The captain was insistent. “This is an urgent matter. Who’s in charge here?”

“I beg your pardon. I am. I was referring to the former secretary. It’s he who is sick. I’m the new secretary.”

Well, then, it was me they wished to talk to, as well as a member of the family. They were already at work on the case. Yesterday they had picked up a young man roaming the beach at Atlit, but he had turned out not to be our client. From Ashkelon there had been a report of a suspicious individual who had slept half the night on a bench in the bus station but he disappeared before the police arrived. Yesterday and this morning, too, they had combed the ruins of Sheikh Dahr. If I’m not mistaken we had a call from you people about some suspect sign of life there a few months ago, didn’t we? What we need now, however, is as much accurate background information as we can get. Was there a family quarrel? Any emotional disturbance? Other problems? Did the young man have a previous history of disappearing? Where did he get the weapon he took with him? Were there any reliable full-face photographs of him available? Did he have any identifying marks? What was he wearing when he left? What exactly did he take with him? Did he have any known enemies? Could we draw up a list of the names and addresses of friends, relatives, or acquaintances with whom he might be staying? Did he have a passport? Did he have family abroad?

I rose to open the window, letting in a biting draft of air. Udi happened to be passing by outside, and I asked him to find Rimona and have her come to the office. By herself, I stressed. While waiting for her, I tried to answer a few of their questions as best I could. The sergeant wrote down everything I said.

“This is strictly confidential,” said the captain, “we received an urgent phone call this morning from the ministry of defense. Mr. Eshkol’s military attaché personally asked us to go all out on this case. I take it that our party’s father is in the Knesset? A good friend of some very important people?”

“Thank you,” I said. “I’m sure you would have done everything possible in any case.”

When Rimona arrived, she helped me serve my guests coffee, smiling her incongruous, wistful smile at nobody in particular, her dark eyes glowing, her blond hair covered by a kerchief. Noticing that a calendar on the wall was hanging crooked, she straightened it before sitting down. Her answers, or so I thought, must have made a rather strange impression on the two officers of the law.

“Lifshitz, Rimona?”

“Yes, that’s me.” She smiled as if astonished that they should have known.