Asylum City (37 page)

Anat was silent, not knowing how to respond.

“One day they decided I was a traitor and came after me and my family. I was the only one who got out alive,” he said quietly.

Anat opened the file in front of her. She sensed herself starting to feel sorry for Kabri, and she didn't like it. He didn't deserve her sympathy.

“Do you know this man?” she asked, pointing to the photograph Michal had taken.

“Boaz Yavin. He lives in Ramat Hasharon.”

“Is he the ‘Banker'?”

“Yes.”

“Who does he work for?”

Kabri again gave her the contemptuous look that made her blood run cold.

“He works for the bank.”

BOAZ
had just finished reading
Winnie the Pooh
to Sagie for the third time when the doorbell rang. He wondered who it could be at this hour. Irit was at a Pilates class and the older children were already in bed.

Life was good. After the mugging, Faro had finally taken him off migrant detail. No more Wednesday rounds, no more old bus station, no more stench of garbage and poverty, no more smoke-filled rooms, no more “General,” no more Itzik. He still had the cuts and bruises on his face, but they would heal. He told Irit and anyone else who asked that he tripped on a pothole in the street. No one questioned his story. Why should they?

The bell was joined by knocking on the door. A little face peered out from one of the bedrooms.

“Who is it, Daddy?”

“Go back to bed. You have to get up for school tomorrow,” he said, going downstairs.

Boaz had just reached the door when a voice shouted, “Police, open up.” His blood turned to ice.

GABRIEL
petted Liddie's head. “It's over?” she asked haltingly. “It's really over? You're free for good?”

“Yes, Liddie, I'm free. They let me go.” Finding out that Arami had killed Michal shocked him just as much as learning that he'd been a general in the Eritrean army and had been personally responsible for abducting children. It was because of people like him that his mother had urged them to leave Eritrea before it was too late.

They were in Itai's apartment. Their host had gone out to give them some time alone.

Gabriel had never had the slightest suspicion that Arami wasn't a true friend. He was sure that he was doing his best to help him. But Itai said he'd informed on him to the police and sent the boys in the street after him. He'd trusted Arami completely, counted on him to rescue Liddie and take care of her. Now it turned out that he'd sent his sister into the lion's den for a second time. Itai said he shouldn't blame himself, that Arami had pulled the wool over everyone's eyes. At least he kept his part of the bargain with Gabriel. He did look out for Liddie as he promised, even if he was only doing it to protect himself.

Gabriel was very glad the Israelis had caught him. They'd give him what was coming to him, not just for killing Michal but for hurting so many people. Arami thought he could flee to Israel and his past would be forgotten. But now justice would be done. His crimes had caught up with him, following him across thousands of miles to another continent, another country. Gabriel was happy he'd played a small role in that.

“What happens now? What are we going to do?” Liddie asked, raising her eyes to him.

He didn't reply. Itai said they were welcome to stay as long as they liked, but Gabriel knew they couldn't remain here. Itai had done enough. Now he had to stand on his own two feet.

They were holding a memorial service for Michal tomorrow. Itai promised to take him. Gabriel wanted to say good-bye, to thank her for everything she did for him, to apologize for not being able to save her. And he wanted to meet her parents and tell them what a kind and wonderful daughter they had.

Liddie coughed. It was a dry cough that made her thin body shake. He had to take good care of her. He'd failed her last time. He wouldn't let it happen again.

How would they survive? Where would they live? He hadn't slept all night, just lay awake in bed listening to the rain. He had to find someplace warm for Liddie. How would he get the money? Itai said the government might pay him compensation for his arrest, but that would take time. Meanwhile, they had nothing to live on and he didn't even have a job. He'd go to the restaurant tomorrow morning. Maybe Amir would give him back his job as a dishwasher. Amir was a good man. He paid well, and on time.

Gabriel went on stroking Liddie's head. He'd dreamt of this moment for so long, and now that it was here, his heart was heavy. There was no place for them in this country, but where else could they go? There was no place for them anywhere in the world.

EVEN
though Yariv knew that there would be no one there to welcome him, the sight of the empty apartment was like a knife in his heart. He stood in the doorway of his former home, now devoid of furniture, of Inbar, of a future. He couldn't bring himself to go in. His legs shaking, he leaned on the doorpost for support.

Ever since his arrest, he'd been picturing the day of his release. He envisioned himself in front of a bevy of media people, denouncing the police, accusing them of persecuting an innocent man.

But no one was waiting for him outside Abu Kabir except his parents. They drove all the way to his house in silence. “We'll wait here in case you want to come home with us,” his father said when they arrived. Irritated, he snarled, “Don't bother. Why should I go home with you? I'm not a kid anymore.”

“We'll wait fifteen minutes,” his mother said quietly. He climbed out of the car, slamming the door behind him.

His career was over. Kobi informed him that the Bar Association had initiated an action for his disbarment. Although he'd been cleared of any involvement in Michal's murder, the fact that he concealed the legal opinion wasn't going away. Whatever happened, he could never go back to the State Attorney's Office.

Yariv's eyes filled with tears. Where did he go wrong? What did he do to deserve this? He cursed the day he agreed to take on the cases against the illegals. If it weren't for that one stupid decision, his life wouldn't be crashing down around him.

“Would you like to come in?” he heard behind him. It was his nosy neighbor, Sarah Glazer.

“She moved out yesterday. She took everything with her.”

Yariv didn't respond.

“Come inside. I'll make you a cup of tea.”

“Thank you,” he said, surprising himself.

ITAI
fidgeted in the backseat of the patrol car. Abetting in a police raid, even if only indirectly, made him very uncomfortable. On top of that, he was forced to watch Eylon from the Economic Crime Unit brazenly hitting on Anat.

Anat had called him a few hours after he left the police station and asked him to show them the exact location of the restaurant on Fein Street. The higher-ups had decided to move in right away, even before they'd finished interrogating Boaz Yavin. They had the chance for a great photo op—real-time pictures of a crack team busting up an illegal operation—and they didn't want to miss it. But they had to hurry, before the weekend papers were put to bed.

They'd driven by the restaurant almost an hour ago, and then parked a few blocks away. “We'll be able to listen in on what's going on from a safe distance,” Anat explained.

“Did you know she studied accounting with my brother,” Eylon said, twisting his head around and nodding toward Anat, who was sitting beside him in the front. “She was on the dean's list four years running.”

Anat smiled sheepishly.

Turning back to Anat, he said, “You ought to leave Special Investigations and come over to us. You'd be a real star.”

Over the radio they could hear the commanding officer issue his final instructions for the raid. Anat adjusted her position, moving closer to Eylon. Their shoulders were touching.

“So what do you say, Anat? You and me? We'd make a great team. Just say the word and I'll arrange for your transfer.”

Why don't I have his balls, Itai thought to himself. I wish I could talk to her like that.

“Go!” the officer commanded, silencing Eylon.

They heard the sound of running footsteps and heavy breathing. Itai's thoughts turned to Michal. It was a sad irony that what she'd been trying to achieve in the last days of her life had been made possible by her death: Yariv Ninio could now wave good-bye to the State Attorney's Office and the cops were putting the “Banker” out of business.

Gabriel and Liddie were moving out tomorrow, even though Itai insisted they were welcome to stay. The young man made an effort to sound confident, but Itai could tell that he was nervous about striking out on his own. Instead of trying to change his mind, he decided to do what Michal had always wanted. He'd talk to his uncle at the art school and show him Gabriel's drawings. It might not help, but it certainly couldn't hurt. Sometimes you had to make things happen, not just sit back and wait for them to happen on their own. He'd learned that lesson from Michal, both by her life and by her death.

“We're in. Move to the back room,” the commander shouted.

“The moment of truth,” Eylon said breathlessly.

Michal was bringing down a crime syndicate. Who would have imagined it was possible? Definitely not me, Itai thought. I never believed in her enough.

“Talk to me. What do you see?” they heard over the radio.

“Nothing. The place has been emptied out. They must have known we were coming. I repeat, nothing here. The room is empty.”

BOAZ
Yavin jumped up in relief when Borochov appeared in the doorway. Itzik had given him clear instructions about what to do if the cops ever picked him up. He'd followed them to the letter. As soon as they said they were bringing him in for questioning, he demanded to speak to his lawyer, Shuki Borochov.

Once they got to the station, they tried to persuade him to talk, saying it was in his best interest to cooperate and it would be a while before the lawyer could get there. But he kept silent. “Never forget, the cops are small change compared to us,” Itzik had warned him, and the words resounded in his head like alarm bells.

Boaz thought of Irit and the kids. The cops didn't even give him a chance to say good-bye, refusing to wait until Irit got back from her Pilates class. He had to ask their next-door neighbor, Maya, to watch the children until his wife got home. From the look on Maya's face, he knew she'd be spending the next hour on the phone, spreading the news. He'd never be able to look his neighbors in the eye again.

What did they want from him? The arms deal? The migrants? Who put them on to him?

“Thank you for coming. I'm very grateful,” Boaz stammered. Borochov was Faro's personal attorney, and Itzik said he could pull a rabbit out of a hat. Now he'd use his magic to make Boaz's problems disappear. At least, that's what he was hoping for.

“Did you say anything?” Borochov fired at him as he took a seat. The expression on his face didn't give anything away.

“Not a word, I swear,” Boaz said, sitting back down.

“Good. Keep it that way.” The lawyer's tone was as stiff as his face.

“Are my kids okay? Did you talk to my wife?” Boaz asked anxiously.

“Pay attention, Yavin,” Borochov cut in. “You keep your mouth shut. Whatever they ask you, you say, ‘On the advice of counsel, I invoke my right to remain silent.' Got it?”

“Yeah, I got it. But do you know why I'm here? What do they have on me?” Borochov's iciness was spooking him. Boaz was no fool. He knew he wasn't the attorney's real client. He'd tell him to do whatever was best for Faro.

“I don't know what they have and I don't care. The only thing that matters is that you keep your mouth shut. Not a word about Faro, arms deals, the ‘General,' or anything else.”

Boaz's throat was dry and his hands were shaking. They wanted to make a scapegoat out of him.

“Don't worry, I'd never do anything to harm Shimon,” he said in a trembling voice. “But you've got to understand. I could be in real trouble. . . . I don't know . . .”

“Take it easy,” Borochov said, smoothing his tie. “Let's not blow things out of proportion. It's not that bad. All they can accuse you of is some kind of white-collar crime. Worst-case scenario, you get five to seven inside. Best-case scenario, you pay a fine. It could be much worse, believe me.”

Boaz stared at him in shocked silence. Seven years? How would he survive that long in prison?

“Hey, kid, don't look so scared. It's not the end of the world,” Borochov said, patting him on the shoulder and smiling for the first time. “Seven years is the most you can get. With time off for good behavior, you'll be out in four. What's four years?”

Boaz remained silent. Unlike Borochov, he failed to see the bright side.

“Be a good boy and Faro will look out for you. Your family will be well taken care of. Faro can be very generous.”

Boaz still didn't respond. They were sending him to his grave and they wanted him to be happy about it?

“Are you listening, Yavin? Did you get what I said? It's simple arithmetic. There's nothing to think about. You keep your mouth shut and you're compensated for your trouble. You talk and . . . well, I don't have to tell you what happens then, do I?”

Boaz shook his head. No, Borochov didn't have to spell it out. The message was loud and clear. The only question left to answer was the amount of the compensation he'd be getting. He was going to demand a very high price for his silence.

FARO
put down the phone and breathed a sigh of relief. Borochov had assured him he didn't have to worry about Boaz, he'd taken care of it. Without Yavin's testimony, the cops had nothing.