by Neal Bascomb
He and Moshe Tabor worked alone at Maoz while the others were out and about in Buenos Aires. Tabor was punching out a set of license plates for the capture cars and rigging a system to change the plates in seconds. He was also tinkering on a contraption that would turn the back seat of a car into a kind of trapdoor, allowing them to conceal Eichmann in the narrow space between the trunk and the seat. Occasionally, Tabor checked in on Dani, mesmerized by his abilities. He had seen him work before, flawlessly mimicking documents and intricate seals, no matter the script, language, or alphabet. He could do so under any conditions, even in a moving car under intense pressure. Once Medad got the keys for the safe houses Doron and Tira, Dani would be left on his own at the apartment, so Tabor tried to keep him company for as long as possible. He also built a cache in the fireplace for the forger in case any unwanted visitors came to the house and he needed to destroy his papers.
Late that night, Malkin returned from his second surveillance of Garibaldi Street and saw Dani huddled over his table in the half-lit room. Malkin thought that he looked like a character from a Dickens novel. "When did you get here?"
"A couple of hours ago. You saw him?" Dani asked, not wanting even to say the name Eichmann.
"He was playing with his little boy in the house," Malkin said, remembering how normal Eichmann had looked earlier that night tossing his son in the air. "It was like any of us with our fathers."
Malkin regretted the words as soon as he said them, knowing the forger's past. Dani changed the subject. "Did you bring your painting supplies with you?"
"Just a few things," Malkin said. "It didn't seem important."
"I know," Dani said, having given up a chance to be an artist in order to work for Israel. "I know."
As the operation day approached, the team intensified their efforts on all fronts.
Shalom scouted routes from Garibaldi Street to the safe houses. The city's police presence was growing as the anniversary celebrations neared and dignitaries arrived from around the world. Shalom mapped out three separate routes to each safe house, each with backup routes along the way in case a road was blocked or they were followed. He planned to drive along each route the day before the operation to make sure there were not any last-minute changes along the way.
He also assisted Medad and Ilani with the search for suitable capture cars that could pass for diplomatic limousines. Eventually, they came across two cars that matched their requirements. The first was a black Buick limousine, which was only four years old—fresh off the factory floor by Argentine standards. The second was a large circa 1953 Chevrolet sedan that needed work, but Tabor could overhaul an engine as easily as winding a watch. Deposits of $5,000 secured both vehicles—although the owner of the Chevrolet looked warily at Medad when he brought the money in twenty-dollar bills. In addition to the cars, Medad leased several more apartments as safe houses. The team now had more than ten residences to use in case they missed the El Al flight and needed to stay in Buenos Aires for a long time.
The surveillance of Eichmann continued unabated, performed mostly by Malkin and Eitan; when they were busy, Aharoni took over. Every one of the trips to San Fernando was a risk. On one occasion, two railway workers inspecting the tracks came toward them, and they had to hurry away before any questions were asked. Another time, Eitan made an illegal turn into an intersection and was stopped by a policeman. The jeep they were driving had a broken reverse gear, and they had to push it back out of the junction. This probably played to their advantage, as the policeman sympathized with them enough to let them drive off without inspecting their papers or issuing a ticket.
Despite the risks, the surveillance was necessary. It was important that Eichmann was maintaining his routine. Day after day, the former Nazi showed up at the exact same time. Malkin wanted to know every single one of his movements from the bus stop to his house, going so far as to calculate the number of strides Eichmann took to get there. He also was learning the neighborhood: when traffic was heaviest on Route 202; how often the trains passed; who lived and worked in the area and when they walked the streets. All of this might prove critical in the operation.
Many hours were also required to prepare for the prisoner's arrival at Doron. They stocked the place with more beds and with food, as well as with all the equipment they had brought from Israel. They reinforced the security bars on the windows and changed the locks throughout the house. Tabor surveyed the house and found a spot in the attic to hide the captive in case of a search. He moved some support beams slightly and was now building a false wall that opened on a hinge. When complete, it would look like part of the house. The only, and increasingly worrisome, obstacle to their work was the gardener. He was a simple, gentle man, but suspicious about all the activity at the house. There were only so many errands away from the grounds on which they could send him.
Whenever all of the team members were together at Doron, they practiced using Tabor's mechanism for changing the license plates. They would have to be able to do it in the dark, quickly, since they expected to change plates right after the capture and potentially a second time before reaching the safe house. Practicing that procedure was nothing compared to the repeated, sometimes painful, rehearsals of the snatch. These were held in the garage at Doron. With a stopwatch running, one of the operatives would play Eichmann walking down the street. Malkin or Tabor would grab him, and two others would help get him into the car. Eitan wanted this action down to less than twelve seconds, without giving Eichmann a chance to so much as scream. The team practiced ten to twenty times a night, wanting the movements to become automatic.
Throughout, they wondered what Eichmann would do when they confronted him. Would he resist? How capable would he be? Although he was physically weaker than Malkin or Tabor, he had once been a member of Reinhard Heydrich's SD. These were men known for their toughness and ruthlessness, men trained to kill and to use any means to see their will realized. The agents played out various scenarios in case he put up a major struggle, and few finished the session without a bruise or two.
At the end of the night, one of the team always went off to update Harel, and the others returned to the city, sometimes grabbing a late dinner together before returning to their hotels, devouring rather than savoring their meals, since breakfast and lunch were usually brief and taken on the run. They took walks together in the city or caught a quick drink just to relax. Eichmann and the critical day ahead were rarely out of their thoughts.
On a chilly Sunday, May 8, "Dr. Maurice Kaplan," an anesthesiologist at a leading Tel Aviv hospital, took a taxi into Buenos Aires. In his early forties, of medium height, and wearing a sharp, expensive suit, he looked most at ease, although he was traveling with false papers on a mission that could land him in an Argentine jail if things went badly. This was not the first time the Israeli secret service had called on Kaplan, but because he was a Holocaust survivor, this mission was special to him. The doctor knew Rafi Eitan well and had even treated him for wounds on several occasions. For cover, he had told his hospital that the army had called him up for his annual reserve duty.
After meeting Eitan and Shalom at a designated spot in the city, he was whisked off to San Fernando to take a look at the capture site. Kaplan would be waiting in one of the cars in the eventuality that Eichmann had to be sedated. Afterward, the men drove to Doron, where the doctor was introduced to the rest of the team. Only Tabor and Malkin were there at the time, preparing the prison cell. The room was freezing.
"We're glad you're here," Malkin said, shivering. "I hope you've had some experience with treating double pneumonia."
"Oh, I understood this to be a vacation." The doctor grinned. "I thought I only had one patient to worry about."
They liked him immediately.
In the city, Isser Harel actually was ill. The stress of the operation and his constant movement among eight to twelve cafés a day had left him with a fever and a thick cold. Nevertheless, this was no time to rest. He crossed the s
treet from the Israeli embassy and entered a Chinese restaurant, taking a seat in the back. The Israeli ambassador was to join him for lunch. The two had not met since the Mossad chief had arrived, nor did the ambassador know that an operation was in the works. It was time he was informed, and Harel feared that he might resist, given that this was a grave intrusion into his territory.
Arye Levavi came into the restaurant alone and sat down with Harel. It was one of the last places anyone would expect the ambassador to dine, and it was doubtful that he would be recognized.
Harel explained why he was in Buenos Aires, then said, "The government has approved the operation, but I thought you might object."
"I have no objection," Levavi countered, welcoming the news. Although he doubted that the Mossad could pull off the capture without anyone realizing that Israel was responsible, the operation was already at such an advanced stage that there was no point in suggesting a different path to arrest Eichmann. He told Harel that when the Argentines learned about it, there would be "dramatic diplomatic difficulties." This was a consequence Harel had already accepted.
Harel recommended to the ambassador that some volunteers be assembled at the embassy beginning on May 10, in case the operation was exposed early and there were vigilante attacks on the embassy. He explained that Eichmann's sons were connected to radical, strongly anti-Semitic nationalistic groups. Levavi said that he would see to it. He would tell his staff that this was a precautionary measure for the Israeli delegation's arrival.
That Sunday night at Doron, Rafi Eitan gathered the operations team together. It was time to finalize exactly how the capture would unfold.
A drawing of the area where Eichmann lived was pinned on the wall. A broken blue line showed the path Eichmann took each day from the bus stop on Route 202 to his house on Garibaldi Street. Bus 203's route through the area was designated with a solid green line, and the surrounding streets were in solid red. Key landmarks, including the railway embankment and kiosk, also were detailed. The Eichmann house was indicated with a black X.
Aharoni, who had discussed everything with Harel, outlined the plan. The two cars would station themselves on Route 202 between Garibaldi Street and the embankment, facing toward the bus stop where Eichmann alighted. Malkin and Tabor would hide on Garibaldi Street, near the house, and would jump on the target. "As soon as we see that you've secured him," Aharoni explained, tapping the place on the map, "we'll swing around the corner, pick you up, and take off ... Fast and simple."
"Let me see if I understand you," Malkin said, hardly veiling his frustration. He and Aharoni had opposing personalities, and the operation was testing their already limited patience with each other. "Tabor and I are supposed to stay exposed, out in the open, until you decide to arrive with the car? A question: What if a policeman happens by—or even an ordinary pedestrian?"
Aharoni replied calmly that they would watch out for that and would respond with deliberate speed. Malkin erupted, shouting that he would not be involved in anything so amateurish. Eitan cut him off before tempers grew even more heated.
In Malkin's view, a plan was only a suggestion for how things might proceed; at the end of the day, it was always the target who dictated their actions. Since Eichmann's actions were beyond their control, anything could happen. The team could stage everything perfectly on the basis of what they knew about Eichmann's routine, but if he came back from work late or accompanied by somebody else, the operation would need to be flexible enough to adjust to that. If Malkin and Tabor were hiding alone on the roadside, their choices would be too limited and they would be too vulnerable. Malkin's fear that the operation could turn bad ran very deep. He thought about the many possibilities every night, and given Aharoni's limited operational experience, Malkin was not about to accept the Shin Bet interrogator's plan just because he had run through it with Harel.
Malkin stood up and went over to the map. He had an alternative plan, one he had developed with Eitan and Shalom. One car would be stationed on Route 202 in the exact position that Aharoni had suggested. This car would turn on its lights, in order to dazzle Eichmann as he walked toward them. The second car would be parked on Garibaldi Street, facing away from Route 202, with its hood up—as if it had broken down. As Eichmann drew near, Malkin would say something to him in Spanish to distract him before he grabbed him. Then Tabor and Eitan would assist in dragging him into the back seat of the car. This would limit their exposure before Eichmann was put into the vehicle, and if for any reason their target grew suspicious, they could walk away.
Everyone, including Aharoni, saw the advantages of this plan, but they could see a major vulnerability as well. What if Eichmann panicked upon seeing a car he did not recognize parked yards from his house at night? He might race across the field toward his house or dash back toward the bus stop and kiosk. Malkin argued that this was unlikely. It would be up to Harel to settle the debate.
The team then turned the discussion to another issue, and this time everyone agreed without question: they must switch safe houses. The gardener was on the premises too often and could not be persuaded to stay away. He needed only to mention the strange activities at the house to the wrong person, and the whole operation would be compromised.
With the capture date rapidly approaching, every detail of the plan was scrutinized and scrutinized again. Any mistake could cost the agents their freedom, but worse in their minds, it might allow Eichmann to keep his.
19
ON MAY 9, RAFI EITAN drove to San Fernando on reconnaissance. He turned onto Route 202, near Garibaldi Street, and suddenly found himself at the scene of an accident. A car had collided with a motorcycle, and the police were on hand. Before Eitan could turn around, a policeman, supporting a bloodied motorcyclist, appeared at the driver's window.
"Hospital," the policeman said.
Eitan watched dumbfounded as his back door was opened and the motorcyclist deposited in his car.
"Hospital," the policeman repeated.
There was nothing for Eitan to do but to nod enthusiastically and drive off with the man to get him medical treatment. Eitan had doubted that the team would be ready for the capture the next day, particularly since they were moving safe houses, but now he had another reason to hesitate: he did not want to risk being seen by the police in the area two days in a row.
Later that morning at the Café Molino, one of the city's grandest coffeehouses, he sat down with Harel. Aharoni and Malkin also were present. With his voice lost in the constant hum of conversation from the surrounding tables, Eitan detailed why they should postpone the capture by a day. Harel was reluctant. Once he set a plan in motion, he did not like to change it. In this case, he was especially worried that Eichmann might take flight. But Eitan was absolutely clear that the team needed more time, and Harel assented. He had to admit that his men looked harried and exhausted. They could have said the same of their chief, who had dark half-moons under his bloodshot eyes. Then the conversation turned to the capture plan. Eitan related their stalemate from the night before, pointing out Malkin's insistence that a car be parked on Garibaldi Street, hood up, for the snatch.
Malkin felt Harel's eyes boring into him as Eitan was speaking, but the chief acknowledged that it was important that Malkin be at ease with the plan, since he was the one charged with grabbing Eichmann. He asked pointedly what would occur if Eichmann became unnerved by the car: "What if he leaves the road and cuts through the field to reach his house?"
"He will continue straight ahead," Malkin stated firmly. The only reason, he explained, for going with the first plan—keeping both cars on Route 202—was to avoid making Eichmann suspicious, but this did not seem worth the risk of not being able to get a car to Tabor and him after they had seized Eichmann.
Harel and Aharoni looked unconvinced.
"Look, imagine you're Eichmann ... You see a car with its hood up. It's maybe thirty yards to your house. What do you do?" Malkin paused for effect. "You're a proud man, a former SS offi
cer, a creature of habit and routine. A little dialogue goes on in your head. You're a little ashamed of yourself even to be feeling such fears. After all, it has been fifteen years. You can't run away from every single suggestion of the unknown ... You continue on."
Again Harel said that he might easily cross the field to get home.
"I've seen plenty of Nazis in shiny boots," Malkin said. "They will not walk through the mud unless they absolutely have to."
The Mossad chief contemplated Malkin's explanation. Then he stood up from the table, directing his hard gray-blue eyes at Malkin. "All right. I agree. But, Peter, it's on your head."
The three agents left the café. Even with the one-day reprieve, they barely had time to fini sh their preparations, including transferring everything from Doron to Tira, constructing a room in which to hide Eichmann, overhauling one of the capture cars again, surveying the roads, verifying that Eichmann maintained his routine, and practicing the snatch. They also needed to check out of their hotels, move into their assigned safe houses, and assume completely different identities. There was to be a complete break with who they had been since first arriving in Argentina. If they had to run, the authorities would not have a trail to follow.
But at least they agreed on the plan for the capture. Now they needed only to execute it.
In West Germany, Fritz Bauer had no idea how close the Israelis were to seizing Eichmann. As far as he knew, the investigations might have fizzled again, and he was growing increasingly impatient over the long silence. He had risked too much by handing over the intelligence on Eichmann for nothing to come of it. Less than a week earlier, he had written a note to Haim Cohen, demanding to know what was happening and threatening to pursue other avenues as previously outlined.
