"And he fell for it?"
"He's just a kid. Mike. This man at the police, the inspector who interrogated him. had been pleasant all through it— no tough stuff— why wouldn't he believe him?"
"But all this time—"
"Well, you know how it is. You don't get it the next day, so you figure the mail service is not so good. Then the next day you get a little anxious, but you figure you'll wait one more day. Then the next day he did go down to inquire, and no one there seemed to know what he was talking about, and this inspector he had dealt with was not around. If this business of the little trip I'd planned hadn't come up, chances are he might have waited another few days or a week before telling me about it."
"The police don't lose passports," said Donahue flatly.
"That's what I thought. The whole business didn't seem kosher."
"Obviously not. And I don't think it's the sort of thing the police would do. not to an American citizen, especially a student at the university, and especially one whose father was in the media. No. it's definitely Shin Bet. The police are acting for them."
"So what do I do?" asked Stedman. "Do I play it straight and go down there and raise hell or go to the American consulate in Jerusalem and have them make a formal demand, or maybe ask them to issue a replacement?"
Donahue shook his head. "I wouldn't do that. Because if it is the Shin Bet and they don't want your boy to leave the country for a while, they'll see to it that he doesn't leave even if they have to put him in a hospital to keep him here."
Dan was indignant. "C'mon, Mike, this is a democracy with a code of laws—"
"You c'mon. You’ve been around long enough to know better. What country democratic or otherwise can control the individual actions of its Intelligence? If the Shin Bet wanted your boy around for a few days, even if word came down from Golda herself, do you suppose that would stop a convenient automobile accident? They'd reason that it was for the security of the state and that she didn't know what was involved. The agent wouldn't change direction until he got word from his chief."
"So what do you do about a thing like this?"
"Well, that depends on what the thing is."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"I'll spell it out for you. Dan. There was a terrorist bombing in Jerusalem and your kid was there— in a quiet, deserted street where no one would normally go for a stroll in the evening, mind you. Or put it another way: He's in a place where he would normally have had no business to be unless he had business. And he was not just taking a walk there because it was raining. All right, that's one item. The second item is that his close friends at school are Arabs—"
"I didn't say they were his close friends."
"No, but you said he was friendly with them because he hadn't been able to make friends with the Israeli or American students. So I could amend that and suggest that whether they were close or not, they were his only friends. Does that make it any better? All right. So it's perfectly possible that one of his good friends, or one of his only friends, asks him to do a little favor for him. 'Leave this box on the windowsill of my friend in One Mazel Tov Street, will you. Roy?'— That's his name? Roy? Or maybe: 'I’ve got to drop off something at the home of a friend of mine. Roy. How about walking down with me?' And then when they get there, 'Would you mind waiting on the street for a minute. Roy, and cough or whistle or something if someone comes along?'"
"My son wouldn't—"
"Yeah. I know, your son wouldn't do that kind of thing. Let me tell you. anybody's son could, especially these days. I'm just suggesting possibilities, you understand. Well, if it were something like that. I'm not sure that much could be done. That is, if he's guilty or has any connection with this, I don't know if anything could be done except wait while they built a case and it came up in court. Then about all you could do would be to hire the best lawyer you could get. But if he is completely innocent, and they really have nothing on him except the coincidence of his having been there, maybe we can do something."
"Like what?"
"Well, we could pass the word along until it reaches the right party. Favors have been asked and favors have been done and you slip this one in as a favor in exchange."
"I see." said Stedman. "And what do I do in the meantime?"
"Not a damn thing. You just wait. Were you going back to Jerusalem tonight?"
"Why, yes. I was planning to take the sherut and—"
"Why not stick around for a day or two? Maybe I'll have some news for you."
Stedman nodded.
"Oh, and. Dan. a suggestion: If and when we get this cleared up. it might not be a bad idea if your son went back to the States as soon as he gets his passport."
Stedman looked over in surprise. "But why?"
"You can't always tell about these things." Donahue said. "Sometimes there's more than one person involved, and not everybody gets the message at the same time. Besides, your son's evidently got off on the wrong foot. He came here to find something and so far obviously hasn't succeeded. There's no reason to believe that if he stays on for the rest of the year. he'll do any better."
"I hate to take him out of school, right in the middle of the year," Dan said. He thought a moment. "Maybe you're right."
"And, Dan—"
"Yes?"
"Look out for yourself. Be careful."
"What do you mean?"
Donahue hesitated. "Well, all Intelligence services are suspicious, not to say downright paranoid. They might get to thinking that a youngster like your kid might be acting on instructions from his dad."
Chapter Thirty-Eight
A doumi would never actually send for Ish-Kosher; instead, from his dusty little office on the third floor he would phone the inspector.
"Chaim? Avner. Are you busy?"
And even though he was doing nothing more important than reading the newspaper. Ish-Kosher would say, "Well, right now. Avner. I'm kind of tied up. But in five or ten minutes…"
"I'd like to see you for a few minutes. Shall I come down?"
"Perhaps I'd better come up to your place. We're less likely to be disturbed. I'll be along as soon as I can." Then he would twiddle his thumbs until he had judged sufficient time had elapsed, and only then, gathering up his briefcase, would he march down the corridor, not hurrying because that would not be in keeping with his status as inspector, but walking purposefully, then up a flight of stairs to a crossover to the next building, and again a long corridor and another flight of stairs. Then he would stop to draw several deep breaths to compose himself after his exertion, after which he would casually saunter down the short corridor to Adoumi's office.
He sat down, his briefcase on the floor between his legs. "Mrs. Adoumi is better. I trust."
Adoumi rotated a palm. "Like this, like that. Dr. Ben Ami wants her to go into Hadassah again for observation and some more tests. He's going away for a month or more and wants to get her in before he leaves."
"For a month? A vacation? These doctors do very well for themselves."
"He's supposed to be going to a medical convention in Geneva. Then on to another in Valparaiso. You know how these things work: They sign in, and so that means they've officially attended. And they can deduct it from their income tax. He'll be going around the world because from Valparaiso it's just as easy to go west as it is to go east. You and I are lucky if we can take a week off to go to Eilat. But Ben Ami is a good fellow and I don't begrudge him." He swept aside a folder to clear the top of the desk as if to invite Ish-Kosher to produce any papers he had. "Well, do you have anything?"
Ish-Kosher drew a folder from his briefcase. "Just some routine stuff on the boy's father. He was a foreign correspondent for one of the American TV networks up until recently. In fact, you may remember, he was their Middle East correspondent and stationed here before and during the Six-Day War. His Hebrew is pretty good. Right now. he's living at the King David and doesn't seem to be doing much of anything. The story is that he's writing a book on opinion in Israel. He gets into a conversation with someone and makes a tape recording. He uses a concealed recorder and a lapel mike. According to the chambermaid, he's got a number of tapes in his room, all neatly labeled."