in, you couldn't get out. The idea was to make asylum seekers think twice before coming here to begin with.

“Well done, Arami. I'm proud of you. You achieved the impossible,” Itai said as he congratulated him.

“Don't think it was easy,” Arami said, answering the question Itai had refrained from asking. “The fact that the Eritrean consulate was on my heels, thanks to you, worked in my favor.”

Itai didn't know what kind of reaction Arami was expecting. Should he apologize yet again for talking to the reporter, or should he say he was glad he could be of help?

“I need my paycheck now. I can't wait for the end of the month,” Arami said, interrupting Itai's inner debate.

“Of course. I'll take care of it. It'll take a few days . . . you know how it is.” Itai regularly denied requests for an advance. He was always teetering on the edge of the abyss in terms of cash flow. But these were extraordinary circumstances.

“You people are good at making promises—you, the police, the restaurant owner. I need the money now. I can't wait around for it.”

“Let me see what I can do. I'll call as soon as I've got it, I swear,” Itai said apologetically. Arami was right. He couldn't afford to waste any time. He had to leave immediately.

Silence.

“Where are you planning to go?”

“France. I've got a brother-in-law there. Then I'll try to get my family out. Your little item on the Internet put them in danger, too. It won't be easy, but I think I've got a chance. The French don't regard every African as a threat to their existence as a nation.”

“If there's anything else I can do,” Itai said, wondering if it was the proper time to voice his own request.

Silence.

“Listen, Arami,” he said softly. “I need you to do me a favor. I know I don't have the right to ask for anything, but it's not for me, it's for Gabriel. Before you go, please tell me who paid Gabriel to say he killed Michal.”

Silence.

“It's our last chance. We won't get another one. Gabriel is going to go to prison for a long time if you don't help him,” Itai went on in an effort to persuade him.

“Please. You know it's the right thing to do,” he implored when he got no response.

“Is he African? Israeli?”

“Have you spoken to Gabriel? Do you have his consent?” Arami finally said.

“I spoke to him, but that's not the point. He's confused, frightened,” Itai said, trying to steer the conversation away from Gabriel.

“Why do you always think you know what's best for us? Gabriel made his decision. He knows what he's doing. Why do you have to interfere? What do you really know about him, about his reasons? Stop treating us like children. We don't need your help or your protection. Start showing us some respect. What do you say, Itai, do you think you can do that?”

“I understand what you're saying, but I think these are special circumstances . . .”

“Good-bye Itai. Just get me the money you owe me. I need it,” Arami cut in before disconnecting.

Itai clenched his jaw. Arami was Gabriel's only hope. Without him, he had nothing.

ANAT
was sitting at her desk trying to decide on her next move. She was debating with herself how to continue the investigation without disobeying David's direct order when Yariv Ninio himself burst into her office.

“Listen up, you,” he barked, standing over her and waving a finger in her face.

Anat gazed at him in shock.

“This harassment is going to stop. I'm putting an end to it right here, right now. Who do you think you are?” Ninio shouted. “Yes, I know all about it. How you poked your nose around outside my house, your big ‘bicycle theft investigation.' It's all documented and on its way to Internal Affairs.”

Anat wondered why his neighbor had blabbed. Had Ninio finally seen the error of his ways and invited her to the wedding? Mrs. Glazer would now have something new to kvetch about to her friends. “Who needs it?” she'd say. “But of course I have to go. They insisted. It wouldn't be right not to go.”

“Since my bike got stolen, I've been using rent-a-bikes, Ms. fifth-rate detective,” Ninio yelled, slamming his hands down on the desk. “That's the bike I fell off, okay? You can stop asking your idiotic questions now.”

Anat remained silent, even when he threatened to go to her superiors and end her short career before it ever got started. Even when he accused her of harboring a sick love for Africans and hatred for her fellow Israelis. All the while, her eyes were fixed on his hands.

People never learn. They keep making the same mistakes over and over again. The cops count on that. It helps them solve crimes.

Ever since her talk with David, Anat had been racking her brain trying to think of a way to set a trap for Ninio. Although she was sorely tempted to ignore David's order to leave the lawyer alone and move on, she was reluctant to openly disobey him. And naturally, she couldn't do anything that might be construed as illegal.

Ninio had solved all her problems. His arrogance was his undoing. Hubris—she'd seen it time and time again. The only thing left for her to do was to make sure she was right. Then let them try to deny her a warrant for his arrest.

YARIV
left in a rage. His confrontation with Nachmias was bizarre and disturbing. He'd been hoping for an apology, had been prepared for a shouting match, but all he got was silence. She didn't utter a word the whole time, didn't respond in any way to the barrage of threats and accusations he threw at her.

“Don't you have anything to say for yourself?” he'd fired off at the end.

“Duly noted,” Anat answered calmly.

“What?” Yariv was taken aback by her incongruous reply.

“Duly noted,” she repeated, “everything you said.”

“What do you mean ‘duly noted'? You don't get it, do you? I told you, if you don't stop harassing me I'll make sure you're kicked off the force. They won't even let you be a traffic cop.”

“Good luck,” she said with a pleasant smile.

Yariv was left speechless by her show of indifference. Turning on his heels, he marched demonstratively out the door. He'd interpreted her silence as an indication that she couldn't think of any way to justify her actions, but now he wasn't so sure.

It all began when he got home last night. For a change, he was in a good mood. Kobi had run into the lawyer representing the illegal accused of Michal's murder, and he referred in passing to the plea bargain he was working on. It was nearly a done deal, he said. His client had consented to the terms and he was waiting for the prosecution to draw up the papers. “All's well that ends well,” Kobi concluded, after reporting the conversation to Yariv. Yariv could barely contain his excitement. He felt the tension drain from his body for the first time since Nachmias had showed up in his office unexpectedly. He called Regev right away to inform him that the cops had questioned him about Michal's complaint. Regev's first response was to ask nervously if he'd mentioned his name, but Yariv assured him he hadn't. Regaining his normal composure, he advised Yariv to keep a low profile and wait it out. He was sure the whole thing would blow over soon. After all, the woman behind the complaint was dead. Now Yariv just had to hope nothing went wrong.