CHAPTER 27
Ariel shoved past Nick and knelt, setting two fingers against Yael’s neck. He looked up. “She’s still warm, she still has a pulse. Call the police now! Call for an ambulance now!”
“Right!” Nick backed into the main hallway, pulling a mobile out of his hip pocket.
Ariel knew enough not to touch the crime scene. Yael was unconscious, it had been a long time since he had qualified for his Boy Scout first aid badge, and he had no supplies, so there was really nothing he could do for her. And it would likely only be a few minutes before the ambulance arrived. If she had survived this long, she should make it until then.
He closed his eyes and inhaled—once, twice, three times. Sandalwood, blood, both stronger now that the door was open. Dirty oily body, and an acrid musk smell. Inhaling again, he concentrated on those last two, which certainly weren’t Yael’s markers. He thought he would recognize them again if he ever encountered them.
Ariel looked around. Across the doorway space from him were some filing cabinets. There were shelves mostly filled with boxes stretching from each side of the doorway. No first aid kit or anything else.
Nick showed up behind him as he put his mobile away. “Ambulance called, they don’t have far to come, maybe two or three minutes. Georgia is out front waiting on them. Police have to come a little farther, probably almost ten minutes for them.” He looked down. “That the bint you’re looking for?” His Aussie accent was thicker, and he’d reverted to his native slang.
“Yeah,” Ariel said through gritted teeth.
Nick shook his head. “Someone’s had at her, and no mistake.” He caught the glare from Ariel, and held up his hands. “Look mate, I was a driver for a volunteer ambo service in the outback. Not the first time I’ve seen such. She’ll probably survive it, being as she’s made it this long. But it’s going to be a long hard go of it for her coming back, and she’s going to need every cobber and pard she’s got to do it. Y’see?”
“Yeah,” Ariel muttered. “Got it.”
There was a clatter out in the hallway, and in a moment two ambulance attendants in emergency vests parked a wheeled stretcher outside the hallway door and came toward them carrying cases. “What’s the problem?” they said first in Hebrew, then in English.
Both men stepped out of the way to reveal Yael’s body. “Assault and probable rape,” Ariel said.
The two medics moved past them to attend to her, one on either side. The female took a couple of quick pictures of Yael’s body and its position, then they knelt beside her and got to work. In moments, the medics had a blood pressure cuff on her and were taking her temperature. The male looked up. “This isn’t fresh. How long has she been here?”
“What time did you close last night?” Ariel asked Nick.
“Two o’clock, just like always.”
Ariel looked at his watch. It was a bit after one o’clock now, the next day after. “Based on when she sent me the text last night, probably about twenty-four hours.” Both of the medics looked up at him with hard expressions. “Look, I’m a friend of hers, and the only reason we found her now was because I came looking for her.”
“Bloody honest truth,” Nick averred.
The female medic pursed her mouth and focused back on Yael. The male medic nodded before he, too, turned back to his work. “You want to get out of our light?” he muttered.
Ariel and Nick moved back out into the main hallway, stepping around the stretcher as they did so. “Hang on a moment,” Nick said. He unlocked one of the side doors and pulled out some posts with the thick velvet ropes that restaurants sometimes used to set up barriers. He relocked the door. “You lot move back,” he growled at the people that were starting to edge down the hallway trying to see what was going on, then made a barrier across the hallway just on the inside of the restrooms. “There, that should keep people out of the way.”
“Good idea,” Ariel said with a nod.
Nick quirked his mouth. “Not my first dance on this floor.” He gave a sharp nod, then said, “I need to go check the bar. I’ll come back when the police get here.” He vanished into the kitchen.
Pulling out his mobile, Ariel called Mordechai. It rang three times before Mordechai answered.
“Hallo.” Mordechai sounded a bit weary.
“It’s Ariel. I may need some help.”
“What with?” Mordechai’s voice sharpened.
“The short version is that I got a voicemail while we were gone from early yesterday morning from one of my classmates saying she might be in trouble. After I got it, I called, but it rolled to her voicemail. I called her roommate, who told me she hadn’t come home last night or all day. I came down to the club she called me from, and after looking around, I found her. The ambulance medics are with her now. I have a feeling I may have some trouble explaining this to the police.”
“Where are you?”
Ariel read him the address from the Uber reservation on his mobile.
“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. Don’t leave.”
The call ended. Ariel leaned back against the wall beside the kitchen opening so he could look down the short hall, and rubbed his hands down his face. The long day was starting to catch up with him, as was the stress and anger of finding Yael had been hurt after she had called him for help and he hadn’t heard about it. All the rage he thought he had tamped down and cooled off from the California experience reignited, and he found himself flexing his hands as he inhaled and exhaled long breaths through his nose.
Ariel heard steps in the short hallway, and looked up to see the male medic coming toward him.
“We’re about done with the initial treatments,” the medic said, looking down at his tablet. “We’ll be transporting her shortly. You said you were a friend?”
“That’s right.”
“What’s her name, and do you know her address?”
“Yael Malka.” While the medic was putting that into his tablet, Ariel pulled out his mobile again and called up Yael’s contact information. “Here’s what I have for an address.” He held the mobile out for the medic to copy the information.
“Do you know any of her medical history?”
“No, but she spent a couple of years in the IDF, so maybe you can get something from them. She’s also a student at Tel Aviv University.”
“We’ll see. Do you have any next of kin information for her?”
“No, but her roommate might.” Ariel called up Abigail’s contact information and held the mobile out again. The medic dutifully entered that as well. “And what’s your name, address, and mobile number?”
“Ariel Barak.” He recited his address and number. When the medic finished entering that, Ariel asked, “How is she? What can you tell me?”
“Not a lot. She’s been badly beaten, but you could see that. She’s almost certainly been raped. There’s evidence of what looks like semen on her skin and on the floor. We’ve got an IV started, and we’ve got her mostly stabilized. She’s obviously a strong woman, or she wouldn’t still be with us, but it’s very worrying that she’s unresponsive. We’re going to take her to the hospital, and it’s probable that they’re going to order a CT scan and an MRI. Treatment will depend on what they find. Now excuse me, we need to get moving.”
He threw the tablet on the stretcher and wheeled it down the short hallway to the room. Ariel watched as they pulled a spinal board out of the stretcher structure, gently moved Yael onto it, and strapped her down. They equally carefully lifted the board and strapped it to the stretcher, raising a short arm to hang the IV bag from.
Just as the female medic kicked a lever with her foot to unlock the stretcher wheels, Georgia led three policemen up to the barrier, unhooked one end of the rope to let them through, then followed them through and re-hooked it. She stood there, waiting.
Ariel checked the policemen out. Two were younger men, mid-twenties, maybe, one with no rank insignia and one with a single chevron. The third man looked as if he was maybe thirty, wearing two chevrons, which made him a Samal Sheni, or lowest-ranked sergeant.
“What do you have?” he demanded of the medics.
“Physical assault, probably sexual assault, as well, Samal,” the female medic said. “We’re transporting her now.”
The male medic held up his tablet. “I’ve got the incident report ready to send. We’ve already notified the crime scene team.”
The samal held up his own tablet, the medic tapped his, and a moment later the samal’s tablet beeped. He looked down at it and tapped a corner. He read what came up on his screen, and nodded. “Got it. I’ll call you if I need more.”
The medics headed toward the barrier, and Georgia unhooked the rope.
“Wait!” Ariel called. “Where are you taking her?”
“Ichilov Hospital,” the male medic called over his shoulder.
Ariel committed that to memory.
“I am Samal Sheni Gabriel Klein and this is Rav Shoter Elon Spira and Shoter Dvir Sasson. And you are?”
“Ariel Barak.”
“Ah.” Klein looked at his tablet again. “You are the friend of the victim?”
“Yes.”
Klein handed the tablet to Sasson. “Take notes.” He looked back at Ariel. “ID card, please.”
Ariel pulled out his wallet. “ID card,” which was followed by, “weapon license,” and after pulling the folder from another pocket, “and my Yamam card.”
By the end of the recital, Klein was frowning darkly. “Is Yamam involved in this?” He passed the documents to Sasson. “Do they have responsibility?”
Ariel shook his head. “No. Yamam is not officially involved in this at all. I am involved in it personally, not as a Yamam Shoter, and only because Yael left me a voicemail last night indicating she might be in some kind of trouble. I was out of the country when she sent it, and I didn’t get back until late this evening, but when I got it, I called her roommate, who asked me to look for her.”
Klein’s expression indicated he didn’t necessarily believe Ariel. At that moment, Sasson passed the documents back to Klein, who spent some more time examining them in detail. While he did so, Ariel looked at Georgia and mouthed, “Go get Nick.” She skirted around them and entered the kitchen just as Klein passed Ariel’s documents back to him with visible reluctance.
“So who’s the manager of this place, anyway?” Klein snarled.
“That would be me, Samal.” Nick stepped out of the kitchen. Ariel turned a little, and could see Georgia hanging back inside the doorway.
“Name? ID?”
“Nick Lewis.” Nick fished his card out of his wallet and handed it over. Klein read through the card, then handed it to Sasson to enter into the investigation report.
“So tell me what happened.” Klein bent a glower on Nick, who didn’t seem to be affected by it at all.
“He walks in somewhere around midnight”—Nick jerked a thumb toward Ariel—“says he’s looking for a woman who was supposed to be here last night, shows us a picture, asks if we’ve seen her. She looks sort of familiar to me, but we see so many women in here, I don’t recall. Georgia”—he beckoned to her and she edged into the main hallway—“said she thought she saw her here last night. She’s not here tonight. He”—he nodded toward Ariel again—“asks if he can look around, and next thing I know he’s telling me that he smells something funny down that hall and gets me to open that door. We found her, called you and the ambulance. That’s all I know.”
“Smelled?” Klein’s expression as he turned to Ariel could only be called incredulous.
“Yael wears a rather strong sandalwood perfume. It’s very distinctive. I know what it smells like. So when I got a hint of it outside of that door, I went and got Nick to open it. That’s when we found her.”
“So why were you looking for her? What’s your relationship with her? She your lover?”
“No.” Ariel realized that had come out a little stronger than he’d wanted when Klein’s eyes narrowed. He moderated his tone as he continued with, “Yael and I were in a couple of classes together last term at Tel Aviv University. We’re friends and classmates. That’s all. As for why I was looking for her, like I said earlier, she left a voicemail on my mobile about 0045 last night, saying she was here and was having some trouble with a guy who wouldn’t take no for an answer and she wanted somebody to know about it.”
Klein turned to Nick and Georgia. “Did she say anything to you about it?”
Nick shook his head. Georgia replied, “I saw a guy trying to connect with her late last night, but she never said anything to us about it.”
Klein turned back to Ariel. “So she called you late last night, but you didn’t come down here until tonight. Why?”
“I was out of the country and had my mobile off. My plane landed at the airport about 1800 today, I got back to my apartment a bit after 2200, and I didn’t check my voicemail until about 2315 or so. When I heard her message, I called her roommate, who told me she hadn’t come home at all last night, and she was worried. I told her I’d come down here and look for her. I called a ride, and got here a bit before midnight. After that, what he said.” He motioned in Nick’s direction.
“Out of the country? Where?”
Ariel shook his head. “I can’t tell you that, but I can tell you that it has nothing to do with this.”
“Not acceptable,” Klein said, the frown returning to his face. “Answer the question.”
Ariel drew himself up and stared Klein in the eyes. “No.”
Klein’s jaw muscles bunched and his neck reddened. “I’m getting tired of you Yamam types acting like you’re above the law and above the regulations. I’m a Samal Sheni, and you are a simple shoter. I outrank you. Now I’m ordering you to answer the question.”
“Don’t answer that,” came from behind them. Ariel turned in relief to see Mordechai stepping past the rope barrier, accompanied by a fairly tall strong-featured woman with short black hair. Ariel guessed she was a cop by her mannerism and her forthright stride, but she was in a well-tailored pantsuit rather than uniform. Her male companion, who was refastening the velvet rope, was also in plain clothes. In a moment they had joined the group, making the hallway feel a bit crowded.
“I’m Zalman,” Mordechai said, handing an ID folder to Klein. “Barak is mine,” he added, forestalling a complaint from Klein. He turned to Ariel. “What have you told him?” Ariel went through the short version of the story one more time.
Mordechai held out his hand for his ID. A wide-eyed Klein returned it to him, and he slipped it into an inner pocket of his suit. “Barak is correct. He has told you everything you need to know. He was with me, and we were indeed out of the country, as he said. I and two pilots can testify that he was not back in the country until approximately 1800 hours yesterday. Where we were and what we were doing is not at all connected with this matter, therefore you have no need to know.”
“But…” Klein began.
The woman pulled out an ID folder of her own and presented it to Klein, saying, “I am Mefakachat Rivka Dayan.” An inspector, Ariel realized—equivalent to a captain. Wow. Mordechai must have pulled her in as soon as he’d hung up from Ariel’s call. “Let’s you and I go have a talk, Samal.” She gestured toward the short hallway, and they moved several steps into it.
Once they stopped, beyond what they thought was range of Mordechai and Ariel’s hearing, they faced each other. Klein started to say something, but Dayan cut him off. “Shut up and listen”—she peered at his name badge—“Klein, is it? I’m here to keep you from digging yourself into a hole you can’t get yourself out of. You don’t know who you’re dealing with here, do you?” She was whispering. Ariel could still hear every word.
“What do you mean?” Klein’s responding whisper had a bit of a surly tone to it.
“Zalman.”
“Other than he’s got a high-powered ID, what’s so special about him?” Klein’s tone grew darker, even in the whisper.
“He’s the oldest old-timer around. All the other old-timers call him Sir to his face and The Colonel behind his back. He’s on a first-name basis with all of the police commanders. He consults on a regular basis with the police commissioners. The directors of Mossad and Shin Bet have him on speed dial. He’s one of the three deadliest people I know of. You do not want to get in a pissing contest with him—he’d crush your stones without thinking twice about it. And if you really pissed him off, they’d never find your body. If he tells you something, you accept it. If you’re involved in one of his operations and he gives you an order, you do it, no questions asked. If he tells you to jump, you jump, and ask how high on your way up. Got it?”
Klein nodded.
“Is all that true?” Ariel whispered to Mordechai, who had a slight smile on his lips.
“Making allowance for a slight amount of hyperbole, yes,” Mordechai responded. Ariel nodded, tucking that all into his memory.
After a moment, Dayan whispered, “Are we clear on this?”
“Yes.” Klein’s whisper sounded weird. Ariel never realized before that it was possible for someone to grit their teeth in a whisper. “Chara,” Klein cursed. “Does he walk on water, too?”
There was the sound of a suppressed snort. “I haven’t heard that he does”—Dayan’s whisper had a hint of a smile in it—“but if anyone can, it would be him. I wouldn’t suggest asking him about it, though. Now, we go back out there, and you follow my lead, okay?”
Klein nodded, most of the resentment gone from his face.
They turned and came back out to the main hallway. Dayan stopped by Shoter Sasson and held out her hand. “Tablet.” He immediately thrust it at her, and stepped back a half step after she took it. She paged through all the documents in the investigation file and medical report. “I want your mobile, Shoter Barak.”
“No.” Zalman sounded almost bored.
“There are documents on that mobile that pertain to this investigation.”
“No.”
Dayan didn’t look surprised or upset when she looked up from the tablet. “Then at least send copies to us of that photo of the victim and the voicemail she left with Barak. Those are indeed pertinent.”
Mordechai looked to Ariel and nodded. He pulled his mobile out, searched to find the tablet locally, linked to it, and copied the files and pushed them to the tablet. An instant later, it pinged. Dayan tapped one corner of it, and after a moment nodded.
“We reserve the right to do further interviews with Shoter Barak if we develop additional leads or questions.”
“Clear it with me first,” Mordechai responded.
Dayan nodded. “We can do that.” She looked up at an increase of noise as more police appeared at the velvet rope. “Ah, the crime scene team is here. Good.”
“We’ll be on our way, then,” Mordechai said. “Good evening, Dayan.” He nodded at the others.
“Good evening, Zalman.”
Ariel nodded to the police, carefully including Samal Klein in the circle of that gesture, then gave a separate nod to Nick and Georgia, collecting a wink in return. He turned and followed Mordechai out of the hallway and out of the club.
Once outside, he stopped. “I need to make a fast call.” Mordechai stopped and waited.
Ariel pulled his mobile out again and tapped Abigail’s number. He looked at his watch while it was ringing. After 0200. Oooh, she wasn’t going to like this call, for more than one reason.
“Hallo.”
Abigail sounded groggy, which didn’t surprise Ariel at all.
“Hi, Abigail, it’s Ariel.”
“Do you know what time it is?” That was an absolute snarl.
“Yeah, and I’m sorry to be calling so late, but I figured you’d want to hear this now. I found Yael.”
“You did?” Now Abigail sounded wide awake. “Is she okay?”
“No. She was assaulted, and left locked in a closet. We found her tonight. She’s alive, but was beat up pretty badly. She’s in serious condition, and they’re taking her to Ichilov Hospital. I gave them what information I had, but I don’t know anything about her family or next of kin, so either the hospital or the police or both will probably be contacting you before long.”
“Oh, crap,” Abigail breathed. “I’ll get dressed and get down there right away. Wow.” There was a long moment of silence. “I’ve got to go. Ariel?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
The call ended. Ariel slipped the mobile back into his jacket, and sighed.
“Want a ride home?” Mordechai asked.
“Yeah.”
Mordechai drove with what amounted to control and deliberation for him. They didn’t talk. Ariel was glad of that. His mind was churning, and he wasn’t at all sure he could have a civilized conversation at the moment.
They pulled up in front of Ariel’s apartment building.
“We’ll talk tomorrow,” Mordechai said. “Get some rest.”
“Right. Thanks.” Ariel got out of the car and watched as Mordechai pulled away in the darkness.
Once inside his apartment, Ariel unloaded his pockets on the desk, then tossed his jacket on the sofa. He kicked his shoes off, pulled a small bottle of sparkling water out of the refrigerator, and guzzled it as he walked over to the sliding door that led to his tiny balcony. He opened it, and stepped out into the night. The cool breeze tousled his hair. He put his hands on the iron railing, and just stared across the street at the streetlight.
Standing there with nothing to distract his thoughts, the image of finding Yael in that closet took frontal position in his mind. Damaged, broken, and hurt at a time when he should have been there to protect her. Other images began alternating with Yael’s—at first, glimpses of Elena, first at school, then at the prom, then in the hospital, then her casket at the funeral. That was followed by the face of the female vampire that had converted him, which brought to mind pheromones which melded to the smell of an unholy mélange of sandalwood and blood and musk.
The anger that he had been suppressing ever since they found Yael picked that moment to surge and break free. His hands clenched. There was a crack, and he looked down to see that the empty glass bottle that he had been holding in his left hand had shattered. Most of the shards and chunks of glass were either lying on the balcony or held in his hand, thanks to the toughness of his vampire skin, but there were a few pieces of glass now implanted in his palm and fingers with dark blood oozing around them.
“Well, shit,” he muttered. The perfect end of a perfect evening. He sighed, and went back inside to find a towel and the first aid kit.
Afterward, he pulled out his chair and turned his laptop on. Time to do some hunting.