“I always come here because they buy food from us,” Nissan said. “They pride themselves on having at least one dish from over eighty different countries around the world.”
Murdock had been introduced as a family friend in Tel Aviv for a vacation.
“How do you like our little community here?” Nissan asked.
“I’ve hardly had time for the ten-shekel tour,” Murdock said.
Nissan ordered specialty sandwiches for them, and before the food came, Sartan turned serious.
“Kiva, I’m working with the Army and the police on a delicate matter. We need to know who in your firm handles orders to China.”
“I don’t understand. Food and novelties. We’re not talking about hand grenades and machine guns. Two men do the work with the Chinese, but I want to know a lot more about why you need to know their names before I can help you.”
Murdock spoke up. “Mr. Nissan, we are not accusing you or your firm of any wrongdoing. However, we think one of your employees may be doing a terrible thing to the people of Israel, may be causing hundreds to be injured, maimed, and killed.”
“How in the world? Food and novelties?”
“Mr. Nissan, you are aware of the savage and deadly floating booby traps that have been washing up on our beaches for the past eleven months.”
“Yes, terrible….” He stopped. “You mean you think…” He shook his head. “Both of these men have been with me for years. Both have families here, both are respected.”
“Is either one an Arab?” Sartan asked.
Nissan slumped in his chair. “Yes, I have tried to be even-handed about employing Arabs. They have a right to work as well as Israelis. I have twenty, maybe more Arabs working for me. To think that one of those two…” He shook his head again. “I simply can’t believe it could be true.”
“There is one way we can know for sure,” Murdock said.
“How? Anything. Now I must know.”
“I can tell you this, but it must go no farther. We know that one of your trucks makes deliveries almost daily to boats at the dock. The driver takes boxes to the Gimbra II, a fishing boat owned by Gabi Zekharyah. We are almost one-hundred-percent certain that he gets deliveries from your store, and later dumps the deadly booby trap bombs in the surf line as he heads out to fish.”
The sandwiches came, and the men only stared at them.
“This is true?” Nissan asked his countryman.
“We have everything but his admission.”
“How can you prove that one of my men…”
“When ordering from China, do you order in quantity, then break down the shipments for individual orders?”
“Yes. Mostly that way. Sometimes we do special orders; they come in with a customer’s name on them and we hold them until needed. Sometimes connections are missed and we try to keep a supply on hand….” He stopped again. “In our warehouse. We can check the warehouse and see if any special orders there are waiting for delivery to Zekharyah’s ship.”
“Mr. Nissan,” Murdock said, “these are dangerous men. One man investigating this problem has been killed and dumped in the bay. We don’t want anyone in your firm harmed. Can we check the warehouse without drawing suspicion?”
“Yes. From time to time I inspect the warehouse, the salesmen, even the delivery trucks. I don’t think we’ll arouse any suspicion. Just one of you should come with me. Mr. Murdock, it should be you. Someone might recognize Captain Sartan.”
“We expect a delivery to Zekharyah’s boat tomorrow early A.M. We need to let that shipment go through. Would it be possible to check the warehouse this afternoon?”
“Yes, and I’ll have the name of the salesman who ordered the goods for his boat. Then we will know for sure.”
“Should I meet you at your office this afternoon?” Murdock asked.
“No. I want you to come with me now, right after we eat these sandwiches. I think I can swallow now. I’ll be giving you a tour of the whole operation, so going to the warehouse will look natural. So eat and enjoy; then we’ll go dig out this traitor I’ve been paying for the past fifteen years.”
30
For two hours that afternoon Murdock and Nissan toured the International Food and Novelties operation. Murdock saw a lot more than he wanted to. By the time they came to the warehouse and shipping, everyone there already knew who he was and that he was not after their jobs. Nissan played the tour leader at every stop.
“This is where our shipments are loaded; the last delivery is the first on the truck, and the first delivery is loaded on last.” They went around the truck into the warehouse.
“Here is where we store the goods until we ship them, and this is where we break down large shipments into smaller quantities for orders to go to individual retailers.”
They walked up one aisle, then over. His voice lowered so only Murdock could hear it. “This is where we have our Chinese orders. They should be on these pallet boards. Yes. Here. They are separated by food and novelties.” He produced a razor-blade knife, and quickly slit the tape on top of the cardboard box and opened it. Inside were cartons filled with toys, whistles, and noisemakers. The next box had boxes of pencils, tablets, and notebooks. The third box, listed as novelties from China, held packages of the long gaily colored tubes.
“Those are the ones,” Murdock said. “They are bombs like the ones that have been washing up on the beaches.”
Nissan looked at the numbers on the box, and some key words, and wrote them down on a pad from his pocket. “These orders went through Mr. Rafi. Let’s go talk to him.”
Murdock touched the .45 automatic under his left arm, and followed the merchant out of the warehouse and back to the third floor. They went to the owner’s office, and Nissan asked his secretary to have Rafi come in.
“He’s always been so mild-mannered. I can’t understand why he would do something like this.” The man who came in the office was about five feet six inches. He wore slacks, a white shirt, and tie. Murdock figured he was about 130 pounds, wiry, would be tough in a fight. He smiled, but seemed ill at ease.
“Rafi, how are the Chinese items going? I know we don’t have a lot of ethnic Chinese in the city, so the food sales will always be slow. What about the novelties? They seem to have more volume.”
“Yes. Exactly, Mr. Nissan. The novelties do sell better, so I order more of them.”
“You’ve been ordering all of the novelties?”
“Yes, I specialize in them.”
“Good. Let’s go down to the warehouse. There’s one bunch that look like they were severely damaged in transit. I want you to check them out and tell me if we should bill the shipping company or the supplier for the damage.”
“Yes, no problem, Mr. Nissan.”
The three of them went back to the warehouse. Rafi pulled on cotton gloves.
“I always wear gloves when I inspect the goods,” he said. “That way I don’t damage them and I don’t get my hands cut up.”
At the boxes they showed him the two they had opened.
“No damage that I can see,” Rafi said.
Nissan opened the next box and exposed the plastic tube bombs. Rafi never blinked. He inspected the sides of the box, then the contents.
“No damage. I don’t understand.”
“Do you know what these items are, Mr. Rafi?” Murdock asked.
“Certainly. Item 14-14-12 Chinese light sticks. You bend them and break them and they light up.”
“I see. So would you take your gloves off and bend one for us, as a demonstration?” Murdock asked.
Rafi frowned. “I can’t do that. I never take my gloves off. My hands are highly sensitive.”