"She's one of yours?"
"M-hm."
"Then arrange to have copies made of the tapes."
"All right. Oh, here's something interesting: one of the tapes is labeled 'Memavet.'"
Adoumi shrugged his shoulders. "If the son's story about buying a car is right, and I guess it is because the rabbi fellow confirmed it, then it's probably just a recording of the meeting." He looked off into space and murmured. "He goes around recording conversations, eh? When you think about it a bit. it's a good cover. He can talk to anyone and claim he's recording it for possible use in his book."
"You think he's an agent? CIA?"
"All those American correspondents are." Adoumi said matter-of-factly. "If they're not actually paid by the CIA. at least they swap information with them. Anything else on him?"
Ish-Kosher shook his head. "Except that he's gone to Tel Aviv for a couple of days. He called the hotel from there to ask if he'd got any calls and said he'd be at the Sheraton for a couple of days."
"At the Sheraton? That's interesting."
"What's interesting about it?"
"Just that that's where he went when he came to Israel. Instead of going direct to Jerusalem, he drove into Tel Aviv and registered at the Sheraton."
"You were having him watched?"
Adoumi's jaw dropped to make a slow, sly smile. "It was not him we were watching. There is a Rumanian dancer, the premiere danseuse of the Rumanian ballet troupe that played in Tel Aviv. Olga Ripescu. She is a Russian agent. It was she we were watching. Almost immediately after Stedman registered, she spotted him, and they were together for a while. What do you think of that?"
"They could have known each other for some time. After all, these foreign correspondents get around."
"True, but it's interesting. Now did you get anything on this rabbi fellow?"
"Just what I told you after I questioned him." Ish-Kosher said. "He seems harmless enough. He doesn't do much of anything, just walks around the city, sometimes with Stedman. goes to the synagogue some mornings—"
"And just happens to live at number Five Victory Street, which was the house to which someone asked the civilian guard to direct him, the night a bomb went off in the next street." Adoumi said dryly.
"That could be just coincidence. It proves nothing."
"Ah, Chaim, you are a policeman. You think always in terms of proof, of what can be presented by the government lawyers in a court of law. a chain of evidence leading to a definite conclusion. But in Intelligence, where we are concerned with the safety of the state, we can't afford the luxury of absolute proof. We look for a pattern, or some oddity, or better still, a pattern of oddities." He tapped a stubby forefinger on the desktop.
"What do you call an oddity in this case?"
"Chaim. Chaim. it's full of oddities. Take any one of the people we are concerned with. Every one of them shows anything but normal behavior. Start with Stedman. He arrives in Israel, and instead of going directly to Jerusalem, where his son is, he goes to Tel Aviv for a couple of days first."
"But he has friends there—"
"It can be explained, of course, but it's still a little odd where he hasn't seen his son for some time. He could always run down to Tel Aviv afterward. It's even odd that he was not met at the plane by his son. But on top of that, one of the first persons he meets in Tel Aviv is Ripescu. a known agent. Now that's odd. But it doesn't end there. He comes to Jerusalem, and he is engaged in an odd occupation, which could serve as a cover. It enables him to talk to anyone in seeming innocence. No meeting in special places, no whispered remarks in passing, but all open and aboveboard. If we confronted him and asked him why he was talking to someone we happened to be watching, he merely points out it's his normal method of gathering material."
"But look here, if some intelligence were passed to him. it would be right there on tape as proof against him."
"Come. Chaim. I wouldn't expect him to be that simple. If it were dangerous information, he would simply wipe the tape. Conceivably, if he were confronted on the street by one of our men. he could wipe the tape right then and there with one hand in his pocket while our man was holding him by the arm. Believe me. it has excellent possibilities— this writing a book based on street conversations. Has it occurred to you. Chaim. that he might have been the one who approached the civilian guard to ask for number Five Victory Street, in which case we would have still another oddity."
"It's possible. That we might be able to check out. We could get hold of the civilian guard and bring him down to the King David." Ish-Kosher seemed pleased at the prospect of a definite assignment.
"It might be worth trying." said Adoumi. "But let's go on. We next run across him in connection with Memavet. And the very evening of the day he goes to see him. Memavet's apartment is bombed. Now, that's damn odd."
"It's certainly an interesting coincidence, especially if he was the one who spoke to the civilian guard, because that would connect him with both bombings."
Adoumi went right on. "And now, the most interesting oddity: He is the father of Roy Stedman, who was not only present at the right time for the Memavet bombing, but who is friends with Abdul El Khaldi, who is someone in whom we have been interested for a long time."
"Have you ever brought him in for questioning?"
Adoumi shook his head. "No. he's an intellectual. We treat these Arab intellectuals with kid gloves, especially if they are students at the university. That's government policy, and insofar as it's feasible, we respect it. Now let's go on.
I’ve already mentioned that it is odd that Roy didn't go to meet his father's plane. And it's odd that a Jewish boy should be so friendly with the Arabs. But take the two together, father and son, and there you come up with another oddity. We pull the boy's passport, and instead of doing the normal thing, making representations to the consulate, they do nothing—just sit and wait for it to come in by mail. Let's assume that the boy doesn't know any better, but his father certainly does. And then you have the rabbi—"
"You are suspicious of him, too?" asked the inspector.
"He lives one street away from where the first bombing occurred, and it occurred the very night he arrived in the city. Coincidence? All right. But someone who could have placed that bomb inquired about the location of the house where our rabbi lives. Coincidence? Perhaps. Finally, he becomes friends with the Stedmans and goes with them to buy a car from a man who is subsequently killed in a bomb explosion, that very night. And this on the Sabbath; a rabbi to go to a business conference on the Sabbath? Coincidence? Well maybe, but to me, it looks like a pattern."
"Still—"
"It's a chain. Chaim. Don't you see it?" He held up a large hand and ticked off the links on stubby fingers. "Ripescu. a known agent, the older Stedman, the younger Stedman. Abdul, an Arab we suspect. And Rabbi Small somewhere in the middle as one of the connecting links."
"It's interesting." Ish-Kosher admitted, "and odd, and there seems to be a pattern of sorts, but there's nothing there that I can take action on." He seemed disappointed.
Again Adoumi displayed his slow, sly smile. "You couldn't, but I could."
"You mean you'd go ahead and—"
Adoumi shook his head regretfully. "Not yet. I don't really have enough. But if Stedman were the man who was wandering around looking for Victory Street, that would help a little. There's also the note that young Stedman left in Memavet's mailbox."