Asylum City (15 page)

Silence.

“Is it about Michal?”

Gabriel raised his eyes. They were red and swollen from crying.

“Yes . . . it was me . . . I . . . I killed her,” he mumbled, covering his face with his hands.

The bare statement made Itai flinch. He'd been hoping Gabriel would tell him he had fled from the police because he was being accused of a crime he didn't commit.

“Don't say that, Gabriel. Why would you say such a thing?” Itai refused to believe it. He knew how close Michal and Gabriel were.

Gabriel didn't respond. He just stood there in silence looking lost and miserable.

“What happened? Tell me what happened. Why did you do it?” Itai pleaded.

“I would like you to come to the police with me.”

“No, not until you tell me why,” Itai said angrily. Of the host of emotions that were overwhelming him, it was the anger that came out.

He waited, helpless and confused, as Gabriel went on sobbing. A lot of asylum seekers had sat opposite him in tears. He'd learned to distinguish between those who did it for effect and those who were genuinely wretched. Gabriel clearly belonged to the latter category.

“I thought you liked her. She helped you. So why . . .” He couldn't get his head around it.

“I did like her. She was like a big sister to me,” Gabriel whimpered.

“So what happened?”

Gabriel remained silent.

“Did you want money from her? Did you have feelings for her but she rejected you?” Itai asked, trying the first explanations that occurred to him.

“No, no, of course not.”

“Gabriel, I want you to look me in the eye and tell me you killed Michal.” The whole situation seemed unimaginable. It didn't make any sense. Why would Gabriel hurt Michal?

The African kept his eyes lowered.

“I'll go to the police with you, but first you have to look me in the eye and tell me you did it,” Itai insisted.

ITAI
got up and opened the door of the detective's office. He was tired of waiting. The eagerness Nachmias had displayed when he told her about Gabriel was not to his liking.

The more questions he asked, the more he became convinced that there was something odd about Gabriel's confession. He didn't know any details of the murder and didn't offer any explanation for killing her. As a rule, people don't confess to a crime for no reason, and guilty people don't usually turn themselves in voluntarily. But the asylum seekers lived in a different reality. Theirs was a world of despair, hunger, insecurity, and very often extortion, and those pressures made them behave in a way that didn't always seem logical. Besides, Itai knew Gabriel, and he knew he wasn't a murderer.

When he asked Gabriel if someone was forcing him to say he killed Michal, if someone was putting pressure on him, the young man's whole body tensed up. Itai's instincts told him he was on the right track. But no matter how hard he tried to get him to talk, Gabriel refused to say any more.

Itai had no doubt it was a done deal as far as the cops were concerned. They wouldn't read between the lines the way he did. They'd accept Gabriel's confession at face value and be thrilled that it fell into their lap. After all, a confession is the “king of evidence,” the ultimate proof of guilt. Itai had studied law. He knew that confessions aren't admissible in court in Jewish law. But the criminal courts in Israel aren't governed by religious precepts. On the contrary, in the country's secular legal system, if you confess it means you're guilty. Even if Gabriel was an Israeli citizen, a confession would be enough to convict him.

The end was a foregone conclusion. Gabriel would be convicted of a crime he didn't commit, and the real murderer would continue to walk free.

THE
hallway was empty. Itai had asked to be present when they questioned Gabriel to make sure he was treated properly, but Nachmias refused. She promised they'd be gentle with him, that they wouldn't hurt a hair on his head. Itai wondered if he'd given in too easily. Maybe he should have been more assertive. He could have refused to tell them where Gabriel was until they agreed to the terms of his arrest. But it was too late to second-guess himself. He had no experience to draw on. Even during the short time he'd actually worked as a lawyer, he'd steered clear of criminal law.

Itai closed the door and started pacing the office restlessly. He wanted to help Gabriel and he wanted to bring Michal's real killer to justice. Maybe he could make up in some small way for ignoring her cry for help. But to do that, he had to take concrete action.

He didn't even remember what the “Banker” looked like. Michal had shown him the pictures she took, but a lot had happened since then. Itai glanced at the door. He had to get another look at her pictures. He couldn't just wait here without doing anything. The best way to help Gabriel was to point the cops in the right direction.

The thought of what he was planning made his blood run cold, but he couldn't agonize over it. He had to move fast. He didn't have much time. Nachmias would be back any minute. Along with the gratitude she'd displayed when he handed her Gabriel on a silver platter, he'd also seen the accusing look in her eyes. And what if they didn't find him in the park where he said he'd be? He should have brought Gabriel with him. The young man wanted to come. In fact, that's why he went to Itai in the first place, so they could go together. But Itai convinced him to let him talk to the detective alone first, even though he knew he had little chance of getting her to see things his way.

Itai pulled the file toward him. What would he say if the detective walked in? What excuse could he offer?

Quickly, he leafed through the documents searching for the report. He believed in playing by the rules. Michal called it cowardice, but he preferred to think of it as being prudent and realistic. If only she could see him now!

Itai paged through the whole file, but he didn't find what he was looking for. He started again from the beginning. It had to be there; Nachmias had shown it to him. He found it on his second attempt and breathed a sigh of relief. Three pictures of the “Banker” were attached to the report of her allegations against him.

He pulled out his cell phone and aimed the camera at the photographs with trembling hands. He pressed the shutter button twice, just to be on the safe side, and then slid the file back across the desk.

Shaken by his own defiance of the rules, Itai returned to his chair. He was sitting down when the door opened. Inspector Nachmias was back.

A
shiver went down Gabriel's spine when he heard the sirens approaching. He was all alone in the world, and his stomach ached from hunger. Once he'd had big dreams. He wanted to be a famous artist, to bring honor to his family. He wanted to fall in love, get married, and have children. Life was very bad in Eritrea. He'd hoped it would be better in Israel. But it was bad here, too. And now it was going to be even worse.

He'd gone to see Itai at the OMA office last night even though he didn't want to. He wanted Arami to go to the police with him, but his friend advised him to ask Itai to accompany him. That way, Gabriel could say he didn't know English, and then the police would have to call an interpreter. Arami would make sure to be nearby. But they wouldn't let him in if they realized the two men knew each other.

“You'll be fine,” Arami told Gabriel before they parted. “This way you'll have two friends with you, me and Itai. If you don't know what to say, I'll help you. Just be careful not to let them see you understand what they're saying. Play dumb. They don't think we have a brain in our heads anyway. I'll see you there, at the police station.”

The Israeli had promised to give him twenty thousand shekels if he turned himself in and said he killed Michal. What if he didn't keep his promise? He wanted to get the money first, but Arami said the man would never agree.

Arami didn't know who the Israeli was or why he wanted Gabriel to confess to the murder. The most likely explanation was that he killed Michal himself or worked for the person who did. Gabriel was tormented by the thought that the man who murdered his friend would never be punished, and he would be helping him get away with it. But what choice did he have? There was no other option. If he didn't do it, Liddie would die and the police would eventually arrest him anyway. And as for that Israeli man, who knows what he'd do?

Michal is dead and nothing will bring her back, Arami said. But Liddie is alive. He could still save her. Besides, even if he went to the police and told them the truth, they wouldn't believe him. In their eyes, all Africans were bad, uninvited guests who were overrunning their home and taking advantage of them. Justice didn't matter. Truth didn't, either. Israelis only care about themselves, Arami said, and they're consumed by racism and hatred. If he was going to go to the police, he might as well get something out of it.

Last night he'd knelt in prayer, begging Christ for forgiveness. It was only the second time he'd prayed since his father was killed by the soldiers. The first time was in the desert, with Liddie, when he was sure they were about to die. Then it had been mainly for her sake. He was furious with Christ for taking the life of a good man like his father. But last night he felt compelled to pray, and the words came pouring out.

Itai offered him a bed in his apartment, but Gabriel refused. It was even harder to face him than he'd feared. He was afraid that if he didn't leave soon, he'd break down and tell him the truth. He hated lying to Itai.

Arami said the police wouldn't ask a lot of questions. They thought all Africans were criminals. If one of them came and said he was guilty, it would just prove their point. Gabriel hoped Arami was right. His whole plan depended on the police believing him.

In the end, they decided that Gabriel would spend the night in the OMA office. In the morning, he'd go to the little park on the corner of Hachmei Israel and Neveh Sha'anan Streets and wait there while Itai spoke to the police. He didn't get any sleep. He was terrified of what was ahead for him. Men who had been held in Israeli prisons said conditions weren't that bad. There were showers and regular meals, and the guards didn't beat you. But none of those men were accused of murder. The Israelis might not be so nice to murderers. And maybe they'd want to take revenge on an African who killed one of their own. Or maybe they'd deport him like they deported Hagos. They sent Hagos to Ethiopia and the Ethiopians sent him back to Eritrea and he was killed there. The same thing could happen to him.

THREE
patrol cars squealed to a halt at the entrance to the park. The deafening sirens were making Gabriel dizzy. His mouth was dry. He'd been in such a hurry to leave the OMA office in the morning that he hadn't even had a drink of water first. He wasn't a big eater, but since Michal's death he'd hardly been able to keep anything down.

Police officers jumped out of the cars and started running in his direction. Someone was barking orders through a microphone, but he couldn't understand what he was saying. There was so much noise. The cop in the lead pulled out his gun.

THE
soldiers in Eritrea burst into the house when the family was having supper. They grabbed his father and dragged him outside. His mother was screaming. He and Liddie were crying. Outside in the yard, they shot their father in the head. Gabriel was only eight years old at the time, but the image of his father lying dead on the ground in a pool of blood was burned into his memory forever. When he left home, his mother told him that was the moment she decided to send her children away the first chance she got. There was no future for them in Eritrea.

THE
policemen were running toward him, shouting words he didn't understand. They all had their guns out now, aimed at him. All of a sudden Gabriel felt ice cold. The blood drained from his head and he fell to the ground.

ANAT
was sitting in her office preparing for her confrontation with the suspect. In the past half hour, both the District Commander and the Region Commander had called to congratulate her. News of Gabriel's arrest had apparently reached the highest levels, even leaking to political circles, with people like MK Regev calling the RC to offer their congratulations.

The message Anat received from her superiors was crystal clear, but she said nothing besides thanking them politely. It was only when the district press officer asked her to try to put the investigation to bed within two hours so he could get it on the evening news at eight that she really lost it.

This wasn't going to be a simple matter. You're always at a disadvantage when a suspect doesn't know the language and you have to use an interpreter. You lose the spontaneity of the responses, and you can't control the momentum of the interrogation. Moreover, she'd never questioned an Eritrean before, and that had her worried. The tactics she used on Israelis might not work with him. You can break Israelis by telling them that if they don't talk you're going to have to interrogate their families, that their arrest will bring shame on themselves and their loved ones. But Gabriel's family was thousands of miles away. She didn't know what buttons to push. Should she show him a picture of Michal Poleg and remind him how well she treated him, or would that just make him clam up? The triggers were different in every culture. Gilad, the district intel officer, told her to threaten to deprive him of his liberty. These people had to work, he said. Their families depended on the money they sent home.

“Stop worrying, Nachmias, everything will be fine,” Yaron said, slapping her on the back before he left to pick up Gabriel in the park. He offered to conduct the interrogation himself. He was known in the district as the go-to guy when they needed a confession. The way he hammered at a suspect, they almost always broke in the end. Anat thanked him for the offer but turned it down. It was her case.