The Jerusalem Assassin

by Avraham Azrieli

  Elie pressed the stop button. He took a piece of paper, scribbled on it, and showed it to Gideon. “Is this the target?”

  “ Correct.” He looked at Elie with astonishment. “How did you know?”

  Elie put his hand on the thick bible. “There are no new stories. It’s all in here.” He pointed at the recorder. “Make a copy of the tape.”

  “Hey,” Bathsheba said, “I want to hear the end!”

  “The end is near.” Elie went back to the bedroom. “Wake me up at eight.”

  *

  Tuesday, October 24, 1995

  The three of them waited outside until the doctors completed morning rounds in the ICU. Paula explained to Klaus Junior what had happened to his grandfather and how the doctors were trying to help him recover.

  The room was painted light blue, with framed posters of greenery and water. Armande Hoffgeitz’s eyes were closed and various tubes entered his body. Steady beeps came from the heart monitor above the bed.

  “Hi, Grandpa.” The boy touched the hand that rested on the sheet. “I have to go to school now. Get better so I can see you later, okay?”

  Paula and Lemmy followed him out of the room.

  “Is Grandpa going to die?”

  Lemmy kneeled, his face level with his son’s. “We don’t know yet. But he’s very ill. Will you pray for him?”

  The boy nodded.

  Paula smiled through her tears.

  Lemmy took him to school and drove to the bank. Christopher had summoned the staff to a conference room. Lemmy gave them a brief update on his father-in-law’s medical condition and prognosis.

  Herr Diekman, the most senior account manager, stood up. “All of us pray for Herr Hoffgeitz’s quick and full recovery. In the meantime, we have complete confidence in your leadership.”

  “ Thank you. Paula and I appreciate your support and friendship at this difficult time.”

  Everyone was silent for a moment.

  “ Being one of the oldest institutions in this city,” Lemmy continued, “the Hoffgeitz Bank is a symbol of stability. We take pride in our superb and uninterrupted client service. As vice president, I have assumed all administrative and managerial responsibilities for the bank. Any and all account transactions that exceed the equivalent of ten thousand dollars, cumulative for a single day, require my signature-including the accounts owned by Herr Hoffgeitz’s clients, which are under the supervision of Herr Schnell.”

  Gunter, who was standing against the wall, nodded. The other men exchanged glances around the table, but no one questioned the instructions.

  “ If you have any concerns, please come to me. Our message to our clients and the banking community is that business continues as usual at the Hoffgeitz Bank.”

  He returned to his office and spent an hour returning phone calls and answering mail. Before lunch, he summoned Christopher. “I was wondering, has Gunter completed entering the data into the system?”

  “Yes. I’ve followed his progress on my computer. He has inserted numbers for all of the accounts that Herr Hoffgeitz handles personally, which amounts to less than thirty accounts actually. Is there a problem?”

  “My father-in-law had a heart attack right after a mysterious phone call regarding an account of an old friend. Why?”

  “ Maybe your wife knows who it is?”

  “ I won’t drag Paula into the bank’s business.” Lemmy rocked in his chair. “It’s my responsibility to find out what’s going on before the bank’s reputation could be damaged. You agree?”

  Christopher nodded. “You want me to ask Gunter again?”

  “ He won’t talk. But the computer now holds all the records of deposits and withdrawals in each of the bank’s accounts since the beginning of this year, correct?”

  “ Yes, but because Herr Hoffgeitz’s accounts are segregated from the clients managed by you and the account managers, I can only see the total turnover for his clients’ accounts as a combined group, not individually.”

  Lemmy played with the pen. “What’s the total value of all the deposits currently with the bank?”

  “Calculated in U.S. dollars, our total holdings in all the accounts add up to about forty-two billion.” Christopher rose. “I can find the exact number-”

  “And what part of it is held in the accounts of Herr Hoffgeitz’s clients?”

  “As a group, almost sixty percent.”

  “ About twenty-four billion dollars?”

  “ Yes.”

  “Good. What I need from you are two numbers. First, the total turnover-deposits and withdrawals-in Herr Hoffgeitz’s clients’ accounts as a group during the month of September. Second, the total turnover in the rest of the bank’s clients’ accounts as a group, also during the month of September. Can you do that?”

  “Easy.” Christopher left to run the numbers.

  Lemmy brought up Herr Hoffgeitz’s office on his computer screen. Gunter was sitting in the president’s chair on the far side of the room, surrounded by the light from the window behind him. Using the arrows on his keyboard, Lemmy zoomed in. The face drew closer, filling the screen, the lips trembling, the eyes shut tightly, the tears flowing.

  A moment later, Christopher knocked on the door.

  Lemmy punched the escape key and unlocked the door.

  Christopher placed two pieces of paper on the desk.

  The numbers were shocking. Lemmy examined them carefully, calculating in his mind, and then sat back in his chair, struggling to keep his feelings from showing on his face. On the desk before him was the reason for Elie Weiss’s lifelong obsession with the Hoffgeitz Bank.

  “Herr Horch? Anything wrong?”

  “Don’t you see?” Lemmy grabbed a pencil and jotted down a few numbers, then turned the page. “I rounded up your numbers for simplicity. Herr Hoffgeitz and Gunter manage accounts for a small group of clients. We don’t know who they are, but we do know there’s a total of about twenty-four billion dollars, right?”

  Christopher nodded.

  “During September, the total turnover in his clients’ accounts was about twenty-one million dollars. That’s about-”

  “Less than one-tenth of one percent of the total balance of all his clients’ accounts combined.”

  “Correct.” Lemmy wrote the number down. “Now, in the rest of the bank’s accounts, including those that I manage and the accounts handled by the others, we have total balance of about eighteen billion dollars altogether, correct?”

  Christopher nodded.

  “And according to your numbers, the total turnover in and out of these accounts during the last month was four hundred and seventy million dollars, which is a little more than-”

  “ Two-and-a-half percent.”

  “ Correct!” He threw down the pencil. “See?”

  “How strange.” Christopher stared at the numbers in astonishment. “Herr Hoffgeitz’s clients barely move their money. Why?”

  “Good question!”

  “Maybe some of his clients are not active at all?”

  “Bingo!” Lemmy picked up the pencil. “If Herr Hoffgeitz’s clients are divided into two groups-active accounts and inactive accounts-how much would each group hold?”

  “You mean, if we assume that Herr Hoffgeitz’s active clients behave like the rest of the bank’s clients?”

  “ Correct.”

  “ We could extrapolate the turnover amount in Herr Hoffgeitz accounts-twenty-one million dollars-by the normal turnover percentage of two-and-a-half percent.”

  “ In other words, take the turnover amount in his accounts and multiply it by forty, which comes to-”

  “ Eight hundred and forty million.”

  “ That’s right. So out of twenty-four billion dollars in the accounts that Herr Hoffgeitz manages exclusively with Gunter’s help, only eight hundred and forty million dollars are in active accounts.”

  Christopher thought for a moment. “And the rest is sitting in inactive accounts-”

  “ Or a si
ngle account.”

  “ With a total balance of over twenty-three billion dollars!”

  “Based on September’s figures,” Lemmy said. “But even if the numbers fluctuate a bit, we can safely assume that a huge part of Herr Hoffgeitz’s clients’ holdings remains inactive.”

  “That’s incredible!”

  “ Interesting may be a better word. But also logical, because he would normally assign the routine handling of clients to one of the accounts managers. Herr Hoffgeitz would only keep special accounts under his own management.”

  “ Special in what way?”

  “ That’s what we need to find out.” Lemmy walked around the desk and stood by the door. “Great work, Christopher. You’ll make an excellent assistant to the president.”

  “Thank you!”

  “Now try to sniff around Gunter, but don’t frighten the old guy, okay?”

  Christopher disappeared behind the door, but a moment later buzzed Lemmy on the intercom. “Prince Abusalim az-Zubayr is on the line. He wants to talk to you.”

  *

  At the Hilton suite in Paris, the lights blinked on the eavesdropping system. “Outgoing call,” Gideon announced.

  “ Put it on the speakers,” Elie said.

  “ What happened?” Bathsheba clapped. “No more secrets?”

  Gideon hushed her, and a man’s voice came from the speakers. “Welcome back, Excellency. How is Paris treating you?”

  “It’s good to be back, Herr Horch. Six-one-nine, El-Sharif.”

  “ How can we help you?”

  “ I know this voice!” Bathsheba pointed at the machine. “That’s the man who left the message earlier.”

  Elie put a finger to his lips.

  “ Another transfer,” the prince said, “to the same bank in Senlis.”

  “Of course. How much would you like to give Monsieur Sachs this time?”

  “Two-and-a-half million dollars. And there will be another transfer of the same amount in a week or so, after he completes a certain job for me. I’ll let you know.”

  “It’s an honor to serve you. The transfer will take place tomorrow, Wednesday, the twenty-fifth. It might take the French a few hours to get the cash ready. Should be available for pickup in the afternoon.”

  “Perfect. Be well, my friend.”

  Gideon turned off the speakers. “We’re back in the game.”

  “It’s not a game,” Bathsheba said. “And who’s Herr Horch?”

  “ This is it,” Elie said. “Tomorrow afternoon. We must prepare well. We won’t have a second chance.”

  “Wasn’t Horch a carmaker?” Gideon reset the recording device.

  “ This guy doesn’t make cars.” Bathsheba looked at Elie. “How the hell did you manage to turn a Swiss banker into an Israeli agent?”

  “Don’t worry about that.”

  “ I do worry! What if he’s a double agent? What if he’s sick of you blackmailing him or whatever you’re doing to make him work for you? What if he’s setting us up for Abu Yusef?”

  “ She’s right,” Gideon said. “We need to know if Horch is reliable.”

  “ He’s more reliable than the two of you put together.” Elie lit another cigarette and opened his bible. “Better start to prepare. Everything will depend on your performance.”

  *

  Prince Abusalim rang room service for a bottle of iced champagne and an assortment of sweets. He went to the bathroom and watched his naked image in the wall-to-wall mirror, taking pleasure in his muscular body as it produced a healthy stream of urine.

  Wearing nothing but a bandage on his hand, he returned to the bedroom, where a voluptuous blonde was spread out on the bed, supported by a mound of pillows, eating square bits of chocolate from a silver bowl nestled between her breasts.

  He wondered if he should let her stay the night.

  The book of Koran rested on the night stand. He opened the drawer and dropped the Koran out of sight. “You eat too much chocolate, my little Rubens.” He squeezed the flesh of her thigh.

  She giggled, reaching for his groin. “Maybe I’ll eat this chocolate.”

  “ That’s my girl.” He grabbed her hair. “ Bon appetit.”

  *

  Paula served tender pork chops and sweet potato fries for dinner. Klaus Junior nibbled at the food as he listened to Lemmy reading aloud get-well cards sent by bank employees, clients, and a few of Armande’s old friends.

  While Paula served cheesecake for dessert, the phone rang.

  Lemmy got up. “I’ll take it in the study.”

  He shut the door and picked up the phone. “Wilhelm Horch here.”

  “I gave you an order,” Elie said. “Have you finished off the old man?”

  “And I asked you not to phone me at home.” Lemmy covered his mouth as he spoke into the receiver. “I have a family!”

  “Silence!” Elie launched into a series of coughs, followed by spitting. When he spoke again, his voice was weak. “Do not interrupt me again, or I’ll visit your home in person and practice my father’s trade on your Gentile wife and your little Nazi namesake.”

  The threat was so extreme that Lemmy could not speak.

  “ I need you to change the prince’s money transfer instructions. Write it down.”

  Lemmy jotted Elie’s instructions on a pad and hung up. He sat there for a long time, unable to return to the kitchen and face Paula and Klaus Junior as if nothing had happened. Had Elie spoken merely out of rage? Or had it been a valid forewarning of real intentions? There was no way to know what Elie would do to ensure the realization of his grand vision. It had been a terrible mistake to give Elie the impression that his feelings for Paula and Klaus Junior could in any way hinder his complete dedication to the cause of Counter Final Solution. Elie would not hesitate to send a hit team to Zurich. What’s a couple of dead Gentiles in the context of obtaining twenty-three billion dollars to combat global anti-Semitism?

  The door opened and Paula entered the study. She closed the door and came around the large desk. Gently she wiped the sweat from his forehead. “Are you going to leave us?”

  “What?” He looked up at her. “Hell, no!”

  She kissed the top of his head.

  He hugged her, his ear against her stomach. “I’ll never leave you.”

  “Good. Very good.”

  “It’s something else.” He stood, facing her. “I should have told you long ago.”

  Paula put a hand on his mouth. “I know who my husband is. You are a wonderful man and a terrific father. The rest is work stuff. I don’t want to know.”

  He held her tightly. She truly, unconditionally loved him. And he felt the same, which meant that Elie had a valid reason for his deadly threat, because if Lemmy had to choose, Paula and Klaus Junior would come first. He had no qualms about killing to protect Israel, and he would have no qualms killing to protect his family!

  They descended to the floor, kissing each other on the way down. They lay on the carpet. He nibbled at her neck, his left hand around her nape, his right hand pulling up her skirt. He mounted her, his knees parting her thighs. Paula quivered, breathing rapidly.

  *

  Wednesday, October 25, 1995

  “ My father will recover.” Paula sat in front of the vanity in the corner of their bedroom. “He won’t give up. I know him.”

  “Armande is strong,” Lemmy agreed while tying his shoes.

  Paula started her morning makeup routine. “I should have convinced him to work less, to spend more time with Junior. Maybe now he’ll agree to work part-time. You could run the bank day-to-day, right?”

  “I’m not his son.”

  Any reference to her dead brother, even indirectly, made Paula’s eyes moisten. She no longer cried, and most people would not even notice it, but Lemmy saw her reaction and regretted it. She smiled, which was her way of telling him it was okay to discuss this painful subject. “You’re like a son to him.”

  “ Not exactly. He doesn’t mind it when
I go skiing, but when Junior wanted to learn how to ski, your father flipped.”

  “ We’re going to do it this year. We have to.”

  “ That’s right. I mean, what kind of a Swiss kid doesn’t ski?” Lemmy watched her face, which lit up when discussing their son. “The winter is coming. Should I make reservations?”

  “ As long as it’s not Chamonix.”

  The Alpine ski resort had taken the life of Klaus V.K. Hoffgeitz in the twilight hours of a sunny day in the winter of 1973. He was found in a crevasse near an easy blue-diamond slope. An expert skier, he must have taken a wrong turn, confused by the shadows so typical of the western face of the mountain. Autopsy revealed that his injuries had not been severe, except for a stab wound, likely caused by the unlucky fall on a sharp icicle, which entered his brain through the throat, melting away long before the body had been found.

  “ I miss my brother,” Paula said. “He was fun.”

  Lemmy held her hand. “I’m sorry.”

  “ I’ve accepted it. God wanted him by His side.” She wiped her eyes. “And my mother’s real illness, what really killed her, was a broken heart, which I also understand. But for my father, losing Klaus V.K. has been the tragedy of his life-not just the grief over a wonderful, loveable son, but the loss of his heir. I think it’s like the world went out of order for him. It was the breaking of continuity, an end to generations of family tradition. My father feels that he failed in his hereditary duty to groom a male heir.”

  “It’s tragic.”

  “I tried to convince him it wasn’t like this anymore. It’s the twentieth century. Families hire professional managers to run inherited businesses. No one cares about bloodlines any longer. It’s so old fashioned.”

  “Your father is not easy to convince. He takes everything very seriously.” Lemmy had not told Paula about the phone call that had instigated her father’s heart attack or about the huge sum in the inactive account. She was safer not knowing. “I think he was hoping to run the bank until Junior is ready to take over.”

  “He’s ten!” She laughed, and the light from the window glistened in her eyes.

  “ It will take twenty years before-”

  “Not necessarily. If we expedite his schooling, he could graduate university at twenty, while spending each summer at the bank to learn the ropes. Theoretically, in twelve or thirteen years he could take over as president. And I’ll be there to help him.”