Fire in a Haystack: A Thrilling Novel (Legal Mystery Book Book 1) by Erez Aharoni Page A
Authors: Erez Aharoni
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I’m begging you. Just listen for a second. The virus that killed Rodety was in his drink. He let me drink from his own personal flask.”
Geller’s eyes widened. “Ofer, how do you know what killed him?”
“They told me at the hospital. If I’m infected with what killed him, there’s no cure. I need help. I’ll know for sure in a week. That’s the time it will take the virus to incubate because I was only exposed to a small amount. But I feel completely clean. I don’t feel any problems, and in a short while the hospital will approve it too…” Ofer tried to argue.
Geller’s gaze didn’t leave him with any options. “Ofer, do as I say. I’ll do everything to see how you can be helped.” Ofer didn’t doubt Geller’s earnestness. If there was one person he could turn to for help in times of trouble, it would be this man, his boss.
He barely managed to get out of the car before Geller sped away.
Ofer found himself at one end of Ibn Gabirol Street. He began to walk aimlessly. His feet took him all the way to the end of Rothschild Boulevard, and he continued to walk down the wide street. He turned right on Allenby Street and continued to the Nahalat Binyamin pedestrian mall.
A few minutes later, he felt severe stomach cramps. He found a bench to rest on, but he was struck with nausea and hurried to the yard of a nearby apartment building and threw up everything in his stomach. His head hurt and his stomach didn’t stop spasming even for a second. He vomited for almost five minutes until only yellow gastric juices came out of his mouth.
He returned to the bench. A few minutes later he felt a little better and began to walk pensively. His lungs filled with warm air, drenched with the exhaust fumes of the buses that smelled better to him than the scents of urine and mold of the Abu Kabir prison cell.
Tender thoughts filled his mind. He felt his headache worsening. Perhaps he really had caught the deadly virus?
His mouth was dry from throwing up and from his growing sense of dread. He made some quick calculations. It all happened on Saturday night. How much time did he have left? Seven days would end in the coming weekend.
The last day of the waiting period would be Friday. Damn and bloody Friday. He wouldn’t be at all surprised if it was also the thirteenth but didn’t have the energy to check the actual date.
A black poodle playfully ran around next to the turn leading into Shenkin Street. A baby screamed on his father’s shoulders. Birds chirped among the trees. Life is so beautiful, he thought.
The questions tumbled in his head—How could he give up this red, juicy apple he hadn’t even had time to sink his teeth into yet? Is that what the last moments of life looked like? Did his father feel the same way before he died?
He remembered the pain he felt during the days of his father’s shiva, when family, friends and colleagues had come to the family home to share their grief. Even with all the time that had passed, he remembered every little detail, as if it all had happened only yesterday.
Chapter 10
The events of those long gone days replayed themselves in Ofer’s mind in slow motion.
The days of the shiva in the Angel family home went by very quickly. A multitude of people, some he was not familiar with, others he didn’t find interesting, filled the small apartment. The heavy flow of visitors, which did not stop from the early morning hours till the late hours of the evening, did allow them time to digest the sudden death of the family patriarch.
A photo of Mordechai Angel was sitting on a small table next to the porch entry and ancient yellowing albums containing photos from better and happier days were stacked next to a memorial candle that burned day and night. Mordechai Angel had been photographed against the background of a snowy mountain, his gaze focused on distant and unidentified landscapes.
Ofer thought the photo did him justice; his father appeared as he
Geller’s eyes widened. “Ofer, how do you know what killed him?”
“They told me at the hospital. If I’m infected with what killed him, there’s no cure. I need help. I’ll know for sure in a week. That’s the time it will take the virus to incubate because I was only exposed to a small amount. But I feel completely clean. I don’t feel any problems, and in a short while the hospital will approve it too…” Ofer tried to argue.
Geller’s gaze didn’t leave him with any options. “Ofer, do as I say. I’ll do everything to see how you can be helped.” Ofer didn’t doubt Geller’s earnestness. If there was one person he could turn to for help in times of trouble, it would be this man, his boss.
He barely managed to get out of the car before Geller sped away.
Ofer found himself at one end of Ibn Gabirol Street. He began to walk aimlessly. His feet took him all the way to the end of Rothschild Boulevard, and he continued to walk down the wide street. He turned right on Allenby Street and continued to the Nahalat Binyamin pedestrian mall.
A few minutes later, he felt severe stomach cramps. He found a bench to rest on, but he was struck with nausea and hurried to the yard of a nearby apartment building and threw up everything in his stomach. His head hurt and his stomach didn’t stop spasming even for a second. He vomited for almost five minutes until only yellow gastric juices came out of his mouth.
He returned to the bench. A few minutes later he felt a little better and began to walk pensively. His lungs filled with warm air, drenched with the exhaust fumes of the buses that smelled better to him than the scents of urine and mold of the Abu Kabir prison cell.
Tender thoughts filled his mind. He felt his headache worsening. Perhaps he really had caught the deadly virus?
His mouth was dry from throwing up and from his growing sense of dread. He made some quick calculations. It all happened on Saturday night. How much time did he have left? Seven days would end in the coming weekend.
The last day of the waiting period would be Friday. Damn and bloody Friday. He wouldn’t be at all surprised if it was also the thirteenth but didn’t have the energy to check the actual date.
A black poodle playfully ran around next to the turn leading into Shenkin Street. A baby screamed on his father’s shoulders. Birds chirped among the trees. Life is so beautiful, he thought.
The questions tumbled in his head—How could he give up this red, juicy apple he hadn’t even had time to sink his teeth into yet? Is that what the last moments of life looked like? Did his father feel the same way before he died?
He remembered the pain he felt during the days of his father’s shiva, when family, friends and colleagues had come to the family home to share their grief. Even with all the time that had passed, he remembered every little detail, as if it all had happened only yesterday.
Chapter 10
The events of those long gone days replayed themselves in Ofer’s mind in slow motion.
The days of the shiva in the Angel family home went by very quickly. A multitude of people, some he was not familiar with, others he didn’t find interesting, filled the small apartment. The heavy flow of visitors, which did not stop from the early morning hours till the late hours of the evening, did allow them time to digest the sudden death of the family patriarch.
A photo of Mordechai Angel was sitting on a small table next to the porch entry and ancient yellowing albums containing photos from better and happier days were stacked next to a memorial candle that burned day and night. Mordechai Angel had been photographed against the background of a snowy mountain, his gaze focused on distant and unidentified landscapes.
Ofer thought the photo did him justice; his father appeared as he
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