Faye Kellerman - Sanctuary

“The moat,” Decker said.

“Yes, the moat,” Tziril agreed. “They have a castle for two kids.” She waved a hand into the air. “But Dalia wanted a big house, so she gets it. It was her father’s doing. The only child, the father never learns to say no. Her father is quite old now…in his late eighties. But he is still strong. He’s at the Bursa every single day. He drove himself until he turned eighty. Now someone drives him. Every day he is in his office.”

“Even now when he’s sitting shiva?”

Tziril was quiet for a moment. “I don’t think he will sit shiva. Joseph isn’t a religious man. Anat is sitting shiva. Yesterday, I talked to Anat. Every day, we talk. Every day, we cry. Every day, we wait for our children.”

She burst into tears. Rina went over and put her arm around the old woman. Tziril leaned her head into Rina’s shoulder and wept for a long time.

“The old man has no heart,” Tziril stated angrily. “Only work, work, work.”

“Maybe that’s how he copes with the pain,” Rina suggested.

“Maybe,” Tziril said in a cracked voice. “Ah, that’s just men!”

It was an indictment, Decker felt, she had uttered many times in the past. “So he’s probably at the Bursa right now?”

“Yes, probably.”

“That’s close to here?”

“If you have a car.”

“I have a car. Can you have your husband call him up? I’d like to visit him there-”

“Only members are invited into Bursa.”

“There’s no way to get me temporary privileges?”

Tziril looked puzzled. Rina translated. Tziril said, “I don’t know much about Bursa. My husband would know more.”

“I’d really like to talk to Mr. Menkovitz, now.”

“Why? You think my grandsons are with him?”

Decker stared at her. “Are they?”

Tziril put her hand to her chest. “I don’t think so. Anat told me…”

She let her words hang in the air.

“Anat told you what? That the boys might stay with her?”

“No. But maybe she got a quick phone call, too. The boys are not with her. That I know. Because she is worried about them, too.”

Decker rubbed his eyes. The jet lag was doing funny things to his head. “Still, I’d like to meet Mr. Menkovitz. He might have some things to tell me about Shaul Gold. After all, you did say that Dalia and Shaul were old friends. Can you ask your husband to arrange something?”

“Maybe he could. But he won’t. He’s a mule.”

“Tell him his grandsons’ lives may depend on it.” He turned to Rina. “Can you please translate the gravity of that statement?”

“I understand you, Mr. Decker.” Wearily, Tziril stood. “Rega.” She padded down the hall.

“What did she say?”

“She said wait.”

Tziril returned a minute later. “Moshe said only relatives can come into the Bursa-”

“So say I’m a relative-”

“Rega, rega…” Tziril said. “Moshe will do anything that will help the boys. He will take you there.”

“Today?”

“Yes. He’s getting dressed. It will take a few minutes.”

Decker gave his hands a clap. “Thank you.”

“Mr. Decker, there are rules. You must say you are his son-in-law.”

“That’s not a problem.”

“And you must not talk to anyone on the floor. No one! Nothing until he gets you alone in Joseph’s office.”

“That’s not a problem, either.”

“You must bring your passport.”

“I have it with me.” He patted his jacket.

“And your wife must come, too.”

Decker paused. “That’s fine. He needs her to translate and so do I.”

“This is true but not the reason he wants her. My husband says he likes her much better than he likes you.”

Rina drove, Yalom sat in the front passenger’s seat, allowing Decker to take surreptitious notes in the back. Not that there was anything worth recording. No conversation to speak of. Finally, Yalom mumbled something to Rina.

She said, “He wants to know how his daughter, Orit, is doing.”

“Tell him she seems to be in good health.”

The old man nodded and spoke to Rina.

“Did you meet his grandchildren?”

“Just his granddaughter, Sharona,” Decker said. “She seemed very nice. Very bright. I liked her a lot.”

Mr. Yalom grunted out, “Pretty, no?”

“Beautiful,” Decker said. “Yef…yeffe meod.” He turned to Rina. “Did I get that right?”

“Perfect.”

The car returned to its silent state. A moment later, Yalom indicated something by a point of the finger. Rina got off the ayalon on the Rekevet exit. The old man directed her into a series of turns that put them on a gravel and dirt pay lot. No parking spaces had been marked but the cars, mostly subcompacts, that occupied the lot were spaced in an orderly fashion. The parking area bordered a busy tree-lined boulevard. Across the roadway stood three ultra-modern granite and glass skyscrapers jutting out from what looked like a strip mall. Decker look out the rear window. Behind the lot was a nest of square patched-up apartment houses, laundry hanging from the windows. No sense of a neighborhood. Nothing matched-Tijuana meets Century City.

Rina shut off the motor and they got out of the car. The boulevard was more of a highway with cars racing at high speeds in both directions. The nearest intersection with a traffic light was a blip in the distance. Yalom rooted along a wire fence that acted as a barrier between the lot and the boulevard until he found a hole. He squeezed through it, then stood in the street and watched cars speed by.

“We’re going to cut across?” Decker asked Rina.

Rina said, “I’m just following the leader.”

Traffic finally cleared on one side. The old man dashed across with surprising speed. Decker and Rina followed until the trio took temporary refuge on the boulevard’s divider-a concrete island in a sea of blurred metal and smoky exhaust.

Decker said, “You know, if this was America, we’d all get a ticket.”

Rina said, “I know. LA’s really big on jaywalking.”

“That’s because people get killed jaywalking.” A truck shot past, blowing wind through Decker’s hair and almost knocking Rina off her feet. He said, “This is crazy.”

The old man shouted a “go” in English. All three of them tore across.

“See?” Rina said. “We made it.”

Decker ran his fingers through his hair and didn’t answer. Yalom motioned them forward, his gait slowing to that of an old man. He led them up a series of museum-sized granite steps while speaking to Rina. She translated.

“There are three major buildings in the diamond center. The Maccabee is where the Bursa is. It’s also where Joseph Menkovitz keeps his private office.” She paused and listened to Yalom’s words. “Even though the bigger dealers have offices now, they still do lots of trading in the Bursa itself. It makes excitement.”

“Makes excitement?” Decker asked.

Rina shrugged. The old man spoke and Rina clarified. “The Bursa is for everyone. Those that have private offices, those that don’t. If you’re a member of the Bursa, even if you don’t have an office, you can rent a locker and trade on the floor with everyone else. When you trade in the Bursa, it makes excitement.” She paused. “I think he means that Bursa generates excitement because it’s out in the open. I guess we’ll understand when we see it.”

The lobby to the Maccabee building was compartmentalized-trisected and encased in thick glass. Yalom went into the right-hand section, through steel revolving doors into a small sally port filled with people. Decker’s first impression: He was in line to the betting cage at the track. The windows up front were marked BUYERS/TENANTS. Yalom stood in the back of an undisciplined squiggle of human flesh; Decker and Rina fell in behind him.