They led me to a car a few buildings up the street. I'd noticed it before but had seen no one inside. Rapfogel opened the rear door, and Kulaski pushed me inside. He slid in beside me, gun pointed at my midsection. Rapfogel got behind the wheel.
Kulaski said, "How did you know I was waiting in Moria Gafni's apartment?"
"I could smell you," I said, my insides like water swirling down a drain—all weightless and dwindling. I was cuffed and powerless in a car with two armed men with murderous intent. I was done for, hopeless, impotent. All I could do was hurl insults.
Kulaski smiled, his eyes bright. "You're funny. Isn't he funny, Sergeant?"
"Hilarious," Rapfogel muttered. He lifted a bottle of wine off the passenger seat and took a long swig. I noticed the bottle was less than half full. Just like last time, Rapfogel needed the alcohol for what came next. He started the car, put it in gear, and eased away from the curb, going at a moderate speed.
"Who told you I was sleeping there?" I asked.
"Dr. Leitner." Kulaski laughed. "You didn't expect that, did you? The look on your face... it's priceless. The same day I visited you at the hospital, I asked him to let me know if you ever returned. He called me a few hours ago and told me where I could find you. He sounded quite angry with you."
"Did he tell you why?"
"I didn't ask."
"It's because I found out he was blackmailing Moria Gafni."
Kulaski's expression didn't shift. "Cut it out with your lies. I'm not going to fall for them."
"Did you stop to wonder how he knew where I was sleeping? It's because he hired a private detective to follow me. This is my third night back in Jerusalem. There's a reason why Leitner didn't call you yesterday."
"I don't care. What's important is that I have you now."
Did Leitner know what Kulaski intended to do to me? He must have because it wouldn't do him any good to have me arrested. He needed me out of the way permanently. He needed me dead. His knowing Kulaski's mind suggested a deep acquaintance between him and the inspector. Perhaps even friendship.
"How do you know Dr. Leitner?" I asked.
"He treated a relative of mine a few years ago."
"Your sister?"
Kulaski grabbed the front of my coat, his austere face all harsh angles and rigid lines. "What do you know about my sister?"
"That she died before her time. I'm sorry for your loss."
"Right, I'm sure you are. She died because of you and your Herutnik buddies, you Irgun terrorists. It was your bomb that killed her."
"I had nothing to do with that. I'm not a member of Herut, and I've never been part of the Irgun."
"More lies. You were in that demonstration. For the rest of my days, I'll hound you guys."
The streets were nearly empty, the city asleep around us. Rapfogel drove the car down wet roads, and soon we were on Jaffa Street, heading west. With one hand on the wheel, he put the bottle to his lips again.
"Quit that already, will you," Kulaski said. "You'll drive us into a building."
"I'm fine," Rapfogel answered, putting the bottle aside and wiping his mouth. "I can handle much more than this bitty bottle." He laughed, looking back at me. "Last time you paid for four glasses, remember? And it didn't slow me down any."
"Keep your eyes on the damn road," Kulaski barked as the car began to drift. Rapfogel whipped back, gripping the wheel with both hands and righting the car.
"Where are you taking me?" I asked, shifting in my seat. The cuffs were cutting into my wrists, and I tried in vain to find a position that would ease the pain.
"We're throwing you out of Jerusalem. And this time, I hope you'll stay out." Kulaski didn't look at me as he said this, and the lie was so obvious that I had the crazy urge to laugh.
"Where's your buddy, the third guy who beat me?"
"He couldn't make it tonight." The statement was mundane, but by his tone and the way his mouth tightened, I could tell Kulaski was angry. Not at me, but at the unnamed third officer. Maybe he didn't have the stomach for what Kulaski and Rapfogel planned. Maybe he was open to a beating but drew the line at cold-blooded murder.
We were near the city limits now. The buildings flowing past my window dark and brooding hulks of Jerusalem stone, the sidewalks empty of souls like my body would soon be empty of mine. No cars on the road to witness our passage.
It got darker when we exited Jerusalem. Just the stars and moon and the twin beams of the headlights slicing through the darkness ahead.
"Why not let me out here?" I asked for no useful reason. "We're out of Jerusalem, aren't we?"
"A few more minutes," Kulaski said. "It won't be long now." Rapfogel merely drank more wine.
We neared a bend, and Rapfogel slowed to a crawl. He leaned forward, peering out the window. "There it is," he said, and turned onto a narrow dirt road cutting between tall trees. We bounced over ruts and potholes for a few minutes, and then the trees spread out, and the road spilled into a clearing. Rapfogel stopped and jerked up the handbrake, but left the motor running, the lights burning bright like two tongues of fire. "We're here," he said, then drained the bottle before tossing it onto the floor.
Kulaski opened the door and climbed out. "Let's go, Mr. Lapid. Final stop."
I didn't move. I was covered in cold sweat, and my breath was fast and off tempo, like my lungs had lost their natural rhythm.
Kulaski leaned into the car. "Don't make us drag you out. Be sensible for once."
"You're a son of a bitch, Kulaski."
His lips curled wickedly. "Not half as much as you, Lapid. Now get out!"
