Thursday, November 2, 1995
The van left Meah Shearim after morning prayers with the same dozen black-garbed men whom Benjamin had brought along yesterday. They obeyed him without question, treating him with a reverence that astonished Lemmy. His childhood study-companion had come a long way.
As they had planned, the van parked in front of a phone booth on a busy street, and Lemmy stepped out. He placed a collect call to Zurich, and Christopher accepted it.
“Any news?”
“Yes,” Christopher said. “I received a call from Prince Abusalim’s father, Sheik Da’ood az-Zubayr. He demanded full accounting of his late son’s dealings with the bank. I explained that you’re away on business.”
“Call him back and extend my deepest condolences. Tell him that I plan to personally travel to the az-Zubayr oasis at a time of his convenience to assist him with the transition of the account and any other service that he would require.”
“Understood. Also, Herr Hoffgeitz regained consciousness last night. He asked for Klaus V.K. and had to be reminded that his son had been dead for a long time. He then asked for Klaus Junior. Paula brought your son, and Herr Hoffgeitz told him to learn from you how to run the bank.”
“He said that?”
“Yes. The doctors decided to sedate him again, give his heart a chance to heal.”
“ Anything else?”
“ A personal message from Paula. I don’t understand it. She said to tell you that she’s still late.”
“Still late?” Lemmy laughed. “That’s good! That’s very good!”
*
Itah Orr took the bus from Tel Aviv to Jerusalem. On the way to Meah Shearim, she stopped at a vegetable stand and filled up two shopping bags, paying in cash. On Shivtay Israel Street she joined a group of ultra-Orthodox women.
A white Subaru sedan parked on the pavement near the gate. As the cluster of women approached, two men emerged from the car and ambled over. Their presence, though impolite, achieved the desired effect. The women stopped, afraid to risk even accidental body contact with the strangers, which would constitute a sin under Talmud’s strict chastity rules.
“Shalom!” One of the men held up a silver, feline-shaped keychain. “Any of you girls lost this?”
Itah recognized the spare keys to her car, which she had parked nearby last Friday. The thought that these men had invaded her home and rummaged through her personal possessions made her see red, which was probably what they were hoping for. She kept her head up, her eyes hidden by the sunglasses.
“Anyone?” He dangled the keys. “Come on, ladies!”
None of the women responded.
“How about this?” The other agent held a short piece of gray, hairy rope. “Anyone?”
It took Itah a moment to realize it wasn’t a rope. It was her cat’s tail. As the agent shook it, she could see the clipped end, red with blood.
Biting her lips to block a scream, she reached into her purse for the pepper spray.
*
With Elie Weiss and Rabbi Gerster gone to Hadassah Hospital, the apartment felt big and empty. Gideon settled to watch CNN while the housekeeper set the breakfast table for two.
Agent Cohen showed up with warm pastries and a bandage over his eye. He held up his finger, which was taped to a short stick. “I’m filing a disability claim, maybe an early retirement.” His joviality didn’t mask the jittery tremor at the corner of his mouth.
“ You shouldn’t feel embarrassed about what happened yesterday,” Gideon said. “Even your Number One is no match for Elie Weiss.”
The housekeeper served coffee and set the pastries on a plate.
“Fact is, I failed,” Agent Cohen said. “I underestimated him, and this debacle will haunt me for the rest of my career. Especially if the situation turns into a real disaster.”
“What do you mean? I thought it’s over. Didn’t SOD and Shin Bet agree to a truce?”
“That’s the least of our worries.” The agent bit into a chocolate-filled croissant.
“What else is there to worry about?”
He swallowed and sipped coffee to chase it down. “Spinoza.”
“ Isn’t he part of the deal? Surely Elie will send him home now.”
“ We don’t think Elie controls Spinoza.” Agent Cohen pulled photos from a thick envelope and set them on the table. The first group showed Arab sheikhs in settings that varied from formal dinners to car races and camel rides. “That’s him, with the red kafiya. His real name is Wilhelm Horch. A German national, married to a Swiss woman. He’s vice president at a Zurich bank, and his personal assistant is a member of a Nazi group.”
“ How do you know?”
“ Mossad has files on every significant businessman with ties to the Middle East. We have access to those files. Horch has extensive Arab clientele. No one knew of his connection to Elie Weiss-we’re still not sure of the nature of this relationship. When Tanya Galinski met Horch at a Zurich park a few days ago, we happened to be tailing her because we suspected she’s involved with Elie’s assassination scheme.”
“ What’s Horch’s game?”
“ He’s been playing Elie,” Agent Cohen said. “Look at these photos from the Galeries Lafayette.”
The same man, wearing a coat, a fedora, and a fake goatee, stood inside the glass doors of the Galeries Lafayette. Other photos showed him on the stairs and in the menswear section. “These are from the security cameras, recorded during the thirty seconds preceding the shooting of the Arab kid in the dressing room.”
“ That shooting was a disaster,” Gideon said. “Police descended on the place, and Bashir drove off too fast for us to follow him back to Abu Yusef’s hiding place. Elie was certain the Arabs killed Latif in some kind of an internal feud.”
“ We believe the Saudis paid Horch to do the job.”
“ Why would they?”
“Latif’s killing-supposedly by Israel-provoked Abu Yusef’s attack on the synagogue.”
“ But why would the Saudis do this?”
“ To derail the peace process. Every Mideast dictator is terrified of an Israeli-Palestinian peace, even if they pay lip service in support of peace. Israel is their scapegoat. Peace would allow their masses to focus on the real culprits behind their poverty and suffering.”
“ So they sent their Swiss banker to kill Abu Yusef’s boy toy to throw us off his tail and provoke another attack? It seems like a big risk for a small gain.”
“ Not so small. Terror attacks are the main reason for Israelis’ loss of faith in the peace process. Our data shows that Abu Yusef’s attack on the Paris synagogue-just that one attack alone-caused public support for the Oslo Accords to drop four points among Israeli voters. In fact, Abu Yusef was getting ready to launch simultaneous, multi-target attacks all over Europe, which would have dealt a fatal blow to the peace process. Only thanks to Elie’s two-prong method, which allowed you to find Abu Yusef through his sponsor, this disaster was averted.”
He placed more photos on the table, showing the Swiss at the Metz department store in Amsterdam. “You see the pattern-he loves crowded retail venues. We think Tanya Galinski approached him in Zurich, and he agreed to meet her again in Amsterdam, where he pushed her under the tram.”
“ Horch did that?” Gideon sipped coffee and examined the photos, which covered half the table. The theory made sense, but one aspect nagged him. Elie was not an easy man to fool. Hadn’t the Swiss banker provided Elie with good information on Prince Abusalim, which led them to Abu Yusef?
“ Double agents,” Cohen said, as if reading Gideon’s mind, “have to prove their loyalty by giving useful, true information to both sides. But in the end, a double agent is loyal only to himself and therefore must choose one side. And a double agent who fears exposure will kill you unless you kill him first.”
*
The van rattled on the cracked asphalt of Shivtay Israel Street. As it approached the gate, Lemmy saw a group of women, their way blocked by two secular men in civilian clothes, one of them holding up something in front of the women.
“ Hit the horn,” Benjamin told the driver. “Quick! Hit the horn!”
The driver pressed down, releasing a long, drawn out beep. It startled the women, and Benjamin stepped out of the van. Lemmy watched him speak with the two men, who returned to their Subaru. The women entered the neighborhood carrying their grocery bags. One of them glanced back over her shoulder, and Lemmy recognized her as the woman who had left the King David Hotel under guard with his father and Elie Weiss.
At Benjamin’s apartment, Sorkeh prepared an early lunch for them. She hugged Itah Orr. “This outfit looks good on you-like a beautiful Neturay Karta woman. We have several learned widowers. We can find you a perfect shiduch! ”
“I think I’ve already found my match,” Itah said, and Lemmy noticed redness spread to her cheeks. Was she talking about his father?
Benjamin and Sorkeh left the room, and Itah said, “Your father sent me to warn you. Shin Bet is after you. They claim you shot one of their agents in Zurich.”
“It’s true,” Lemmy said. “But it was an honest mistake. Tanya knew he wasn’t Mossad, and since Shin Bet is not authorized to operate outside Israel, we assumed the man was an Arab.”
“Shin Bet sees it differently. And knocking down the nurse at Hadassah didn’t help. They know your assumed name-Baruch Spinoza.” She chuckled. “Nice touch.”
“Wasn’t my idea.”
“ Did you find your father’s letter?”
“ Yes. Have you discovered anything new since he wrote it?”
Itah pulled off the headdress. She described in detail what had occurred at the apartment in Tel Aviv. “All they care about,” she concluded, “is to ensure that nothing interrupts the Saturday night peace rally in Tel Aviv. It’s supposed to launch Rabin’s reelection campaign. Labor strategists are working hard to bus in supporters from all over Israel, and Shin Bet is locking up every potential troublemaker. They shut down ILOT and Elie’s fake assassination operation.”
“What about you?”
“They’re confident that my credibility is ruined and my nerves are shot by the criminal accusations. They’re wrong. None of it will stop me from going public with everything I know, except that I’ll have to find a way around exposing your father.”
“Where does it leave me? Should I let Shin Bet shoot me in the leg to get even?”
“ Don’t be ridiculous.”
Lemmy pulled the gun from his coat pocket and dropped it on the table. “I’m good at what I do, but I can’t fight the whole Israeli secret service.”
“You won’t need to,” Itah said. “I have an idea. There’s a crucial debate in the Knesset today. We’ll approach Rabin and ask him to order Shin Bet to leave you alone.”
“That’s bold. Can you get us in?”
“It’s open to the public. But we’ll need to find a way to meet him.”
“I can do that,” Lemmy said. “He owes me one.”
“The prime minister?” She laughed. “What does he owe you?”
“Oh, just his victory in the Six day War.”
*
Agent Cohen lined up a series of photos on the table, showing the Swiss banker at passport control at Ben Gurion Airport, at an Avis counter, and at Hadassah Hospital.
“ The plot thickens,” Gideon said. “What reason did he give at the airport for his visit?”
“ Car restorer shopping for parts. Original, isn’t it?” Agent Cohen sneered. “We found his rented Fiat at the YMCA. No fingerprints. He’s a professional.”
“ Are you watching departures at the airport?”
“Yes, but only as a precaution.”
“ Why? He saw Elie being arrested at King David. Without access to Elie, he won’t stick around to get caught.”
The agent collected the photos, slipping them into the envelope. “He has a job to do.”
“ What job? To kill Elie Weiss?”
“ That too, as a defensive move, to get rid of someone who can identify him. But his primary target is not Elie Weiss.”
“ Then who?”
“ Our Shin Bet analysts believe the Saudis are paying this assassin a fortune, enough for him to disappear afterwards, retire to some island for the rest of his life. They want him to do something that will destroy the Oslo Accords once and for all, a decisive hit that will end this whole effort to reach a permanent co-existence with the Palestinians in the foreseeable future.”
Gideon waited for him to continue, but he remained mum, as if the answer was too shocking to be pronounced out loud.
“ Kill Arafat?”
“ Worse,” Agent Cohen said.
“ Who could be worse?”
“ We believe this Horch-Spinoza guy has come here to kill Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin.”
*
Lemmy left the gun in Benjamin’s apartment, and Itah did the same with her pepper spray. Equipped with borrowed Israeli identification cards from a lookalike Neturay Karta couple, they received visitor tags at the entrance to the Knesset building, passed by the giant menorah, and crossed the vast forecourt. Inside, the three giant Chagall tapestries reminded Lemmy of the stained-glass windows at the Fraumunster church in Zurich, though here Chagall had brought to life biblical Jewish figures other than Jesus Christ. But the colors and flair touched Lemmy with warm familiarity.
The legislature was in session. The public gallery was filled with school children and tourists. Itah and Lemmy found room in the last row. A thick Plexiglas partition offered open views of the assembly hall below, filled with Knesset members of all parties. The government ministers, including Yitzhak Rabin, sat up front near the podium.
A Knesset member from the government coalition was arguing for censure of the Likud Party over the events at the right-wing rally last Saturday night in Jerusalem. “Is there no shame? Are there no limits to verbal violence? When is it too much? Tell me!”
Someone from the opposition benches yelled, “Rabin broke his promises!”
“ He’s a liar,” another member shouted.
The speaker hit the podium. “Is name calling acceptable? Cursing the prime minister? Slandering him? Chanting sexual innuendo? Urging his early death?”
No one responded to that.
“ Democracy and free speech don’t make it kosher to call for the prime minister’s murder!”
The speech was interrupted by the grave voice of Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin, emerging with an odd echo from the rear benches: “I will never, never give up land that provides Israel with a security buffer against Arab attacks!”
Knesset attendants in uniform ran down the aisles, looking for the source of the recorded speech.
“ I will never,” Rabin’s voice roared, “never give back the Golan Heights-”
Among widespread laughter, the attendants grabbed a young Knesset member who had smuggled in a cassette player and portable loudspeakers to play Rabin’s old speech-an embarrassing reminder that the prime minister’s current policy contradicted his past promises.
Surrounded by his ministers, Yitzhak Rabin appeared amused by the prank, glancing back at the struggling attendants.
“ Our Labor leaders changed their minds,” the speaker continued, “because our enemies changed their hearts and agreed to peace. But Likud leaders are sticking to unrealistic policies. At Zion Square on Saturday night, they acquiesced to their supporters’ chants, adopted their murderous demagoguery, and poured oil on the fire of violence that’s consuming our democracy. The Likud Party is trying to topple the government by inciting a mob! I therefore move for a censure of the Likud Party!”
Benjamin Netanyahu, twenty years younger than the prime minister and an eloquent speechmaker, climbed the steps to give his party’s response. “It’s unfair,” he said, “to indict a large portion of the population because of the unsavory acts of a handful of hoodlums.”
Prime Minister Rabin stood and walked away from his front-bench seat, up the aisle, to the exit doors.
Netanyahu paused and turned to the Knesset chairman, who pounded his gavel and said into his microphone, “I ask the prime minister to return to his seat. Please!”
Rabin lit a cigarette, his back to the Knesset plenum. An elderly secretary in a beige pantsuit brought him a file with documents, and he browsed through, ignoring the noise.
The chairman pounded his gavel again. “Please! I ask the prime minister to return and hear the opposition’s reply! Please!”
Several Knesset members went to the door and spoke with Rabin. Netanyahu waited at the podium.
Itah leaned over and said, “They’re like children!”
“ Worse,” Lemmy said.
Down below, Prime Minister Rabin stubbed his cigarette and returned to his seat. The Knesset chairman pounded his gavel.
“ As we can see,” Netanyahu said, “extreme behavior happens on both sides of the aisle-even on the government side.”
“ Let’s go,” Lemmy said.
The Labor Party had offices on the second floor, reached via a wide set of stairs. The elderly secretary took one step at a time, holding the thick file to her chest. They caught up with her.
“ Excuse me,” Lemmy said, “would you kindly ask Mr. Rabin to spare a moment for a quick hello?”
“ You’ll have to send a letter requesting an appointment-”
“ Please tell him that I was the soldier who blew up the UN radar at Government House in sixty-seven. My name is Baruch.”
The secretary scribbled in her notepad and pointed to a decorative, wooden bench under a bronze sculpture representing the killing fields at Babi Yar. “Wait here. I’ll ask him after the vote.”
*
Agent Cohen returned to the apartment an hour later. He handed Gideon a wallet. “Here’s money, credit cards, and identification as special agent assigned to the prime minister’s office, with top security clearance. It will allow you access to every government agency, full cooperation from officials, and total immunity in the line of duty.”
Gideon collected the wallet. “Why me? Don’t you have enough Shin Bet staffers to chase this guy?”
“I don’t have anyone from SOD.” Agent Cohen handed him a Beretta 22. “You’ve worked in Europe, you trained with Elie Weiss, you understand Spinoza’s way of thinking. It’s your case now.” Agent Cohen saluted with his stick-taped finger. “From now on, I’m at your service. We can’t afford to fail.”
“No, we can’t.” Gideon pocketed the wallet and stuffed the gun in his belt. “But where do we start?”
“I have agents checking out every hotel in Jerusalem and the vicinity for anyone resembling Spinoza. Also, we’ve copied all the security tapes from the King David Hotel, where he spent the night after running into Elie at the entrance.”
“Were you there?”
Agent Cohen nodded. “I arrested them.”
“Did you notice Spinoza?”
“No. Our agents found him on the security camera tapes later.”
“Do you think Elie noticed him?”
Cohen hesitated. “You know, there was an interruption just when we were leaving the hotel.”
“ Did Elie act up?”
“ No. Weiss was as cool as a rotting cucumber.” Agent Cohen sat back, struggling to remember. “It was odd. I think Rabbi Gerster tripped. We all stopped, and he yelled something. But later, in the car, a strange thing happened.”
“What?”
“That rabbi is a tough one.” Agent Cohen shook his head. “I can’t explain it, but as we drove off from the hotel, he burst out crying.”
“ Crying? ”
*
Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin waited in a large conference room reserved for government meetings held while the Knesset was in session. Two bodyguards frisked Lemmy and Itah at the door, which remained open. Music came from speakers in the ceiling, a Hebrew folksong from the early days of Zionism.
“ You chose an interesting day to visit,” he said, shaking their hands.
Itah said, “Are there any boring days here?”
“ Yom Kippur used to be boring,” the prime minister said. “What’s this about the UN radar? Were you that kid Elie Weiss sent in?”
“ That was me,” Lemmy said, removing the black hat with the attached beard and side locks. “Sorry about the disguise.”
“ I’m sure there’s an explanation for this.” Rabin chuckled. “You know, all these years people have called me a military genius, but if not for what you did that morning, they would be calling me an idiot.”
They laughed.
“ So tell me what I don’t know,” Rabin said, lighting a cigarette.
Lemmy quickly retold the story of his recruitment by Elie Weiss in 1967, the destruction of the radar just before Israel’s jets took off, his faked death, and training in Europe as an agent for SOD. He skipped the Koenig account, but described the events of the past week.
Rabin listened without interrupting. He showed neither surprise nor alarm. When Lemmy finished, he asked, “Your father’s papers?”
“Here.” He handed the note and documents.
Rabin read through quickly and removed his glasses. “Interesting, but misguided. I was briefed by Shin Bet last night. Freckles and his right-wing rabblerousing was never authorized by Shin Bet. It was all part of the scheme Weiss cooked up to taint the Likud, culminating in the staged assassination attempt to boost my popularity. Shin Bet confronted Freckles last week and scared him enough to switch his loyalty. They shut down this SOD operation, locked up Elie Weiss, and broke up the ILOT group-I’m told they’re a bunch of kids, boy scouts.”
“ Boy scouts,” Itah asked, “with guns?”
“ With blanks,” Rabin said. “Shin Bet confirmed there were no live bullets. It was all a game to make noise in the media, to prime it for the final act of trying to shoot me, also with blanks. But it’s all over now. Finished.”
Lemmy was taken by his gruff charisma, which radiated the confidence of a man certain of his goals. “Knowing Elie Weiss, I suggest you still wear a Kevlar vest to the peace rally.”
Rabin chuckled. “What can he do from a hospital bed?”
“ If anything was supposed to happen on Saturday, he must have set the wheels in motion long ago. That’s how he operates.”
“ Listen, Weiss is a hero of Zionism, a defender of the Jewish people. I respect his achievements. But his time has passed. I can’t indulge his grandiose ideas, especially not in today’s world. We’re making peace, but he acts as if we’re still in the middle of the Holocaust.”
“ He’s a very capable man,” Lemmy insisted, “despite his age and emphysema.”
“ Unfortunately,” the prime minister said. “I’m told he’s dying.”
“ Even if that’s true, what about Tanya? I saw Shin Bet agents try to kill her.”
“ How do you know they were Shin Bet?” Rabin lit a cigarette. “The report I received states that, as part of the VIP Protection Unit’s investigation of Weiss’s fake assassination plot, they followed Tanya to Zurich, but lost her there. She apparently travelled to Amsterdam, where she was hit by a tram.”
“ I was there,” Lemmy said, “and I didn’t push her.”
“ Perhaps Weiss had other agents in Amsterdam? Some kind of a redundancy?”
Lemmy had no answer to that.
“And since you mentioned Tanya, would you know by any chance where she is?”
“No, but I know she’s in good hands. Someone I trust.”
“I’m pleased to hear that.” The prime minister smiled. “She’s the most senior woman we have.”
“In Mossad?”
“ Probably in the whole Israeli government service.”
“ Then why were your agents following her?”
Rabin stood up. “Listen, those Shin Bet boys are entrusted with my personal safety. They do their best to keep me alive. How can I question their loyalty?”
“ Maybe they’re acting out of misguided loyalty. As the saying goes, the road to hell is paved with good intentions.”
“ Touche.” He got up and went to a large board pinned to the wall. “Come, look at this. Maybe it’ll help you understand what I’m dealing with here.”
The color-coded graph showed the political spectrum. In the center, the tallest bars stood for Labor and Likud. The other parties were listed on the left or the right according to their affiliation.
On the left were: Meretz, Hadash, Democratic Front for Peace-Communists, Arab Democratic Party, Progressive List for Peace, Hatikva, Movement for Democracy and Aliyah, New Liberal Idea.
On the right, following Likud, were: Advancement of the Zionist Idea, Tzomet A, Tzomet B, Moledet, Golan Loyalists.
Below the graph was a list of the religious parties: United Torah Judaism, Sephardic Religious Party/Shas, National Religious Party, Meimad, Geulat Israel, Torah and Land.
Next was a list of non-partisan groups: Gush Emunim, YESHA (Settlements of Judea and Samaria), Kach/Kahana Khai, Neturay Karta. The third list was of the parties-in-formation for the next elections: Russians’ Party, Pensioners’ Party, Tali, Women’s Party, On Wheels, Mortgage Victims, Natural Law Party, Tzipor, Mothers in Black, Parents Against Silence, Officers Against Occupation, Citizens for the Golan Heights, Pikanti.
Lemmy asked, “What’s Pikanti?
Itah answered. “Salad dressing factory’s workers believe they have a good shot at a seat in the Knesset to fight against income tax.”
“I see.”
Fourth was a list of Arab groups: PLO, PLO Hawks, PFLP, Al Fatah, Hamas, Islamic Jihad, and Hezbollah.
“Do you realize why I don’t have time to worry about Weiss or micromanage my own protection unit?” Prime Minister Rabin pointed to the board. “Israel is boiling, and I have to sit on the lid. And every group of radicals spawns another one, even more idealistic, more pious, more righteous, more extreme. So we have to use administrative detentions and other methods to stay the course.”
“ Stay in power, you mean,” Itah said.
“ I didn’t come here to sit in the prime minister’s chair,” Rabin said sharply. “Or to win favor with X, Y, or Z. I see this as the crowning achievement of my life. I started in the Jewish underground, fighting the British. I commanded the army in battles and served as ambassador in Washington. I was prime minister once before, but was too inexperienced in politics. And I’ve served for over five years as defense minister. Now I’m here again at a unique point in time. I feel there’s a real chance to fundamentally change the relationship between Israel and the Arab world, our neighbors, and the Palestinians.”
“ A noble cause doesn’t sanctify all means.” Lemmy waved at the board with all the parties’ names. “Does it mean nothing that leaders who represent half the population oppose your Oslo Accords?”
“ I despise them! Who are they? Did they fight like me? Are they responsible for our defense achievements, like me?”
“ Aren’t they?”
“The positive elements in the nation stand with me. Come to the peace rally on Saturday night. You’ll see the huge support for peace!”
“We’d love to attend,” Itah said. “But the goons from the Shin Bet are after us. And they got the police after me on fictional charges.”
The prime minister waved dismissively. “By the time you reach the Knesset exit, I will have ordered them not to bother you again.” He accompanied them to the door and shook Lemmy’s hand. “You should visit the new promenade at the Government House area. You won’t recognize the place.”
“Great idea,” Itah said. “Let’s go there right now.”
*
The phone rang, and Agent Cohen picked it up. “Yes?” He listened. “With Itah Orr? Are you sure? Then get a team over there!” He slammed the phone and ran to the door.
“What’s happening? hat’s tl Gideon followed him.
“Spinoza met Rabin at the Knesset.”
“ You’re kidding!”
“ What chutzpah this guy has!” Agent Cohen hit the elevator button repeatedly. “ Shit! Shit! Shit! ”
The door of the next apartment opened, and the nurse peeked out.
“We’re done here,” Agent Cohen said. “Pack up.”
“ But I don’t understand,” Gideon said. “Did Spinoza try to-”
“No. Visitors are searched at the entrance to the Knesset. No weapons allowed.”
“ If Elie trained him, Spinoza doesn’t need a weapon.”
“ Rabin is watched constantly.” The elevator arrived, they rushed in, and Agent Cohen hit the lobby button. “We’re not dealing with someone suicidal. Spinoza is a professional killer who wants to get out safely.”
“Then why would he risk going into the Knesset to meet Rabin?”
“Scout the target? Establish rapport? Who the hell knows?”
“What did they discuss?”
“I don’t know yet. Itah Orr was with him.”
“Why is she helping Spinoza?”
Agent Cohen shrugged. “She probably doesn’t realize what she’s dealing with. For all we know, Spinoza might be disposing of her as we speak.”
*
Itah and Lemmy strolled across the forecourt to the main exit, pausing to look at the views of the Israel Museum and the Supreme Court. There was no sign of trouble as they exited though the visitors’ gate and flagged down a taxi.
“To the Old City,” Lemmy said.
Traffic was slow in the city’s center, and the cabby dropped them off near the Jaffa Gate. They stopped at a store filled with knickknacks and bought pocket-size binoculars. Passing by David’s Tower, Lemmy found stairs leading up to the top of the ancient wall surrounding the Old City. He led the way to the southern ramparts and found an archer’s slit that the wind and rain had widened over the centuries.
Across a wide gulch, the opposite ridge was dominated by the massive whitewashed structure of the old Government House, where the British high commissioner had resided until Israel’s independence in 1948, followed by the UN Mideast Command until 1967, when Israel captured East Jerusalem from Jordan. There was no trace of the giant radar receptor, which Lemmy had destroyed with a bomb on the first morning of the war.
The most striking view was a long promenade, which crested the ridge all the way to the right, across what used to be the border, and connecting with the main road to Hebron. He trained the binoculars on the boardwalk and scanned it slo wly. The parking area at the eastern end was sparsely used by a few cars and three tour buses. But suddenly two white sedans sped up the access road and let out a group of men. He switched his focus to the parking lot at the western end of the promenade. A similar group arrived there in a hurry. They advanced from both directions, like pincers. They stopped visitors, checked papers, and held up photos to compare faces.
Itah took the binoculars. She scanned the view across the gulch. “Unbelievable. The prime minister lied to us!”
“ I don’t think so.” Lemmy took the binoculars and headed back toward David’s Tower.
“ What are you saying?” She followed him. “Shin Bet won’t act against Rabin’s explicit orders!”
“ Why not? VIP protection is a tricky business. They have to ignore the wishes of the individual VIP. A public figure cannot dictate the terms of his own protection. On the contrary. Everything must be done to remove a threat, even against his orders.”
“ But you’re no threat to Rabin.” Itah held his arm as the narrow path atop the ancient wall turned right.
Lemmy stopped and turned to face her. “What makes you so sure?”
Itah looked at him.
The dry wind picked up, stinging them with dust. A muezzin chanted nearby.
She glanced at the edge of the wall and the long drop to the bottom.
“ See what I mean?” Lemmy chuckled. “Even you aren’t completely sure. As far as they’re concerned, I could be a turncoat. As long as I’m walking around, I’m an unacceptable risk.”
*
Friday, November 3, 1995
After midnight, the hospital quieted down. But Elie waited another hour before getting out of bed. In the soft light from the window, he saw Rabbi Gerster rise from his cot and follow him into the bathroom. He pressed the lever to flush the toilet. “Abraham,” he whispered, “are you still committed?”
“To what?”
“Preventing another Holocaust.”
“Counter Final Solution?”
Elie nodded.
“I’m committed. But first I must save my son.”
It was the response Elie had expected. “Lemmy needs no saving. He’s capable of saving himself. He came here to help you. Leave the country, and he will follow you. I’ll make sure of it.” Before Abraham could argue, he added, “Tanya is the one who needs your help.”
“ I know. But how can I leave the country?”
“ I’ve prepared papers for you, only I didn’t think you’d need it so soon. Go to Hapoalim Bank, Herzl Boulevard branch. Manager is David Abulafia. He has an envelope for you. Cash, credit cards, German passport under the name Abelard Horch.”
“ Abelard Horch?”
“ Lemmy’s father.”
In the darkness, Rabbi Gerster gripped Elie’s thin forearm. “You were planning to reunite us all along!”
“ I’m not a monster,” Elie said. “Tomorrow, take a flight to Amsterdam. Look for the Mullenhuis Data Recovery Company. The owner, Carl, will know where to find Tanya.”
“ How do you know?”
“ That Dutchman is the only person Lemmy would trust. They’re true friends.”
His breathing belabored, Elie lay back under the covers in the elevated hospital bed. He watched Abraham get dressed and bunch up the blankets on his cot in the shape of a sleeping person. His shadow bent over Elie’s bed. “Shalom,” he whispered.
Elie grabbed his shirt and made him lean closer. “Tell her.” He struggled for air. “Tell Tanya.”
“ Tell her what?”
“ That I sent you to take care of her. To be with her. Tell her!”
“I will.” Rabbi Gerster tiptoed to the door, put his ear against it, and waited. A while later, the soft sound of the guard’s snoring came through. He cracked the door and slipped out.
*
The Kings of Israel Plaza was a vast concrete square in the center of Tel Aviv. Gideon looked up at the massive, Soviet-style city hall, which towered over the plaza on the north side. In its shadow, carpenters were assembling the stage for tomorrow night’s peace rally. He had already briefed the director of security on the need to empty the building at the end of the workday and keep it secured until after the rally tomorrow night.
Around the plaza, teams of laborers unpacked audio equipment and placed loudspeakers at regular intervals. Ibn Gevirol Street ran along the east side. It was a six-lane artery that connected north and south Tel Aviv and was due to be shut down to vehicle traffic hours before the event. They waited for a lull in traffic and ran across.
The sidewalk teemed with pedestrians, who patronized the retail stores on the street level. Above the stores, the buildings had six or seven floors of residential apartments, many sporting balconies that enjoyed unobstructed lines of fire at the stage, as did the hundreds of apartments along King Saul Boulevard on the south side of the plaza.
“ This is unacceptable,” Gideon said. “We have to remove the residents and secure all these apartment buildings before the rally.”
“ You can try,” Agent Cohen said.
“ Why not?”
“ You’ve obviously spent too much time away from Israel.” He gestured at the buildings. “You think these Israelis would just pack a bag and leave their apartments? Every one of them has already invited his friends and relatives to come up and sit on the balcony during the rally. They’ll drink lemonade and crack sunflower seeds, spitting the skin shards on the poor schmucks below, who will stand on their toes to catch a glimpse of the dignitaries, get squeezed by total strangers, and gag on body odor and cigarette smoke, because they don’t know anyone who owns an apartment overlooking the plaza.”
Gideon laughed.
“ That’s why we have to count on sharpshooters, about a hundred of them, on the roofs all around.”
“ They should pay special attention to empty balconies,” Gideon said. “I don’t think Spinoza would try shooting from a populated apartment, even if he can somehow get invited.”
“ He won’t be able to bring a rifle to the area. We’re setting up roadblocks. Anyone carrying a package or a bag will be searched. Israelis are used to being searched at the entrance to every mall and movie theater, so no one would mind.”
“ We have to assume,” Gideon said, “that Spinoza knows those facts, that he has a plan that’s not vulnerable to a roadblock, a search, or a pat-down.”
*
At Lemmy’s request, Benjamin had called the chaplain at Hadassah Hospital and asked for his assistance in accommodating a group of Neturay Karta men, who wished to visit the sick before the Sabbath, comfort them, and pray for their salvation. It was a common enough occurrence, and the chaplain was happy to oblige.
Twenty minutes later, the van dropped Lemmy, Benjamin, and eight other men at the hospital entrance. The chaplain waited for them with visitor stickers, which they placed on the lapels of their black coats.
The hospital rooms held six beds each. Benjamin conducted a brief service in every room, his men following his lead, praying with the patients, some of whom were too sedated to notice.
*
“ What is Spinoza’s plan?” Gideon shaded his eyes with his hand as he looked up at the buildings surrounding the King of Israel Plaza. “Without a long-range rifle, he could try a handgun with a silencer. Could he enter the area behind the stage and ambush Rabin on arrival or departure?”
“ Impossible,” Agent Cohen said. “Our VIP Protection Unit always sets up a sterile area to prevent such attempts. It’s standard procedure for public events. No one but the VIPs and our own guys can enter a sterile area. But he could shoot at the stage from the front, standing among the crowd.”
Gideon turned and looked across the plaza toward the half-constructed stage. “Even if he’s up front, aiming up at the stage, he would still be pretty far. And let’s say he can manage a perfect shot, how does he plan to get away?”
“ There’s going to be panic. He could slip through the crowd and disappear.”
“ What if the guy next to him is a kibbutznik? Or a reservist from an elite commando? Spinoza knows that almost every Israeli is an IDF veteran. They won’t panic. They’ll jump him!”
“ Only if they notice the gun.”
Gideon wasn’t convinced. “It’s too chancy. This guy is calculated, careful, Swiss. He won’t risk a wild shot at the prime minister while surrounded by thousands of aggressive Israelis.”
They strolled to the middle of the vast plaza. A couple walked a dog nearby. A woman rode her bicycle toward King Saul Boulevard. And a teenager dribbled a basketball, jogging with oversized headphones. The sun was up now, its warmth building up.
“ A diversion,” Gideon said. “He could use a few small bombs, even firecrackers, to create mayhem. He’ll shoot Rabin and disappear.”
“ Dressed up as a policeman, he could easily slip away.”
“ For all we know, he might have a collaborator, ready with uniform and appropriate IDs.”
“ There could be a rifle hidden someplace on one of the roofs or in an apartment, waiting for Spinoza.” Agent Cohen waved at the surrounding buildings. “There are a thousand spots he could have chosen.”
“ That’s right. And tomorrow night, he would walk through a checkpoint, get to his prearranged position, prime the rifle and shoot at his leisure.”
“ And walk away while Rabin bleeds to death.”
Despite the fresh morning air, the image made Gideon break into a sweat. “Would Rabin agree to speak via video instead of attending the rally in person?”
“ Yeah, right!” Agent Cohen rolled his eyes. “The peace process hinges on this event. Labor Party officials expect a record number of supporters-two or three hundred thousand, possibly more. Rabin’s political career depends on this event. If it’s successful, they expect an upswing that will last through the elections.”
“ Will he at least wear a bulletproof vest?”
“ He considers it a sign of chicanery.”
“ An old soldier.” Gideon sighed. “Then we must find Spinoza before tomorrow night.”
“ And eliminate him,” Agent Cohen said. “A final solution.”
Gideon followed Agent Cohen into the Shin Bet mobile unit, a box truck that was parked in the designated sterile area near the stage. It was packed tight with electronic equipment, operated by several technicians in civilian clothes. A number of monitors showed video input from various sections of the Kings of Israel Plaza.
“ Let’s watch the video from the King David Hotel.” Agent Cohen loaded a cassette into a player connected to a TV set. “Maybe you’ll see something I’ve missed.”
The black-and-white picture showed the main entrance to the King David Hotel from above, with two bellmen, guests coming and going, and car horns in the background. A man in a baseball hat appeared on the right, just as a group came out of the lobby.
“Here!” Agent Cohen paused the player and used the stick taped to his broken finger to indicate each person on the screen. “That’s Spinoza, standing aside with the baseball hat. That’s me, with my four agents around Itah Orr, Elie Weiss, and Rabbi Gerster without his beard and hat.” He restarted the video.
The group proceeded through the wide exit doors. Rabbi Gerster’s head turned, and he stopped in his tracks as if he hit an invisible wall. The agent behind kept walking and bumped into him, and the group stopped with grunts of surprise.
“ Did you see that?” Agent Cohen paused the video again.
“Rabbi Gerster didn’t stumble,” Gideon said. “He stopped walking when he noticed Spinoza.”
“But why?”
“They’re both SOD agents, right? Maybe they trained together.”
“The Neturay Karta rabbi and the Swiss assassin? Come on!”
“Clearly they know each other.”
“ And now they’re both missing. The rabbi slipped away from the hospital before dawn this morning.” Agent Cohen pressed play. On the TV screen, Spinoza’s hand went into his pocket. Rabbi Gerster shook his head once, turned the other way and yelled, “Benjamin! Benjamin!” Everybody followed his gaze, and then Agent Cohen barked an order, and the group moved forward, exiting the video frame at the edge of the driveway. Car doors slammed, engines rumbled, and tires screeched. Spinoza and the bellmen exchanged a few words, and he entered the hotel.
“Did you notice,” Gideon said, “Rabbi Gerster’s quick head shake? Spinoza was about to draw his gun.”
“It’s not his gun,” Agent Cohen said petulantly. “He stole it from our agent at Hadassah.”
“ You’re lucky he didn’t use it.”
“ He’s the lucky one. There were five of us, guns in hand.”
“ You still don’t get it, do you?” Gideon stepped out of the mobile unit and turned his face up to the sun, his eyes closed. The tape presented more riddles rather than clues. Who was Spinoza, or Horch? An agent of SOD, or a Saudi agent spying on SOD? Or was he a gun for hire? And how could a Neturay Karta rabbi control such a coldblooded assassin with a quick shake of the head, saving the lives of five Shin Bet agents? The only known connection between them was Elie Weiss. He held all the answers.
Gideon heard Agent Cohen come out of the mobile unit and turned to face him. “How quickly can you get us to Hadassah?”
The agent pointed up, where a helicopter was hovering. “Fifteen minutes, give or take.”
*
It took the better part of an hour until they completed a series of prayers with patients and reached Elie’s room. A guard sat outside the door. He put aside his newspaper and stood up. “Sorry. This room is off limits.”
“Off limits to God?” Benjamin placed a hand on the guard’s shoulder. “Did you say your prayers this morning, my good friend?”
The guard blushed and said something about taking his kids to Friday night services. Benjamin blessed him with good health and longevity and opened the door. The guard didn’t stop him.
The room had not changed since Lemmy’s previous visit, except for a TV set on a shelf, tuned to a news channel. The night table carried a plate of untouched food and metal utensils-possible weapons, but low grade-and a thick book bound between carved wooden plates. Benjamin and his men gathered near the bed, shielding it from the surveillance camera above the door, as Lemmy had instructed them earlier.
Elie’s black eyes watched them. An oxygen tube run from a wall outlet to his nose. The sheet over his chest rose and sank, accompanied by a squeaky sound.
Lemmy removed the black hat with the attached beard and side locks.
“Nice outfit,” Elie said.
Benjamin and his men chanted the “Prayer for the Sick.”
“ Where is my father?”
“ Flew out of the cuckoo’s nest.”
“ Where did he go?”
“ Back to the field.” Elie pressed a button, and the head of the bed rose, lifting him halfway to a sitting position. “Why are you here? Haven’t you received my orders?”
“ Tanya came to Zurich. I almost eliminated her by mistake. She told me about my father’s real job, about your manipulations.”
“ Ah.” Elie looked toward the window. “Tanya.”
“ I know what you’ve done.” Lemmy kept his voice lower than the praying voices behind him. “You manipulated my father into a life of lies. Then you deceived me, an eighteen-year-old kid, to give up my life and become someone else.” He took a deep breath, controlling his rage. “It’s monstrous!”
“ You feel sorry for yourself?” Elie breathed a few times. “You suffered?”
“ Yes!”
“ You don’t know what suffering is. Go back to your job!”
“ All your schemes are for naught. Shin Bet has shut down your ILOT. You’ll never become intelligence czar.”
A weary grin appeared on Elie’s gaunt face.
“I tried to protect Tanya, but they got to her in Amsterdam. I had to leave her, broken and bleeding, surrounded by strangers, abandoned. Is she suffering enough? Are you pleased with the consequences of your games?”
The grin faded away. For a moment there was no other reaction, but then Lemmy saw something that stunned him. In the corners of Elie’s eyes, tears bubbled up.
There was a knock on the door, and the guard peeked in. “Are you done praying?”
*
“ You see this road?” Agent Cohen had to yell over the racket of the rotors. He pointed down at the narrow blacktop that slithered up the Judean Mountains. “It’s the Burma Road. Back in forty-eight, when Rabin was a young commander, he tried to save Jerusalem from the Jordanian siege, but the main road was blocked by Arab terrorists. Someone found this goat path and broke through with supplies for the Jewish civilians. But it was too late to win the battle.”
The helicopter was flying low, the tree summits almost within reach. Gideon rested his forehead against the window, looking down at the landscape of planted pine forests and deep ravines, an occasional boulder breaking through the green with the bleached white of sandstone.
“He never forgave himself,” Agent Cohen yelled.
“Who?”
“Yitzhak Rabin, for losing the battle for Jerusalem, leaving it divided for nineteen years. That’s why he insisted on winning it back in sixty-seven.”
Gideon nodded. These historic details seemed trivial now, as he was flying to Hadassah Hospital to confront the man who had hired and mentored him. Despite his misgivings about Elie’s methods, joining with Shin Bet against the old man felt like a betrayal.
“ Three minutes.” Agent Cohen pointed at a distant cluster of buildings among the green mountains. “There’s Hadassah Hospital.”
*
“ We’re almost done,” Benjamin told the guard, closing the door. “Psalms, seventy-nine. Lord, how the Gentiles invaded your domain, contaminated your Holy Temple, turned Jerusalem into wreckage. ”
While the men of Neturay Karta repeated after Benjamin, Lemmy leaned closer to Elie. “Shin Bet is hunting us down. I fear for my family. I must make a trade with them. Offer them something they can’t refuse.”
Elie grimaced.
“ I’ll give them Koenig’s money. It’s a king’s ransom-they won’t turn it down. I already know the account number and password.”
“ You do? That’s good. Very good.”
“ Where’s the ledger?”
“ What ledger?”
“ The record of all deposits that Armande Hoffgeitz signed in forty-five. Where did you hide it?”
Benjamin recited, “ They fed the carcasses of your fallen faithful to the circling vultures, the flesh of your disciples to the earthly scavengers. ”
“ I gave you my orders.” Elie’s head rose from the pillow, trying to show himself to the surveillance camera over the men’s black hats. He gave up and lay back. “Counter Final Solution. That’s your job.”
“ Tanya told me she gave it to you, and you presented it to Gunter Schnell in sixty-seven. Where’s the ledger?”
“ Go back to Zurich and serve the cause, or your cute little Nazi namesake will die-”
“ In a ski accident? Like Christopher’s father? And Paula’s brother?”
The gaunt hand gestured in dismissal. “Gentiles.”
“ I want the ledger!” He placed his hand on Elie’s neck. The skin was cold against his palm. He closed his fingers and squeezed.
*
From above, Hadassah Hospital looked like oversized Lego blocks, positioned among the pine trees in cascading order on a moderate slope, adjacent to the Ein Shemen village. A heliport was marked with a crossed circle and an orange wind bag. The pilot descended slowly, balancing the chopper against a gust of wind from the north.
*
Elie’s weak hands clasped the bedrails, rattling the frame. His mouth opened and closed, his yellow teeth clinking.
Lemmy let go. “Where is the ledger?”
His breathing fast and shallow, Elie reached under the sheets. His hand came out with his sheathed blade, which he offered to Lemmy. The gesture was more than a sign of capitulation, of a lifelong killer expressing his readiness to be killed by his successor. It was meant to symbolize a passing of the torch.
But Lemmy had no interest in carrying Elie’s torch or in trying to figure out if this was yet another manipulation, another clever signal intended to achieve the opposite result of what its plain meaning would suggest. He grabbed the blade and tossed it to the floor. “Answer me!”
Elie turned his face to the window.
Lemmy applied pressure again, shutting off the wind pipe.
Elie writhed, his legs kicking the mattress.
“ They spilled your chosen’s blood around Jerusalem,” Benjamin chanted, “ and no one to bury the dead.”
The men of Neturay Karta repeated the verse, their voices louder to drown out Elie’s noisy struggle.
“ Where is it?” Lemmy’s grip tightened. He leaned so close that his face almost touched Elie’s aquiline nose. The squeaky breathing had stopped. Elie’s legs kicked once more. His hands feebly pulled against the rails.
Benjamin stepped closer to Lemmy and chanted, “ Be forgetful, Lord, of our early sins, put forward your compassion, for we are pitiable.”
Elie’s eyes opened wide, focused on Lemmy, who released the pressure.
The chest under the white sheet heaved abruptly, air shrieking as it filled the sick lungs.
“ We are your chosen,” Benjamin recited, “ your sheep, Shepherd, our gratitude is eternal, from one generation to the next, forever we shall praise your glory.”
Lemmy put his hand on Elie’s chest, weighing down. “For the last time, where is the ledger?”
“Let’s…make…a deal.” Elie’s sallow face twisted into a grin, and he coughed hard.
Lemmy’s right hand clenched into a fist and rose up, ready to hit the demon in the bed. But Benjamin gripped his forearm while the men repeated, “ Forever we shall praise your glory.”
Elie looked away, the black eyes focused not on the window, but on the night table by the bed, the tray with untouched lunch, utensils, and the thick book. Lemmy pushed the utensils out of Elie’s reach, more out of habitual caution than of real concern that Elie would attempt to attack him. The balance of power was too tilted, and even in his current state Elie would not be suicidal. He wasn’t the type.
Lemmy picked up the book, surprised by its weight. The top cover was a wooden plate carved with a Star of David and the Hebrew word for Bible. He noticed the unusual thickness of the cover and opened it. The back of the wooden plate was lined with a mesh material that connected it to the book’s spine. He gripped the front cover and tore it away from the bible.
A sigh came from the men.
With a knife from the food tray he separated the wood from the back lining. Loud cracking sounded as the two parts separated, and something fell to the floor.
Lemmy picked it up.
A small booklet, bound in black leather, stamped with a red swastika. He browsed through the pages, noting enormous quantities of precious stones, categorized by clarity and carats. On the last page was an acknowledgment: Deposit of above-listed goods was received 1.1.1945 by Hoffgeitz Bank of Zurich. The handwriting and the signature below belonged to Armande Hoffgeitz.
For a moment, Lemmy was Wilhelm Horch again, a meticulous Swiss banker holding an important financial document. He examined each page. It was an undeniable evidence of a horde of blood money, which his bank had kept secret for fifty years. The ledger, if exposed, would subject the Hoffgeitz Bank to the worst scandal in the long history of Swiss private banking. Or, better yet, it represented access to almost 23 billion U.S. dollars, which could be traded with Shin Bet in a bargain that would save him and those he loved.
*
No one waited for them at the rooftop landing pad. Gideon got out first and helped Agent Cohen, who shielded his bandaged eye with his injured hand. They jogged to the end of the helipad and went down a steel staircase to the actual roof of the building.
“ There!” Agent Cohen pointed to sign: Stairs – Emergency Only.
They entered an enclosed stairway and headed down.
“ Weiss is on the fourth floor,” Agent Cohen said. “You can do the talking. I’ll do the finger breaking and eye poking, okay?”
*
Benjamin beckoned his men to the door. Lemmy was ready to leave, but he noticed Elie reaching for the torn bible, which rested on the bed. Lemmy picked it up and ripped off the bottom cover. He used the knife again to separate the lining from the wood and pulled out a few pieces of paper hidden inside. He unfolded the brittle sheets.
Letters.
Familiar handwriting.
Mother!
He picked one letter, dated March 22, 1967, addressed to him in the army:
My Dearest Jerusalem,
You haven’t responded to my previous letter. Perhaps you are away on exercises. Today is Thursday, and I went out of the apartment for the first time since that terrible day, when your father, in his understandable anger, excommunicated you. Everyone was very happy to see me at the synagogue, and most of the donated clothes are gone. I asked Benjamin to take the rest to Shmattas to be exchanged, and he did it well. He also misses you very much and prays for your return. Please write a few words to let us know how you are. Your father agreed that you may come home to celebrate Passover with us, provided that you respect our traditions. Please, I beg you to come, even if you have to go back to the army. Maybe you don’t understand what it means for me. When you have a child one day, God willing, you will understand my agony. So please come home for Passover. I pray for your safe return.
Your loving mother,
Temimah Gerster.
She had written to him three more times, the last letter filled with anxious, urgent pleas. At the bottom, under Mother’s signature, his father wrote:
Jerusalem, please respond to your mother, whose heart is broken. Cruelty is the gravest sin, while forgiveness is the finest virtue.
Your father,
Rabbi Abraham Gerster.
“I had to…intercept your mail,” Elie said, his voice thin. “These letters…would have interfered…diverted you…from your destiny.”
Lemmy was weak with a shattering sense of loss and grief. When you have a child one day, God willing, you will understand my agony.
“ They rejected you…sat shivah for you…and you hated them.”
“ Because I didn’t know about these letters, which show that my parents had a change of heart, that they loved me still, even without my black hat and side locks.” Lemmy shook the letters in Elie’s face. “You’ve read these! You saw her pain! How could you let her suffer like this?”
Elie rose on his elbow, his face twisted in sudden fury. “We are soldiers! We have a war to win! If we indulge there will be real suffering! There will be another Holocaust!”
“These letters,” Lemmy pressed them to his chest, “are my Holocaust.”
*
On the fourth floor, Gideon stood aside as several bearded men in black coats and hats stepped out of Elie’s hospital room. “What’s this? Who let them in?”
The guard smiled sheepishly. “They just wanted to pray with the patient. I couldn’t refuse.”
Agent Cohen pushed his way in. Gideon followed him and froze at the sight of the man standing by Elie’s bed. Unlike the others, he had removed his hat, which rested on a chair with the attached fake beard and payos. His face was unmistakable: Spinoza!
Gideon drew his gun in a single, fluid motion, pulled on the barrel to slip a bullet into the chamber, and aimed at the assassin.
Spinoza raised his hands and said in perfect Hebrew, “ Ani sochen Israeli. I’m an Israeli agent. Just like you.”
“Shoot him!” Agent Cohen maneuvered to the side of the room. He tried to draw his gun with his injured hand, but the gun dropped to the floor. “Kill him!”
“In God’s name!” It was the last of the black hats, who was still in the room. “I’m Rabbi Benjamin Mashash and I know this man. He’s a Jew. We grew up together!”
“Get out!” Agent Cohen pushed him through the door and slammed it.
“I’m unarmed,” Spinoza said. “I’m not a threat to anyone.”
“End this now,” Elie Weiss said, and while Gideon assumed the order was addressed to him, he heard Spinoza reply, “Be quiet. You’ve caused enough damage already.”
Gideon stepped closer, aiming, “Identify yourself!”
“My name is Jerusalem-”
“Shoot him!” Agent Cohen picked up his own gun from the floor with his left hand and tried to cock it. “He’s an assassin!”
“I’m part of SOD,” Spinoza said. “My cover is Wilhelm Horch, vice president at the Hoffgeitz Bank in Zurich. Look at this.” He held forth a small, black booklet. “I’m offering you a trade. I can transfer a huge-”
“Your father,” Elie said from the bed, “went to see Carl. You should follow him.”
Gideon’s finger slipped into the trigger guard. “I’m calling for reinforcement.” With the Beretta aimed at Spinoza, he moved toward the nightstand by the bed, but there was no telephone there.
“Shoot already!” Agent Cohen pounded Gideon’s back, and a shot exploded in the room.
But the Swiss wasn’t standing where he had stood a second before. And while Gideon was momentarily stunned by the blast of his unintended gunshot, a blurred figure rolled across the floor and kicked his legs from under him. Gideon spun in the air, the hard tiles coming at his head. He heard Agent Cohen scream in pain and felt a heavy body collapse on top of him. Then something very hard thumped the back of his head, and the world went dark, accompanied by the eerie laughter of Elie Weiss.
*
Benjamin had the presence of mind to rush downstairs with his men, start the van, and drive it to the front of the hospital, arriving just as Lemmy ran out, his hat askew, his fake beard covering his mouth.
They drove in the opposite direction from Jerusalem along winding mountain roads in a circular path that led them eventually back to the city through its northwest suburbs. Lemmy used the time to digest the changed circumstances. If Elie had spoken the truth, Rabbi Gerster had left Israel to be with Tanya. But following his father would not be possible as long as Shin Bet continued the chase. For some reason, Agent Cohen was determined to eliminate him, which made any deal unlikely.
Lemmy asked Benjamin to stop at a post office, where he mailed Koenig’s ledger to Christopher with instructions to keep it locked in the safe until his return to Zurich. He also sent the signed title for the Citroen DS with a note to arrange its shipping from Bet Shemesh to Zurich. The old letters from his mother he kept folded in his pocket.
Back in Meah Shearim, the white Subaru was still parked near the entrance, the two agents leaning against the hood, smoking. They had been checking women, obviously under orders to locate Itah Orr, but they ignored men entering the neighborhood. This would change now, Lemmy knew. His safe haven was no more.
Benjamin sent his men to the synagogue to resume their Talmud study, but not before instructing them to keep mum about the events at Hadassah Hospital. Sorkeh was ready with lunch, but Lemmy had no appetite. He told Itah what had happened.
“It’s obvious,” she said, “that they think you intend to kill Prime Minister Rabin.”
“That’s illogical,” Benjamin argued. “They saw Lemmy with us at Hadassah, so they now know we’re giving you shelter here. Why would we, a religious community, hide an assassin?”
“Come on, this is Neturay Karta, the most anti-Zionist Jewish sect in the world. You’re an enemy of Israel!”
“ We have no enemies,” Benjamin protested. “Our Talmudic theology dictates that only God, through his Messiah, may collect the Chosen People from exile and rebuild our homeland. Therefore we are ideologically and religiously opposed to Zionism and the establishment of the State of Israel. But we’re not its enemy in a physical, worldly sense.”
“ Really? Don’t you preach against Israel?” Itah counted on her fingers. “First, that modern Zionism caused the collapse of Jewish observance. Second, that Israel’s secular nationalism and emphasis on material land possessions contradicts spiritual Judaism? Third, that the promiscuous Israeli society is a menace to the future of the Jewish faith?”
“ Yes, we contend that-spiritually speaking-modern Zionism has cost this nation more Jews than the Holocaust. But we don’t advocate violence. We would never condone killing of another Jew!”
“Even of a Zionist politician who’s a danger to others? Even a Rodef, a pursuer of Jews, who must be struck down according to Talmud?” Itah knuckled the table. “From Shin Bet’s perspective, your support of Rabin’s assassin is perfectly logical.”
Benjamin shook his head. “The only possible explanation is that Shin Bet thinks Lemmy is fooling us into hosting him, that we don’t realize who or what he really is.”
“Then I must leave,” Lemmy said. “It’s only a matter of time before they come here. I don’t want to put you at risk.”
Benjamin gestured at the window, painted red with the setting sun. “Sabbath is about to begin. They won’t dare to invade our community.”
“ Why?”
“ This is the City of Jerusalem, home to over two hundred thousand ultra-Orthodox Jews, many of whom are prone to religious protests. Our Neturay Karta community is small, but visible. The government will not risk inciting a riotous explosion in Jerusalem on the eve of the peace rally. I think you’re safe within Meah Shearim, at least until after the rally.”
*
Gideon and Agent Cohen spent a couple of hours in the emergency room. A series of tests revealed no concussions, fractures, or internal injuries for either of them, which was surprising as they had been unconscious for almost an hour. Spinoza clearly knew his business.
A report came from the Shin Bet desk at the airport. The name Horch had popped up on a KLM passenger list for that morning’s flight to Amsterdam. The individual had been dressed in a sport coat and khaki slacks, eyes shielded by gold-rimmed Ray-Ban sunglasses. He presented a valid German passport that identified him as Abelard Horch, age 69. Carrying an overnight bag though security, he bought a Sony Walkman at the duty free store and a German translation of an Ira Levin novel, Sliver. Despite the identical last name, the German tourist did not match the age and physical description of Spinoza. He was allowed to board his flight, which had taken off before noon, passing over Tel Aviv and the Mediterranean coast toward Europe.
Agent Cohen tossed the report. “The real Horch was here at Hadassah Hospital at the same time. It’s a good thing we’re not looking for a guy with my last name, or we would get a thousand reports a day.”
“We’re running out of time,” Gideon said.
“It’s your fault. I told you to shoot him!”
“How could I put a bullet in a man who raises his hands and speaks Hebrew?”
“He’s a chameleon, don’t you get it? For what the Saudis can pay, they hire the best. This guy is probably the top assassin operating in the world today. He can probably pass for a Frenchman, a Russian, or a Hungarian for all we know. You should have eliminated him at first sight, like I told you to.”
Gideon nodded thoughtfully. “I’m impressed with how he disabled us so quickly. But why didn’t he kill us?”
“Do I have to repeat myself?” Agent Cohen rolled his eyes in exasperation. “Spinoza is a professional. He won’t kill unless he’s being paid to kill you, or if you represent mortal danger to him, which obviously you weren’t. Next time, I suggest that you shoot, not talk, okay?”
“ First we have to find him. An ultra-Orthodox man in Jerusalem is like a needle in a haystack.”
“ There’s a way to deal with those schvartzehs. ” Agent Cohen used the derogatory term blacks for the ultra-Orthodox. “They know each other’s business like there’s no tomorrow. Watch this.”
He curled his good finger at the hospital chaplain, who was waiting just outside the ER.
The chaplain rubbed his hands nervously while explaining how Rabbi Benjamin Mashash, the leader of the Neturay Karta sect, had arranged with him to bring a minyan of men to pray with patients. “This is a Jewish hospital,” he said, “how can I refuse when a righteous rabbi offers to spend time here, provide spiritual healing to the-”
“That’s why Rabbi Gerster yelled Benjamin! ” Agent Cohen spat on the floor. “He was telling Spinoza to go to Rabbi Mashash in Neturay Karta!” He waved off the chaplain, who scattered away before they changed their minds.
“ But what’s the connection between Rabbi Gerster, Rabbi Mashash, and Spinoza?”
“ Maybe the Saudis are paying Neturay Karta to help Spinoza. That sect hates Israel as much as the Arabs do.”
“ I doubt it. But let’s assume he’s still with them. Neturay Karta has hundreds of families, and each one would do the rabbi’s bidding and hide Spinoza, no questions asked. How are we supposed to find him?”
“ Break down their doors one by one until we get him!”
“Not so simple.” Gideon pressed on the bruise at the back of his head. “Going door to door would require lots of agents, together with police support, roadblocks, armored vehicles. There’s going to be resistance, barricaded doors and windows, stone throwing. And as soon as word gets around Jerusalem about police invasion in the middle of the Sabbath, thousands will flood the streets. Neturay Karta is a core of fundamentalism, but the rest of the other ultra-Orthodox neighborhoods aren’t exactly bastions of patriotism. Unless we’re ready to deal with a city-wide riot, we must come up with a better plan.”
The ICU doctor appeared. “I checked Weiss. His vitals are fine, but we can’t wake him up. I don’t know what’s going on. It might be neurological.”
“We need him awake,” Gideon said. “He possesses information that’s essential to our investigation. It’s a matter of national security.”
The physician shrugged. “You’ll have to wait.”
“He’s pretending,” Agent Cohen said. “Stick a needle in his foot, and he’ll wake up.”
“We tried pricking his toe.”
“And?”
“No response. Not even an eyelid twitch.”
“What did you expect?” Gideon chuckled. “You’re not dealing with a normal human being.”
“Try breaking his finger,” Agent Cohen said. “Or poking his eye.”
*
Saturday, November 4, 1995
Sabbath morning at Benjamin’s small apartment was different than any other morning. A huge pot of meat, potatoes, and pinto beans had been simmering on the stove since sundown on Friday, filling the apartment with the unique smell of tcholent that Lemmy remembered from childhood. He was looking forward to Sabbath lunch after the services.
Everyone was up early, preparing to go together to the synagogue. Rather than a full breakfast, Sorkeh had put out slices of pound cake and a pitcher of milk. Benjamin sang to the youngest while changing his diaper. Lemmy helped one of the boys lace up his shining Sabbath shoes, while Sorkeh brushed her teenage daughter’s hair and tied it with a red ribbon. Itah borrowed a flowery headdress from Sorkeh, which went well with a taupe dress she had found in a box of donated clothes. The oldest boy, Jerusalem, was lying on the living room sofa, his face rosy with fever. When everyone was dressed and ready to go, they wished Jerusalem Good Sabbath and a speedy recovery, and went to the synagogue.
Itah walked with Lemmy behind the large Mashash family. “I used to hate them,” she said. “Their black coats and hats, their beards and side locks, and their holier-than-thou isolationism, as if we, secular Israelis, were not really Jews.”
“And now?”
“Now that Neturay Karta is the only place I’m safe?” She laughed. “Your father cares for these people, and I understand why. They’re like a Jewish microcosm, a biosphere of Talmudic life, unchanged and uncontaminated since before modernity. Look at them-like shtetl dwellers in Poland three centuries ago.”
At the forecourt of the synagogue, hundreds of Neturay Karta members congregated to exchange greetings and share news of recent engagements, new babies, and illnesses. Everyone was dressed in their best clothes, the men in tailored black coats and wide-brim felt hats, the women in colorful headdresses, and the kids in miniature outfits resembling the adults, except that the unmarried girls wore their hair uncovered.
“One day,” Lemmy said, “I’ll bring my wife and son to visit, see how I grew up, what gave me a solid foundation in life.”
“And what is that?”
“Talmud,” Lemmy said. “Everything you see here is the direct result of a communal, lifelong devotion to the study of Talmud, which is a boundless intellectual world spanning ten thousand pages of debates over right and wrong. A student of Talmud spends his days agonizing over what constitutes an ethical behavior in every aspect of one’s life-worship, family, business, politics. There’s nothing like it.”
“Do you miss it?”
“Yes, I miss Talmud. I miss it terribly. But I don’t miss the insular lifestyle. And I couldn’t live without cars.”
Itah laughed. “Cars?”
“Love them,” he said. “Have you ever fooled around with a Porsche? Made out with a classic Citroen?”
“Shhh!” She gestured at the people around them. “It’s Sabbath!”
They made their way between the people of Neturay Karta into the foyer of the synagogue. At the foot of the stairs leading to the women’s section, Itah said, “You could have been their rabbi.”
Lemmy looked at the animated faces of bearded men, the kind smiles of untimely aged women, the cacophony of Yiddish and Hebrew, and the little boys with kiddie black hats and dangling side locks, running around, squealing in joy. It was so familiar, yet so alien. He tugged at his fake beard. “I guess…it wasn’t meant to be.”
*
Rabbi Gerster spent the night in a small hotel overlooking a muddy canal. When he checked out, the Dutch proprietor said, “Good-bye, Herr Horch.” It took him a moment to remember this was his last name-same as his son’s, yet again.
According to the phonebook, Doctor Mullenhuis Data Recovery operated out of a warehouse in the southern outskirts of Amsterdam, on the road to Leiden. He didn’t have much hope of finding the office open on a Saturday morning, but to his surprise, a man opened the door as soon as the taxi stopped in front of the building. Rabbi Gerster asked, “Are you Carl?”
“It depends.”
“My name is Abelard Horch.”
Carl’s eyes lit up, but he didn’t volunteer anything.
“ I’m Lemmy’s father.” He put down the bag and patted his chest. “Back from the dead.”
“ Yes,” Carl said, “I can tell by the sense of humor!”
They went inside, where floor-wide workrooms were filled with computer terminals and bundles of color-coded wires. If there was a method to the madness, it was well concealed. Carl collected his keys and led the way to an underground garage, a large space occupied by about twenty cars. He went for a red Ferrari. “This is a real sport car,” he said, holding the door open for Rabbi Gerster, “not like your son’s wimpy Porsche.”
He sat with his bag on his lap as Carl maneuvered the grunting Ferrari out of the garage. “I don’t know my son as an adult. Do you like him?”
“ He’s the best.” Carl drove fast through the deserted industrial area toward the highway. “And if I ever marry, it will be someone like his Paula. Body and soul, that woman is perfect. Delicious!”
*
A map of the neighborhood was pinned to the wall, and within it, an area was marked with a red border that started and ended at the gate on Shivtay Israel Street. “This is our area of activity.” Gideon tapped the map with his pointer. “The vehicles will drop us at the gate. We’ll have sixty seconds to run up the alley to their synagogue. We must place a tight ring around the building before they notice what’s happening. Neturay Karta is a fundamentalist sect, and the men are accustomed to evading police during demonstrations. We don’t want them running out of the synagogue and alerting other neighborhoods. Surprise and speed are the keys to our success today.”
The briefing room at the Jerusalem central police station was almost full. In addition to Agent Cohen’s four subordinates, there were forty police officers and two medics.
“Our intelligence,” Gideon continued, “indicates that all the members of Neturay Karta attend Sabbath morning services, including women and children. This is our only chance. A door-to-door search would incite a full-scale riot here, possibly spreading to the rest of the city.” He tapped on the enlarged photos beside the map, showing Spinoza and Itah Orr. “Former TV reporter Itah Orr, accused of banking fraud and identity theft. The man with her uses the name Baruch Spinoza, but is also known as Wilhelm Horch, a Swiss national. He’s probably dressed as an ultra-Orthodox man. Study his face in the flyer you’re about to receive. Be alert and careful. He’s a professional assassin.”
Each of them had been given a printout of a photo from Hadassah Hospital’s security cameras, which had captured Spinoza’s bearded face as he had entered the hospital on Friday with the other Neturay Karta men.
“The plan is simple,” Gideon continued. “We’ll enter through the main synagogue doors and run up the side walls to surround the congregation. Two of you will go upstairs to the women’s section.” He selected them with his pointer. “As soon as we surround the crowd, I will explain to them that we have no hostile intentions other than to apprehend the two criminals. At this point, either they’ll hand the suspects over to us or we’ll search the rows in the prayer hall and in the upstairs mezzanine until we find them. Questions?”
One of the police officers raised his hand. “What are the engagement rules? Should we have guns at the ready, or keep them holstered?”
“Holstered,” Gideon said. “We won’t give him a reason to shoot. He’s a professional, not a fanatic. He doesn’t want to die. As soon as he realizes he’s trapped by an overwhelming force, he’ll surrender.”
“What about the rest of them. How can we defend against them?”
“Are you afraid of a bunch of Talmudic scholars? The worst they can do is spit on you. Do you carry a handkerchief?”
Everybody laughed, and another officer asked, “What if the two suspects aren’t in the synagogue?”
“ They’ve taken cover inside a sect with strict rules of behavior, which include mandatory attendance at Sabbath morning prayers. We expect them to adhere to their hosts’ customs in order to blend in.”
“That’s correct.” Agent Cohen stepped forward. “However, we have identified Rabbi Mashash’s apartment as an alternative hideout. My team will raid it. We’re experienced in urban warfare from our work in the West Bank and Gaza. If the suspects are hiding there, I’m confident we can apprehend them easily. Or eliminate them.”
*
An hour into the service, the Torah scroll was carried up to the dais and rolled open on the table for the reading of the weekly chapter. The men stood in honor of the sacred scroll. They all wore striped prayer shawls draped over their heads and shoulders, providing each man with spiritual privacy.
The reading was divided into seven portions, and one man was honored to come up to the dais and make a blessing over each portion. Lemmy followed the verses, his finger proceeding under the Hebrew words in his book as Cantor Toiterlich read them from the scroll on the dais. The familiar ritual calmed him, taking away the worries that had plowed his mind all night. He felt at home, yet this wasn’t home. Zurich was home, Paula and Klaus Junior were home, and the coming baby was home.
An hour later, for the last portion, Rabbi Benjamin Mashash announced, “Ascend and rise for the seventh Aliya, our guest, who took the name Baruch.”
A murmur passed through the congregants. Normally a person was called up to the Torah by his first name and his father’s name. Lemmy hesitated. Everyone in this hall, except Benjamin, knew that Rabbi Gerster’s only son, Jerusalem, had been dead for almost three decades. What if someone recognized him?
Benjamin beckoned him to the dais.
Raising his prayer shawl to cover his head and most of his face, Lemmy paced up the aisle and onto the dais. Cantor Toiterlich, Sorkeh’s elderly father, used the silver pointer to mark the spot on the parchment. Lemmy placed the corner of the prayer shawl on the words and kissed it. His face hidden by the edge of the shawl, he bent over the scroll and recited. “ Blessed be He, Master of the Universe, who chose us from all the nations and gave us his Torah. ”
As Cantor Toiterlich bent over the parchment to read the quill-scribed ancient words, a loud bang sounded in the back of the synagogue.
Lemmy turned to see a group of police officers burst in, spreading left and right and along the side walls. The last to enter was Elie’s young, curly-haired agent from the Galeries Lafayette, whom Lemmy had knocked out cold at Hadassah Hospital yesterday.
*
Gideon was pleased. The operation has commenced smoothly. While Agent Cohen and his Shin Bet team headed to the rabbi’s apartment, he led the police team to take control of the synagogue. As expected, it was filled with men and boys, while the women of Neturay Karta gazed down from the mezzanine in rapt silence.
“Good Sabbath!” Mounting the dais, Gideon held up his laminated ID. “This is an official search by the police and the security services of the State of Israel. Stay where you are and nothing will happen to you!”
“And Good Sabbath to you.” Rabbi Benjamin Mashash smiled. “Nice to see you again. Would you like to join us for the reading of the Torah?”
Gideon stood among the handful of men on the dais, all draped in their prayer shawls. “I apologize for this interruption,” he said. “You should be able to continue with the service as soon as we complete our business here.”
“God will be pleased,” Rabbi Mashash said.
“Could you instruct your people to cooperate with us?”
The rabbi gestured at the police officers along the walls. “Do we have a choice?”
“Exactly.” Gideon pulled a copy of the flyer. “We are searching for this man, who uses the name Baruch Spinoza.”
The name provoked angry muttering. The excommunicated philosopher, though long dead, was not a popular figure among ultra-Orthodox Jews.
The elderly cantor started saying something, but the rabbi interrupted him. “If we had such a troublesome Jew among us, we would have excommunicated him right away.”
The congregation exploded in laughter.
Gideon put his lips to the rabbi’s ear. “Your actions yesterday at Hadassah suffice to justify your arrest as well. Cooperate, or else!”
Rabbi Benjamin Mashash turned to his men and spoke in a sonorous voice that reached every corner of the large hall. “Our sages said that the laws of the land should be respected, even when they contradict the laws of Talmud.”
Gideon breathed in relief.
“It follows, therefore, that the lawmen of the Zionist government, who have just interrupted our Torah reading, should be respected.” The rabbi pulled off his prayer shawl. “Respect means forgiveness, which we will express by including them in our prayers.”
“Thank you.” Gideon turned to glance at the front section of the synagogue, making sure the officers guarded the front rows.
“To be thus included,” the rabbi said, “a Jew must drape himself in holiness, like this.” He tossed his prayer shawl in the air, holding on to one end, and shook it as a maid would shake linen over a bed in order to expand it to its full size. He swiveled sideways, forming an overhead canopy, which softly descended onto Gideon, engulfing him completely.
*
When Benjamin covered him with the prayer shawl, the young agent uttered a muffled shout and tried to free himself. Lemmy pulled off his own prayer shawl and wrapped it over him as well. Cantor Toiterlich, with impressive swiftness for his age, did the same, and the agent’s struggle turned helpless. The cantor laughed, but when his eyes landed on Lemmy, he froze, his mouth agape.
“ It’s a long story.” Lemmy gave him a quick hug. “Benjamin will explain later.”
The hall turned into a madhouse. The men followed their rabbi’s example and shrouded each of the policemen in prayer shawls. Soon Neturay Karta’s frail scholars were doubled over in laughter while all the policemen were struggling to find their way out of multiple layers of striped cloth.
“Thank you,” Lemmy kissed Benjamin’s cheek and ran off. “I’ll be back one day!”
“God bless,” Benjamin yelled after him.
Itah was already in the foyer, her headdress loose, her sleeve torn from the wrist up to the armpit. “Don’t ask,” she said as they ran out. “We didn’t have prayer shawls upstairs, but there were only two of them.”
They reached the gate, which was blocked by several police vans and a few white Subaru sedans, one with a half-open window. Lemmy reached inside and opened the door. It took him thirty seconds to rip off several plastic pieces from under the steering column, strip a few wires, and start the car.
“ I’m impressed.” Itah held on as he made a sharp turn. “They teach hotwiring in Swiss banking school?”
“ I just finished re-wiring an old Citroen. They’re all the same, basically.”
“ And your buddy Benjamin-he’s something else! That agent didn’t know what hit him!”
“My clever, wonderful Benjamin.” Lemmy changed gears. “It’s like we’re teenagers again.”
*
What struck Gideon more than anything else during the few minutes of his confinement was that no one tried to hit him or push him off the dais or hurt him in any way. On the contrary, when he stumbled after failing to free himself, the ultra-Orthodox men pulled off the prayer shawls, helped him sit on a bench, and served him with sweet wine in a plastic cup. Similar scenes took place around the synagogue, where the frazzled police officers, their hair messed up, their faces red, were nevertheless smiling as the men catered to them with wine and good cheer.
Rabbi Benjamin Mashash was gone, and suddenly Gideon remembered that Agent Cohen was about to raid the rabbi’s apartment. Was Spinoza hiding there? Gideon ran out and headed down one of the alleys, trying to recall the map he had pinned to the briefing room wall. He took the turns from memory, catching up with the rabbi, who was older and in the physical shape of one who spends his days studying.
“He’s not there.” The rabbi panted badly. “Only my son…ill…stayed home.”
Gideon sped up. “I’ll stop them,” he yelled over his shoulder. But he knew he was too late.
*
“ Slow down,” Itah said. “Nobody is chasing us.”
“Are you sure?” Lemmy opened the storage bin between the seats, finding a bottle of water and loose change. There were two sets of communication devices-a CB radio and another unit he wasn’t familiar with. He made sure both were turned off. “Search the glove compartment.”
She did. “Registration papers and manuals. A pen.”
“What kind?”
“The pen? Ballpoint.”
“Good.” He took it and stuck in his shirt pocket. “Where are we?”
“The French Hill neighborhood. It was built after the Six Day War.”
“That’s why I don’t recognize it.” Lemmy stopped on the side of the road. “We need to figure out what’s going on.”
“The raid?” Itah unscrewed the cap from the water bottle. “I thought they’d wait for you outside the neighborhood, but obviously they’re impatient.”
“ Why? How can I hurt Rabin if I’m holed up in Meah Shearim?” Lemmy took the bottle from her and took a sip. “Maybe they’re worried about something else.”
“ Other than Rabin’s safety?”
“ Elie would know. I should have squeezed him harder.”
“ There’s someone else you could squeeze.” Itah found a roadmap folded between the seats and spread it open.
“Who?”
“Freckles.” Her finger traced a road on the map. “He’s the only agent serving both SOD and Shin Bet.”
“ He’s a low-level provocateur. Why would they tell him?”
“ Freckles doesn’t need to be told. He’s a born sniffer. He would know.” She tapped the map. “The settlement of Tapuach. That’s where he lives.”
“ In the West Bank?”
“ No. In Switzerland.” Itah laughed. “You’ve never been to a settlement, have you?”
“ I left Israel one day before the IDF captured the West Bank. Other than my radar sabotage foray into East Jerusalem and a recent visit to the Wailing Wall, I’ve never been across the sixty-seven border.”
“ How bizarre. Our worst political problems in the past decades-the vicious rift between left and right, the loss of international support, and the Intifada-all came after the Six Day War.” Itah punched his arm. “If not for your pyrotechnics at Government House, Israel’s first strike would have failed. Even if we had somehow survived the Arabs’ overwhelming forces, we would have never captured the West Bank. If not for you, the Middle East would have gone in a different direction.”
“ You blame me?” Lemmy merged back into traffic, speeding up. “Don’t you believe in God?”
*
Smoke petered out of the windows on the second floor of the apartment building. Gideon ran up the stairs. The door was broken, hanging from a single remaining brass hinge. He yelled, “Abort! Abort!”
“ Stay back!” Agent Cohen’s voice was muted by the gas mask. “We got Spinoza!”
The teargas had immediate effect on Gideon. His eyes watered and his nose began to burn. The apartment was wrecked, with bullet holes and broken furniture. “Abort, I said!”
Agent Cohen was crouching in the hallway. “He’s cornered!”
“ It’s not him!”
Down the hallway, the nurse lifted her leg to kick in a door to one of the bedrooms, while another agent stood with his back against the wall, gun ready.
“ Go,” Agent Cohen shouted. “Shoot to kill!”
“ No!” Out of time and breath, Gideon sprinted forward. The nurse kicked in the door and released a first shot. Gideon collided with her, and together they fell on the other agent, who yelled in pain.
Agent Cohen ran toward them.
Inside the room, Gideon glimpsed a bookcase that fell over on its side. A choked cough came from behind the makeshift barricade. A hand rose and tossed a book at them.
“ Give it to me!” Agent Cohen grabbed the gun from the nurse and aimed it into the room with both hands.
Gideon lifted his leg and kicked him in the crotch.
“It’s my son!” Rabbi Benjamin Mashash ran into the apartment, his face pale, his black hat pressed over his mouth and nose. “Jerusalem! Jerusalem! ”
Agent Cohen sat against the wall and moaned.
The youth emerged from behind the makeshift barricade. He was badly bruised, and his torn pajama shirt hung from one shoulder. Half-blinded by the tear gas, he fell into his father’s arms. “Don’t worry,” he said, “the stupid Zionists didn’t get me.”
*
As soon as they left Jerusalem, the trees disappeared, giving way to the barren hills of the West Bank. The occasional Arab village welcomed them with odors of smoke, a mix of small and large homes in no particular order. The stark absence of vegetation was broken only by the Jewish settlements with their tidy red roofs, green fields, and fruit orchards, cut off from the surrounding parched land with tall fences.
Half an hour later, the settlement of Tapuach- Apple in Hebrew-welcomed them with a massive steel gate across the access road. A sign read: No vehicle traffic during Sabbath!
Lemmy parked the car, and they walked to the guardhouse. A man in a white shirt and a knitted skullcap shouldered his machine gun and opened the gate.
Up close, Lemmy realized that most houses were nothing more than rickety prefabricated trailers, covered with ivy and painted white. Cracked concrete paths meandered between young trees and makeshift vegetable gardens. A woman pushing a double-stroller gave them directions.
Freckles opened the door, wearing a blue tank top, shorts, and sandals.
“ Hey, partner,” Itah said.
Behind him, a woman with a Russian accent yelled, “Who is it?”
“ I’ll be right back,” he replied and joined them outside, closing the door.
“ Good Sabbath,” Lemmy said. “Do you remember me?”
Freckles shifted his knitted skullcap back and forth on his head, as if he had a bad itch. Then his eyes lit up. “King David Hotel. You wore a baseball hat, right?”
“ Good memory. I can tell Elie Weiss trained you.”
He nodded.
“ Interesting,” Itah said. “Then why did you betray him?”
“ Not here.” Freckles walked fast, his sandals slapping the concrete path. He led them to a playground, where a bunch of kids climbed ropes and pushed the limit on creaking, steel-chain swings. “I’ve served both SOD and Shin Bet for years. There was no conflict-it was like doing one job for two employers and twice the pay. But Agent Cohen forced me to choose, told me Elie Weiss was dying and that I could go to jail for many years for a conspiracy to shoot the prime minister.”
“ Are you guilty?”
Freckles smiled, showing crooked teeth. “It was Elie’s idea, you know, to have a religious guy use low-velocity bullets, shoot Rabin once in the ribs over a bulletproof vest. I mean, it has to look real to convince everyone that the right-wing crazies actually tried to kill him, right?”
“ Let me see if I understand,” Itah said. “The Shin Bet discovered Elie’s staged assassination plot, gave you an ultimatum, and forced you to betray him.”
“ There’s no betrayal!” Freckles got red in the face. “I work for them, so I report my whereabouts.”
“ Meeting Elie at the King David Hotel?”
He shrugged.
“ And they shut down the operation and arrested Yoni Adiel?”
Freckles looked away. “Something like that.”
“ Don’t lie to me.”
He folded his arms on his chest. “Maybe you should leave.”
Lemmy patted his shoulder. “Do you know who I am?”
“ I don’t care.” Despite the height difference, it was clear that Freckles felt that his youth and muscular build gave him advantage over the middle-aged man Itah had brought with her.
“ Let’s say,” Lemmy said, “that while you got a baccalaureate degree from the university of Elie Weiss, I went on to earn a doctorate.”
“ Congratulations.” Freckles grinned. “But I still don’t care.”
“ Perhaps you should. You see, I kill people for Elie Weiss. Traitors, for example.”
*
Standing by the kitchen table, Gideon helped Sorkeh clean up and bandage Jerusalem’s scrapes and bruises. The news of the apartment raid had spread quickly, drawing a large crowd of Neturay Karta men, who filled the alley below, waiting for Rabbi Benjamin Mashash to come out. But he had shut himself in his small study off the foyer, and his praying voice filtered through the closed door.
“ There,” Sorkeh said to her son, “all done. You go back to bed, and I’ll bring you some tea.” She went over to the dining room, where Agent Cohen was having a hushed conversation with his team, and said, “You should be ashamed of yourself!”
He turned to her, his injured eye covered with a beige patch, his red face still marked by the straps of the gas mask. “Shut up, woman, before we arrest you.”
“ Is that so?” Sorkeh went to the window and looked down at the crowded alley, which went quiet immediately. “Men of Neturay Karta,” she yelled, “come up here and remove these Nazis from your rabbi’s home!”
A roar came from below, and the drumming of shoes on the stairs gave the whole building a tremor.
“ Shit! ” Agent Cohen retreated with his subordinates into the corner, drawing their weapons, while Sorkeh returned to the kitchen.
Gideon ran to the study and pounded on the door.
Rabbi Benjamin Mashash emerged just as the first few men appeared at the entrance, pushed from behind by the crowd. He stood in front of the door leading to the dining room.
The foyer filled with men in black coats and hats, their hands clenched into fists.
“ Sabbath is a holy day of reflection and prayer.” Rabbi Mashash gestured. “Pass it down.”
“ Sabbath is a holy day of reflection and prayer,” the men repeated. Others did the same, and the sentence could be heard making its way down the stairwell to the alley.
“ We will allow these misguided Jews to leave our community in peace.”
Again the words echoed repeatedly until they faded away.
He beckoned Agent Cohen. The Shin Bet agents holstered their weapons and trotted warily through a narrow path among the men of Neturay Karta. Gideon nodded at the rabbi and his wife and followed the Shin Bet team downstairs and through the alleys to the gate.
*
Freckles recovered quickly, but he was smart enough to know they had seen the look of fear on his face. “You don’t scare me,” he said, trying to sound defiant. “Everyone here is my friend. We all carry guns.”
Itah turned to Lemmy. “I guess we’re screwed, ah?”
“I guess so.” He smiled at Freckles, placed an arm on his shoulder, and made him turn away from the playground.
“Hey!” Freckles tried to free himself. “Let go!”
But Lemmy’s arm was already bent at the elbow, forming a tight collar around his neck. With his left hand Lemmy pulled the pen from his pocket and shoved the ballpoint tip into the double-agent’s ear. Itah was ready with her crumpled headdress, which she pressed to his mouth to silence his scream.
They led him into a cluster of trees nearby. None of the playing kids noticed anything unusual, and their chatter continued uninterrupted.
Freckles moaned as he tried to force away Lemmy’s hand.
“That was your eardrum. It will heal. But any deeper than this, and my pen would demolish your middle ear, destroy your auditory system and your balance. After that, I’ll be autographing your brain. I’d rather not, but I need to know that you’ll cooperate and not scream. Is it safe now?”
Freckles froze, lowering his hands.
“ Is it safe?”
He made a sound that indicated a positive response.
Lemmy pulled the pen out of Freckles’ ear and held it up. “Too much wax.”
Itah removed the gagging headdress.
“They took over Elie’s operation,” Freckles said rapidly, his voice thinner, as if his vocal cords had narrowed. “Wasn’t my idea!”
“ I thought they shut it down,” Lemmy said, aiming the pen at the ear.
“ Don’t! Please!”
“ Keep talking.”
“ Rabin won’t wear a vest. They had me load Yoni’s gun with blanks. He doesn’t know. He thinks they’re regular bullets.”
“ When will he shoot Rabin?”
“ Tonight. At the rally. Yoni will be allowed to enter the sterile zone. After the rally, near the Cadillac, the bodyguards will leave Rabin’s back exposed for a shot.”
“My God,” Itah said. “Does Rabin know about this?”
“No.”
“But why would Shin Bet get involved in politics? Domestic security priorities don’t change, whether it’s Rabin or Netanyahu, Labor or Likud!”
“It’s not about politics.” Freckles tried to shake his head, but it was still held in the vise of Lemmy’s bent arm. “It’s about making their life easier.”
“It makes no sense,” Lemmy said.
“ Actually, it does,” Itah said. “With the two-state solution, which seems inevitable, Israel will leave the West Bank and Gaza, and the Palestinians will want their future state to be Judenfrei. That means evacuation of all the Jewish settlements.” She waved her hand around. “Including this one, which is growing every week. From a domestic security standpoint, speeding up the process is a necessity-the longer it takes, the larger the settlements, the harder it will be for Shin Bet and the IDF to remove all the Jews from the territories. The staged assassination will strengthen the Rabin government, demonize the right, and legitimize harsh measures against the settlements with a view to total evacuation. Shin Bet is thinking ahead, that’s all. Security considerations, not politics.”
“ That’s right,” Freckles said. “Planning ahead. An assassination attempt by a right winger is a perfect excuse to come down hard on the whole settlement movement, arrest leaders, shut down support organizations, and deflate public sympathy for the settlers ahead of the eventual evacuation.”
“ It’s risky,” Lemmy said. “Is Yoni willing to go to jail?”
“ Yes,” Freckles said. “He’s sincere about shooting Rabin pursuant to the Rodef doctrine.”
“ But what if he checks his ammo? He could switch to live bullets. This could end up being a successful assassination-by mistake!”
“ It’s a blessed gun.” Freckles tried again to free himself, but stopped when Lemmy’s pen slipped into his ear canal.
“Do you want gray matter seeping out of your ear?”
“ Ouch!”
“ What’s a blessed gun?” Lemmy pulled the pen back, but not all the way. “Explain!”
“ After loading Yoni’s gun with blanks, I arranged for a rabbi to hold a little ceremony.” Freckles grinned despite the pain. “He recited a prayer over the gun, wrapped it in a sacred parchment, sealed it with kosher wax, and instructed Yoni to open it only when the condemned Rodef is within range.”
*
At Atarot airfield north of Jerusalem, Gideon, Agent Cohen, and the other Shin Bet agents boarded a helicopter. The mood was grim. Not only they had driven Spinoza out of the confined area inhabited by Neturay Karta, but the attack on Rabbi Mashash’s apartment had been a complete disaster.
The discovery that one of their vehicles had been stolen was embarrassing, but its built-in tracking device provided the best possible hope of catching Spinoza before the commencement of the peace rally. The device worked only when the engine was on, and tracking was spotty in areas of poor cell coverage. So far, since its disappearance had been noticed, the car had not shown up on the monitors at Shin Bet headquarters.
After takeoff, the passengers’ headphones were tuned to an all-news radio station, which carried a live report from the Kings of Israel Plaza in Tel Aviv. In the early afternoon, dozens of buses arrived from all over the country, unloading cheerful revelers, who swarmed the surrounding city blocks with provincial excitement. The tight security arrangements included multiple checkpoints, traffic barricades, bomb-sniffing dogs, and horse-mounted riot police. A small contingency of anti-peace demonstrators had already been arrested for gathering without the appropriate license.
The helicopter followed the main highway to Tel Aviv, descending the Judean Mountains over the string of rusting skeletal trucks and buses, preserved as memorials to the fallen soldiers of the 1948 War of Independence. But soon the Ayalon Valley stretched before them, with open fields of honey-colored wheat and straight rows of vines.
Agent Cohen, who sat up front next to the pilot, suddenly turned and motioned at Gideon to change the channel on his headphones. “The car has just been traced,” his metallic voice came through. “Somewhere in the West Bank. We’re changing course.”
*
They took Freckles’ FN Browning handgun and warned him to remain mum about their visit. Ten minutes down the road, Lemmy stopped at an intersection: Left to the border crossing over the Jordan River, right to Tel Aviv.
“A fork in the road,” Itah said. “No pun intended.”
“The mother of all puns.” Lemmy pointed to the east. “We could cross the border and go to Amman. I have several clients among the king’s courtiers, and the Swiss embassy will take care of the paperwork and fly us back to Zurich.”
“Nice for us,” Itah said, “but the Israeli electorate will be left to watch a spectacle of corruption, deceit, and manipulation, leading to unearned election victory for Labor and a witch hunt against the political right.”
“It would seem less important from distant Switzerland. My father will join us, and we’ll spend Saturdays on the lake, eat and drink, and get to know each other.”
“Tempting.” She smiled. “But even your Swiss chocolate will taste bitter to me. I’m a reporter, and this is the story of my career. And I can’t sit back and let such fraud go through.” She reached for the door handle. “Let me go by myself. I can hitchhike from here, get to Tel Aviv, and call on a few media colleagues. We’ll expose the staged assassination, either before or after the rally.” She opened the door. “You go home to your family.”
Lemmy reached over and shut her door. “I’m going with you.”
“Why?”
He engaged first gear and waited as a convoy of three IDF jeeps reached the intersection and turned east toward the Jordanian border. “Because a piece of parchment and a glob of kosher wax won’t stop a determined assassin.”
“ How do you know?”
“ It wouldn’t stop me.” The Subaru’s rear wheels screeched as he accelerated in mid-turn, heading west toward Tel Aviv. “And it won’t stop Yoni Adiel.”
*
“ New information,” Agent Cohen said. “They’ve been to a settlement. Tapuach.” He gestured at the pilot, who banked to the left in a wide sweep.
Gideon adjusted the mouthpiece. “What about sending a ground unit to set up a roadblock and arrest them?”
Agent Cohen gestured to the nurse, who unzipped an elongated package and took out a long rifle, equipped with a scope. She cocked the weapon and glanced through the scope. Satisfied, she gave it to Gideon to hold while she changed places with the agent sitting by the sliding door.
“Why Tapuach?” Gideon gave the rifle back to the nurse.
“Freckles lives there.”
“Ah.” Gideon could see through the front windshield the barren hills of the West Bank. “Did he tell them anything?”
“Of course.” Agent Cohen used binoculars to inspect the narrow roads below. “He told them a bunch of bullshit. It’s his specialty.”
“Why would Spinoza risk capture? What did he expect Freckles to know?”
“Information about tonight! What else?” Agent Cohen’s tone grew impatient. “Freckles knows all the details of SOD’s fake assassination plan, which he helped us shut down. Spinoza needs every detail he could gather about tonight’s security arrangements. That’s why he went to see Freckles, and that’s why we have to stop him. Do you get it now, or do I have to spell it out for you?”
“I get it,” Gideon said, though he wasn’t completely convinced.
“Good, because I’m counting on you to bring down Spinoza before tonight. The peace rally must go peacefully!” Agent Cohen chuckled at his clever pun. “Peace…fully!”
The pilot adjusted direction again, heading west, down from the watershed toward the coastal plain and the Mediterranean. The nurse grabbed the handle and pulled open the sliding door, letting in the roar of wind and engines.
*
Other than the Dutch signage and abundance of tall nurses of both genders, the VU Medisch Centrum in Amsterdam wasn’t much different from Hadassah Hospital. The recent computer glitch had forced the staff to pay close attention to each patient, making sure the correct treatment was provided to the right person. Many beds carried cardboard signs with patients’ names, and family members stayed around the clock to guard against mistakes. Carl joked with a pretty nurse in the elevator, who seemed disappointed when he stepped off with Rabbi Gerster on the fifteenth floor.
Carl led him to a room across from the nurses’ station. “Best location,” he explained. “From such proximity, the nurses are motivated to empty the bedpans.”
Rabbi Gerster was still chuckling when he entered the room and saw Bira, holding a moist cloth to her mother’s forehead. Tanya’s eyes were closed. Her arm and leg were in a cast, attached to a steel-wire apparatus. Her face was impossibly white. He stared at her, unable to breathe.
“Can I help you?” Bira didn’t recognize him.
He removed the sunglasses.
Her eyes opened wide and she hurried around the bed. She stopped before reaching him, holding back, unsure of his reaction.
He stepped forward, opened his arms, and took Bira into a tight embrace. And to his great surprise, Tanya’s daughter, the tough archeology professor who had defied him repeatedly, buried her face in his chest and sobbed like a little girl.
*
The Cross-Samaria Roadway followed a moderate decline through the West Bank hills toward the Green Line and the Israeli city of Kfar Saba, a large bedroom community at the edge of the Tel Aviv metropolis. “Look at this view,” Itah said. “On a clear day you can see every Israeli city from Ashdod in the south to Hadera in the north. Basically, sixty-percent of Israelis live within sight of here.”
“And within range.”
Itah looked at him. The resemblance to his father was striking, but so were the differences. Where his father was a thinker, a deliberate leader who used words and gestures to influence others, Lemmy spoke and acted like a man of action-decisive, showing no hesitation. “Range is a relative term,” she said. “In sixty-seven, we worried about King Hussein’s artillery positions on these hills, and in fact he bombed our cities before the IDF destroyed his army and pushed him back from the West Bank. But in ninety-one, Saddam Hussein’s Scud missiles easily hit Tel Aviv from Baghdad, and the Americans forbade us from responding in kind.”
“And in a few years, we’ll be within range of Teheran’s ballistic missiles.” Lemmy sped up to pass a station wagon.
“That’s the reason Yitzhak Rabin decided to make peace,” Itah explained, “even if the Palestinians get to sit here and aim Katyusha rockets at us. He wants to create a ring of peaceful Arab countries around Israel-Egypt, Jordan, Syria, Lebanon, as well as a Palestinian state-together forming a buffer against Iran, Iraq, and Saudi Arabia.”
“It’s a risky gamble.” Lemmy crossed into the opposite lane to pass a motorcycle, ridden by a couple who both wore black helmets and gray ponytails.
“Rabin is a strategic thinker. He looks at the whole region as a single battlefield, which is the reason he really believes in this peace. Only he could inspire so many Israelis to support reconciliation with the PLO-”
The shots came one after the other, blowing both tires on the left side of the car. Lemmy struggled with the steering wheel, but the car veered to the shoulder, flipped over, and landed upside-down in a ditch.
In the sudden silence, Lemmy heard the rattle of a helicopter. “Are you okay?”
No response from Itah.
Bullets knocked on the car.
The seat belt buckle took several tries to yield. He crawled out through the shattered window. A cloud of dust lingered from the car’s tumbles. Freckles’ FN Browning was already in his hand. He cocked it, advanced up to the edge of the ditch, and waited for the dust to settle.
The helicopter was somewhere to his right, hovering low. Lemmy traced the sound with the barrel of the FN Browning. A gust of wind cleared the dust. A sniper hung out of the open door as the helicopter slowly descended toward a flat piece of desert. More shots hit the car.
Lemmy aimed at the most vulnerable part of the craft-its rear rotor. He released one, two, three shots.
At first there was only a brief burst of steam-like vapors, but then the sound level changed. The sniper managed one more shot, hitting the dirt by Lemmy’s head, but the helicopter began to spin around, showing its other side, which gave Lemmy direct visual line to the pivot holding the rear rotor. He pressed the trigger three more times. There was a popping noise, and the helicopter turned again, tilting sideways, and hit the ground.
No explosion. Must have been low on fuel.
Lemmy crawled back into the wrecked Subaru.
He didn’t need to check Itah’s pulse to know she was gone. The car’s gyrations must have tossed her upper body sideways through the window. Her head was crushed.
Someone was yelling.
The motorcycle riders.
They had been close behind when the first shots hit the car. The bike was lying on its side, and the man was crouching by his female passenger in the middle of the road. Lemmy ran over. She was conscious, crying softly.
A car was approaching. It was the station wagon he had passed earlier. “There’s your ride,” Lemmy told the biker. “Get her to a hospital.”
The motorbike was an old Triumph Bonneville, its few chrome parts shining, a testimony to pride of ownership and, Lemmy hoped, good repair. He lifted the bike, scanned the controls, slipped the gear into neutral, and stepped on the kickstand. The engine fired up immediately.
The owner yelled something.
Lemmy shoved the FN Browning in his belt and straddled the bike, revving the engine.
Another shout, this one closer.
He turned.
The biker held forth a helmet. “Don’t leave the bike idling too long-it’ll overheat.”
Slipping on the helmet, Lemmy rode off, surprised by the engine’s smooth response. A moment later he was speeding down the hill, his eyes squinting against the sun, which was descending toward the Mediterranean. As he breathed deeply, the adrenaline rush subsided, and anger flooded him. Itah was dead, and with her died the feelings she had developed for his father and the knowledge she had accumulated to help him in his quest to uncover the truth and secure his family’s safety. Again he was alone.
*