Murder in Jerusalem by Batya Gur Read Free Book Online Page A

choked with emotion, “we all know how devoted Tirzah was to her work, how much she gave of herself. Anyone who worked with her knows that she was on the job day and night. Now it turns out that she literally gave her life…how shall I say, her life was an offering on the altar of her work. I don’t need to tell you all,” he said, glancing at the ginger curls of David Shalit, the correspondent for police affairs, who was sitting not far away from him and jotting something down in his PalmPilot, “that Tirzah was a true artisan, a perfectionist and a person of real integrity. I don’t need to tell you those things about her—she and I spent thirty years together in this building, we were around when there was nothing here, she and I and Rubin and Benny Meyuhas. You too, Hefetz, we’ve been together right from the start. And I never heard a bad word about anybody from her. You know, Tirzah…Tirzah, was, she was…” He fell silent and looked around; it had never been so quiet in the newsroom, it had never happened that he could complete an entire sentence without someone interjecting a wise-crack. “But in the meantime,” he said slowly, emphasizing each word, “we can’t let everything come to a halt. With news, there’s no time for mourning, we don’t have the luxury of mourning, especially as Israel’s official television station.” His eyes blurred with tears as he glanced around the table at all the assembled, their faces cast downward. “There’s no stopping the news,” he said with determination, then he fell silent and bent his head forward into the palms of his hands.
    â€œThere’s no choice,” Hefetz chimed in in his deep bass. He ran a hand over his clean-shaven pate, then stroked his whiskers. “Do we have a choice? No, we don’t have a choice. Will someone else do the job for us? No. Nobody’s gonna do it for us. That’s what I’m trying to explain: there’s no choice.” How long, Zadik asked himself absentmindedly, how long would he have to put up with watching this Hefetz angle uninhibitedly, shamelessly, to replace him? After all, any idiot could see how Hefetz parroted him, repeated everything that came out of his mouth like a broken record, seven times at least until you wanted to throw up…. Suddenly Hefetz stiffened, his eyes on the door of the newsroom. Zadik followed his glance: Arye Rubin stood in the doorway, Natasha at his side, clinging to his jacket. That Natasha is too thin, Zadik thought, she’s an unholy mess, and that wool scarf she never goes anywhere without, wound around her neck, her chin buried inside it, gives her the look of a waif. But those blue eyes…She seems glued to Rubin. Doesn’t make sense that Rubin’s got something for her. First of all, she’s Hefetz’s girl, and Rubin wouldn’t…he would never…Rubin’s got style, he would never let himself get caught up in…It seemed to Zadik that the silence was deepening, and everyone was looking dumbly at Rubin until Niva rushed up to him and laid her hands on his arms, peering into his face as though they were the only two people in the newsroom. She stood there as if she were acting in some American movie, talking in hushed tones that everyone could hear. “What a terrible tragedy, we’ve been worried about you, Arye. Are you all right, Arye?” Rubin nodded his head and otherwise ignored her, gently removing her hands from his arms. He looked at Zadik, walked quickly to him, leaned over, and whispered in his ear: “I’ve got to speak with you, Zadik, as soon as possible.”
    â€œNot now,” said Zadik, startled. “After the morning meeting I have a meeting with the department heads. Only after that, after ten—”
    â€œNo way,” Rubin whispered. “Right away, as soon as the lineup is ready. It’s