The Jerusalem Assassin

by Avraham Azrieli

  “ Go on.”

  “ And you’ll need to buy off insiders, enlist them as pens-for-hire.”

  “ Kind of intellectual moles?”

  “ Yes, major talents, capable of redirecting the political, religious, and emotional tone of newsmakers and scholars from anti-Israel to pro-Israel, from anti-Jewish to pro-Jewish, from warmongering to reconciliation. It’s an enormous undertaking.”

  “ But it’s possible.” Elie looked up at Itah, who stood up in excitement.

  “ In theory, anything is possible!” She laughed. “But in reality-”

  “ We’ll need someone with extensive media expertise?”

  “ Of course.”

  “ With creativity and vision?”

  “ Naturally.”

  “ With guts and big balls. Someone like you?”

  “ Yeah, right!” Itah dropped into the chair. “It’s a pipe dream.”

  “ Why?”

  “ Because it would cost more money than God has!”

  “ How much?”

  “ I don’t know.” She was smart enough to know he was teasing her, but she couldn’t resist the challenge. “A billion dollars, okay?”

  “ Is that your best estimate?”

  “ No, it’s my wild guess.”

  “ But you believe that you could do the job if this kind of money was available?”

  “ Oh, sure. If you give me a billion dollars, I’ll build a media department for your Counter Final Solution that will change the tone of every news outlet. Israel would be more popular than Mother Theresa, okay?”

  “ Funny how things work out,” Elie said. “A billion dollars is the exact budget I’ve allocated for the media department in my five-year plan.” He extended his bony hand to Itah. “Partners?”

  After a brief hesitation, Itah shook his hand. “You really have that kind of money?”

  “ A lot more,” Elie said. “Welcome aboard.”

  Rabbi Gerster clapped his hands. “You’re still the master,” he said to Elie. “I’m impressed.”

  *

  Lemmy stopped at a sporting goods store on the outskirts of Jerusalem and bought three baseball caps, three windbreakers, and three pairs of sunglasses, all in different colors. He followed road signs to Hadassah Hospital, which occupied a vast mountainside compound southwest of Jerusalem. Parking the Fiat in an overflow lot across the main road, he put on a yellow windbreaker, a matching cap, and sunglasses. He carried a blue set in a plastic bag.

  The information desk was handling a long line. Eventually his turn came.

  “ I’m looking for a relative,” Lemmy said. “She was admitted a couple of days ago, but we only got word this morning-”

  “Last name?”

  “Weiss.”

  The woman punched a few keys and looked at her computer screen. “Her first name?”

  “Esther.” Lemmy lowered his sunglasses and leaned forward to get a good view of the screen. “Esther Weiss.”

  She ran her finger down the list. “Don’t have her. Did you check the Hadassah campus at Mount Scopus?”

  “Not yet.” Lemmy saw the name on the screen: Weiss, Elie – Room 417. “Thanks.”

  “Next!”

  Lemmy headed toward the exit, circled the vast lobby, and found the gift shop. He selected a large bouquet and a get-well card, which he addressed to Auntie Esther.

  *

  “ Billions of dollars?” Rabbi Gerster returned Elie’s cold gaze without showing his anger. This was a dangerous moment, and the next step would determine whether he would ever see Lemmy again. “Have you finally put your hands on the Koenig fortune?”

  Elie raised a finger to his lips, but Itah Orr didn’t miss it. “Who’s Koenig? What fortune?”

  “Tanya gave you the ledger, but not an account number or a password.” The rabbi kept his voice even. “There’s no way you could reach that money without a mole inside the Hoffgeitz Bank.”

  Rising from the chair, Elie said, “Let’s go inside. It’s too chilly for me.”

  The rabbi blocked his way. “Answer me!”

  “Yes,” Elie said. “I have people inside. So what?”

  “You needed a young, bright, adaptable agent-someone similar to what I had been when you convinced me to infiltrate Neturay Karta, unknown, unattached, totally dedicated, and capable of climbing to the top, becoming a leader, and reaching through the wall of secrecy to grab Koenig’s funds.”

  “ You know me too well.”

  “ Such a mole had to look Aryan, speak German, and possess a flexible, sharp mind.”

  “ Possibly,” said Elie.

  “ Your candidate had to forgo his past life, forget his family and friends, and focus his whole life and future on this mission.”

  “ In other words, an impossible criteria.”

  “ Except for my son, who was a perfect fit.”

  “Theoretically, yes.” Elie tried to squeeze by toward the glass door.

  “It makes perfect sense. My Jerusalem spoke fluent German, had the looks and brains, and was alone in the world. A perfect recruit for such a long-term assignment in Switzerland.”

  “He was too dead for the job.”

  Itah groaned in shock at Elie’s cruel response, but Rabbi Gerster didn’t flinch. “What if he didn’t die on the Golan Heights? What if he survived? It wouldn’t be an unprecedented situation, considering your track record. Hadn’t Tanya spent twenty years thinking I was dead? Hadn’t I spent twenty years thinking she was dead?”

  “ I understand your pain,” Elie said. “You excommunicated Lemmy, turned your only son into a pariah, and expected him to come back begging for your forgiveness. But instead he joined the army and found happiness among the paratroopers. Yes, his happiness was short-lived, and it’s a tragedy. But don’t try to relieve your guilt by pinning it on me.”

  With one hand, Rabbi Gerster grabbed the front of Elie’s shirt and lifted him over the railing. The only thing that Elie’s flailing hands could clench was the rabbi’s white beard, but with a swipe of his free arm he knocked Elie’s hands away.

  “Stop it!” Itah stepped forward. “Killing him won’t bring your son back.”

  “That’s right,” Elie said, glancing down over his shoulder, where a rocky garden rested eleven stories below.

  “The body in the grave is not my son.”

  “It’s true,” Itah said. “We dug it up.”

  “Is Lemmy your mole at the Hoffgeitz Bank?” The rabbi tilted Elie farther back. “Answer!”

  Elie closed his eyes. His limbs slumped as if he gave up-or fainted.

  “Put him down,” Itah said. “He knows you’re not a killer.”

  *

  Carrying the flowers in front of him, Lemmy stepped off the elevator on the fourth floor of the hospital. Three hallways led in different directions. A brass plaque credited donors who had helped construct each hospital wing. A directory pointed to rooms 400-420. The double doors were marked Intensive Care Unit.

  Beyond the doors he found a strange calm, as if the severity of the patients’ conditions merited hushed voices and light steps. He glanced into the rooms while heading down the hallway. The buzzing of ventilators was constant, the sick lying immobile, connected to tubes and machinery. He kept his head turned sideways while his eyes surveyed the hallway from behind his dark sunglasses. Room 417 was near the end. A desk and two vacant chairs sat by the closed door.

  He passed by the nurses’ station, drawing no attention. The absence of guards was both a relief and a concern-either they were accompanying Elie for a test on another floor or they had moved him elsewhere. The last possibility, that he had died, was out of consideration. That would truly be a dead end.

  A quick glance over his shoulder, and Lemmy slipped into Room 417, closing the door.

  The bed was made. The side table was clear. No shoes, clothes, or personal effects. He opened the cabinets and found only medical supplies. Had Elie been moved to another room without changing the record in
the computer? Was it an intended diversion? Turning back toward the door, Lemmy noticed a security camera bolted to the ceiling. A tiny red light indicated it was operating.

  Three knocks came in quick succession, and the door flew open.

  *

  The satisfaction Elie had felt by turning the TV reporter into a potential member of his team was tainted by doubts. If she and Abraham had dug up Lemmy’s grave, what else had they dug up? She was a professional investigator, and Abraham, despite decades of relative seclusion from the modern world, had clearly maintained both his incredible intellect and powerful physique. These two made for a dangerous pair. How much did they know?

  Abraham pulled him back over the railing and lowered him into a chair. Elie kept his eyes closed and listened, hoping they would assume he was out and speak carelessly.

  “He’s so skinny and pale,” Itah said. “Is he okay?”

  “The shortness of breath is chronic emphysema.” Abraham felt Elie’s wrist. “But his heart is pumping well.”

  “Isn’t he heartless?”

  They laughed, and Elie heard them enter the suite. He needed to plan ahead. Abraham had guessed correctly that Lemmy was in Zurich rather than in the grave, but the time for their father-son reunion had not yet arrived, and maybe never would. They were more useful separately. As to the reporter, she seemed enamored with the rabbi and his mysterious life. They had worked well as a team, executing a clever rescue operation at Hadassah and choosing a perfect place to hide him. Elie knew that without their help he would be exposed to recapture by the Shin Bet. But he could not trust Abraham any longer. It was time to find another safe place to hide for the next few days.

  All this trouble was temporary. Rabin’s reluctance to make a deal in advance was nothing but the naivete of a dignified career-soldier, who had not completely internalized the rigors of real politics. But after the assassination attempt, once Rabin saw how effective Elie’s strategy worked, he would pull back Shin Bet and honor the deal. What choice would Rabin have while running for a certain victory over the discredited Likud? He would have to appoint Elie as intelligence czar-or risk a “leak” to the media of the true conspiratorial circumstances of the failed assassination, which would destroy Rabin’s credibility.

  Elie heard the TV blaring. He peeked inside and saw neither of them in the living room. The bedroom door was closed, and faint voices came through. Elie reached into Itah’s purse, which rested on the table by the door. His fingers touched a few bills, which he pocketed, together with the suite’s cardkey.

  Downstairs he found a phone in the lobby and asked the operator for an outside line. Freckles answered immediately.

  “It’s me,” Elie said.

  “ Hey! How’s it going?”

  “ I need a safe house for a few days.”

  “ Super! Not a problem!” The feigned exuberance must have been for the benefit of the people present in the room with Freckles. “It’s a pleasure!”

  “ Pick me up at six tonight. The King David Hotel. I’ll be in the restaurant.”

  “You got it!”

  “Make sure you’re not being followed.”

  “We’re cool,” Freckles said. “God bless!”

  *

  The door opened, and a nurse faced Lemmy. She was tall and broad, her white uniform ill-fitting, and her smile too wide to be sincere. “May I help you?”

  “ Oh, yes.” He took a step toward the door. “I’m a bit confused.”

  She didn’t move aside to let him out, but her smile remained fixed. “Are you looking for someone?”

  “ My aunt, Esther Weiss.” He lifted the bouquet. “I was told she’s in room three hundred and seventeen.” He tilted his head at the empty bed. “It’s not too late, I hope?”

  “ No, she’s fine.” Instead of stepping aside, the nurse entered the room and kicked the door shut with her heel. “Esther was taken downstairs for x-rays.” She reached into her coat pocket.

  He shoved the flowers in her face and used a chopping strike to disable her right arm. She raised a foot to kick him, which he dodged, taking advantage of her temporary imbalance to knock her other leg from under her, swing her around, and land a punch into her left kidney. She managed to elbow him hard in the chest, but a second fist to the kidney removed what was left of her fighting spirit. He pulled her coat off her shoulders, leaving the sleeves on, and used the loose ends to tie her hands behind her back. She was lying face-down on the floor, right under the video camera. He knew time was short before her colleagues showed up.

  A sucking sound told him she had managed to fill her lungs for a scream. He silenced her with a knuckle-jolt to the side of the head.

  The nurse was out cold. But not for long.

  As he exited the room, a man was jogging down the hallway. Lemmy pretended not to notice and walked in the opposite direction, where another set of double doors was marked with a red exit sign.

  He made it down one bank of stairs when the man yelled, “Stop or I shoot!”

  Lemmy raised his hands and turned slowly.

  The employee card that hung from the man’s neck meant that he was part of the hospital security team, not a trained secret agent. His protruding belly confirmed it. And what he did next proved him an amateur. “Come back up here!” He stomped his shoe on the landing. “One step at a time! And keep your hands in the air!”

  “ What’s the problem?” Lemmy took the stairs one by one, getting closer. “I don’t understand. Is it illegal to take the stairs?”

  “ Come on!” The gun was pointing up at the ceiling now, the finger straight forward, not threaded in the trigger slot. “Now, over there!” He turned his head to the doors. “Walk through!”

  That brief interval, when the security man faced the doors, was enough for Lemmy to deliver a hard chop to the back of his head. He collapsed, and Lemmy caught him before he rolled down the stairs. The gun was a small-caliber Beretta, and he pocketed it together with a spare magazine he found clipped to the man’s belt.

  A few slaps on the face, and the security guard came to.

  “ Where’s the patient from four-seventeen?”

  He shook his head.

  Lemmy grabbed his hand and bent it backwards. “I’ll break it in five, four, three-”

  “ In Haifa! They’re in Haifa!”

  “ They?”

  “ The rabbi and the woman. They took the patient.”

  “ How do you know?”

  “ The taxi driver is a regular here. He told Shin Bet. They’ll catch them-”

  “ He drove them to Haifa?” Lemmy applied more pressure.

  “ No! Please!” The man’s eyes turned to the door, praying for someone to show up.

  “ Answer!”

  “ To the YMCA in Jerusalem. They had a car there. They mentioned driving to Haifa-”

  Holding the gun by the barrel, Lemmy knocked him unconscious.

  On the way downstairs, he switched the yellow windbreaker and cap for the blue set. The ground-floor exit let him out on the side of the building. Pedestrians and car traffic seemed normal, and no one paid any attention to him. Across a large lawn was an outdoor cafeteria. He selected a seat that was partially hidden by the thick trunk of a eucalyptus tree yet provided a clear view of the main hospital entrance.

  Moments later, a white Subaru with tinted windows and a few antennas stopped at the curb. The unconvincing nurse from room 417 emerged from the lobby, no longer smiling. She got in the rear seat. The security guard showed up soon after, pressing a pack of ice to the side of his head. He went around to the driver’s side and leaned over the window, which was partially open. After a short conversation, the Subaru departed.

  Lemmy waited twenty minutes before walking over to his Fiat. He took the road toward Jerusalem.

  *

  They argued in hushed voices over what to do about Elie Weiss. Rabbi Gerster wanted to threaten Elie with exposure of his secret dealings, but Itah objected. In her investigative experience, su
bjects volunteered much more information out of vanity and for shock effect than under duress. And the more urgent task was to stop the staged assassination plan. “It’s political fraud on a grand scale!”

  “ What about my son?”

  “ Finding him must wait,” Itah argued. “We should focus on the Rabin deal first.”

  “ I have a feeling the two are connected.”

  “ Perhaps. But the Shin Bet has also been paying Freckles. I can’t wait to see Elie’s face when we tell him that Freckles plays both sides.”

  “ Maybe he already knows. With double agents you’re never quite certain which side they really work for. It’s possible that Freckles’ first loyalty is to Elie. He could be taking Shin Bet’s money and feeding them lies from Elie.”

  “ You think Elie has outsmarted the Shin Bet.”

  “ We’ll soon find out.” Rabbi Gerster took a deep breath. Deferring to Itah was difficult after spending the past fifty years in Neturay Karta, where women were relegated to household duties and obeyed their learned husbands on all substantive decisions.

  “ He’s been out there too long,” Itah said. “Let’s check on him.”

  They found the balcony deserted. So was the bathroom.

  “ He’ll be back.” Rabbi Gerster picked up the phone and asked for the international operator, who gave him the number for the Hoffgeitz Bank in Zurich. When a receptionist answered, he spoke German. “ Entschuldigen sie bitte. This is Herman von Klausovich from Bonn, general director of inter-governmental financial cooperation of the Federal Republic.”

  “ Yes?”

  “ I met one of your top executives at a conference in Vienna a couple of years ago, but I cannot remember his name. In his forties, very handsome-Aryan, if you get my gist, ja? ”

  “ That would be our vice president, Herr Wilhelm Horch.”

  “ Yes, that sounds right. Is he available?”

  “ Unfortunately Herr Horch is away on a business trip. If you leave your number, I’ll have him call you.”