The Theatre - Kellerman, Jonathan

Laufer r ignored him. "In the meantime, he's well super-vised. His rebbe vouches for him."

"I didn't know," said Daniel, "that we employed rebbes as probation officers."

"That's enough! A decision was made, in a specific context. A decision that you needn't concern yourself with."

"The man," said Daniel, "is seriously disturbed. He admitted to me having erotic feelings for his own daughters, denied molesting them, but I think he's lying."

"You think? You've harassed him, have you?"

"I've spoken to him."

"When and where?"

"Yesterday, at his apartment."

"What else have you done?"

"He's under surveillance."

"By whom?"

"Cohen."

"The new hire-how's he doing?"

"Fine."

"Told you he was a good kid. Anyway, call him off and reassign him."

"Tat Nitzav-"

"Call him off, Sharavi. Malkovsky is being handled. Stick to your own case and it might even get solved."

Daniel's abdomen was hot as a fry pan, his jaw so tight he had to consciously relax it in order to speak.

"If you don't approve of how I've done my job, feel free to remove me from the case."

Laufer looked at him hard, then applauded.

"Very theatrical, Sharavi. I'm impressed."

He pulled an English Oval out of his shirt pocket. Lit it, smoked, and let the ashes fall on the clippings. A stray ember rolled from the papers onto the desk top and he stubbed it out with a fingertip. Examining the gray-smudged finger, he said, "If and when you're removed, the decision won't be yours. In the meantime, stay out of administrative matters and concentrate upon the job at hand. Tell me, how many staff meetings have you had?"

"Staff meetings?"

"Getting the team together, sharing information."

"I'm in daily contact with each of them."

"How many times have all of you gotten together?"

"Twice."

"Not nearly enough. In cases such as these, communication is paramount. Collating, correlating, the tying up of loose ends. You may have missed something-another Anwar Rashmawi."

Laufer played with the cigarette ashes, allowed his words to sink in.

"Communicate,"hesaid."Verticallyandhorizontally. And expand your thinking. Open up new avenues of investigation." Daniel took a deep breath, let it out silently. "Such as?"

"Such as Arab girls are being cut up like kebab meat. Such as maybe the Arab papers aren't all wrong. Have you thought of talking to Moshe Kagan and his gang?"

'Am I to consider Rabbi Kagan a suspect?" 'Rabbi Kagan thinks he's another Kahane. Arabs are subhuman-unclean animals. He goes to their villages and calls them dogs to their faces. He and his Gvura hooligans are a giant pain in the ass-bunch of misfits and nut cases. All they want is an excuse to go around breaking heads. Is it illogical to suppose that one of them has convinced himself it's a mitzva to slaughter unclean animals?" 'No.' said Daniel, "not illogical at all. But we ran a check on them last year, after Kagan was elected. Found no evidence of violence beyond tough talk and a couple of light skirmishes with the communists."

But even as he spoke, he recalled what Ben David had told him: Racist politics and psychopathy can be comfortable bedfellows… We're not all lambs. There's a reason for the commandment

Times change," Laufer was saying. "Crazies get crazier." The other thing to consider is that he's a Member of the

Knesset.'

One lousy seat," said Laufer. "An aberration-next elec-tion he'll be out on his ass. Couple of years from now he'll be back battling blacks in Brooklyn."

Brooklyn, thought Daniel. In a couple of years, where would Malkovsky be? He said nothing, but his thoughts were transparent and Laufer read them.

'Obviously, you like talking to rabbis, so talk to this one.

Your kipah should help forge a bond between the two of you.

I also heard that he likes Yemenites, tries to recruit them to prove he's not a racist. Go, drop in on him, send him regards from the whole damned department-two hundred thousand dollars American his last demonstration cost us in extra man-hours, barricades, new windshields. Send him regards and ask him if his hooligans have turned into slaughterers."

Laufer looked down and began shuffling papers. Smoking and rubber-stamping and signing his name. Daniel stood there for several moments, knowing if he left without being formally dismissed, the DC would dump on him.

"Anything else, Tat Nitzav?"

Laufer glanced up, feigning surprise at his presence. "Nothing. Get going. Go about your business."

He went back to his office, radioed Avi Cohen at Wolfson, had him come back to Headquarters and, when he arrived twenty minutes later, told him of Laufer's decision.

"Pencil-pushing prick," exploded the young samal. "Just when I'm getting a feel for the pervert-he's getting more and more nervous, always looking over his shoulder. Scratching his head and his crotch, pacing the courtyard. This morning he drove by a school, stopped for a few moments, and looked through the gate. I know he's up to something, Pakad."

"Which school?"

"The religious publicschool-Dugma,on Rehov Ben Zvi."

Mikey and Benny's school. Daniel visualized Malkovsky's enormous body silhouetted against the fence, pressing against the chain link.

"His own kids don't go there?"

"No, they're at the Prostnitzer Heder, near Mea She'arim. He'd already dropped them off and was on the way home when he stopped at Dugma."

"Did he do anything besides look?"

Avi shook his head. "Look was all, but I tell you he's getting more and more jumpy-yelling at his wife, showing up later and later at the yeshiva. And he's always alone. I haven't seen him with the rebbe. Yesterday he left early, went home, and stayed inside all day-no evening minyan. nothing. Maybe he had a cold or something, but I wouldn't count on it. For all we know he could be abusing his own daughters." Avi shook his head in disgust. "He's going to pop. I can feel it. This is the worst time to back off."

His handsome face shone with excitement. The thrill of the hunt, a detective's joy. The kid would work out fine, Daniel decided.

"Dammit," said Avi, "isn't there some way to get around it?"

"No. The order was clear."

"What kind of protekzia does he have?"

"I don't know." In Daniel's mind the bearish silhouette had pushed its way through the chain link, metal buckling and splitting open under the massive weight. Tiny bodies in the background, playing and whooping, unaware of the approaching monster. When the bodies took on faces, round and chubby-cheeked, with black curly hair, dusky skin, and Laura's features, he put the image out of his head, found that he'd been clenching his fist so hard it ached.

"Your new assignment," he told Avi, "is to hook up with the Chinaman, do what he tells you." The big detective was circulating around the Old City, combing the souqs and stalls and coffee-houses, walking every cobbled step of the dark, arched streets. Seeking out pimps and lowlifes, anyone who would talk, still looking for someone who'd seen

Fatma or Juliet.

'What does he need me for?"

"He'll inform you of that when you get there," said Daniel. A bureaucrat's answer-both he and Cohen knew it. Avi pouted, then just as quickly shrugged and smiled broadly, flashing even white teeth, blue eyes bouncing with mischief.

"Sounds like an easy job, Pakad."

'Don't count on it. Yossi's got plenty of energy." 'Oh. yeah, I know, a real gever. But I'm no girl. I can keep up.'

'Good for you," said Daniel, wondering about the sudden change of mood, the return of the rich-kid arrogance. Cohen might have instincts, but he still needed taming. "Have fun." Instead of leaving, Avi came closer. 'What I'm saying is that it won't keep me too busy." Are you complaining about the assignment?"