The Kabbalist (22 page)

Once alone, the abbot
reclined in his chair, exhausted, and closed his eyes, trying to control the
terrible headache which had seized him. After a long while, he opened his eyes,
unlocked one of his desk drawers and pulled out a notebook in a thick, black leather
cover. He leafed through it until he found what he was looking for.

Then, he pulled the
telephone on his desk a bit closer, picked up the receiver and, with trembling
hands, keyed in a number.

T
he young policewoman
at the border control booth at Ben-Gurion Airport examined the picture in the
passport and then watched the face of the man on the other side of the glass.
He was in his early forties, very tall and dressed in a casual beige jacket.
His black hair highlighted his blue eyes.

“Lorenzo Molinari?”

“The man smiled at her.
It was a strange smile. “This is my name.” He spoke English with a pronounced
Italian accent.

“What is your purpose
in visiting Israel?”

“I am a tourist,” he said.
“I came to tour your beautiful country. I am very much interested in the
history of the place and mostly in the holy sites.”

“Is this your first
visit to Israel?”

“Yes. I have been
thinking of doing this for a long time now, but business, you know…”

“What is your
profession?”

“I am an engineer, a
mechanical engineer.”

She thought he looked
more like a model.

*    *    *

“To Haifa?”

The taxi driver looked
at the elegant man facing him. “Yes, sir; please follow me.” He gestured towards
his cab and moved forward to take the small suitcase from his passenger’s hand.
But the man glared at him with those strange, penetrating eyes of his, and he
froze in his place.

“Thank you, I prefer
having my suitcase near me.”

The driver opened the back
door, and the man seated himself, putting his suitcase on the seat beside him.
The driver entered and started the engine. Something about this client made him
uneasy. “Where in Haifa?” he asked.

“Dan Panorama Hotel.”

Molinari leaned back,
closed his eyes, and tried to relax. Last time he was around, he had a
different name, and he really messed things up. He tried to move too fast and
blew it.

He was still convinced
that the gangster, Srur, was involved in the Stella Maris burglary, but now he
believed that the thug-turned-businessman was just a go-between. Srur did not
really know what was going on.

Last time, once he made
the mistake of exposing himself to him, he was constantly tailed by Srur’s men.
Consequently, he had to give up the investigation, and returned to Rome
empty-handed and humiliated. He wanted to come back, but his superiors decided
it was too risky. They preferred to lay low for a while and wait. They had
their sources in Israel and bid their time.

He knew that in due course
something would come up. It took four years. But now, at last, a lead surfaced.
That nosy cop from four years ago has emerged again. He was now accompanied by
a surprising partner, and the two of them were on to something.

It could well be
another dead end, but Molinari promised himself to give it everything he had.
Beyond the immense issue at stake, it was now also a question of personal
honor.

He could not fail
again.

He
will
not
fail again.

I
t was about 7 PM when
Luria left his office. It was dark, and he was feeling very tired. All he
needed now was an improvised dinner and a hot shower. With these encouraging prospects
in his mind, he pulled out the car keys from his pocket.

The main street was
empty.

Luria turned into the
parking lot, where his car was one of the only two still parked there. The
other car aroused his suspicion. Two figures were sitting inside it. Lovers
perhaps? Luria became alert. He fumbled for the holster which was tucked in the
back of his belt, pulled out the gun and put it in the right pocket of his jacket.
His right hand stayed there, clutching the handle. He quickly passed the parked
car and turned toward his car.

Then, the doors of the
other car suddenly opened, and two young men jumped out and raced towards him.
One of them hugged Luria firmly from behind, tightly pressing his arms to the
sides of his body, so that he could not use the gun. The other placed himself
in front of him. Luria tried to shake his attacker off, but the guy’s arms felt
like a huge pair of pliers, denying him movement. The briefcase he was holding
in his left hand dropped to the ground.

“It’s not necessary,
Mr. Luria,” the man facing him said calmly. “Please, do not give us any
trouble. We have no intention of hurting you.”

“Then you have
certainly fooled me.” Luria was red with indignation. “What do you want?”

“An old friend wants a
word with you.”

Luria strained his
eyes. In the feeble street light, he could not identify the face of the man, but
noticed that he was dressed in a well-cut Armani suit.

“There are more
civilized ways of inviting people to a conversation,” he gasped, still
struggling to shake off the bear hug he was in. He thought he was in good
physical shape, but his efforts made no impression on the guy behind him.

“Well…” said the man in
the Armani suit. “This friend of yours usually keeps very good manners unless
forced to behave differently. So do I, but when somebody tries to play with
guns, my manners suffer a bit. I suggest you come with us quietly. If you relax
and behave, we will get along just fine.”

Luria muttered
something.

“I am going to ask my
friend to let go of you, but you must promise me to behave. Promise?”

Luria tried again to
shake off his aggressor, and this time the man tightened his grip. Luria
groaned with pain.

“Promise?” repeated the
young man.

“OK. OK,” grunted Luria,
“just tell the gorilla to leave me alone.”

The Armani guy nodded
his approval to his colleague. Luria felt his right hand pulled out forcefully
from his pocket, and the gun retrieved from it. Then he was free, and the giant
behind him took a step back.

“Thank you so much,” said
Luria to the Armani. “What type of meeting did you have in mind?”

*    *    *

The car pulled over, and the oversized
driver got out and opened the back door. Luria, followed by the young man in
the Armani suit, stepped out. A young couple, walking hand in hand, was leaving
the restaurant in the building next to where they were parked, and hardly
noticed them. Luria identified the place immediately. It was the ‘Margalit’
restaurant. The three men headed for the building.

*    *    *

“Yossi Luria in the flesh!”
Ze’ev Srur was a bit heavier than Luria remembered. “How are you, my friend? It
has been years since we last met.”

“Four years and twenty
three days to be exact,” noted Luria. “That’s why I decided to drop in today. I
wanted to celebrate our anniversary. I really missed our little talks.”

“Funny,” said Srur. “I
like people with a sense of humor. If I recall, last time we met you were
somewhat less amused.”

“Yes, Mr. Srur. The
last few years have exposed the lighter side of my personality.”

“I am happy to learn
that the passing years have done you good.” Srur headed toward his small drink
cabinet. “And you can call me Ze’ev. May I offer you a superb whiskey?”

“No, thanks.”

“It’s a pity. This is
an excellent whiskey, and you are already at liberty to drink on duty. As I
remember, you no longer serve the forces of law and order.”

The dart sent by Srur hit
its target. “And I suppose I should be thanking
you
for that.” Luria was
unable to conceal the bitterness in his voice. “I never touch alcohol. I simply
do not enjoy it.”

“Have it your way.” Srur
poured himself a drink and shook his glass. “I hope you do not bear old
grudges. Each of us played his part in that game, and that is all there was to
it.” He raised the glass and sipped from it, his eyes fixed on Luria.

Luria chose to change
the subject. He was looking at Srur’s hand which was holding the glass. “What
is this red thread on your wrist, Ze’ev? I never thought you were
superstitious.”

“Superstitious…” Srur
looked at Luria in disgust. “I got this from my rabbi. It is a Kabbalistic
charm.”

“I always wondered how is
it that so many businessmen of your… stature have got such admirable spiritual
and religious needs.”

Srur felt the sarcasm.
“I pity people like you who have no faith in anything. But this is really none
of your business, and if you try once more to patronize me, you will regret
it.”

“Sorry, I meant no
offense.”

“Let us sit down,” Srur
now pointed to the small sitting corner with the luxurious white leather couches.
The two men sat down. Srur sipped from his glass with relish, his eyes on
Luria. “I wanted a word with you, Luria,” he said after a short silence.

“Is that so, Ze’ev? What
a coincidence. I am so glad I came, then. What did you have in mind?”

Srur smiled. It was a
humorless smile this time. “We have a common acquaintance who complained to me
that you have been harassing him.”

“A common
acquaintance?”

“Attorney Yigal Porat”

“Porat?” Luria was
beginning to see the light.

“Attorney Yigal Porat
has been working with me for many years now,” said Srur. “I consider him a
personal friend.”

“I have nothing
personal against Attorney Porat,” said Luria. “And, of course, anybody is free
to choose his friends, but just between us, I can tell you that I can’t stand
the guy and I think he is a pompous ass.”

“I want you off his
back.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I want you to leave
him alone.”

“What did he tell you?”

“He told me you were
hired by his wife to pry into his private affairs. I am disappointed with you,
Luria. Interfering with the family life of a married couple with children? How
low can you go?”

“I cannot comment on
that, Ze’ev. This is a professional matter.”

“I believe that some
values are above everything, and I consider family to be one such value. Do you
have wife and kids, Luria?”

Luria kept quiet.

“If you ever do, you
will understand what I am talking about. Nothing is more sacred than the
family. Now, let us return to Yigal Porat. I understand that this is your
livelihood, and I am willing to compensate you for the damage. I will pay you
100,000 shekels, and you will leave his family alone. Let us consider this a
contribution to the community; fair enough?” Srur got up, refilled his glass,
and returned to his couch. He raised the glass to his lips, waiting for Luria.

“This is not about
money,” said Luria. “I am not sure you can appreciate it, but this is about
professional integrity.”

Srur put his glass
down, the smile vanishing from his face. Luria noticed a dangerous flash in his
eyes. “What kind of answer is this?” He raised his voice. “I am treating you
with respect, doing my best to be courteous, giving you a generous offer, and
you dare patronize me? Do you want me to give you the other options on my
list?”

“You mean, what is
going to happen to me if I do not agree to this generous offer of yours?”

Srur’s face was
becoming red.

Luria spoke softly now.
“Just a moment, Ze’ev, please calm down. I have a counter offer for you, which
I believe is at least as fair as yours.”

Srur took a deep
breath. “Speak up,” he snapped, his face still red, “but I am warning you that
my sense of humor has exhausted itself for this evening. You no longer amuse
me.”

“I understand. I’ll be
as grave as an attorney.”

“Cut this bullshit and
speak up!” Srur was rapidly approaching the limits of his patience.

“Well, Ze’ev,” said
Luria, “having considered your persuasive statements, I will deviate a bit from
protocol and do something I have never done before. I’ll share with you some of
the findings in Attorney Porat’s file.”

Srur frowned. “I am not
a lousy reporter and I am not interested in what Attorney Porat does in his free
time. This is not my business, and what I am trying to explain to you,
apparently with limited success so far, is that this is also none of
your
business.”

“Well,” said Luria
pleasantly, “I am not at all sure of this.”

“You are not sure this
is not your business?”

“I am not sure this is
not
your
business.”

“You are testing my
patience.” Srur’s calm composure was more threatening than ever. “And it is about
to expire.”

Luria was not going to
be bullied. “Please let me finish, Ze’ev. You were so convincing and
articulate, now let
me
explain. I am sure you will find my offer
interesting.” Srur wanted to say something, but reconsidered. He gestured
wearily with his hand to Luria to proceed.

“Thank you, Ze’ev.”
Luria was the epitome of courtesy. “First, I will show you some documents,” he
added. “I would like you to go through them carefully and form your own impressions.
Then, I believe you will be much more open-minded.”

“Luria, I warned you.
Do not play games with me!”

“Believe me, Ze’ev,
this is not a game.”

Srur looked at him
suspiciously. “I hope for your own sake that you are right.”

Luria pointed to the
corner of the room, where the Armani guy had left his briefcase. “With your
permission?”

Srur nodded his
approval. Luria stood up, walked to the corner across the room and returned
with the briefcase. He opened it, fumbled inside and pulled out a DVD.

“What is this?” asked
Srur.

“The documents I
referred to.” Luria handed him the DVD. “You are welcome to take a look.”

Srur hesitated for a
moment and then ripped the DVD from Luria’s hand. He rose and walked to his
desk with his whiskey in one hand and the DVD in the other. He seated himself
in his luxurious executive chair, put his glass on the desk and fed the DVD
into the computer’s drive. For a while, he fumbled with the mouse, muttering
something to himself.

“May I help you,
Ze’ev?”

Srur glared at him.
“Sit down, Luria, and don’t patronize me. I can make this thing work at least
as well as you can.”

Luria kept quiet and
looked with interest at the man behind the computer. About a minute passed.
Srur kept moving the mouse here and there and mumbling in frustration. Suddenly,
he froze. He then took a long sip from his whiskey and hit a mouse button.
Luria looked at his face inquisitively, waiting for his reaction.

And then it happened.

Almost at once, Srur's
face became dark red. Having miscalculated his last sip, he choked on his drink
and started coughing violently, spraying the computer screen with fine Johnny
Walker Blue. The cough grew worse.

The door opened, and
the Armani guy appeared. “Are you OK, Ze’ev?” He inquired anxiously. Srur’s
face grew scarlet as he continued coughing. He waved angrily with his hands,
gesturing his man out of the room and growling unintelligibly.

“Get out of here,” he somehow
managed to discharge in a choking voice, his hands still waving madly. The man
promptly closed the door and disappeared. After a while, Srur regained control
but his face was still red. He kept staring at the data on the computer screen
before him.

“Son of a bitch,” he muttered.
“A stinking son of a bitch.”

“Well,” observed Luria,
“may I assume that you are now more open to discussion?”

Srur did not answer. He
was mesmerized, with his eyes glued to the computer screen. “What a son of a
bitch.”

“Perhaps you would now like
to discuss the sacred value of family life,” suggested Luria politely.

Srur jumped out of his
chair as if bitten by a snake. “Shut up!” he yelled. “Shut your big mouth, or I
will personally break your neck. Whom do you think you are dealing with?”

Luria feared he had
really crossed the line this time. “Sorry,” he said humbly. “I meant no
offense.” He stood up. “Do you want me to leave this with you?”

Srur gestured to him
with his hand to sit down. “Has anybody seen this… thing?” he asked hoarsely.

“No. Just me.” Luria
saw no need to involve Eitan in this.

“Listen to me, Luria,
and listen very carefully.” Srur was talking very slowly now. “You will destroy
any copy of this material. If I ever find out that it has ended up in
somebody’s hands, I will hold you personally responsible and then no medical
insurance will help you. You will not use this stuff, and you will not mention
it to anybody. It just does not exist. It never did. Is this all you have on
this son of a bitch?”

“No,” replied Luria, “I
have some more material on him, but it has nothing to justify your interest.”

“I have no problem with
you using any other material,” said Srur. “After all, I would not want to
interfere with this sacred professional integrity of yours. But
this
material has just ceased to exist.”