Monday the Rabbi Took Off (25 page)

“It’s been recovered.”

“Ah, that’s better. For a minute I was worried.”

“By the police. They called me in to question me about it.”

Abdul’s face was impassive. “Go on.”

“Well, this guy I spoke to, he was pretty decent. I told him what happened and he asked me a few questions and that was all. But he’d given some clerk my passport to check, and when the interview was over and I asked for it, they couldn’t find it. I guess the guy, the clerk I mean, had left the office, maybe to go to lunch, and he had it with him. This inspector guy said they’d mail it out to me, but I haven’t got it yet. My old man is worried about it, but you know how older people are – always worrying.”

Abdul rose and paced the floor as Roy watched him. Finally, he stopped and faced his young friend. “Your father is a smart man. Roy. He is worried with reason.”

It was not the reaction he had expected. “Look here, suppose they think they got something on me, they could just tell me straight out they were pulling my passport, couldn’t they? Why would they have to go pussyfooting around and make believe they mislaid it?”

“Pussyfooting? Ah. yes. I think I understand.” Abdul thought for a moment as though planning how best to say it. “You see, Roy, if they take your passport, that is an official act. So you engage a lawyer or you go to the American consulate, or the lawyer goes for you, and they demand that the passport be returned or that you be officially charged so that the case can be tried in court. But they do not have enough evidence to present the case in court; they are engaged in building it up.”

“What do you mean building it up?”

“Even where the person charged is clearly guilty.” Abdul explained, “it is necessary to build up the case. The police cannot go before a judge and say that this man we believe is guilty of such and such a crime and we would like the court to sentence him for so many veers. They have to present proof, step by step. It takes time. And that is a case where the accused is actually guilty. But where he is not guilty, it takes even more time.”

Roy was aghast. “You mean they are trying to frame me?”

“What means frame?”

“That they know I’m innocent but are trying to convict me just the same.”

Abdul shrugged his shoulders and smiled. “But why? I mean why me?”

“Because you were there. The police naturally like to prove they are efficient. How do they do it? They arrest people and have them tried and convicted. It is not done in America?”

“Yeah51 guess it’s done everywhere. But look here, they know who did it. It was done by your people.”

Abdul was suddenly cold, and his eyes narrowed. “What do you mean my people?”

“It was done by the terrorists. They admitted it.”

Abdul relaxed and smiled again. “The trouble is that they all admitted it. all the commando groups. I’m afraid they are apt to do that anytime something happens here in Israel. It is only natural they should want to take the credit. But for just that reason, the Israeli government would like to prove that it was done by someone else. You. for instance. It is not good for the people here, the citizens, to feel that the commandos can penetrate to the heart of the Jewish section. It makes them nervous. They do not sleep well at night. And it means also that the security is not so good as they would like people to believe. So if they can prove that it was done by an individual, it would mean that it was not done by the commandos.11

Roy clasped and unclasped his hands. “But what can I do?”

“Ah, now you see the difference between the way your people run things and the way mine do. If this were an Arab country, then we would seek out the official responsible and we would offer him a bribe. Or. if this might not be possible, we would make contact with some clerk in the office who would perhaps mislay the file. You understand? It would not be difficult –”

“Be realistic,” Roy implored. “What do you think I ought to do?”

“In your position, I would leave the country – no, that is not possible since they have taken away your passport. So it would be good if you could go away somewhere to hide. Go to another city for a while. Go visit someone in Haifa or Tel Aviv.”

“What good would that do? The police could pick me up –”

“Not if they couldn’t find you. Don’t you have some friend you could visit, some friend you could trust? In the meantime, your father can go to the American embassy in Tel Aviv and see what arrangements he could make. He’s an important man. you told me.”

“He’s down there now.”

“Ah, then I am sure he will be able to make arrangements of some sort.” said Abdul soothingly. “I am sure you really have nothing to worry about in that case.”

“Yeah, maybe you’re right.” But the thought that came to him was that Abdul was just soft-soaping him because he knew the situation was grim.

There was a rectangle on the table of organization of the American embassy staff which bore the name of Michael Donahue, but it was not clear just what his duties and responsibilities were. He had no immediate supervisor but was connected with the upper echelons by a dotted line which indicated some sort of staff function. Mike Donahue was not so high on the chart as to be automatically invited to embassy parties, nor was he so low as to cause notice and comment if he occasionally attended. He was certainly not one of the pretty boys, the urbane youngish men. good-looking, well dressed, with a special talent for being agreeable to the wives and daughters of members of the diplomatic corps in Tel Aviv. On the contrary, he was a thickset middle-aged man. balding, with a round face and a nose that looked as though it might have been flattened in the boxing ring. He usually dressed in wrinkled seersucker suits and a shapeless panama. He was thought by most of the staff to have something to do with publicity since he had a wide acquaintance among journalists, and yet he did not come directly under the Public Relations Unit. The more knowing suspected that he was either CIA or its liaison with the ambassador.

It was to his old friend Mike Donahue that Dan Stedman made application when he went to Tel Aviv. “So they took Roy’s passport and gave him some cock-and-bull story about its having been misplaced and they’d send it to him by mail.”

“And he fell for it?”

“He’s just a kid. Mike. This man at the police, the inspector who interrogated him. had been pleasant all through it – no tough stuff – why wouldn’t he believe him?”

“But all this time –”

“Well, you know how it is. You don’t get it the next day; so you figure the mail service is not so good. Then the next day you get a little anxious, but you figure you’ll wait one more day. Then the next day he did go down to inquire, and no one there seemed to know what he was talking about, and this inspector he had dealt with was not around. If this business of the little trip I’d planned hadn’t come up, chances are he might have waited another few days or a week before telling me about it.”

“The police don’t lose passports,” said Donahue flatly.

“That’s what I thought. The whole business didn’t seem kosher.”

“Obviously not. And I don’t think it’s the sort of thing the police would do. not to an American citizen, especially a student at the university, and especially one whose father was in the media. No. it’s definitely Shin Bet. The police are acting for them.”

“So what do I do?” asked Stedman. “Do I play it straight and go down there and raise hell or go to the American consulate in Jerusalem and have them make a formal demand, or maybe ask them to issue a replacement?”

Donahue shook his head. “I wouldn’t do that. Because if it is the Shin Bet and they don’t want your boy to leave the country for a while, they’ll see to it that he doesn’t leave even if they have to put him in a hospital to keep him here.”

Dan was indignant. “C’mon, Mike, this is a democracy with a code of laws –”

“You c’mon. You’ve been around long enough to know better. What country democratic or otherwise can control the individual actions of its Intelligence? If the Shin Bet wanted your boy around for a few days, even if word came down from Golda herself, do you suppose that would stop a convenient automobile accident? They’d reason that it was for the security of the state and that she didn’t know what was involved. The agent wouldn’t change direction until he got word from his chief.”

“So what do you do about a thing like this?”

“Well, that depends on what the thing is.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’ll spell it out for you. Dan. There was a terrorist bombing in Jerusalem and your kid was there – in a quiet, deserted street where no one would normally go for a stroll in the evening, mind you. Or put it another way: He’s in a place where he would normally have had no business to be unless he had business. And he was not just taking a walk there because it was raining. All right, that’s one item. The second item is that his close friends at school are Arabs –”

“I didn’t say they were his close friends.”

“No, but you said he was friendly with them because he hadn’t been able to make friends with the Israeli or American students. So I could amend that and suggest that whether they were close or not, they were his only friends. Does that make it any better? All right. So it’s perfectly possible that one of his good friends, or one of his only friends, asks him to do a little favor for him. ‘Leave this box on the windowsill of my friend in One Mazel Tov Street, will you. Roy?’ – That’s his name? Roy? Or maybe: ‘I’ve got to drop off something at the home of a friend of mine. Roy. How about walking down with me?’ And then when they get there, ‘Would you mind waiting on the street for a minute. Roy, and cough or whistle or something if someone comes along?”

“My son wouldn’t –”

“Yeah. I know, your son wouldn’t do that kind of thing. Let me tell you. anybody’s son could, especially these days. I’m just suggesting possibilities, you understand. Well, if it were something like that. I’m not sure that much could be done. That is, if he’s guilty or has any connection with this, I don’t know if anything could be done except wait while they built a case and it came up in court. Then about all you could do would be to hire the best lawyer you could get. But if he is completely innocent, and they really have nothing on him except the coincidence of his having been there, maybe we can do something.”

“Like what?”

“Well, we could pass the word along until it reaches the right party. Favors have been asked and favors have been done and you slip this one in as a favor in exchange.”

“I see.” said Stedman. “And what do I do in the meantime?”

“Not a damn thing. You just wait. Were you going back to Jerusalem tonight?”

“Why, yes. I was planning to take the sherut and –”

“Why not stick around for a day or two? Maybe I’ll have some news for you.”

Stedman nodded.

“Oh, and. Dan. a suggestion: If and when we get this cleared up. it might not be a bad idea if your son went back to the States as soon as he gets his passport.”

Stedman looked over in surprise. “But why?”

“You can’t always tell about these things.” Donahue said. “Sometimes there’s more than one person involved, and not everybody gets the message at the same time. Besides, your son’s evidently got off on the wrong foot. He came here to find something and so far obviously hasn’t succeeded. There’s no reason to believe that if he stays on for the rest of the year. he’ll do any better.”

“I hate to take him out of school, right in the middle of the year,” Dan said. He thought a moment. “Maybe you’re right.”

“And, Dan –”

“Yes?”

“Look out for yourself. Be careful.”

“What do you mean?”

Donahue hesitated. “Well, all Intelligence services are suspicious, not to say downright paranoid. They might get to thinking that a youngster like your kid might be acting on instructions from his dad.”

Adoumi would never actually send for Ish-Kosher; instead, from his dusty little office on the third floor he would phone the inspector.

“Chaim? Avner. Are you busy?”

And even though he was doing nothing more important

than reading the newspaper. Ish-Kosher would say; “Well,

right now. Avner. I’m kind of tied up. But in five or ten

minutes

“

“I’d like to see you for a few minutes. Shall I come down?”

“Perhaps I’d better come up to your place. We’re less likely to be disturbed. I’ll be along as soon as I can.” Then he would twiddle his thumbs until he had judged sufficient time had elapsed, and only then, gathering up his briefcase, would he march down the corridor, not hurrying because that would not be in keeping with his status as inspector, but walking purposefully, then up a flight of stairs to a crossover to the next building, and again a long corridor and another flight of stairs. Then he would stop to draw several deep breaths to compose himself after his exertion, after which he would casually saunter down the short corridor to Adoumi’s office.

He sat down, his briefcase on the floor between his legs. “Mrs. Adoumi is better. I trust.”

Adoumi rotated a palm. “Like this, like that. Dr. Ben Ami wants her to go into Hadassah again for observation and some more tests. He’s going away for a month or more and wants to get her in before he leaves.”

“For a month? A vacation? These doctors do very well for themselves.”

“He’s supposed to be going to a medical convention in Geneva. Then on to another in Valparaiso. You know how these things work: They sign in, and so that means they’ve officially attended. And they can deduct it from their income tax. He’ll be going around the world because from Valparaiso it’s just as easy to go west as it is to go east. You and I are lucky if we can take a week off to go to Eilat. But Ben Ami is a good fellow and I don’t begrudge him.” He swept aside a folder to clear the top of the desk as if to invite Ish-Kosher to produce any papers he had. “Well, do you have anything?”

Ish-Kosher drew a folder from his briefcase. “Just some routine stuff on the boy’s father. He was a foreign correspondent for one of the American TV networks up until recently. In fact, you may remember, he was their Middle East correspondent and stationed here before and during the Six-Day War. His Hebrew is pretty good. Right now. he’s living at the King David and doesn’t seem to be doing much of anything. The story is that he’s writing a book on opinion in Israel. He gets into a conversation with someone and makes a tape recording. He uses a concealed recorder and a lapel mike. According to the chambermaid, he’s got a number of tapes in his room, all neatly labeled.”