Serializing a new novel.
Chapter 6 — Part 2
New York (July, 2000)
Dean has returned to his parents apartment to overhear
Fred Smith and others plotting to murder him. Dressed in a
suit, he has escaped by joining a group of yeshiva boys.
However he does not have a kippah. His parents are
missing.
*
"Here, take mine. I always carry a spare. Can't have you
meeting the Rov like that, can we?"
Dean smiled, muttered his thanks, and placed the small black
round cap on his head. Now he would have to talk and his
cover would be blown. However, the boy pulled out a small
book and bent his head over it and was soon lost in
concentration.
Dean wondered where the bus was going, but wherever it went
would suit his purpose. He needed to think. What connection
did so notorious a man have with a valued and trusted, long-
time employee in his father's firm? What did he mean when he
spoke of arranging for a couple to disappear? Surely he
wasn't speaking of his parents! Yet who else could he
mean?
What did the two gunmen he had seen rushing out of the
apartment have to do with him?
The answers were becoming clear but unpleasant. All around
him boys talked or read steadily from books, or sang songs.
Dean sat among them, and tried to look unconcerned, as if he
fitted in with their merry crowd. But his heart was pounding
as he tried to work out what he should do next.
It felt to him as if his world had suddenly turned upside
down. A man who he had trusted all his life appeared to be
implicated in his parent's disappearance. Not only that but
he was apparently willing to arrange for Dean to be
harmed.
Should he go to the police? But everyone said that the police
looked the other way, that money lined their pockets and
bought their silence. Was it true? Dean had no wish to be the
one to find out that interesting fact.
Could he quietly go back to Harvard? No. Surely, if they
wanted him out of the way, then he would be easy enough to
find there.
When the bus arrived at its destination, Kennedy Airport, he
had conceived of no plan. They piled out of the bus and made
for the arrivals area and Dean went with them.
"The El AL plane has arrived" he heard someone say.
"Look, they must be the first passengers off the plane."
A family group was walking together. The man was wearing a
long dark coat and a black hat. The woman was wearing a dark
print dress, and the sleeves came to her wrist and the collar
up to her neck. A dark scarf covered her hair. The girls wore
similar dresses, but paler in color and with patterns of
flowers. The boys wore dark trousers, white shirts, and black
caps, all except for the oldest boy, who was dressed like his
father.
As they passed, something fell from the father's pocket. He
appeared not to see it and went striding on. No one around
Dean seemed to notice. The youths were straining forward,
waiting to see the emerging passengers.
Dean moved to the edge of the crowd and beyond. Lying on the
floor was a passport. Dean bent to pick it up. Opening it he
saw that it belonged to the oldest boy in the family. He was
staring at the camera and squinting. A skullcap covered his
head — not the hat he had been wearing.
The words of his bar mitzvah parsha suddenly came to
him. They were the words that were heard before the
Israelites crossed over into the land promised to them, "He
will give your rest from your enemies all around and you will
dwell securely." Dean felt he too wanted security, that he
too wanted rest from enemies.
A plan began to form in Dean's mind. He walked to a mirror
and looked into it. He looked down at the passport. The poor
quality of the photograph meant that it could be any young
man. It could possibly be Dean. Could he use it to go through
passport control?
For a few moments he stood, thinking about this new idea. It
had good points to it. No one would think of looking for him
in Israel, especially if he went out of the country on
someone else's passport. America would be where they looked
for him.
The next thing would be the necessity of buying a ticket. He
had with him the credit cards. No, that was foolish. That
would be used to trace him. Then he remembered the dollars.
Would they cover the cost of the journey?
The pile of dollars was considerably reduced, but the ticket
was bought. The next test was to see if passport control
would accept his documentation. There were a few awkward
moments. "Why do you want to catch this flight? You only just
got here?"
Dean did some quick thinking. He replied, "Something
happened. When I was met, they told me. I have to go back
right away."
What would he say if they asked more questions? What could he
say had happened? However, the man looked at the shocked,
strained face of the young man and he realized that whatever
it was that had occurred that day, it was not something
pleasant. Dean saw a sympathetic look flash over the
official's face. "Listen sonny, whatever your problem I hope
everything is soon hunky-dory."
Then the passport was stamped and he was through.
The day had begun in a strange unreal way, and now it ended
in a similar fashion. Dean sat in his seat. He saw food was
being served. When it came to his turn the hostess said, "Oh,
you'll be wanting a glatt kosher meal, and there doesn't seem
to be one ordered for you. Just a moment, let me see what I
can do."
She came back some moments later and slid a sealed meal onto
his tray. She pointed to a family seated on the opposite
aisle. "They are sharing one meal between the two youngest
children. They say the little ones can't eat all the food in
any event. Betayavon."
Dean felt far from hungry. However, not to eat would look
odd. He smiled his thanks and slowly began to force the food
down. Soon the everyday act of eating calmed him slightly. He
had left Harvard before dawn after a sleepless night. He had
made his way to the apartment in a state of tension and
worry. The events of the last few hours had added to his
problems. Now exhaustion was overtaking him. He handed the
now empty tray to the airhostess and soon he was deeply
asleep.
