Disappearance (A Mystery and Espionage Thriller) Read online

  "Would you let me know what's in the film?"

  "That depends."

  "Depends on what?" Eitan protested.

  "You should know better," Nadav blurted, annoyed. "If the information is classified, I have no authority to tell you and you are not cleared to know!"

  "Always the same Intelligence crap," Eitan complained. "You guys never give us common soldiers any credit."

  "Not when it comes to holding your mouths in check," the lieutenant acknowledged with evident sarcasm. "Whenever you guys hear something newsworthy, the entire country knows about it the next day."

  Eitan changed the subject. He knew Nadav was right. They could not keep a secret. What good was a secret they couldn't expose?

  "Are you coming to Motti's house Saturday?" he asked. "Malka will be there."

  Nadav looked surprised. "How do you know about…?"

  Eitan smiled and turned to leave. "You said it yourself: none of us can keep a secret, and you my friend, are still one of us!"

  "Go to hell!" The lieutenant yelled after him, but Eitan was already on his way to the truck and a three-day leave.

  As he stepped out of the command tent, he saw the truck pulling away. He raced after it yelling at the top of his voice for them to stop. Luckily the driver heard him and slammed on the brakes. He jumped in, landing between his mates, pushing for room. The guys gave him a mouthful for startling them out of their peace. A few minutes later they were all asleep as the truck headed back to the base.

  It was Wednesday, July 8th, 1987.

  PART ONE

  THE ABDUCTION

  CHAPTER 1

  There was a knock on the door.

  Mikki opened his eyes. The room was pitch dark. Where am I? He thought. What time is it? He sat up in his bed desperately trying to regain a sense of time.

  He hated those obscure moments. It took him forever to recover. He would collapse on the bed in his work clothes, following a strenuous day, sleep until early evening, wake up disoriented and upset with himself for missing out on the afternoon activities.

  On most days he would meet the guys after work, sit around a brewing coffee pot, smoke and gossip. Their favorite topic was almost exclusively their latest sexual encounters. Being extremely thorough and animated, they would outline their experiences in great detail often exposing their own shortcomings to ridicule. No one was safe from being taunted.

  There was another knock. This time he heard a voice.

  "Mikki, are you in there? Open the door! It's important."

  Through the hazy, misty state of semi-consciousness he recognized the voice. It was his mother. Something was up because his mother never came to his room, unless it was absolutely essential. He got up, a little wobbly, and reached for the door.

  Reena stood there with a worried look on her face. She had large brown eyes with short black hair, a small pointy nose, and gorgeous lips. She had been pretty in her days but was beginning to show signs of aging. Her posture was sagging and her face was freckled, not tanned. She did not use makeup. It was rare to find a woman in the kibbutz who did.

  "What's going on, Mom?" he asked impatiently.

  "Take a look at this," she said handing him a brown paper envelope.

  Mikki's stomach tightened. He did not have to open it to know what it contained. "You didn't think they'd forget me, did you?" he said trying to sound cheerful.

  "No," she answered, "it just caught me by surprise."

  Mikki opened the envelope and quickly unfolded an official document informing him that on August 5th, 1984, he was to report to the main recruiting base near Tel Aviv to begin his thirty-six months of military service.

  "When?" his mother asked.

  "In four months."

  It was April 16, 1984.

  His turn had come. Mikki planned to join the service after high school, but promised himself he would not serve a day over the required three years. He would not go to officer training which required an additional year, nor would he volunteer to any outfit that required more than a three-year service. He would pay his dues and get the hell out. Military life did not appeal to him. He dreaded authority and feared being trapped within the confines of its hierarchy. It was tough enough getting through high school and dealing with the teachers where the worst that could happen would be to get thrown out of school and spend your days wandering aimlessly around the kibbutz. In the military, if he disobeyed orders, they would throw him in jail.

  He was apprehensive of artificial relationships based on seniority and rank. From the stories he had heard over the years from many veterans, he knew that rank meant a person had the right to order one around and make one's life miserable, no matter how incompetent or irresponsible that person might be. This, Mikki knew, was to be his greatest test in functioning in the military. The fear of being out of control and in the hands of incompetent and even dangerous people kept him awake nights as draft day grew near.

  He put the official draft notification in the brown envelope.

  "Are you coming home?" his mother asked.

  He considered it. If he went home, she would fix him a hearty supper with chicken soup, a fresh salad, scrambled eggs with onions and cheese, and cake for dessert. He loved her dinners. She knew exactly what he liked and how he liked it. It was tempting, but the Volunteer House was even more so, now that a fresh new group of volunteers had arrived.

  "Sorry Mom," he said, "I'll have to pass this time."

  "Where will you eat?" she asked.

  "I'll grab something in the dining hall."

  "But it's past dinner time!" she protested.

  "Don't worry, I'll find something. I'm a big boy now," he said, waving the brown envelope in front of her face.

  He turned to enter his room. Reena caught his arm. "I love you son," she said.

  It caught him by surprise. "What's the occasion?" he asked.

  "You are a big boy now, and in a few months you'll be leaving for the military. I just wanted to say it. I haven't said it in a long time. It's not easy for your dad and me to accept that we have a son joining the military. Time goes by so fast."

  Mikki looked at her. Affection did not come easy in their family. It always seemed awkward to acknowledge feelings. Mikki's father, Abe, was a master at avoiding affection. The world was not supposed to know he could be vulnerable. Reena was different but she could not cope with her husband, having to put up the act when he was around. It was difficult for Mikki to tell her that he loved her very much. Being a product of his parents and the kibbutz, he, like most of his teenage buddies, felt awkward expressing true feelings.

  "Me too," he said to her and quickly added, "Hey, I have to run, see you tomorrow."

  Reena quickly reached up and kissed him on the cheek. Mikki put his arms around her, hugged her for a brief moment, and quickly stepped back looking around to see if anyone had noticed this brief show of affection. Mikki had a reputation to protect. A stud like him was not supposed to be publicly hugging his mother. If anyone saw them, he would hear about it for weeks.

  Reena looked her son over. He was very handsome standing there with nothing but his shorts, six feet tall, with brown curly hair and dark brown penetrating eyes. He had broad shoulders and a young athletic body. He was her first. He was her favorite.

  She turned to leave.

  Mikki watched as she disappeared behind some buildings, then entered his room. He threw on the light switch and looked around. It was a zoo. Dirty clothes were scattered everywhere and the stench from filthy socks was almost unbearable. Neither he nor his roommate ever bothered to clean unless a female was to be entertained in the room, in which case the entertainer would clean and the other would make arrangements to find a place to spend the night.

  He quickly showered and put on a pair of jeans and a tee shirt. He considered strapping on a pair of leather sandals but rejected the idea and hastily stormed out of the room heading to the dining hall in hopes of finding some leftovers from supper. It was after ho
urs and there was no more food served in the main hall so he went to the kitchen in the back and made himself two cream cheese and tomato sandwiches which were gone in a flash. He considered preparing a third, but decided against it. Quickly heading out, he surmised that the extra time could keep him just long enough for some other fellow to snatch the love of his life before he was given his chance.

  The Volunteer House was an old, two-storey building, once used as a cowshed before a new cowshed was built and the building was revamped to house people. The volunteers would sleep two or three in a room, with two main bathrooms on each floor. Part of the bottom floor was converted into a meeting room which also served as the local night club. It was an institution in the kibbutz, a place that took in young people who came from around the world to experience this unique way of life. Many were Jewish, but as word got around, they soon came from all nationalities and religions. Some came out of curiosity, others because of sentimental and religious ties, and still others came because they had nowhere else to go and their parents needed a break. Israel and the Kibbutz movement welcomed them with open arms for the excellent public relations and very cheap labor. They were an odd mix of people who would quickly blend in. Freed from the expectations and scrutiny of family and friends, they allowed themselves to break the mold and play out those fantasies they would never have dared play back home.

  To Mikki and his friends, these volunteers were a breath of fresh air. Apart from acquaintances from nearby settlements and occasional guests, the volunteers were the only source of fresh faces they ever saw and when a new group showed up, the guys would check them out and make themselves available, hoping to attract someone they liked for a night or two and occasionally even longer than that. Most relationships never lasted more than a few months.

  Mikki had had several frivolous relationships since he was about fifteen. He lost his virginity to a French girl, one dark August night. The sex was great and his English kept improving, but it wasn't enough. Being so removed from their native environment, he had surmised they were too far out of their element to develop meaningful relationships. He had always believed that if he was to develop a meaningful relationship, one that was not exclusively built around sex, it would have to be with an Israeli girl. However, the girls he grew up with were like his sisters and new Israeli girls were next to impossible to meet, so he always ended up in the Volunteer House looking for a quick fix.

  Tonight was no different. A new group of volunteers from Canada and the United States had arrived and he was on his way to present himself. They were having an orientation meeting, when Mikki walked in. Two of his friends, Shlomo and Ronni, were sitting on the floor, in the back, waiting for the meeting to end. Mikki was about to join them when he noticed her.

  She was sitting in the front row, noticeable among the attentive bunch of new faces. He could see her profile, curly blond hair and perfectly straight nose. Dumbstruck, he froze, glaring at her, oblivious to the awkward situation. He was sure she noticed him but she seemed to be paying attention to the lecture. Shlomo and Ronni were motioning for him to join them and not disturb the lecture.

  He stood there for a brief moment which seemed like an hour, staring at her. Her eyes moved a fraction to the side and fell on his gaze. He noticed a small scar under her left eye and thought she was faintly smiling at him. He lowered his gaze. Embarrassed, he quickly took his place on the floor in the back with Shlomo and Ronni.

  "Did you see her?"

  "Who, the blonde?" Shlomo asked.

  "No, your grandmother," Mikki said irritably. "Who do you think I was referring to?"

  "Do you know what your biggest problem is, Mikki?" Shlomo began nastily.

  "No, but I'm sure you're about to let me know."

  "Your biggest problem," Shlomo went on, ignoring the comment, "is that you think you are the only one on this planet who can spot a beautiful babe and…" Shlomo half turned to Ronni with a smirk on his face, "… then you think they only want you and you act as if you're holding some kind of title over them."

  "How many girls have you had in the last year Shlomo?" Mikki mocked, grinning in the direction of Ronni who, knowing full well what was coming, was desperately trying to keep from bursting out laughing. "With the exception of that fat ass from Belgium who you thought you were going to marry, you basically sleep alone and jerk off every night."

  "Well Mikki, I've got news for you: that blonde in the front row, is mine!" Shlomo proclaimed with a triumphant smile.

  "They've only been here one night and already she is yours?"

  "We met them at the bus yesterday when they came in. She asked me to come to the party tonight."

  "How, in God's name, did she know there was going to be a party tonight?" Mikki asked, ready to crush the man. "Did they get handed leaflets at the airport?"

  Shlomo needed help. He turned to Ronni. "Tell him man, you were there."

  Ronni was bent over, laughing, holding on to his stomach, barely able to breathe. He sat up straight, trying to keep a straight face, and was about to say something when they burst out laughing, almost crying in view of Mikki"s astonished stare. It took them a few minutes to regain their composure. By then the lecture was over and the room was being turned into a night club.

  The volunteers operated the night club. Every week they would raise money to buy beer, soft drinks, and tobacco filled with illegal substances. A record player with a powerful amplifier and two monstrous speakers would blast hard rock to the point where no one could hear themselves speak and conversations were conducted through shouting. The nightly routine was to have a few beers, smoke, dance, and - if you were lucky - to end up with a girl. Most nights ended up with a hangover.

  "What's her name?" Mikki pressed Shlomo as they were getting up off the floor.

  "How the hell should I know?" Shlomo said, half smiling.

  "I thought you talked to her?"

  "I did, but I didn't ask her for her name."

  "Why not?"

  "I don't want her name, I want her body!" he declared and together with Ronni burst out laughing once again.

  Mikki shook his head in disgust and moved to the bar. He ordered a bottle of Goldstar beer and sat down on a vacant stool.

  "Hi Hank," he addressed the bartender. "Should be quite interesting today with these new people."

  Hank was Dutch. He had been a volunteer on the kibbutz for almost two years and it seemed he had been there forever. He spoke good Hebrew with a funny Dutch accent and was, by now, one of the guys. Any inside information on the goings on in the Volunteer House came from him.

  "I'll tell you Mikki, it's about time. We haven't had fresh faces here in over six months!"

  "They seem pretty young," Mikki said, casually trying to extract some information.

  "Canadian and American High School graduates."

  "How many?"

  Hank leaned over the bar to make his point. "Ten guys and six girls just waiting for you to make your move."

  Mikki looked for the blonde with the brown eyes. The place had filled up with the rest of the volunteers and the young kibbutz members. It was always the same scene. The air filled with cigarette smoke, the stereo blasting hard rock, the smell of alcohol, and people sprawled over the dance area, next to the bar, or on specially made futons against the walls. It took Mikki forever to loosen up. He would sit on his stool and watch the drunken figures dance, needing several rounds of beer before he would feel comfortable enough to ask some girl to dance. But this night felt special. He wanted to get to know the blonde with the brown eyes and straight nose.

  He saw her in the corner with some girlfriends, giggling with Shlomo and Ronni. Then he saw Shlomo beginning to make his move, putting his arm around her, and was pleased when she gracefully moved away. He knew Shlomo wasn't about to give up. He was drunk and desperate and known for coming on too strong which was the primary reason he was mostly rejected.

  Mikki decided to make his move. Hank was watching closely. Mikki fe
lt a little dizzy from the beer and he was nervous. He always was when approaching a girl for the first time, fearing rejection.

  He steadied himself and moved in her direction. Shlomo and Ronni were hunched over her in the corner. Mikki stood in front of the group and looked straight at her.

  "Would you like to dance?"

  Shlomo and Ronni turned simultaneously. Mikki ignored them. The girl was looking at him a little surprised.

  "With who?" she inquired, staring back at him.

  "With him!" Mikki said, pointing at Shlomo.

  "No," she said with a faint smile and before anyone could react clutched Mikki's outstretched hand and pulled herself up.

  Mikki followed her to the dance floor. The stereo was playing Pinball Wizard. They began rocking to the beat measuring one another. She moved gracefully, her eyes sparkling, her lips inviting. He was in a daze. The music slowed its pace. It was now See Me, Feel Me...he moved closer to her knowing it was a touch too soon but too drunk to care. She kept her distance.

  "Will you marry me?" That broke the ice.

  "When?" she giggled, playing along.

  "I know a nice friendly rabbi who will marry us for a hundred shekels, no questions asked."

  She was smiling now, moving closer.

  "What's your name?" she whispered in his ear.

  "Michael, Michael Dotan, but everyone calls me Mikki."

  "Hi Mikki, I'm Karen, Karen Glass."

  He could feel her warm breath on his neck. He held her close, putting his hands around her waist. She responded, putting her arms around his shoulders. They were barely moving. In what seemed like a million miles away, the song ended and the music was playing fast pace hard rock again but Mikki did not want to let go. She smelled so good. He buried his face in her neck and closed his eyes.