Chapter 45
Gilbert and Jacobin were waiting for Samuel as he came out of the gangway.
“Passport please,” Gilbert said to Samuel.
“Yes, officer, right here…” He pulled the document out of his pocket and handed it with shaking hands.
Jacobin was observing him from behind Gilbert’s shoulder. He had seen his share of disguises during his career and he wondered why their quarry would hope to get away dressed like that.
“Would you mind coming with us, sir?”
“Where to?” asked Samuel, still unsure he was welcomed back in Canada.
“We’ve been ordered to escort you through the gates personally.” Gilbert handed Samuel his passport back. He chuckled quietly. “This thing would have sent a red-flag to everyone around here.”
Samuel smiled, putting the passport in his pocket.
As the doors opened and Samuel rolled his trolley down the fenced aisle, he saw Mark amid the crowd first. He and Lypsick were standing at the back of the families and friends, their arms and hands hanging over the railing, waiting for their relatives or dear ones to appear through the doors.
Lypsick had told Mark about Samuel’s latest disguise and both men didn’t hesitate once they saw the bald bike-rider appear. Mark bent his head, but knew Samuel had recognized him.
“Let’s go,” Lypsick said to Mark.
He nodded and they went to stand at the other end of the aisle.
Samuel stopped just before reaching them. This was his last chance, but he had nowhere to go. He noticed too, that there were RCMP officers standing amid the crowd and watching every passenger exiting the customs’ area. He had no desire to tackle any of these guys. They were known for their ruthlessness and unwavering resolve when it came to apprehend a criminal. Rabbi Joshua’s voice once again rang in Samuel’s ear, “you’re no longer a criminal...”
“Mr. Samuel Meshullam?” Lypsick said, approaching the man slowly. Mark stayed back.
“Yes, sir.”
“Follow us to the car,” Lypsick ordered. His coldness sent a shiver down Samuel’s spine.
In a fraction of a second, Samuel came to walk beside Mark. “You look like a dandy coming out of the Odeon, mate,” he told him.
Mark took no offence. He had seen the anxiety in Samuel’s eyes. He knew how he must have felt at that moment—like a trapped animal. “And you need to get rid of the leather, man.”
Both men laughed, under Lypsick’s somewhat reproving glare. The man is too stiff, Mark decided.
When they were out of the arrivals’ hall and onto the sidewalk, Samuel took in a breath. He stared at the limousine and at the chauffeur. He couldn’t believe it. He had expected some sort of a car waiting to take them somewhere, but not a limo.
“Welcome to my temporary world,” Mark said, pointing to the vehicle’s open door.
Samuel looked at both Mark and Lypsick in turn. His astonishment was painted on his face. With a still shaking hand he was about to grab one of the cases from the trolley, when the chauffeur stopped him. “Let me, sir,” he said, taking the handle from Samuel’s hand.
“Get in,” Lypsick told him, pushing Samuel ahead of him. Again, that roughness didn’t agree with Mark. He followed Samuel into the car, making sure he directed him to sit opposite Lypsick and not beside him.
On their way to town, Samuel remained quiet. Lypsick looked out of the window and Mark observed the Mossad agent. His keen eyes, his unblemished face, and his hands—those of a concert pianist—told Mark he was probably a very quiet and calculating man. He didn’t seem to have any aggressiveness in him. He appeared to know when to take a bow or when to react. The Samuel he had met in Georgia was not the man sitting across from him now. There was no longer the hesitancy, the apparent lack of knowledge, the un-worldly attitude of the hiker he had met on the road. Today, Samuel was the man whose determination was going to make or break their operation. Mark hoped it would be the former.
It took less than a half-an-hour for the limo to pull up into the parking lot of one of the buildings in the complex near the beaches of English Bay.
Coming out of the vehicle, Mark led Lypsick by the arm to the low wall bordering the lot. “Cool it, Lypsick. If you want any answer coming out of this man’s mouth, cut off the crap, okay?”
Lypsick nodded. “He’s got my back up, for some reason. But you’re right; I should “cut off the crap” as you say. Let’s get him upstairs…, shall we?”
“Yeah. Just take it easy, will you?”
“You got it,” Lypsick replied amicably, to Mark’s surprise. Trusting this guy is going to be a chore, he told himself.
Samuel had observed the two men from the limo’s open door and wondered how long he would have to put up with the little crab. Mark had not changed. He was the smart one, the cat that could sense an enemy before he even set eyes on him. Samuel liked him. But this other guy was something else. He reminded him of a scurrying rat—spiteful but fearful.
He looked around him. Samuel knew where he was. The street, the buildings, the little park with its gazebo... He didn’t need to be reminded of what the place meant. He had taken the shot that crippled Talya from that gazebo. He wished he could undo the past, but that was impossible. He knew the road ahead was not going to be an easy one and his conscience wouldn’t let him forget what he had done. He shook his head slowly and followed Mark and Lypsick across the parking lot to the building’s entrance.