Avraham Azrieli - The Jerusalem inception

“Because he was a monster, responsible for killing millions of innocent people, our people, right?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re correct. He was part of that evil machine. But with me he was someone else. He was a confident, impeccable man, who showed me only kindness and devotion. He was the first man I’d ever been with-as a woman. He was there for me, strong and caring, very patient and considerate. I know it sounds crazy, but I knew that he really loved me. I was his angel, and he was mine.”

“But he was a Nazi!”

Tanya rolled a lock of her hair around her finger, as a girl would do. “If you were a young woman, perhaps you would understand. I was just becoming a woman then. My body and my emotional universe revolved around those feelings. Klaus von Koenig loved me, really loved me, like no one else before or after. He was a formidable man. Senior SS officers trembled before him. But with me he was different. He saved my life, but he treated me as if I saved his. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for me, and I was happy with him, would have stayed with him even after the war, would have gone to Argentina and borne his children. I would have.”

“Then why didn’t you?”

“Because we were ambushed by two starved, half-frozen Jewish partisans, one of whom was your father.”

Lemmy held up the gun. “That’s how he got this Mauser?”

She nodded. “Abraham shot Klaus in the head just before dawn, on the first day of 1945. My seventeenth birthday.”

“I didn’t know my father was a partisan.”

“War turns everyone into something else, often irreversibly. They had come from a shtetl, two Jewish boys, raised to take over their fathers’ peaceful professions. The war transformed them into soldiers of Nekamah. Revenge. An eye for an eye.”

Lemmy put down the Mauser. “So you went from the Nazi to my father?”

“Don’t judge me.” Her voice softened. “You should have seen Abraham when he was your age. Lean and strong, with blond hair and piercing blue eyes.” She gestured at Lemmy. “You look like him. We could have built a life together, but the Germans were losing the war, and he was obsessed. Nekamah. Nekamah. Nekamah. I thought he would quit, but he didn’t. He is that rare kind of a man-totally committed, but not to a person, not to a lover, not to an offspring, but to a higher cause.” She choked with emotions that had long been suppressed. “And then we lost each other and have remained separated all these years. But I’m glad I found out Abraham was alive, because it led to our first encounter, remember?”

“How could I forget?” Lemmy touched her forehead where the bruise had long healed. He pulled her closer, and Tanya rested her cheek against his bare chest, smooth and taut over his hard muscles, scented with soap. He cradled her face in his hands and leaned down to kiss her lips.

The Hoffgeitz Bank resided in a three-story stone mansion at the corner of Bahnhofstrasse and Augustinergasse. Elie rang the bell. The lock clicked, and an elderly man opened the door. “ Guten morgen,” he said with a curt bow.

Elie handed him a business card that carried only the name Rupert Danzig and a P.O. Box in Paris. “I’m here to see Herr Hoffgeitz.”

The cozy lobby could have been a living room in an old-money residence. The leather sofas were worn yet elegant, and the oil portraits on the walls told of a long ancestry. When the man held out his hand for Elie’s coat, Elie noticed a ring on his finger, the familiar serpent intertwined with LASN. The cuff of his dark-navy suit shone with age, but the creased face was carefully groomed, the gray eyes alert, and the back not yet stooped.

The man hung Elie’s coat in a closet and picked up a telephone on a side table. A moment later Gunter Schnell appeared through another door. “How can we assist you, Herr Danzig?”

“Greetings from my commander, Obergruppenfuhrer Klaus von Koenig.”

A facial twitch was all that revealed Gunter’s surprise. He gave a shallow bow and beckoned Elie. They went down a hallway with closed doors, accompanied by the muffled sounds of typewriters, men’s voices, and ringing phones, and entered a windowless room with a round mahogany table and straight-back chairs.

Elie waited alone. No sound penetrated the walls or the door, but he detected a trace of cigar smoke. He lit a cigarette.

More than a half hour passed. Elie noticed a rotary phone on a small shelf, picked up the receiver and listened. There was no dial tone, but he could tell someone was listening at the other end. He put down the receiver.

Not a minute later the bank’s owner appeared. He was a bit taller than Elie and weighed three times more. His ruddy cheeks told of good food and plenty of drink. He shook Elie’s hand. “I am Armande Hoffgeitz.”

Elie clicked his heels. “Untersturmfuhrer Rupert Danzig, at your service.”

The banker sat across the table from Elie. Gunter remained standing, his hands on the back of a chair, showing the same ring as the man downstairs. It appeared Herr Hoffgeitz only hired fellow graduates of Lyceum Alpin St. Nicholas.

Elie had planned this conversation carefully. “Obergruppenfuhrer von Koenig often speaks of the delightful school years you shared.”

Herr Hoffgeitz nodded and blinked a few times.

“He sends sincere regrets for the long years of silence.”

“I see.”

“We had to exercise extreme caution, considering what happened to Adolf.” Elie intentionally used only the first name, leaving it to the Swiss banker to guess whether the reference was to Adolf Hitler, who had committed suicide after killing his dogs and lover at his command bunker in Berlin, or to Adolf Eichmann, picked up by the Israelis in Argentina, tried in front of the world’s media, hanged, and cremated, his ashes tossed into the Mediterranean.

“Well.” Herr Hoffgeitz pursed his lips. “You can understand our need for verification before any discussion can take place, yes?”

“Herr Obergruppenfuhrer ordered me to convey his gratitude for naming your son after him and his best wishes to your lovely daughter for success in her Alpine schooling.”

“Ah.” The implication that Koenig had been watching his private life from afar seemed to unsettle the banker. “Is that so?”

Elie pulled out the black ledger and placed it on the table between them, the red swastika facing up.

Herr Hoffgeitz put on silver-rimmed reading glasses and picked up the ledger. He turned the pages that listed the huge quantities of plundered diamonds, gems, and jewelry. His fingers trembled as he put it down on the table.

Elie didn’t touch it. “Herr Obergruppenfuhrer trusts you have liquidated the valuables and converted all into growth investments.”

The banker didn’t respond.

“Transfers will need to be executed. Funds are required for certain needs.”

Herr Hoffgeitz looked at Elie over his reading glasses. “There was much gold, sent by sea to Argentina.”

“It’s an expensive business,” Elie said, “to hide from the Jews for twenty-one years.”

Even Gunter allowed himself a smirk.

“These are three accounts in Paris, kept under my name for confidentiality purposes. Herr Obergruppenfuhrer instructed me to transfer half the funds-”

“ Half?” Herr Hoffgeitz’s shock confirmed the immense size of Klaus von Koenig’s account. Elie’s assessment, based on the quantities in the ledger, pinned it at several hundred million U.S. dollars-perhaps more if the banker had taken his time to dispose of the diamonds in small portions during high-market periods over the years while investing the proceeds wisely.

“My credentials,” Elie said, and placed Rupert Danzig’s passport and SS identification card on the table. “I have served Herr Obergruppenfuhrer since the beginning of the war. I have executed all his orders diligently. He is still my master.”