“Oh, thank God.” Lisa stood, her hands clutched together in prayer. “Thank you, thank you!”
44
The domed glass ceiling in the middle of Tel Aviv, Ben Gurion Airport’s departure hall rained water into the central feature’s pool. Von Klitzing approached it, pulling a small black Samsonite suitcase behind him. Looking up, he marvelled at the imagination of the architect, followed quickly by a mist of anger descending upon him as he recognised the typical assortment of crass neon shop signs around the concourse.
Such a tasteless contradiction. People need to be protected from themselves sometimes, he thought.
Sitting down at one of the small tables positioned around the pretty waterfall, he looked around for a waiter. His flight was not leaving for over three hours, and he had a little time to kill. You have to leave more time than usual when traveling in or out of Israel, but Von Klitzing had more than enough, and he waved an impatient hand at a flustered young woman with a tray of drinks.
“Bring me a white coffee!”
She made a sarcastic curtsy before hurrying off to collect his order.
Looking around the concourse, he smiled.
These are the lucky ones. They will probably be out of the country when the war begins. But they will not be able to hide for long. I will track them down, and there will be an end to it!
The waitress returned with the coffee and the bill.
“I have to cash up now. I am going off shift.”
Von Klitzing looked up and handed her fifteen shekel and waited for the change. She made a point of slamming the coins onto the steel tray before stomping off, muttering something under her breath.
Not long, my dear, not long now.
He watched her go, the short black skirt she was wearing riding up as she walked.
Feisty. Smiling again, he sat back and sipped his coffee.
The firm hand placed on his shoulder made him jump.
I must have been dozing. Hopefully, I haven’t missed my flight!
“Sir, are you Herr Von Klitzing?” A uniformed customs officer was standing over him.
“Er, yes. What is the problem?”
“No problem, sir. We have been asked to make you comfortable.”
“I see, very well.”
“If you would come with us, please.”
Another black uniform was on his left shoulder, and as he got up, both men grasped him under the armpits.
“What is the meaning of this? I can manage perfectly well alone!”
The men were unmoved by his comments and continued to manhandle him in the direction of the shopping mall.
“I have very important friends in this country. I will be reporting the pair of you. Mark my words!”
“Of course, sir. This way, please.”
The two customs officers picked him up, one taking his case, and carried him down a small gap between a newsagent and the souvenir shop. Automatic doors opened on the left, and the threesome disappeared into the depths of the airport. Only the waitress had witnessed the abduction.
“Who’s the big man now? You old fart.”
Sitting at a small desk, Von Klitzing could see that he was at the back of the red lane of customs. Outside the small room he had been placed in, there were steel tables and scales where passengers would be asked to empty their luggage.
The guards had left the room, but he was still screaming abuse at them.
“You don’t know who I am. Get me Benjamin Cerf! Do you hear me? Cerf will vouch for me!”
He was fumbling through his case, looking for his mobile phone, when the door opened again, and a feeling of relief swept through him. Even he was not immune to Israeli security, and if they had got the wrong end of the stick, he knew things could get very bad, very quickly.
I will be glad when I have left this sandy hell, he thought.
Benjamin Cerf smiled a wide toothy grin at him.
“Johann. My friend, I am so sorry!”
“Yes, Benjamin. Thank goodness you are here. There has been some mistake!”
“No mistake, my friend, no mistake at all.”
“What do you mean? I don’t understand.”
“What do I mean? Maybe you want to tell me?” Cerf changed his tone, becoming serious.
“I haven’t done anything!”
“Your sort always believes that, don’t they?” Again, Cerf smiled at Von Klitzing, an action that made him very nervous.
“Look, Cerf, if there has been a mistake, I am sure we can iron it out.”
“The mistake is mine. I have believed your bullshit all these years, Von Klitzing!” Cerf was now nodding and smiling.
Von Klitzing looked up at him in disbelief, unable to understand what Cerf was saying and why he was behaving this way.
“We have received a call from Munich. From the German Police. They say that you are under investigation, and we should take you into custody.”
Von Klitzing’s brain was working overtime, trying to understand what was happening to him. The only thing he could think of was Eva’s imminent arrest for impersonating Britt Petersen.
“That has nothing to do with me. My daughter has been in a little bit of trouble, but it’s nothing serious, I assure you!”
“No, that’s not it.”
Von Klitzing frowned.
“You have been lying to me, Johann. You have been lying to me for a long time, and I intend to find out exactly how many lies you have told me.”
“No! Benjamin, you know that is not true.”
“Yes! There is no evidence of an Iranian Nuclear Program, is there?”
Von Klitzing fought to remain in control of himself.
“Yes, there is. They are only days away. I can prove it!”
“Prove it! How will you prove it? We have received documents that describe exactly this course of events. They were written months ago, we have e-mails written from your personal computer, which describe an attack against Israel as retaliation for our bombing the power station in Bushehr. We have already detected forces on three of our borders. Can you explain that, Von Klitzing?”
“No, that’s not possible, there has been a mistake!”
“That is what I thought. In the next few hours, we will know if it is true, Von Klitzing. If we have made a mistake, I will let you go, but if, by any small chance, we have not… If we have not, you will be sorry. You will be very, very sorry!”
“Look, I don’t know where you got this information from, but it is a lie—it is all lies! We have known one another for years, Benjamin. You don’t think that I would do anything to hurt you?”
“They say you are a Nazi, Johann. Are you a Nazi?”
“No, of course not! How could you even think such a thing?”
“Do you know a woman called Britt Petersen?”
“No, who? I have never heard of her!”
“It seems she has heard of you. According to the BND, you were probably responsible for her death.”
“No, I could never hurt anyone, you know that. You know me, Benjamin. I couldn’t hurt a fly!”
“They think you tortured her. They think you tortured lots of people, Johann. People very close to me. Very close to my country.”