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.
*
Benjami
n 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.”
The Jerusalem Assassin Page 40
