Monday the Rabbi Took Off

Chapter Thirty-Six

In his talks with Roy, whenever the subject turned to politics. Abdul always couched his criticism of the government or of Israeli Jewish society in a teasing, half-humorous way so that it was hard to tell if he was serious or not.

"Today I went to the bank to cash a check. I stood in a long line, and when I got to the counter, the clerk told me I was in the wrong line. So I stood in another line. When I finally reached the counter, the clerk examined the check and the signature. He looked at the front of the check and then at the back, and then I had to identify myself. Then he looked through a long list to make sure that the one who had given me the check was a depositor and then to match signatures and then to see if there was enough money in his account to cover the check. Then he gave me something to sign and sent me to another clerk. Again I waited in line, and there, too, I had to sign, and only then did I get my money. This is Israeli system. And the check was for twenty lira."

"Less than six dollars American."

"That's right." said Abdul. "I could have earned more in the time it took me to cash the check."

"And is it more efficient in Arab banks," Roy asked.

"No, but with us efficiency is no virtue. You have work split between many people because it is efficient. With us. a job that can be done by one is split between two or three because we feel that they also have to make a living. And the cost is no greater because we do not pay them much, but everyone gets a little. And delay does not bother us because we expect it and are not in a hurry. Usually, it means that some official expects a bribe. We don't resent it because the poor man gets only a small salary and has a large family to feed and maybe a daughter for whom he has to have a dowry."

"And what if the man can't afford the bribe?"

"So perhaps he has a patron who helps him, or he waits and suffers a little. Is it different in America if a man can't afford a lawyer?"

Roy laughed. And then because he was uneasy and troubled and wanted to allay his fears, he decided to tell Abdul what had happened. Abdul would put the whole matter in proper perspective; he would cite similar cases he had known of police stupidity. "Well, maybe you're right. But let me tell you what happened to me." And he told the story from the beginning.

"Memavet?" Abdul interrupted. "You went to see Memavet at his apartment? But that was the place that—"

"Yeah. yeah. I know, but listen." When he told what his father had said about returning later that evening. Abdul smiled approvingly.

"He is a smart man. your father. The big trick in bargaining is not to appear interested. Always remember the seller has interest enough for both."

"Yeah, well—" He went on to tell of his own return to Mazel Tov Street later in the evening. But now Abdul was not smiling.

"This was not very smart of you, Roy," he said reprovingly. "If your father found out. he would be angry. And what did you hope to gain in any case? You could not buy the car on your own."

"But my idea was just to look at it. I wasn't planning to go in to see Memavet. I just figured that after we left, he must’ve called somebody he knew that had a car and told him to bring it around at seven. So it would be parked in front of his house, and I could take a look at it and maybe tip off my old man."

"But there was no car there."

"That's right. So then I got to thinking, here we made an appointment and he was going to have a car to show us. So he hasn't got a car. So I'd just go in to show him we kept our part of the bargain and he didn't keep his. Then he'd be obligated, see?"

Abdul shook his head pityingly. "Why would he be obligated? And what good would it do? You think he'd ask less when he did get a car? Believe me. more likely he'd ask more because he'd know you were anxious to buy."

"Yeah. well. I figured it the other way. Anyway, I didn't get to see him because he was in bed sick, so I left a note in the letterbox saying I had been there."

Abdul showed concern. "This note, it is probably still there. It must be recovered. There are workmen there now. Arab workmen, perhaps I can arrange—"

"It's been recovered."

"Ah, that's better. For a minute I was worried."

"By the police. They called me in to question me about it."

Abdul's face was impassive. "Go on."

"Well, this guy I spoke to, he was pretty decent. I told him what happened and he asked me a few questions and that was all. But he'd given some clerk my passport to check, and when the interview was over and I asked for it, they couldn't find it. I guess the guy, the clerk I mean, had left the office, maybe to go to lunch, and he had it with him. This inspector guy said they'd mail it out to me, but I haven't got it yet. My old man is worried about it, but you know how older people are— always worrying."

Abdul rose and paced the floor as Roy watched him. Finally, he stopped and faced his young friend. "Your father is a smart man. Roy. He is worried with reason."

It was not the reaction he had expected. "Look here, suppose they think they got something on me, they could just tell me straight out they were pulling my passport, couldn't they? Why would they have to go pussyfooting around and make believe they mislaid it?"

"Pussyfooting? Ah. yes. I think I understand." Abdul thought for a moment as though planning how best to say it. "You see, Roy, if they take your passport, that is an official act. So you engage a lawyer or you go to the American consulate, or the lawyer goes for you, and they demand that the passport be returned or that you be officially charged so that the case can be tried in court. But they do not have enough evidence to present the case in court; they are engaged in building it up."

"What do you mean building it up?"

"Even where the person charged is clearly guilty." Abdul explained, "it is necessary to build up the case. The police cannot go before a judge and say that this man we believe is guilty of such and such a crime and we would like the court to sentence him for so many veers. They have to present proof, step by step. It takes time. And that is a case where the accused is actually guilty. But where he is not guilty, it takes even more time."

Roy was aghast. "You mean they are trying to frame me?"

"What means frame?"

"That they know I'm innocent but are trying to convict me just the same."

Abdul shrugged his shoulders and smiled. "But why? I mean why me?"

"Because you were there. The police naturally like to prove they are efficient. How do they do it? They arrest people and have them tried and convicted. It is not done in America?"

"Yeah, I guess it's done everywhere. But look here, they know who did it. It was done by your people."

Abdul was suddenly cold, and his eyes narrowed. "What do you mean my people?"

"It was done by the terrorists. They admitted it."

Abdul relaxed and smiled again. "The trouble is that they all admitted it. all the commando groups. I'm afraid they are apt to do that anytime something happens here in Israel. It is only natural they should want to take the credit. But for just that reason, the Israeli government would like to prove that it was done by someone else.

you. for instance. It is not good for the people here, the citizens, to feel that the commandos can penetrate to the heart of the Jewish section. It makes them nervous. They do not sleep well at night. And it means also that the security is not so good as they would like people to believe. So if they can prove that it was done by an individual, it would mean that it was not done by the commandos."

Roy clasped and unclasped his hands. "But what can I do?"

"Ah, now you see the difference between the way your people run things and the way mine do. If this were an Arab country, then we would seek out the official responsible and we would offer him a bribe. Or. if this might not be possible, we would make contact with some clerk in the office who would perhaps mislay the file. You understand? It would not be difficult—"

"Be realistic," Roy implored. "What do you think I ought to do?"

"In your position, I would leave the country— no, that is not possible since they have taken away your passport. So it would be good if you could go away somewhere to hide. Go to another city for a while. Go visit someone in Haifa or Tel Aviv."

"What good would that do? The police could pick me up—"

"Not if they couldn't find you. Don't you have some friend you could visit, some friend you could trust? In the meantime, your father can go to the American embassy in Tel Aviv and see what arrangements he could make. He's an important man. you told me."

"He's down there now."

"Ah, then I am sure he will be able to make arrangements of some sort." said Abdul soothingly. "I am sure you really have nothing to worry about in that case."

"Yeah, maybe you're right." But the thought that came to him was that Abdul was just soft-soaping him because he knew the situation was grim.