The letter was addressed to the management of the Viromedical factory. The words “Top Secret” were written on the left side. In the letter, his father detailed his concerns about how the proper operation of the factory was being neglected. Many paragraphs included words and lines that were underlined, probably by him.
“It is a dangerous place,” he had written. “One should think about the dangers it causes.”
He loved the way his father elongated his Y’s and slightly curled his S’s. Undoubtedly, he had a thing for S’s.
“If there isn’t any other choice, I think the media needs to know the details.” it seemed he addressed the management with a subject that was close to his heart and caused him great concern.
Then there was a draft of another letter that appeared to be unfinished. The words “Dear Mr. Rodety,” were written at the top of the yellowing page. “I’m sure you understand my complaint and certain that you will address the issues I raised with all due seriousness and see to it that they will be dealt with without delay. The factory is the apple of my eye, but there are higher values at stake here, values that, with no other option, I will be forced to act upon.”
“Dear Mr. Rodety,” Ofer read the salutation once more, with his eyes clouding and a shiver passing through him. My father wrote to Rodety and alerted him to malfunctions and corruptions. He deeply cared about this. He wanted to go to the press. It couldn’t have been a minor thing. What was it? What did they do with the information he provided? Once more, Ofer felt terrible pangs in his stomach and took another break.
Then he bundled up all the letters in a single pile.
For the first time, after avoiding the subject for so many years, Ofer recalled that a stranger had openly told him—“Your father committed suicide.” How much time had it been? Barely forty-eight hours. Rodety didn’t speak in clues and riddles, neither did he cut Ofer any slack.
That man, who was so direct with him, received letters from his father and worked with him. That man was now lying in the ground with his virus mutation, a virus that endangered Ofer’s life and perhaps the lives of an entire city, but that wasn’t enough to change the simple fact—he had never done anything to check whether Rodety’s words about his father were true or false.
Now, of all times, when time was running out. Now, when perhaps he had only a few days remaining, it had become more important in his eyes than anything else in the world.
He glanced at the window. The night sky darkened. Autumn had decided to pay an unexpected visit. From this distance, Allenby Street seemed even more deserted and miserable than it really was. His mood fitted the weather. Gray, leaning towards dark.
Ofer inhaled deeply and raised his eyes to the gathering clouds above. It seemed to him that he could see the blurry image of his father among them. His face was downcast.
Ofer told him without uttering a sound, Pappy, it’s time to check who drove your locomotive and where he dragged it to.
He felt as though he had no choice. There was only one man who could answer all his questions. He decided to go the place where he could receive some answers to all the questions that continued to pile up.
Ofer went to the kitchen and took a long, sharp-bladed knife from the drawer. He placed it beneath his pillow. No one will ever surprise me again, he thought.
He threw himself on the bed in his clothes and fell asleep even before his body hit the mattress.
Chapter 16
It was late in the afternoon. Igor Harsovsky’s room in the Tel Hashomer Hospital internal medicine ward was empty. He wasn’t to be found in the dining area either. A grim-faced muscular man, dressed in black, sat at the entrance to the room and refused to answer Gali’s questions about the patient’s condition.
The nurse at the reception desk was nicer. “He was taken for an X-ray and immediately after that to undergo a small operation. Who are you?” she asked.
“I’m a colleague from work. Please tell him Gali Shviro came by to visit.”
Gali left the hospital and continued on her way. It was almost the end of the day and she still had many plans. She was happy to hear Igor’s condition was improving, but the fact that a bodyguard was in front of his room filled her with discomfort. I have to clear a few things with him first chance I get, she thought.
The GPS led her to Cyrus Street in the Lod industrial area, even though no street sign could be seen in the rundown environment. The Aerospace Industries factory Fliegelman had mentioned was deserted. Beyond the ruined fence, half demolished buildings could be seen. The yard was laden with wreckage and bonfire remains. Gali could only picture to herself what went on there during the nights.
Cyrus Street itself was short and had a few large, windowless buildings. Gali easily found what she was looking for. The archive looked as one would expect it to; it was a vast warehouse in a building shaped like a large, sealed shoebox, dull and graceless.
At the archive’s entrance sat a young girl who chewed her gum busily. She raised her head from the crossword puzzle she was solving and sent a bored yawn into the air without bothering to cover her mouth. Undoubtedly she had much more fascinating dreams than being a receptionist in a file box cemetery.
Gali walked right up to her, filled with confidence.
“Hello, I’m attorney Gali Shviro. Can I help you with your crossword puzzle?”
“Come on, you didn’t come all the way here for that?”
“No, I’m just kidding. I didn’t come here for that, even though I really can help you with your crossword puzzle. I represent a large insurance company that wants to utilize your services.”
“Well, ma’am…you need to talk to Joseph, he’s the manager. He’s not here now.”
“So who’s here now?”
“Only the laborers and the delivery people, they’re responsible for arranging the warehouses. They’re on their coffee break. It’s almost the end of the day.”
Gali didn’t give up. “So I’ll wait for the manager,” she said.
“We’re almost closing and I’m about to leave. He won’t be coming today. He’s moving.” She continued to look bored and didn’t show any signs of awakening.
“Got it. So with your permission, I just want to have a quick look around. I don’t want to come here again. All I want is to check the security arrangements. If I like what I see, I’ll schedule a meeting with the manager to move forward.”
“All right, you can have your look. What do you think you’ll see? Just piles of boxes, this is the only thing this boring place has.”
“Don’t you like your job?” Gali was interested.
“I like it. But it’s tedious. You can die from boredom here. Who needs to save documents anymore? Everything’s online,” said the clerk and returned to chewing the gum she hid in her mouth.
“Thanks, sweetheart and you’re right, of course. Soon there won’t be any more places like this one. But believe me, all jobs are boring. At least there’s no one to bother you here.” Gali winked at her.
“You need an escort, even though you look like someone who knows how to walk by herself between straight rows of boxes.”
“No need, just a quick look and I’ll be out. Don’t bother yourself, I’ll manage on my own,” said Gali and strode with confidence into the huge warehouse.
“You need to have someone with you. Those are the regulations. I’ll come with you.” She closed the outer door and accompanied Gali.
They went in through the main entrance. Gali found herself in a hall, its walls filled from top to bottom with rows and rows of gigantic steel shelves. The shelves were filled with single-sized cardboard boxes. Her eyes glanced over miniscule signs that showed the alphabetical order. At the end of the third row, she saw the letter V. She slowed down her pace, her eyes flickering on the file names. There was no trace of Viromedical.
At the end of the row, a stairway leading to a lower floor was revealed.
“What’s down there?” Gali asked.
“Tha
t’s where they put the prehistoric stuff. Files that are more than ten years old.”
“And where are the restrooms?” asked Gali.
“Down there as well.”
“May I…”
“Sure you can, downstairs at the end of the corridor. I’ll wait for you here.”
Gali went downstairs. She was surprised to discover the place had a cellar. She had come there without a definite plan, but now one formed in her mind. I’ll study the place and return at a later time, she thought.
She turned right at the end of the stairway. At the corridor’s end, there was a white steel door. A bundle of keys hung next to the door. She tried to fit the keys into the lock. The third one did the trick. She unlocked the door and found the light switch on the right. She went inside and locked herself in. Only then did she notice she hadn’t taken a single breath since she went downstairs. She filled her lungs with oxygen and turned on the light. Here too, the view was of long rows of metal cabinets, filled to the brim with folders.
Where do I even begin and what can I do with the little time I’ve got? she asked herself. For a moment, she was filled with desperation.
She took a quick look at the long shelves. A few of the folders were marked only with years. Others had initials she was unable to decipher.
Luckily enough, she recognized that each shelf contained alphabetical marks, just like the ones upstairs.
She marched quickly towards the letter V. She passed an entire row, from the beginning of the archive to its end, walking quickly, her head slanted sideways and her eyes examining the writing on the dusty folders. Nothing grabbed her attention.
Suddenly, she heard the sound of rustling papers. She froze in her tracks, leaned back against the passageway between the cabinet rows and stopped breathing. The heavy smell of dust rose in her nostrils and she felt an involuntary sneeze coming.
She heard the rustling sound again. She peeked around the corner.
In the middle of the space between the cabinets, an oversized black mouse was moving about slowly, carrying something unidentifiable in its mouth.
She looked at the ugly rodent and her heart almost stopped beating. “Anything but mice,” she sighed quietly, “They really give me the creeps.” She may have been disgusted, but she continued to follow the creature that passed beneath the cabinets and continued to the other end of the archive. Perhaps he’s signaling something to me, she said to herself, gathering all her mental strength to steady her quivering legs.
The mouse continued to the edge of the room and crawled beneath a gray cabinet. She slowly approached the place he disappeared and bent to check where he vanished to. Nothing could be seen down the track the mouse had taken.
She returned to the shelves bearing the letter V. What a relief. She found the boxes that were marked “Viromedical.” They filled up nearly ten rows. The last box was labeled “Top Secret.” She pulled out the box. It was comparatively light. The tape that sealed the lid was falling apart. She lifted it. Inside the box were two folders with red labeling.
With trembling fingers, she took out the two folders.
The mouse was nowhere to be seen. It will probably burst unexpectedly from somewhere, she said to herself, examining her surroundings every few seconds to ensure it wasn’t sneaking up on her.
I’m sure he’s not here by himself, he must have an entire family, a whole pack of tiny, disgusting rodents, she thought, carrying the two folders to a small reading table.
She shook the folders to ensure they did not contain any unexpected creatures.
A slight cloud of dust rose with each shake, and she sneezed loudly, in spite of her efforts to bite her lip tightly. She glanced at her watch. She’d been downstairs for almost four minutes. The receptionist upstairs and perhaps the rest of the employees would soon come looking for her.
The initials I.B.R. were written with red ink on the folders. What the hell is I.B.R.? she wondered.
She quickly went through the contents of the folders. While doing so, she moved her feet to and fro and continued to examine her surroundings to make sure no creature was stalking her. The first pages of one folder included reports written in an indecipherable handwriting. Following them were printed documents.
She skipped those and began to read the letters that bore the address of the head of the Institute for Biological Research. The solution now seemed so simple—that’s what the I.B.R. initials stood for.
A large question mark filled her entire being. What did these folders have to do with the Viromedical factory?
In one letter, she read a report written by the I.B.R.’s deputy director, Dr. Aryeh Friedman, in which he complained about poor maintenance and insufficient security procedures. Dr. Aryeh Friedman? In a second letter, written by that same anonymous Dr. Aryeh Friedman, it was stated that if the Viromedical management did not comply with the new demands, he would be forced to require the transfer of the laboratory to a new location, and he would therefore adjust the budget the factory receives.
In a third letter, marked with a red “Top Secret” title, was written:
“As you well know, the authorities have decided not to comply with the demands of the international treaty which demands the eradication of deadly viruses (such as smallpox, etc.) (See addendum). The military and scientific motives for this important decision are obvious. You were chosen to supply the environment for safekeeping this project whose national importance is supreme, therefore…”
Out of amazement, Gali clutched the sides of the table with her hands until her knuckles whitened.
Time was running out. Gali didn’t think twice; she took the three letters out of the folder, folded them carefully and stuffed them into her pocket. She turned off the light, locked the door and moved across the corridor, feeling her way by touching the wall.
The next moment, a light was turned on at the end of the corridor. She froze in her tracks and squatted. She noticed a large figure wearing dark clothes passing through the stairway on the way up. A laborer appeared at the end of the corridor, pushing a cart loaded with boxes.
She held her breath. She remained squatting for another minute that seemed like an eternity and then she broke into a quick run and quickly climbed upstairs. The receptionist wasn’t waiting at the end of the stairway. Gali continued to the entrance, worried.
“What happened to you? Is everything all right? I was afraid you drowned in the toilets. I thought of coming to rescue you.” The same gum was still chewed in the bored receptionist’s mouth. Apparently, she had returned to her station.
“Don’t ask. I’ve got indigestion. Last time I eat falafel in the street. Anyway, thanks a lot. I really like this archive and I’ll be in touch,” said Gali and left the place.
Chapter 17
When Ofer woke up, the sun was already in the middle of the sky. The aftertaste of nausea remained in his mouth and even worsened when he recalled how the apartment he had slept in now looked. A sudden fear gripped him. He felt as if he were suffocating and urgently needed to go outside. The apartment he loved so much now appeared to him like a strange, alien place, desecrated by the burglars.
At the door, he remembered he had forgotten something. He went back, took Rodety’s bag and went downstairs, hopping three steps at a time.
Abraham, the watchmaker, was already sitting in his usual spot. A watchmaker’s loupe was stuck in his eye, and he bent over a clock that needed fixing, beneath the beam of a powerful night light. When he noticed Ofer, he took the magnifying glass out of his eye and rose towards him, brimming with kind smiles.
“Good day to you, my good sir. How fare thee on this finest of days?” asked Abraham. A row of gleaming teeth peeked from his white beard.
“Yes, yes. Thank you,” answered Ofer impatiently. Abraham’s habit of using high language did not suit his current state of mind. He instantly added, “Someone broke into my apartment, they turned the place upside down. Did you happen to see anyone suspicious coming into the build
ing or the surrounding area?”
“You don’t say,” whispered Abraham into the whiteness of his beard. “How could something like this happen? I’m here almost all day. I may have been out for an hour or two to go to the market—”
“It’s not your fault, Mr. Mansherov. It must have taken place while you weren’t here. They broke in when we were both out,” said Ofer but refrained from detailing why he wasn’t in his apartment and where he was last night.
Abraham clutched his head. A moment later he extended his hands, gripped Ofer’s shoulders and said, “Now I remember. There really was someone who asked about you. I told him you’d be back later because you were at school. I asked whether or not I could relay a message, but he said, ‘No thank you.’ After that, he left. I asked what it was about, but he refused to elaborate.”
“You’d remember him if you see him again?” asked Ofer.
“Why wouldn’t I? Of course I’ll remember him. Tell me, are you feeling ill? You don’t look like your normal self.”
“I don’t feel so well, but it’s nothing serious.” Ofer did not want to worry him. “Thanks anyway. So pay attention. If you happen to see him, let me know immediately,” he said and went on his way.
The sky was quickly turning gray, as if summer had decided to migrate to different territories. The sun played a game of hide and seek with the clouds, only occasionally showing her face. For her, it was simply another fun-filled vacation day.
Ofer thrust Rodety’s bag into the motorcycle’s pannier and began to drive quickly towards the Yad Eliyahu neighborhood, treating most traffic laws as mere recommendations.
His mother was home just as he knew she would be. She had taken early retirement, left her job at the bank and preferred to spend her days between the walls of her small apartment rather than chatting idly with her elderly friends.