"You need your rest. Your daughter may wake up again at any time. She'll need you."
Lillian mulled this over. She glanced at her door, and I knew her natural curiosity was pulling her toward the peephole.
"I'll be heading out now," I told her, "but I'll be waiting for him when he comes down. I'll come back and tell you who it was."
She looked at me, her tired eyes searching my face. "You'll do that?"
I almost laughed. Her need to know was so powerful, she might stay up all night to satiate it, but I wanted her prying eyes closed in slumber. "I promise."
She sighed, massaged her forehead, giving in to her physical need for rest. "All right. Thank God you're here. I can barely keep my eyes open."
I patted her shoulder. "I'll be heading out. Lock the door after me and go to sleep. Tomorrow, I'll come back and tell you everything."
I stood on the landing until I heard the snick of the lock turning. I glanced up at the dark staircase leading up to the third floor, where my unknown adversary lurked, but I headed in the opposite direction. Letting the enemy choose the battlefield is usually a deadly mistake. I was going to be the one doing the choosing.
Out of the building, I clung to the shadows on that side of the street, hoping whoever was in Moria's apartment hadn't seen me through the window when I had gone in, and that he couldn't see me now. My plan hinged on it.
I stopped three buildings up the street, and there I waited. The temperature had dropped, and the wind had strengthened. My breath came out as whitish vapor, and I was shivering despite my coat. A cigarette would've warmed me up nicely, but the glow would have given me away. At least it didn't rain.
I had no idea how long I'd need to wait, but I didn't think it would be hours. Soon, the person in Moria's apartment would conclude I wasn't coming that night and leave. With how cold the apartment got, they must have been freezing like I was. The thought made me grin.
The minutes trailed by. I kept my eyes on the doorway of Moria's building. My hand was on the gun, fingers caressing the grip. I wiggled my toes inside my shoes, a trick I'd learned back in Hungary, a way to improve circulation and pump some warmth into my feet. It had served me well in Auschwitz, and it was much colder there than in Jerusalem.
Less than an hour after the start of my vigil, a figure exited Moria's building. At first, I couldn't make out who it was; the figure was merely a moving lump of blackness. But I could tell by its shape that it wasn't Leitner.
As the figure came closer, even before light from the streetlamp hit his face, I knew who it was.
My nemesis. Inspector Kulaski. There was no mistaking that bearing and gait.
Fear struck deep in my chest. My ribs began aching. How had he found me? Was he here alone? The street seemed deserted. I'd seen no one during my wait.
Kulaski was in dark civilian clothes. His expression was tight, like he had indigestion. I guessed he hadn't enjoyed waiting for a quarry that failed to show. It was about to get worse for him. He didn't know it yet, but he was the quarry now.
Him being there, and in civilian clothes, eliminated all vestige of doubt. He had come here to settle matters with me, and he knew that a witness would remember a police uniform. He probably had something to cover his face with as well, like when he and his cronies had jumped me in the street. Once he had finished me off in Moria's apartment, he would have concealed his face as he made his getaway. It was still a risky move, especially since Moria's apartment was on the third floor, but Kulaski was beyond reason when it came to me.
A wave of unalloyed hatred engulfed me. This man had tried to lock me up for a crime I didn't commit. Later he had me beaten half to death. And then he had come to my hospital bed and punched me where I hurt most. Tonight, he had come to kill me. All because of what had happened to his sister, something I had nothing to do with.
If I let him go, he would simply try again another time. There was no escaping it: it was either him or me.
I pulled out the gun, held it pointed down by my thigh. I didn't want to confront him just yet, fearing that Lillian's inquisitiveness had overwhelmed her fatigue and she was right then peering through her window at the street.
I let him come and then pass me by; he was staring rigidly forward and didn't see me hunching in the shadows.
As he passed, I crept up behind him, pointed the gun at his back, and said, "Stop right there, Kulaski."
The inspector whipped around. His face registered surprise, but it was subsumed by fury: his eyes didn't widen in fear but tightened to slits, and his entire face bunched up. Rage came off him like steam off a boiling cauldron.
"Get your hands up," I said, moving slowly toward him and stopping five feet away.
He didn't obey. "You shouldn't have come back to Jerusalem."
"I said, 'Get your hands up.' Don't make me repeat myself."
Still he didn't comply. "But you can't keep from causing trouble, can you? Like the rest of you Herutniks. You're just a common criminal."
"You're one to talk. First you assault me in the street, and then you break into an apartment to ambush me. Not exactly following police procedure, are you? Now raise your hands, damn you. If I have to ask you again, I'll shoot you."
He sneered. "No. You won't." And then I felt it. The hard jab of metal at my back. Even through my shirt and coat, I sensed the small hard circle of a gun's muzzle.
Then a familiar voice in my ear. "Drop the gun, Lapid. It's over."
Before I could overcome my shock, Kulaski stepped forward and wrenched the gun from my hand. He shoved it painfully under my chin, his face so close I could not escape his hot, sour breath.
"You're not just a troublemaker; you're also stupid," Kulaski said. His lips were stretched back, his teeth like sharp stones in the moonlight. He pushed the muzzle harder into my throat, and I tried pulling my head away, but there wasn't anywhere to go with a second gun pressed into my back.
Kulaski grabbed my hair, yanking it hard. "I told you not to come back, you idiot. I guess what I did in the hospital wasn't enough to make that sink in." His face was taut, and I was sure he was going to shoot me then and there.
The man behind me had the same thought. "Easy, Inspector. Let's stick to the plan."
Sergeant Rapfogel. He was the man who'd come up behind me without my noticing. I'd been so careless, I could have killed myself. But I didn't think I'd get that chance. Kulaski would take care of that first.
Kulaski nodded. "All right. Cuff him."
Rapfogel took his gun away, and I was about to try something desperate, but Kulaski read the intention and grinned. "Do it and your brains will litter this sidewalk."
I didn't resist as Rapfogel jerked my hands back and closed the cuffs around my wrists. Then his gun returned to the small of my back.
"Let's go," he said. "And don't try anything."
