The Labyrinth of Osiris (63 page)

She tried to question him, ask why he couldn’t at least have called – ‘I’ve been so worried, Yusuf!’ – but he cut the conversation short. A little sharply, perhaps, but there were things to do, wheels to set in motion. He glugged an entire bottle of Baraka, crammed some cheese and
aish baladi
into his mouth. Then, firing up the Landrover, he sped away through the desert, back along the tyre tracks towards Highway 212 and civilization.

Nine months of torment, and now, finally, justice was going to be done. He felt good. Really good.

J
ERUSALEM

It was still only 8 a.m. when Ben-Roi made it back to Jerusalem. He thought about going into the station – he would have liked to corner Baum and Dorfmann, tell them he’d solved the case, see the look on their faces. He decided it could wait. He was knackered, couldn’t face the prospect of an extended debrief. Instead he went home, booted his desktop and spent an hour writing the whole thing up: Barren, the Romanian mine, the Labyrinth, Vosgi, Rivka Kleinberg.

There were gaps: things Kremenko hadn’t been able to tell him, parts of the story that remained vague. While it seemed pretty certain Barren had stumbled on the Labyrinth when they’d been doing survey work in that part of the desert, for instance, Ben-Roi couldn’t say for sure when they’d decided to start using it as a toxic dump, nor who had actually taken that decision. Likewise the precise steps by which Rivka Kleinberg had unravelled the mystery were far from clear. And how the hell had she found out about Samuel Pinsker?

Three questions in particular remained unresolved. First, how had Barren discovered Kleinberg was on to them? Ben-Roi had assumed Kremenko had tipped them off following Kleinberg’s prison visit, but the pimp had insisted it wasn’t him (how could he have tipped them off, he had argued, when he and his brother had themselves been diddling Barren by trafficking girls on one of their ships?).

Second, who had given the order to kill the journalist? Nathaniel Barren? William Barren? Some third party within the company acting on their own initiative?

Third, and most important, who had actually carried out the order? Who was the shrouded figure who had tailed Kleinberg through the Old City and into the cathedral and there looped a garrotte around her neck and yanked? Who was their murderer?

There were still a lot of ends to tie up, and, as a side-issue, there was the Nemesis Agenda to deal with – they’d held him at gunpoint, made an idiot of him and he wasn’t about to just shrug that off.

For the moment, however, he’d taken a giant stride towards resolving the whole thing. He banged out a five-page report, checked it, e-mailed copies to Leah Shalev, Chief Gal and, just to piss him off, Chief Superintendent Baum as well. Then, padding through into the bedroom, he kicked off his trainers and collapsed face down on to the bed.

Thirty seconds later he was fast asleep.

T
HE
E
ASTERN
D
ESERT

Lies have a curious habit of coming true.

So it proved with the one Khalifa told his wife about his car breaking down. He was careering through the desert, his feet and hands dancing a frenetic jig across the Landrover’s controls, the speedometer hovering around 70km per hour as he made the most of the compacted lorry tracks, when he misjudged a corner and skidded. He fought the steering, struggling to regain control. He was going too fast. The Landrover slewed, hit some unseen obstruction, lurched, spun and came to rest sideways-on in a deep, ditch-like depression, tilting at 45 degrees.

‘Dammit! Dammit!’

He clambered out. Steam was pouring from beneath the bonnet; the rear left tyre was blown and protruding at an unnatural angle, telling him the axle was bent. Whatever else he was going to be doing that morning, he wasn’t going to be driving any further.

‘Bloody dammit!’

He kicked the bumper. Then, with nothing else for it, he gathered everything he needed to take with him: water, phone, gun, Samuel Pinsker’s notebook. Improvising a makeshift bag out of a blanket he found in the back of the Landrover, he tied it all up and set off on foot. A day ago the prospect of walking twenty kilometres through the empty desert would have been a daunting one. After what he’d been through in the mine, it felt like a Friday afternoon stroll in the park.

J
ERUSALEM

Ben-Roi had only been asleep for a few minutes when his cell phone went off. Rolling groggily on to his back, he dragged the handset from his pocket and answered. Leah Shalev.

‘What the hell’s going on, Arieh? Where have you been?’

‘Unh? What?’ Ben-Roi rubbed his eyes, confused.

‘I’ve been trying to get you all afternoon.’

Levering up an arm, he looked at his watch. It was past 4 p.m. What he’d thought had been just a few minutes had in fact been seven hours.

‘Fuck. Sorry, Leah. Long night.’

He struggled into a sitting position, swung his feet on to the floor. His head throbbed; his mouth felt like it was full of brick dust.

‘You get my report?’ he asked.

‘I did. We need to talk.’

Now that his senses were coming back online, he clocked that she didn’t sound her normal self. There was a curtness to her tone, a flatness.

‘Everything OK?’

‘We need to talk,’ she repeated, ducking the question. ‘Get into the station. Now. My office.’

‘What’s going—’

The line went dead. He sat a moment massaging his temples, a vague sense of unease nagging in the pit of his stomach. Then, standing, he went through into the bathroom and stuck his head under a cold shower.

He reached Kishle twenty minutes later. As per instructions, he parked up in the compound at the back of the building and went straight through to Leah Shalev’s room. She was sitting behind her desk, her fingers playing with a small packet done up in white tissue paper. When she saw him she smiled, although the expression was forced. She looked uneasy, pale. So pale he thought she might be ill.

‘You OK, Leah?’

‘Just shut the door and sit, Arieh.’

He did as he was told.

‘So what’s cooking?’ he asked.

Her eyes met his briefly before fleeing to the other side of the room.

‘A big load of shit,’ she muttered.

‘My report?’

She nodded. ‘It probably wasn’t a good idea to copy Baum in on it. Not before me and the chief had had a chance to work through our position.’

He shrugged. ‘Couldn’t resist it. He needed a lesson teaching. In proper police work. Sanctimonious little turd.’

Normally Shalev would chuckle at his Baum insults, just as he would at hers – their little conspiracy of insubordination. Today she didn’t join in the fun. Just sat there fiddling with the paper packet.

‘So?’ he asked.

‘So the sanctimonious little turd forwarded it to his contacts in the ministry and they sent it up the chain. Right up the chain.’

Ben-Roi tipped his head. ‘Nice to have an audience.’

‘Oh you’ve got an audience, Arieh, believe me. Suddenly there are a lot of people in a lot of powerful positions showing a lot of interest in this case. A
lot
of interest.’

He might have expected her to be pleased at the attention – she was leading the case, after all. She looked anything but.

‘So?’ he repeated.

Again her eyes momentarily snagged on his before rolling away again.

‘So it’s being kicked upstairs. To Special Investigations.’

It took a moment for that to sink in. ‘You’re joking me.’

‘Does this look like my joking face, Arieh?’

It didn’t. It looked like the face of someone who was seriously pissed off. And seriously rattled. Ben-Roi was incredulous.

‘But we’ve practically solved the bloody thing. We know why she was killed, we know who was behind it, we know they’ve illegally dumped a million tonnes of toxic shit in a mine in Egypt –’ he snapped a finger up on each point, his voice rising – ‘we’ve put in all the legwork, Leah. There’s nothing left to do bar hammer out the fine detail. Why the hell’s it going to Special Investigations to finish?’

Her eyes still couldn’t meet his. There was a silence, the atmosphere in the room tense, charged. Then, suddenly, Ben-Roi’s fist clenched as realization dawned.

‘They’re not going to finish it, are they? It’s being parked. Shelved.’

She didn’t say anything. Which was as good as a yes.

‘You have to be kidding me, Leah! Tell me you’re kidding!’

Her mouth was tight, her fingers trembling. She looked shell-shocked.

‘Like I said, I’ve not got my joking face on.’

‘But why? Why?’ He was on his feet now. ‘We know they did it, Leah! We know why they did it – we could practically take it to court as it is!’

‘It’s not going anywhere, Arieh. We’re off the investigation.’

‘But why? Tell me why?’ He couldn’t stop asking the question. ‘We’ve got an open-and-shut case and now it’s just being dropped! I want to know why!’

‘Because they’re powerful.’ Her eyes rolled up. Now that he looked he noticed a redness to them, like she’d been crying at some point. ‘They own the system, Arieh. Or at least they own the people who run the system, which is the same thing. They tweak the strings, the puppets dance. And to mix my metaphors, these puppets are right at the top. The order’s come down. Barren are off-limits. We’re stepping away.’

Ben-Roi’s fists were balled so tight the knuckles looked like they were going to split right through the skin.

‘You’re telling me we can prosecute Katsav, our own president, but not some fat-wallet multinational?’

Again, the answer was in her silence.

‘I don’t believe I’m hearing this! I thought you told me we still abide by the rule of law in this country.’

‘It appears that some people are above the law,’ she said quietly. ‘Barren have got a lot of friends.’

‘God Almighty! God Al-fucking-mighty!’

He dropped back down into the chair. He felt like he’d been punched in the gut. Shalev fiddled with the paper packet; Ben-Roi opened out his hand and rubbed his neck. There was another silence.

‘You’re just going to let this go?’ he asked eventually.

‘Trust me, I’m as sick as you are.’

‘But you
are
just going to let it go.’

Her face flushed. With shame, it struck him, not anger. Impotent shame.

‘This is coming from the very top, Arieh. Like I told you the other day, I’ve worked hard to get where I am. I can’t just throw it all away.’

‘The chief?’

She let out a breath. ‘Gal retires in five months. His wife’s not well, his son’s moving up the Justice Ministry. He’s not going to rock the boat.’

‘I can’t believe I’m hearing this!’

Shalev gave a weak shrug.

‘I’ll take it to the press then.’

‘I wouldn’t do that.’

‘What do you mean, you wouldn’t do that?’

‘You go public, you’ll be pissing off an awful lot of people you don’t want to piss off. You’ve got a baby on the way—’

Ben-Roi flared. ‘Are you threatening me, Leah?’

‘I’m just telling you—’

‘Suddenly you’re their little messenger girl?’

Now it was Shalev’s turn to erupt.

‘Don’t you dare patronize me, Arieh Ben-Roi. Do you hear? This is hard enough as it is without your snide insinuations. We’re letting a murderer off the hook, you think I feel good about that? I feel about as shit as I’ve ever felt about anything in my life. But that’s the way it is. We’re drones, we take orders. And this is the order. Maybe further down the line the guard’ll change and justice’ll be done – please God it’ll be done – but for the moment we bite the bullet and do as we’re told. If not for your own sake, then for the sake of the ones you love. Because believe you me, you step out of the box on this and they will go for you like jackals round a fucking carcass.’

She glared at him, breathing hard, the liner on her left eye streaked as if someone had smudged charcoal beneath her eyelid. Then, sitting forward, she dropped her face into her hands. In the five years they’d worked together, it was the first time she’d ever launched at him like that.

‘I’m sorry, Arieh,’ she mumbled. ‘I didn’t mean to . . .’

‘No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.’

For a moment she just sat there, her face buried. Then, coming up, she threw the paper packet across to him.

‘From the commissioner. Just so you know your efforts haven’t gone unnoticed.’

Ben-Roi opened the packet. It contained a nickel medal with a blue and white ribbon. The Israel Police Service Medal.

‘I believe the citation goes: “For outstanding contribution to the achievement of the goals of the Police”,’ she said. ‘Or some such bullshit.’

‘I’ll treasure it,’ muttered Ben-Roi.

‘There’s something else.’

‘I’m all ears.’

She hesitated, as if steeling herself to say something she didn’t want to, then:

‘There’s a post come up at the academy. A lectureship. In advanced investigation. I don’t know all the details but apparently it’s double the wage you’re getting at the moment for only four days a week. Plus a subsidized house and early retirement on full pension. I’m told if you applied you’d be a shoo-in.’

He snorted. ‘A bribe. To keep me quiet.’

‘I think the precise wording was “a recognition of Detective Ben-Roi’s unique investigative abilities”. But yes – cutting away the crap, it’s a pay-off.’

‘And you? What are you getting?’

She flushed again. ‘A bump up to chief superintendent.’

He shook his head. ‘Fucking hell, Leah, I never thought I’d see the day.’

‘Me neither,’ she mumbled. ‘Not in my wildest nightmares.’

There was a silence, neither of them quite certain where to take the conversation. Then a knock at the door.

‘Later!’ called Shalev.

She sought out Ben-Roi’s eyes, held them.

‘Think about it, Arieh. Please. Think hard. Not for me, not for you. For Sarah. And the baby. It’s checkmate here. You might as well try to salvage something.’

‘And feel crap about it for the rest of my life?’

‘At least there’ll
be
a rest of your life.’

They looked at each other, tight-lipped, shoulders slumped, like players on a team that has just suffered a particularly humiliating defeat. Then Ben-Roi stood and made for the door. She called after him.