The Israeli ambassador and Minister of Justice Haim Levi stepped out of the second car. The fourth car contained one more Israeli secret service man and the ambassador’s family: his wife and two children. Levi waved at the curious congregants like he was Barack Obama visiting his hometown.
The party moved into the courtyard, where Silberstein was waiting. It must have been the first time I ever saw him so obsequious. Levi knew the protocol and shook hands with Silberstein first, then with Meyer, and finally extended his hand to Eli…
I looked at my brother, and it occurred to me that the last time I had seen that look on his face was when I had beaned him in the head with a snowball and then laughed. He had chased me around the yard, bellowing with rage and face contorted in fury. For a second I was sure that if he caught me, he would kill me. I was faster, and he didn’t catch me, but I hadn’t dared to approach him for hours afterwards.
I saw Levi stand there expectantly, hand extended. But Eli pulled his own hand back. It clenched into a fist, picked up speed and slammed into the corner of Levi’s eye.
For a split second, the entire courtyard froze, colours faded, sound waves paused mid-air, and second-hands stopped ticking. Everything was suspended like that instant after a nuclear explosion before the blast of light strikes and the mushroom cloud rises from the ground. Then the moment passed and the secret service agents leapt into action. They dived for Eli and grabbed his hands. I rushed in and yelled: “I have him! It’s OK! Look out for the minister!”
Eli writhed and looked at me with unseeing eyes. “Max was killed because of that shitbag… Let me go…” I clenched Eli tightly by the arm and led him off to the side. I managed to see a smile cross Sillanpää’s face before civil servant officiousness washed it away. He came over and grabbed Eli by the other arm.
“What is this, some new kind of boxing diplomacy?”
Silberstein, pale as death and on the verge of fainting, looked on as the secret service agents wiped the blood from Levi’s brow.
A second later, Levi started recovering from the shock of the blow. He pressed his forehead, looked around imploringly and kept begging: “Please, nothing happened here. I fell and hit my head. This stays between us… as long as you get that madman out of here. Having this get out won’t be to anyone’s advantage…”
Simolin and I led Eli to my car.
It had been a long time since I had been so proud of my brother.
EPILOGUE
It took over two months before the fuse that had been lit in Finland detonated a bomb in Israel.
The Jerusalem Post was the first to report that Haim Levi was suspected of criminal activity. The Minister of Justice had been escorted from his house for questioning over the acceptance of over two million dollars in bribes. Money had been distributed to several other power players in his party, too. The paper also reported that three well-known businessmen had been arrested on suspicion of bribery. Only two of the names were reported: Amos Jakov and Benjamin Hararin. But I knew the third one. It was Jacobson’s son-in-law, Joel Kazan.
Nurmio had kept me up to date, which is why I was better informed than the Jerusalem Post, to whom the investigation had been leaked. The publicity ensured that the matter wouldn’t be swept under the rug for the sake of political expediency. It took two more months before Levi resigned, even though the investigation was just beginning.
Here in Finland, things progressed much more rapidly. The investigation confirmed that Semeyev had killed Jacobson and Oxbaum. He had entered the Jacobson home from the back, using the spare key that was hidden outside. We suspected that Semeyev was told the location of the key by the homeowner’s son-in-law, Joel Kazan. Threatening him with a gun, Semeyev had led Jacobson to the front door and shot him so it would appear as if Jacobson had opened the door for his killer. Semeyev had then returned to the back door and made his escape.
Soon afterwards, Nurmio had appeared and the neighbour keeping watch at the window had seen him. There was no way the timing could have been a coincidence. Someone wanted to make Nurmio a scapegoat, just as he had claimed.
The investigation of Semeyev’s death had demanded high-level negotiations that also involved the participation of an official from the Israeli embassy. This part of the investigation was sealed for fifty years. In the closed-door trial, Nurmio was represented by my brother Eli.
A little before Christmas, I received a postcard from Nurmio. It had a picture of an orange tree laden with fruit. The stamp indicated that it had been sent from Portugal.
There was a brief note on the back: Enjoying the sunshine. But then again, you never know… Shalom!
NIGHTS OF AWE
Harri Nykänen
The first in the Inspector Ariel Kafka series
During the Days of Awe that lead up to Yom Kippur, Ariel Kafka, inspector in the Violent Crime Unit of the Helsinki police and one of two Jewish policemen in Finland, is confronted with the most difficult case of his career. Two Arabs are killed in the capital and, shortly afterwards, Kafka discovers two more bodies at an Iraqi-owned garage.
Are these deaths evidence of gang warfare or of international terrorism? When it transpires that an Israeli Minister will make an unofficial visit to Helsinki, matters become truly complicated. The Finnish Security Police and the Mossad both have a role to play, and Kafka sets out on a trail that leads back to his youth.
“Nykänen’s twist on Nordic crime fiction may be the most inventive of the year. The clever combination of classic Jewish themes with the traditions of Nordic crime makes for a refreshing tale with wide appeal. And the subtle humor, combined with a hero who is not completely depressed and alcoholic, makes it even better.” Booklist
“Wins the award for most intriguing name for a fictional detective, and it suits this impressively labyrinthine mystery. A cool debut for Kafka, with the promise of more to come.” Time Out
“Deadpan humor and a thrilling ability to sustain narrative pace on little but routine details, personal interactions and professional observations. A worthy successor to Maj Sjöwall and Per Wahlöö, the supreme masters of Scandinavian crime writing.” Buffalo News
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