The Theatre - Kellerman, Jonathan

"Yeah, it would fit with something else I came up with. After we found that D. Terrif reference in the Shehadeh file, I called one of my buddies at Parker Center, asked him to check all the files for someone by that name. He came up empty, even in the social security files. No such person ever received a card-which is just about every adult who pays taxes in America. Now, Carter's a Canadian, so it wouldn't apply to him, but my buddy said something interesting: that Terrif didn't even look like a bona fide name, that the first thing he thought of was that it was an abbreviation for Terrific."

Daniel thought about it. The kind of linguistic nuance that he'd fail to catch, working in a foreign language.

"D. Terrific," said Gene. "Maybe the D stands for some other name or maybe it stands for Doctor."

"Doctor Terrific."

"Like a superhero. Scum takes on an alter ego when he goes out to kill."

"Yes," said Daniel. "It feels right."

"Doesn't seem immediately helpful,"said Gene, "but when you get him to trial, it could be." He started to yawn, stifled it.

"Absolutely," said Daniel. "Thanks for doing all of this, Gene. Now please go back to the hotel and get some sleep."

"Soon. First I want to look into Canadian Terrifs, then see if I can find an old Ecuador-to-Miami plane reservation made out to any Carters or Terrifs. A very long shot, because it was seven years ago, but you never know what pays off. Where you going to be?"

"In and out," said Daniel. "I'll check in with you at the end of the day, if not before."

"Okay. Good luck. And be sure to call me when you catch the scum."

Monday, five P.M. One of the local members of Al Biyadi's terrorist cell continued to avoid capture, no word from Paris, and Mossad was still stalling.

Richard Carter had been spotted sixteen times throughout the state of Israel, as far north as Quneitra, as far south as Eilat. Sixteen fair-haired, ginger-bearded men were pulled off the streets for questioning, all eventually released: five Israelis, four Americans, two Britons, two Germans, a Swede, a Dane, and one unfortunate Canadian tourist detained for five hours by Tel Aviv detectives and left behind by his tour group as they boarded an excursion flight to Greece.

Two Volkswagens matching the one Avi Cohen had driven were located and impounded, one on Kibbutz Lavi, the other in Safed. Both owners were interviewed intensively. The Safed car belonged to an artist of wide reputation and mediocre talent who protested loudly that he was being harassed because of left-wing political views. Verification of ownership and registration of both vehicles was obtained.

At six, Daniel and Amos Harel reviewed the written logs of the Amelia Catherine surveillance:

Six-thirteen A.M.: A blue Renault panel truck from the Al Aswadeh Produce Company in East Jerusalem drove around to the rear of the hospital. The chain-link gate was locked. One man got out, walked to the front. Sorrel Baldwin's secretary, Ma'ila Khoury, came out, spoke to him, went back inside. Minutes later, Khoury unlocked the gate and signed for the groceries. Delivery completed, the truck departed six twenty-eight A.M. License plate number recorded and verified as registered to Al Aswadeh.

Seven-ten a.m.: Zia Hajab arrived at the East Jerusalem bus station on the Ramallah-to-Jerusalem bus. He bought a cold drink from a street vendor, walked from the station to the hospital. By eight a.m. he was sitting at his post.

Nine-twenty A.M.: Dr. Walid Darousha returned from Ramallah in his Peugeot, parked in back, entered the hospital.

Ten-fifteen a.m.: Ma'ila Khoury left the hospital in Sorrel Baldwin's black Lancia Beta and drove to Hamashbir Letzarkhan on King George Street. Spent two hours in the department store, purchasing panty hose, a negligee, and a foam-rubber pillow. Paid for the merchandise with Sorrel Baldwin's U.N. Visa card. Serial number recorded and verified. Ate lunch at Cafe Max and returned to the hospital at one forty-three P.M.

Eleven a.m.: Fourteen male patients lined up at the entrance to the hospital. Zia Hajab kept them waiting for twenty-two minutes, then let them in. All were gone and accounted for by two forty-five P.M.

Three-eleven p.m.: A Mercedes truck with green cab and metal van painted with the name, address, and phone number of the Bright and Clean Laundry Service of Bethlehem drove around to the back of the hospital. Ten sacks removed, six delivered, along with numerous folded tablecloths and sheets. Some of the sacks were judged large enough to hold a human body. Enlarged photographs of the delivery men revealed all of them to be Arabs, none bearded, none bearing the slightest resemblance to Carter. The truck departed three twenty-four P.M. License plates recorded and verified as registered to Bright and Clean.

Four forty-two P.M.: A new Mercedes glass-top bus brought a group of Christian tourists from the Intercontinental Hotel on the Mount of Olives to the Amelia Catherine. Twenty-three tourists. Nine men, excluding the driver and the guide. No male tourists under the age of sixty. The driver and guide were both Arabs, not tall, dark-haired; one was bearded. Their heights estimated at a meter seven, each. Zia Hajab was given money by the guide, the tourists permitted to enter the courtyard of the hospital, take pictures. The bus departed at four fifty-seven. License plate recorded and verified to Mount of Olives Tour Company, East Jerusalem.

Five forty-eight: A white Mercedes-Benz diesel sedan with United Nations plates drove around to the back of the hospital. A man wearing a kaffiyah and Arab robes removed several cardboard boxes labeled RECORDS in Arabic and delivered them to the hospital. Two of the boxes were judged possibly large enough to conceal a human body if the body was bent to the point of contortion. The man was estimated to be approximately the same height as Richard Carter. Several photographs were taken and enlarged. Headdress and position of subject prevented a full-face photo. A partial profile shot revealed a hairless chin and small dark mustache, no spectacles, no resemblance to a computer-enhanced portrait of Richard Carter minus his beard. License plate recorded and verified to U.N. Headquarters at Government House.

"It doesn't say he left," said Daniel.

"He arrived fifteen minutes ago, Dani," said Harel, pointing to the time. "You got this hot off the press. If he spends the night, you'll be the first to know."

At six-fifteen, Daniel drove home for a shower and change of clothes, parked the Escort near the entrance to his building. A faint breeze blew, causing the jacaranda trees to shudder.

He walked to the pebbled-grass exterior door and found it locked. Had the dog returned?

As he fitted his key in the lock, he heard shouts, turned, and saw rotund figure half a block away, trotting toward him and waving. A white apron flapping in the breeze.

Lieberman, the grocer. Probably a pickup Laura had forgotten.

He waved back, waited. The grocer arrived moments later, breathing hard, wiping his forehead.

"Good evening, Mr. Lieberman."

"Pakad," huffed the grocer, "this… is probably nothing, but… I wanted to tell you… anyway."

"Easy, Mr. Lieberman."

The grocer took a deep breath, patted his chest.

"Football days… long gone." He smiled.

Daniel smiled back. He waited until the grocer's breathing had slowed, then said, "What's on your mind, Mr. Lieberman?"

"Probably nothing. I just wanted to keep you in touch- you know how much I see, sitting behind the counter: the human parade. I figure it's my duty to let you know."

"Absolutely, Mr. Lieberman."

"Anyway, about an hour ago, your daughter went off with a guy. Big blackie, said he'd found her dog."

"My American guest is black," said Daniel. Thinking: Good for Gene. The ultimate detective.