by Neal Bascomb
He received a reply that there was no error, and it had been signed by the El Al director himself. After some more back-and-forth with headquarters, Klein learned the route that Shimoni was taking to Argentina and booked himself onto the same Swissair flight from Rio de Janeiro to Buenos Aires. That way, he might be able to find out more before he arrived in Argentina. He expected that they were going to put together some kind of charter flight. The thirty-year-old bachelor planned to have some fun on the trip and to spend several days vacationing in the newly built Brasilia, about to be inaugurated as Brazil's capital, where the government had commissioned astonishing modern architecture. Before the Nazis had invaded his native Poland, Klein had wanted to be an architect.
As Klein was packing his bags, Luba Volk, a onetime El Al corporate secretary who had retired and moved to Buenos Aires with her husband and three-year-old son in 1958, also received a telex from El Al headquarters: "You are hereby appointed El Al representative in Buenos Aires for the purpose of all activities required vis-à-vis the government agencies, national airline, and travel agents, with regard to the Britannia flight carrying the Israeli official delegation for the 150th anniversary of Argentine independence. We are sending two representatives, Yehuda Shimoni and Yosef Klein, to assist you in everything connected to the operational side of the flight."
The thirty-five-year-old was not surprised by the first part of the message. Over the past two years, her former bosses had tried several times to win her back; they valued her efficiency and graciousness. To keep her at least partly within the El Al fold, they had hired her on a freelance basis to investigate opening a route to Buenos Aires to serve the large Jewish community there. She thought it very strange that two senior El Al officials were being sent to be her assistants in managing a single flight—regardless of its diplomatic status. But the message was clear. She was told to meet them at the airport on May 2. Loyal to the airline, she did not question the request.
17
"THE INITIAL TEAM has located Eichmann and reported good chances for the operation," Harel said, standing across from David Ben-Gurion in the prime minister's Jerusalem office. It was April 28, and the Mossad chief was scheduled to depart for Buenos Aires the next day.
"Are you certain that the man was Adolf Eichmann?"
Harel detailed the reasons they were, but he had really come to see Ben-Gurion to receive his farewell blessing. The prime minister was still hesitant about his joining the task force. Top-level officers within the Israeli intelligence community, particularly those at Aman (military intelligence), had lodged serious complaints that the mission was draining precious resources away from their primary responsibility to defend Israel from its Arab enemies, an argument that had merit. Harel had taken the top Shin Bet men and the limited staff of the Mossad away from their usual duties. In the past month, his own attention had been dedicated almost exclusively to the mission, and now he would be abroad for another three to four weeks. They would not know what intelligence or threat they might miss because of the Eichmann operation until it was too late. Furthermore, there were sizable risks if Harel was arrested. Having any intelligence agent caught on foreign soil was a problem; having the chief of Israel's security services caught would be a disaster.
Harel understood all of this, but he wanted to be on the ground in Buenos Aires to make sure everything went well. He felt that the mission was too important and too complicated to be left in anyone's hands but his own. Its success or failure would be his responsibility. Once again, he explained his reasons for joining the team to Ben-Gurion, and the prime minister assented, asking only when he would be back.
"Three to four weeks," Harel estimated.
Ben-Gurion came around his desk and shook Harel's hand. "Dead or alive, just bring Eichmann back with you," he said. His brow furrowed as he reflected on this. "Preferably alive. It would be very important, morally, for the young generations of Israel."
There was nothing further to say, and Harel hurried from the office to visit with his daughter, Mira, who was a student at the city's Hebrew University. He then returned to Tel Aviv, nervous over his impending departure but needing to mask his emotions during an interminable, ill-timed dinner with the intelligence services chief of an Israeli ally. Once his guest left, Harel spent the night preparing his new identity. He packed his bag with a suit of cheap clothes, suitable for someone with the leisure to spend hour after hour hanging around cafés throughout Buenos Aires. Harel planned on using these cafés as his mobile operational headquarters.
Before hurrying to his plane, he said goodbye to his wife, Rivka. Just as he had instructed all his agents to tell their wives, he explained to Rivka that he would be away for a month on a "special mission" and that there would be no possibility of writing her. She sensed that her husband was unusually stressed, but she did not ask what was troubling him. One of the disadvantages of his job was the wall of silence that surrounded much of their everyday life. His daughter knew only that he was a "government official."
There was one aspect of this mission that Harel had kept even from his operatives. Once they had Eichmann in their hands, he hoped to launch a commando raid to seize Josef Mengele, whose ghastly acts ranked him second only to Eichmann as a target of Nazi-hunters. The Freiburg prosecutor's attempt to extradite the Auschwitz doctor had failed, leaving him at liberty, but Mengele was thought to be living in Buenos Aires, according to intelligence that the Mossad had recently gathered. Everything known about Mengele's whereabouts was written in code in a slim notebook that Harel made sure to slip into his breast pocket before leaving his house. One mission had become two.
On Sunday, May 1, with a Buenos Aires road map spread out on the dashboard of their old Chevrolet, Shalom and Gat spent the day driving around San Fernando. The two had worked closely together in Europe, and very little needed to be said as they surveilled the operations area.
They were canvassing all the highways, as well as every street and dirt path, leading into and out of the area in every direction. Finding the best route was essential for the day they had Eichmann bound and gagged in the back seat of their capture car. The most direct route from Garibaldi Street to the city was obvious, but it was critical that they find a route with the lightest traffic, no construction sites, and the least chance of a spot check by the police—a common occurrence with the Peronist terrorist threat and the anniversary celebrations. The numerous streetcar crossings throughout the city also posed a problem. In many areas, one could not drive for more than a few blocks without having to wait for a streetcar to pass and the barrier to lift.
They needed to map out a new route from Garibaldi Street to each safe house they found, along with several secondary routes in case there was trouble. Shalom knew to trust his instincts in deciding where it was okay to be a little reckless. That did not mean, however, that they did not have to thoroughly assess each risk well in advance. To do any less was "worse than criminal," as Shalom was fond of saying.
Their other main priority was to find a suitable safe house in which to keep Eichmann before their flight out of Argentina. Their house searches had been surprisingly fruitless. The places that Medad had viewed did not meet their requirements, usually because the houses always came with the services of a caretaker. The listings in the newspapers and from real estate agents were for sales rather than rentals. They needed to find a rental soon in order to prepare it for the prisoner.
Another problem was the issue of cars, as Aharoni had first discovered in his March investigations. He had managed to deal with this, since he had used only one vehicle at a time. Because of the economic difficulties that Argentina faced, few new cars were available. Buenos Aires's roads were littered with twenty- and thirty-year-old cars, either abandoned or waiting to be towed. Rentals were expensive, difficult to find, and utterly undependable. Either the battery was on the verge of dying, the tires were threadbare, the radiator was ready to explode, or the car inexplicably broke down after only a few miles. In
addition, most rental cars were battered and rusted. Considering that the team required several automobiles for reconnaissance and house hunting, this was troublesome indeed. Further, each time Medad rented a car, which required that he show identification papers and put down a large amount of cash (sometimes $5,000) for a security deposit, he risked exposing their presence in the country. Most challenging of all, they needed a pair of reliable large sedans, an even rarer breed of vehicle in Argentina, for the capture itself.
Fortunately, finding both safe houses and a sufficient number of cars turned out to be a matter of persistence and cash, both of which they had in ample supply. Even so, Shalom wanted to alert Harel to the delay and to run through with him what they had discovered in their surveillance of Eichmann. They had been out of contact for several days now. Once Shalom and Gat had finished with their reconnaissance of the roads around San Fernando—their map marked with the most advantageous routes into the area—they drove to Ezeiza Airport, where the Mossad chief was set to arrive that evening.
While Gat remained in the car outside the single-story terminal, Shalom stood among the throng of people waiting for passengers to clear customs and passport control. He made sure that Harel, who looked worn from the long journey, saw him, but neither of them acknowledged the other. None of the team had been told where Harel was staying, so Shalom followed him onto his bus. Harel exited the bus in the city center, only a few blocks from the Plaza de Mayo. He then entered the Claridge Hotel on Tucumán Street. Shalom caught up with him before he entered his room, arranging a meeting later.
The Mossad chief sat down with his team at Maoz that night. Shalom detailed what they had learned from their surveillance over the past four days. Harel listened closely, occasionally nodding his head. No interpretation was necessary. He agreed that Eichmann's strict routine and isolated neighborhood were ideal for the operation.
Then Medad explained their difficulties in finding safe houses. "We can't be too choosy about the location or interior ... nor be put off by the high prices," Harel replied, saying much the same thing regarding their search for adequate cars.
Before Harel returned to his hotel, he told them about the preparations for the El Al flight. Since the plane was scheduled to leave Israel on May 11 and depart Buenos Aires on May 14, "we will have to make the capture on May 10 at the very latest," he concluded.
They had nine days.
Through his connections with officials at Swissair, Yosef Klein flew first class to Rio de Janeiro and was well rested when he arrived on May 2 for his connecting flight to Argentina. The trip was going to be an enjoyable, relaxing jaunt, centered on arranging the flight of the diplomatic delegation. In the cabin, he met Yehuda Shimoni; they exchanged hellos and sat down together. As the plane prepared for takeoff, they caught up briefly on each other's lives. Klein noticed that Shimoni, whom he had known since joining El Al in 1952, was unusually tense and asked him if anything was wrong.
"Look, this is not going to be something simple," Shimoni said, leaning toward him and speaking in a hush. Fortunately, there were few other passengers in the first-class cabin. "We have a major assignment. There is likely one of the Nazi strongmen who escaped from Europe in Buenos Aires. The Israeli Secret Services suspect they have located him, and they are following him. There's a good chance that he is the right man. If they do get hold of him, it will be our job to get him out of Argentina and into Israel. And for this purpose, there will be a special flight, under certain covers."
Yosef Klein could hardly believe what he had just been told. He was too shocked to utter anything other than "We'll do it, if it's possible."
Shimoni then explained that they were after Adolf Eichmann, and he described briefly what the Nazi officer had done during the war. Klein remained silent, and Shimoni reassured him that his task had nothing to do with catching Eichmann. They were there only to assist with the flight.
For a while, the two sat in silence, and Klein was overcome by memories of the past: Nazis driving his family into a Hungarian ghetto only a couple of weeks after his parents had decided not to escape across the Slovakian border. Stepping off the freight train in Auschwitz, guards separating his father and him from his mother and younger brother and sister. His father saying that Yosef was seventeen, not fourteen, to try to keep him alive. Looking at the smokestacks that towered over the rail yard. Shuffling between labor camps, surviving only because of his father. Parting from him when put to work constructing an underground aircraft plant near the Austrian border. Turning fifteen as a prisoner; spending his days pouring concrete, cutting down trees, and loading coal; struggling to stay alive while others either died in their bunks or were shot by the guards. Nearly being killed during Allied bombings of the installation. Five days and five nights of suffering the crush of human flesh in a freight car destined for an extermination camp. Stumbling out of the train to see American tanks send his guards fleeing.
Klein thought vaguely that he might have seen Eichmann in the Hungarian ghetto before his family was deported, but he was unsure. After all, fifteen years had passed since the war, time spent putting his life back together, first finding his father, then immigrating to Israel, serving as a meteorologist in the Israeli air force, and later joining El Al. Through all those years, he had attempted to erase from his mind those scenes from his past, but he had never succeeded completely.
As the Swissair flight continued toward Buenos Aires, Klein found these memories supplanted by doubts that he would be able to help the operation. He had no experience in any such activities, and even if he was only arranging the flight, he had never been to South America, let alone Buenos Aires. He did not speak Spanish. He did not know the airport, its procedures, or any of its people. What if he could not get everything done on time?
When the plane began its descent to Ezeiza Airport, Klein was already beginning to get hold of both his anxieties over the operation and his emotions regarding the past. But when flashbulbs popped the moment he stepped onto the tarmac, he jumped. Both he and Shimoni thought the mission had already been compromised, and them with it, but they soon realized that a photographer was just trying to make a buck off the tourists. The situation's absurdity provided a welcome relief.
In the terminal, they were met by Luba Volk, her husband, and an individual from the Israeli embassy, who introduced himself as Ephraim Ilani. Volk sensed straightaway that her two El Al colleagues were distracted and worried. Already that morning, her suspicions about their coming to Argentina had been piqued when Ilani, whom she knew only slightly, had telephoned, saying that he wanted to follow her husband and her to the airport to meet Shimoni and Klein. Now Ilani explained to Shimoni and Klein that he had booked a different hotel from the one Volk had reserved for him. Volk and her husband drove Shimoni and Klein to the second hotel, noticing again how anxious they seemed. On the ride home, she remarked to her husband, "There is something more going on with this flight than just the delegation."
Later that night, Klein and Shimoni sat down with Isser Harel in a café in the city. The Mossad chief spoke in a very matter-of-fact tone. Shimoni would be departing in a few days, leaving Klein on his own. "What your job really entails," Harel said, "is to make all the arrangements for the flight."
He spoke at length about how Klein would be responsible for everything from the plane's arrival to its departure. Klein needed to establish relations with the relevant Argentine ministries, as well as the service companies and other airlines that would accommodate El Al, since it had no infrastructure in the country. Furthermore, Harel wanted Klein to survey the airport, its facilities, and its customs and passport procedures and to recommend the best way to get their prisoner on board the plane.
"We're not here just to do a job," Harel said, sensing that Klein needed some encouragement. "This is the first time the Jewish people will judge their murderer."
On May 3, Yaakov Gat spent yet another morning in a café, expecting Peter Malkin and Rafi Eitan to walk through the doo
r. Yet again he was disappointed. They were late. Moshe Tabor, who had landed the day before, had met with them in Paris, but he did not know the reason for their delay. If they had been caught attempting to get into Argentina with false passports, Ilani, at the embassy, had yet to receive word.
The team forged ahead without them, continuing their surveillance of Eichmann, tracking his movements to and from work to see if there was a better spot to grab him than outside his home. They applied themselves to securing proper safe houses, and after forty-eight hours of intensive searching, their efforts were rewarded with two buildings. Both happened to be owned by Jewish families, although they had no idea why Medad wanted to rent their properties.
The first was located in a quiet neighborhood of Florencio Varela, a town eighteen miles southwest of Buenos Aires. The large two-story house, code-named Tira (palace), had several advantages: easy access to both the capture area and the airport, an eight-foot wall around the property, a gated entrance, no caretaker, and a rear garden and veranda obscured by trees and dense shrubs. It was by no means perfect, however. The property was situated on a long, narrow plot of land with neighbors on both sides. The house lacked an attic or basement to hide the prisoner, and the utilitarian layout of the rooms, all built with thick walls, made it complicated to construct a secret room to protect against the eventuality that the police raided the place. Still, it would serve well as a backup to the other safe house, which they considered perfect in every way but one.
