Avraham Azrieli - The Jerusalem inception

“After this morning’s operation,” Elie said, “every word you utter will make the front page, and you’ll have public support to make difficult decisions.”

“That would help.” The chief of staff shifted uncomfortably. “The army needs permission to call up the reserves. At least forty thousand troops.”

“Not so simple,” the prime minister said. “It could signal aggressiveness, make us look bad. Our best defense is an American guarantee. And a UN declaration.”

“Those won’t protect us from a joint Arab attack, which would be deadly without our reserves stationed along the borders. In fact,” Rabin said, “it would be deadly even if our troops are fully engaged, but we’ll have a better chance of survival.”

“That’s my point! We can’t win!”

“I didn’t say that.”

“I won’t authorize anything that would give the Americans an excuse not to help us.” Prime Minister Eshkol gestured at the window. “Weiss, I feel like a sitting duck here.”

“We have men on the roofs,” Elie said, “and along Ben Maimon Avenue. As soon as the attackers throw the grenades, we’ll finish them off.”

“The operation,” Rabin said in his slow, contemplative tone, “required a few adjustments. When they approach, an officer will shout a warning. If they don’t lie down and surrender, they’ll be shot in the leg.”

“That’s not the plan,” Elie protested. “Where’s the deterrence if you don’t kill them?”

“We don’t kill Jews.”

“They’re criminals. Assassins. And where’s this sudden righteousness coming from? You shot Menachem Begin’s ship in ’forty-eight. Jews died on the Altalena.”

General Rabin’s face turned red. “That was a tragedy I won’t repeat. There will be no killing unless it’s unavoidable.”

Prime Minister Levi Eshkol stood up, signaling the meeting was over. “Good luck. I’ll see you when it’s all over.”

Elie was seething. The two Neturay Karta men had seen him, and even with the fake beard, they might be able to recognize him later. They had to die! He touched the bulge on his hip, where the long blade was sheathed.

In the large foyer of the residence, Elie stood aside as the newsmen arrived. He knew them from the extensive files SOD maintained. All the major news outlets were represented, including the evening papers, Yediot and Ma’ariv, the laborite daily Al-Ha’mishmar, the English-language Jerusalem Post, and the national radio Kol Israel, as well as a cameraman from the nascent Israeli Television. Yaakov Even-Khen, a poet and the Jerusalem reporter for the National Religious Party’s daily Hatzofeh, entered the foyer breathlessly, having walked from his home in observance of the Sabbath. The bureau chiefs for Time, Newsweek, and the Associated Press arrived together from Tel Aviv, followed by a woman who wrote for Le Monde. Eshkol’s press secretary accompanied them up to the rooftop for refreshments, followed by Rabin’s presentation and Eshkol’s Q amp;A session.

Elie went to his car, put on the black coat, and stuck on the fake beard. The wide-brimmed black hat completed the picture. It was time to rendezvous with the two Neturay Karta men.

T he synagogue was full. Cantor Toiterlich led the Sabbath prayers. Lemmy thought of Redhead Dan and his impending exile. Would the sect’s firebrand have cried so badly if his wife and child were allowed to join him? And would he, Lemmy, also cry if exiled from his parents and Benjamin? He glanced at his study-companion, whose melodic voice pronounced the verses.

Suddenly a hand came between them and tapped Benjamin’s shoulder.

Lemmy looked up. It was Nachum Learner, a frail scholar whose thin beard had started to turn gray. He rarely left his seat in the first row, praying and studying from dawn to midnight every day. His wife and seven children lived on the weekly allowance from Rabbi Gerster. “Benjamin Mashash,” he said, “the rabbi wishes to see you.”

Lemmy watched Benjamin follow Nachum Learner down the center aisle. Rabbi Gerster huddled with them for a moment.

When Benjamin returned to their bench, Lemmy asked, “What does he want from you?”

Benjamin collected his books from the table.

“What are you doing?”

He piled his books one on top of the other. “I’ll be sitting next to Nachum.”

“ What? ”

The men around them raised their eyes from the prayer books.

Lemmy grabbed Benjamin’s forearm. “You can’t sit with Nachum! You study with me!”

“Not anymore.” Benjamin finished collecting all his books and hugged them to his chest. “Your father decided that I’ll be studying with Nachum from now on.”

“But-”

“Someone saw you with a Zionist woman in uniform.” The tears welled up in Benjamin’s dark eyes. He tried to say more, but couldn’t. He turned and walked away from the bench they had shared since they were young boys, where they had studied daily for twelve, fourteen, even fifteen hours, arguing complex Talmudic theories, pounding each other with words and sometimes fists.

His father was standing at the front, near the ark, and their eyes met. They stared at each other over the rows of men, who swayed and chanted the prayers, oblivious to what had just happened. Rabbi Gerster put a finger to his lips.

The prayer book was still in Lemmy’s hand. He dumped it on the bench, grabbed his black hat, and made his way to the exit in the rear of the hall. Tears blurred his vision as he ran through the foyer to the forecourt. A cold breeze slapped his burning face.

E lie Weiss waited at the intersection of King George and Ramban streets. He watched the bend in the road where the two Neturay Karta men would appear. They were late, and he began to worry that the media briefing would end before the attack.

“Weiss!” Major Buskilah beckoned him from the street corner.

Elie walked over.

“We received a call,” the major said. “Two black hats dropped off a box with hand grenades at a bunker near Meah Shearim.”

“When?”

“An hour or two ago. The description fits Rabbi Gerster and his son.”

“And how did this particular bit of information find its way to you so quickly?”

“Impressive, isn’t it?” Major Buskilah grinned. “General Rabin issued an all-units order last night to report immediately any unusual incident involving black hats.”

“I see.” Elie realized he had underestimated the young chief of staff.

Rabin was waiting outside the prime minister’s residence. He conferred with Major Buskilah about relieving most of the Special Forces. “Keep two on the roof across the street, two in a car, and two on patrol.” He looked at the house and shrugged.

“I’ll tell the prime minister it’s a no-show.”

Elie headed for his car. Had Abraham’s son told him about the grenades? That boy had spirit, which could be harnessed for useful purposes. A plan began to form in Elie’s mind.

“Weiss!” Rabin caught up with him.

“I didn’t take you for a backstabber.”

The chief of staff smiled. “These things happen.”

“Not to me.” Elie realized he should have lined up a backup team of attackers to ensure redundancy.

Rabin tilted his head toward the residence. “Eshkol is a good prime minister. He’s a capable mediator between the coalition parties. But he must give up the defense ministry. We need a decisive man to order a draft and authorize a preemptive strike against the Arabs before they hit us.”

“You support Dayan?”

“He’s popular. He knows the IDF. And he’s got balls.”

“What do you want from me?”

“I’m a soldier. But you could pull a few levers behind the curtain.”

“We’re not in Kansas anymore,” Elie said.