Avraham Azrieli - The Jerusalem inception

“History doesn’t repeat itself.”

“But Ecclesiastes said: What happened then shall happen again, and what was done then shall be done again, for there’s nothing new under the sun. And as you have correctly guessed, what I wanted back then, I still want.”

“Elie Weiss speaks honestly?” Tanya closed the door. “I’m shocked.”

“Do you still have the ledger?”

“Let’s drive. I hate to travel by bus.”

Leaving Tel Aviv behind, they crossed open fields and passed by the airport. The road dropped into a wide valley, approaching the Judean Mountains and a thick layer of clouds. He took his time gathering enough resolve to speak openly to her.

“The wealth,” he said, “which General Klaus von Koenig deposited in Switzerland, was Jewish property. You spent four years with him, so you know how he collected all those precious stones and jewelry.”

She nodded.

“The dead Jews are gone. They’ll never reclaim it. But Israel is their moral heir. Imagine what we could accomplish with such a fortune.”

“You’re right. I’ll hand over Klaus’s ledger to the Ministry of the Treasury.”

Finally! She admitted to possessing the ledger! Elie knew he had to speak the truth, or her sudden openness would vanish for another twenty years. “In the hands of the government the money will come to nothing. They’ll waste it, pay more bureaucrats. We must use this fortune, which came from the Holocaust, to prevent another Holocaust.”

“How?”

“A formidable, global network of trained agents to monitor Arab leaders and sympathizers, weapon scientists and arms dealers, and those who finance the war against the Jews. We will eliminate our enemies before they manage to hurt us!”

“You’re right,” Tanya said. “I’ll hand it over to the prime minister on the condition that the money is earmarked for Mossad and Shin Bet.”

Elie downshifted and veered to the shoulder, where a convoy of vehicles was assembling for the last leg of the trip to Jerusalem, the steep climb up the mountains, where the slow pace of travel provided easy targets for the Arabs. He glanced at Tanya. Was she teasing him? Rage blurred his eyesight. He should draw his father’s shoykhet blade and put it to her throat. But the car came to a stop, the wind disappeared from the open window, and he smelled her delicate perfume. Truth was, he could never bring himself to hurt Tanya Galinski.

He lit a Lucky Strike and drew deeply, holding the smoke for a long moment. “Why are you toying with me?”

“A taste of your own medicine?”

The convoy began to move, and a truck ahead of them spewed a cloud of sooty fumes. Elie drove faster, changing gears to accelerate past the truck.

“You want that fortune,” she said, “as leverage for more power.”

“Power to defend our people. I will prevent another Holocaust.”

“You alone?”

He ignored her sarcastic tone. “I can do a better job than those desk people, who lack the stomach for action. We’re at war, and the world is our battlefield. I’ll get results!”

Tanya looked at him, saying nothing.

“You can work with me as an equal partner, apply your field experience to commanding an international army of agents. You’ll be the most powerful woman in Israel, maybe in the world.”

“I’m happy at Mossad.”

Elie didn’t tell her of his plan to become chief of Mossad, as well. She would find out in due time, become his subordinate, and despite her hostility, she would end up admiring him. “I’ll split the money with you.”

“I don’t need money.” She loosened her hair and retied it in a bun. “But there’s something else I need.”

Was she offering a trade? A dip in the road caused the car to sway from side to side. Elie struggled to control it.

“Abraham’s son deserves a chance for a normal life.”

Even though her words were uttered without intonation or dramatic gesticulations, Elie knew Tanya had just allowed him a peek into her innermost passion. “Why would he want a normal life? He’s a black hat, lives the good life in Neturay Karta, studies with his friends all day, not a worry in the world. He doesn’t know any better.”

“He does now.”

“So?”

“Tell Abraham to let him go.”

Elie considered this unexpected development. “It won’t be easy. He’s counting on the boy to get married, become a great Talmudic scholar, a leader in the sect.”

“Abraham will obey you.”

The incline slowed down the Deux Chevaux. Elie downshifted to maintain momentum. “What will you do with-what’s his name?”

“Jerusalem. I want him free of their insular religious extremism.”

“He was born into it.”

“And you were born in a kosher butcher shop in a shtetl on the eastern border of Germany. I don’t see you pursuing your birthright.”

“Abraham won’t like it.”

“I want the boy to leave the sect, enlist in the army like any young Israeli, and go on to study in the university. He’ll be a doctor, a scientist, a businessman. He has a good mind.”

“The IDF might decline to draft a religious fanatic.”

“You could pull some strings.”

“I could.” Elie threw the cigarette out the window.

“The day he starts boot camp, I’ll give you Klaus’s ledger.”

Elie downshifted to second gear. The engine struggled uphill, the noise an effective masquerade for the joy in his voice. “How do I know you won’t cross me?”

“I’m not like you.”

“Would you prove your good intentions by telling me the name of the bank?”

“The Hoffgeitz Bank of Zurich. Armande Hoffgeitz signed the ledger as the bank’s president. He and Klaus-”

“Attended boarding school together at Lyceum Alpin St. Nicholas.”

“You’ve done your homework.”

“Information is my business.” Since that night near the Swiss border, Elie had investigated General Klaus von Koenig’s personal history in detail. As a teenager, Klaus had been sent by his parents from Munich to the most prestigious Swiss boarding school in the Alps. Elie had traced each of his classmates, finding twenty-nine who in 1945 had served in senior banking positions. Armande Hoffgeitz was on Elie’s list of possible bankers in possession of the Nazi general’s loot.

“Do we have a deal?”

Elie offered his hand. “I’ll do my part, but what if Abraham refuses?”

“First day of boot camp. Or nothing.”

They shook hands, and when she let go of his hand, Elie gripped the steering wheel to conceal a tremor.

After morning prayers, all the married men lined up in front of Rabbi Gerster to receive their gelt — a weekly allowance that sustained the scholars and their families. He handed each man a sealed white envelope containing a sum based on each family’s needs. Only the rabbi knew the source of the tsedaka, the charity funds that sustained the sect.

Lemmy went outside to the courtyard, filled with chatty wives who waited for their husbands to come out. The rain had stopped, and a blue window opened in the clouds. His mother was surrounded by bags of children’s clothes. A cluster of mothers picked little shirts and pants, which they measured against their toddlers. Temimah sorted through the bags to help them find the best sizes and colors. When the selection process ended, she collected the remaining clothes into a large sack and handed it to Lemmy. Meanwhile the men emerged from the synagogue and gave their wives the white envelopes.

As always, the women did not leave until the last man came out, followed by Rabbi Gerster. They lined up, and the rabbi blessed each family as they passed before him.

After all the women and children left, and the men returned inside to take their breakfast in the foyer, Rabbi Gerster beckoned Lemmy, who followed him with the sack of used clothes, wondering why his father was going into town.