Birnbaum smacked the steering wheel in frustration. There was a story here, and he craved it like other men crave money or women or status.
"The police say Gafni made Harpaz suffer, prolonged his death," Birnbaum said. "So maybe he is crazy."
"Maybe."
Birnbaum shot me an angry look. "Can you at least tell me how you got your nose flattened?"
"I'd rather not."
"Was that also part of the job you did for Gafni?"
"In a manner of speaking."
"In a manner of speaking? What does that mean?"
"It means I can't tell you, Shmuel. Now lay off me."
We drove a few minutes in silence. Then I said, "It seems like you were right. Herut hasn't been outlawed."
"Ben-Gurion did the smart thing. As he usually does."
I looked out the passenger's side window at the passing street. "I still think it's wrong to negotiate directly with Germany over reparations, to take their filthy money."
"But you don't sound as inflamed as you were the last time we spoke about this."
I thought about the envelope in my coat pocket. The envelope with Gafni's money in it. The good that money could do to someone who needed it. "A lot has happened since then."
To his credit, Birnbaum didn't ask me what.
I said, "I do love this country, you know? Even when it does things I detest."
"That's as good a definition of a patriot as I've ever heard," Birnbaum said with a wry smile. He parked near the entrance to the central bus station and laid a hand on my arm.
"I told you this the last time we spoke, Adam, and I'll say it again now: no matter how much money the Germans will give us, we shall never forgive and we shall never forget. Not your family, and not all the rest. And we won't let the world forget either."
My throat had constricted. I had to clear it to speak. "I hope you're right, Shmuel. I hope to God you're right."
He squeezed my forearm, his hand pressing my number tattoo through my sleeve. Then his lips crooked in a mischievous grin. "Are you sure you can't spare this poor little reporter a story with some meat on it?"
I laughed. "I'm afraid not. But I'm sure the Gafni case will give you much to write about."
"It sure will. In fact, I have already written a column about it. But I still need to edit it to make sure it's perfect." He held out a hand. "Have a good trip, Adam."
I shook his hand. "Thank you, Shmuel."
I knocked on her door. Her voice came through ragged and raw. "Who is it?"
"Adam Lapid."
Silence. Then: "Go away."
"Please, Mrs. Hecht, I'd like to talk to you. I'd like to apologize and explain."
"I don't want your apologies or explanations. Just leave me alone."
Pressing my hand flat to her door, a peculiar ache in my chest that had nothing to do with injured ribs, I said, "I was wrong and stupid, and I'm so very sorry. I know what you and Moria were to each other. I know why you lied to me."
A longer silence. Then: "Do you still think Moria killed herself because of me?"
This time, the silence was mine.
"Go away, Mr. Lapid." Her voice cut through the door and stabbed into my ears. "Go away and don't come back."
I walked away with hunched shoulders and a heavy heart. An odd weight pressed on and inside me. That was the end of something that had never started. Naomi Hecht was out of my life for good.
I headed to Amos Street and went into Moria's building. Voices sounded from the Shukrun apartment. Men and women talking in somber voices. Someone weeping. The shiva for Daniel Shukrun in its hardest stages—the manner of his death no doubt augmenting the family's shock and grief.
I didn't knock. I didn't think I'd be welcomed. Lillian had given me the address to the locksmithing store on the same day her husband killed Dr. Leitner. It wouldn't take much for her to deduce that I had something to do with the disaster that had befallen her.
There were no mailboxes in the lobby; the residents must have gotten their mail at a nearby post office, but I did not know where it was. I decided to go search for it when a woman entered the building. She was older than Lillian, but the similarity between the two left no room for doubt. They were sisters.
I verified this impression and asked if she might deliver something to her sister. "After the shiva," I said. "When things calm down a bit."
"Why not give it to her yourself?" she asked.
I said I'd rather not and handed her the envelope containing Gafni's bonus.
Before I could react, she tore the flap open and peered inside. Her eyebrows shot up. "What is this?"
