I connected with bone and heard it crunch and break. Kulaski and I flopped to the ground right next to each other. He was knocked out, his nose and mouth bloodied. The top of my head hurt like hell, and my vision swam a little, but I bit my lip to clear it up. From the corner of my eye, I saw Rapfogel gawking at the unexpected scene, the wine bottle discarded and dripping at his feet. Then he lifted his gun to fire, but Kulaski and I were so close, he had to be careful not to hit his friend.
Kulaski had dropped his gun when I hit him. I rolled to it, earth exploding near my face as Rapfogel fired, and then I grabbed the gun awkwardly in my cuffed hands, struggling to fit my finger onto the trigger. I rolled again, small stones and acorns digging into my back and stomach, as another shot rang out, and then two more. If Rapfogel had been sober, I doubt he would have missed me.
Rolling onto my stomach, Kulaski's gun in my brittle grip and pointed in Rapfogel's general direction, I pulled the trigger over and over, shifting my hands to cover more ground, howling an incoherent battle cry, firing without aim or sense until the magazine was spent.
I fired eight bullets. Seven of them missed. The eighth bit through Rapfogel's shoe and masticated his foot. He screamed, crashing down, gun discarded and forgotten as he gripped his ruined foot with both hands.
I rolled to Kulaski, who was beginning to stir. I didn't have much time. I had to get free before Kulaski came to or Rapfogel stopped wailing long enough to remember that more than his foot was at stake here tonight.
I wormed my fingers into Kulaski's closest pocket, praying that was where he kept his keys, and fumbled around until my fingertips touched metal. I tugged the key ring out and undid the cuffs. The instant they fell off my wrists was one of the most exhilarating moments of my life.
I knelt by the stunned inspector and, digging through his pockets, found Moria's gun and a fresh magazine for Kulaski's pistol. He came to as I was rummaging, and for the first time I saw sweet fear in his eyes. He tried to shove my hand away, so I smacked him in the mouth, and he screamed with agony. "Doesn't feel so good getting hit on an injury, does it?" I said. I pocketed Moria's gun, reloaded Kulaski's pistol, and aimed it at him. "I am truly sorry about your sister," I said, and shot him in the center of his face.
I turned to Rapfogel. The shot I'd just fired seemed to have reminded him of the danger he was in. Grimacing, his foot a red mess, he scrambled for his fallen firearm, but I was faster.
"Please," he whined, tears streaming down his ashen face. "Please don't shoot me. It was Kulaski. He ordered me to."
"I know," I said soothingly. "You had no choice."
"Please take me to the hospital. My foot hurts so bad."
"I need you to tell me something first. What is the name of the third officer who took part in my beating?"
"Revivo. Sergeant Gideon Revivo."
"Why isn't he here?"
"Kulaski didn't tell him about tonight. Gideon stopped him from going too far when we jumped you. Later told me Kulaski was crazy, out of control. He was right. I should have listened. Dear God, my foot..."
So I was right about Kulaski being mad at the third man, I thought. "Who else knows you were coming after me tonight?"
"We told no one. Take me to the hospital, and I won't breathe a word of what happened tonight. I swear I won't."
"I know," I told him. "I know." Then I put a bullet between his eyes.
42
Rapfogel's wallet held fourteen liras. I took them all. "That's for the wine," I told his corpse, and put the wallet back, holding it with my handkerchief to avoid leaving prints.
Kulaski only had one lira on him. "You weren't only crazy, but cheap too," I muttered, and took the single bill.
I dragged both bodies into the woods, careful not to get any blood on me. I didn't bury them. I had no shovel, but even if I had, I wouldn't have made the effort. If what Rapfogel had told me was true, and I was sure it was, no one knew what he and Kulaski had been up to that night. No one could prove I was here.
I wiped the dead men's guns clean, as well as Kulaski's keys and the magazine I'd loaded into his pistol after shooting Rapfogel's foot. I threw both firearms into the trees in one direction, Rapfogel's cuffs and Kulaski's keys and empty magazine in another. I also picked up all the spent shell casings and scattered them in the undergrowth.
Back in the clearing, I kicked dirt over blood patches, obscuring the scene. Someone else might come by, and I didn't want them to know what had happened here. I also brushed away any footmarks that led to where I'd put the bodies. The longer it took to find them, the better.
I wiped off the section of the backseat where I'd sat on the ride over. One good thing about being cuffed is it prevents you from leaving prints all over the place.
That was everything. All that remained was getting out of there. I sat in the driver's seat and got the shakes. I stared at my fingers; they were trembling like naked tree limbs in a gale. I shut my eyes and took deep breaths until the shaking ceased. But still I didn't drive off. I looked through the windshield at the empty clearing, getting used to the idea that I was going to survive this night. I started laughing and didn't like the manic edge to it. I forced myself to stop, mumbled, "So long, you bastards," and drove out of the clearing.
Back in Jerusalem, I parked the car on a dark stretch of road on a side street. I wiped off the wheel, the door handle, and anything else I might have touched. I left the keys in the door. Anyone wanting to take the car for a ride could be my guest.
For the second time that night, I took off my shoes and went up the stairs to Moria's apartment. I wasn't worried about Kulaski anymore, but I still didn't want Lillian to hear me. I was too tired for explanations.
She didn't open her door. I hoped the baby had let her sleep.
Kulaski had picked the lock on Moria's door. If he'd left any telltale signs in the process, I couldn't see them in the gloom of the landing. If Lillian hadn't stopped me, I would have walked into his trap completely unprepared.
Inside, there was no sign that the inspector had been lurking there. Tired beyond belief, my ribs aching from rolling around on the hard ground of the clearing, my head throbbing where it had connected with Kulaski's face, I padded to Moria's bedroom, took off my grimy, muddy clothes, and flopped onto the bed. I plummeted into sleep a second later.
When I awoke, the sun was shining onto my face. My watch said it was almost eleven. The sky was a startling blue, and, if you ignored the biting cold, you wouldn't have guessed it was winter.
No longer feeling the need to hide my presence, I got into Moria's tiny bathtub and scrubbed my skin raw. I put on fresh clothes, shaved, and drank multiple glasses of water in the kitchen. My coat was muddy from all the rolling around I'd done yesterday. I scraped off the mud over the toilet and flushed it away.
I did all this quickly, knowing that if Lillian was home, she might be getting frantic hearing all the noise I was making. Once I was through, I went down and knocked on her door.
"Was that you in Moria's apartment?" was how she greeted me.
"Yes."
"Thank God. I was getting worried."
Dina, Lillian's daughter, was awake, sitting in her crib with a rattle in her hand. She looked at me with huge curious eyes. I smiled at her. She smiled right back.
"I was just having tea," Lillian said. "Do you want some?"
I said I did, and we sat at her table with our steaming cups.
"She's beautiful," I said, gesturing at Dina.
Lillian smiled. "She's a handful, but a beautiful one for sure. See how she looks at you? She's so curious, wants to know everything."
"I wonder who she gets that from."
Lillian laughed, blushing a little. "Guilty as charged. Some of the neighbors hate me for it. I know it's a bad habit, but I can't help myself."