Читать книгу In the Name of God - Stephen J. Gordon - Страница 10

6

While I waited for the ambulance and the cops, I left Alli’s side and walked over to the leader, who was all but lifeless on the ground near me. His breath was faint and his face was swollen and discolored, particularly around his right eye and cheek. Up on the steps, Alli stared at me, unfocused. I’d tend to her in a minute, but first I had to find out as much as I could about this kid before the police blocked off the scene.

The boy’s side pants pockets were pretty much empty...some change, a pack of matches, keys on a key chain. To get to his back pocket I had to roll him over slightly. As I did so, he moaned. Out of his back pocket I pulled a wad of bills. It looked like about $200 in tens and twenties, and they were wrapped around some sort of identification card. I held it up to the streetlight. The card was blue and white and emblazoned across the top with the words “Guardians of Heaven.” Below that heading was a picture of the boy, scowling, and his name: Joe Gilkis.

That’s all there was. “Guardians of Heaven,” the boy’s photo, and his name.

I turned the card over. The reverse side was all in Hebrew. Across the top it said Shomrei Shamayim — the Hebrew equivalent of “Guardians of Heaven.” Below the heading the card went on to espouse how the member was a special person and charged with upholding the laws of the organization. In small print across the bottom of the card were two addresses. One was in Baltimore and one in Jerusalem. I made a mental note of both.

I turned the card over again. A membership card with no leader’s name, no president or any authority figure.

“Ohh, help me. Please.” I looked over at the other boy who tried to attack me. He was still on the ground, clutching his groin. Chances are when I kicked him, I broke his pubic symphysis and may even have ruptured his bladder. He’d be urinating blood for a while unless he got some serious help within the next hour or so. I expected that he would pass out any minute.

Returning to the boy at my feet, I replaced his money and membership card and headed back to Alli.

“Hey,” I said softly, “how are you feeling?”

She didn’t say anything. I put my arm around her again. I wanted to get her some water, but I also didn’t want to leave her alone. In a matter of minutes that wasn’t an issue. First, a trio of residents out on a stroll came toward us: a young man flanked by two women. They looked to be in their late twenties. The ladies wore a multi-colored tube top and a halter respectively, while the young man sported a collarless button-down white shirt. All had on jeans.

I watched as they came closer. At first they were oblivious to the bodies on the sidewalk, and then when they were about twenty feet away, they stopped and stared. Hands went to mouths, features paled, and they gave us a wide berth. I didn’t say anything. I just watched their reactions to the figures on the ground.

A minute later other pedestrians came by. Most stopped.

By the time sirens drifted through the night toward us, a crowd had gathered. A young woman with close-cropped blonde hair and a backpack cut through the gawkers. She said she was Alli’s neighbor, Didi.

“Are you okay? What happened?” She sat next to Alli, but on the other side.

“Attempted mugging,”

Didi turned to the two boys on the ground.

“Didn’t go well for them,” I said calmly.

Didi looked back into Alli’s eyes. “Alli, let’s go inside.”

Alli nodded weakly. Didi put her hand on Alli’s arm and they both stood up. After a moment they went into Didi’s townhouse next door.

By the time the two of them had disappeared into the townhouse, the first police officer had arrived. He wasn’t driving your typical police car. It was an old, dark green Jeep not unlike mine. The Jeep pulled to the curb in front of me and I could see the flashing blue light sitting atop the dashboard.

The cop opened the door and stepped out.

He was about fifty, wore a maroon polo shirt with a dark blazer over it. Physically, the man was about my height and balding. The hair that he had was salt and pepper and neatly trimmed.

I stood up and met him as he came toward me.

“Nate,” I said. “Thanks for coming.”

“Gidon,” he said and we gave each other a quick hug. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

He looked at the bodies at our feet. “What happened.?”

I gestured to the leader I recently learned was Joe Gilkis. “He tried to open my head with a hatchet.” I pointed to the weapon on the ground near its unconscious owner.

“Foolish man.”

“He’s probably seventeen.”

“Foolish boy.”

“And that one,” I indicated his now unconscious partner, “was reaching for something I didn’t care to see.”

“Old acquaintances?”

“New acquaintances. They’re part of a group, I think, that tried to assassinate an Israeli dignitary last night. I stopped them.”