“I’ve heard there isn’t a lock in all of Israel that you can’t pick,” Nachum said to Yosef
Nachum learns that a picture of one stolen Karsh menorah mysteriously appeared in the Jerusalem Post’s inbox hours before the first theft. Isaac Coopersmith, director of the Israel Museum and owner of the third stolen menorah, reveals that Karsh’s favorite song was Maoz Tzur. Nachum and Aryeh light the fifth Chanukah licht, and start to fall asleep — as they realize the thief is in their dirah.
When I woke up, I felt like I was at Maariv of Motzaei Purim — my head was throbbing, and who was shining a bright light into my eyes? Slowly, the intense light subsided, and I could make out three people sitting around the menorah on our table, all wearing masks.
Oh, no, I thought, I’ve awoken to an alternate universe where people still mask for Covid. I closed my eyes and opened them again, but the masked people were still there. I blinked once more and saw the menorah’s flickering flames reflected in the three pairs of eyes fixed on me: Nachum’s and… the gas technicians’ from earlier in the day?
“He woke up after exactly thirty minutes,” Nachum said with his finger on his stopwatch. “Fantastic.”
The thinner of the two technicians blushed a little, looking pleased. I noticed his hands were shaking a bit unsteadily on the table.
“Rosen,” my roommate turned to me, “you deserve both my sincerest apologies and my deepest thanks. I’m sorry to have used you as a guinea pig, but I was so keen to test my theory that I just couldn’t resist. You did your job admirably, and I take it the fatigue has nearly subsided?”
There was a touch of concern in his voice.
I nodded, noting with a great deal of relief that my neck no longer felt like a solid block of ice.
“I only pretended to inhale the burning oil, Rosen,” my roommate continued, “but after you fell asleep, I quickly put on the N95 you picked up for me at the pharmacy and, just to be on the safe side, I took some caffeine pills. I see that you two” — he gestured to the technicians — “came into the apartment wearing masks as well. I suppose we can all take them off now that thirty minutes have elapsed and the sleep drug has completely burned out.” I watched as three masks dropped down around the table. “Aryeh, let me introduce you to the pharmacist Chaim Karsh” — the thin man extended a shaky hand toward me — “and to his partner-in-crime, Yosef Aharoni, known in police circles as YoRo.”
Yosef gripped my hand firmly and gave it a vigorous shake.
“I’ve heard there isn’t a lock in all of Israel that you can’t pick,” Nachum said to Yosef. Now it was his turn to look pleased.
“Maybe once upon a time,” he demurred, “but not since my retirement.”
