Avraham Azrieli - The Jerusalem inception

Armande Hoffgeitz examined the SS card without touching it. “I wonder why he didn’t contact me directly.”

“He is,” Elie said, “contacting you directly-through me. He awaits the day that speaking with you face-to-face would no longer endanger him, or you.”

The hint of personal peril was sufficient to get the banker off the subject of direct communications. “But why does he wish to withdraw the funds? Does he doubt our reliability?”

Elie had an answer ready. “Herr Obergruppenfuhrer has determined that it is time to begin preparing for the Fourth Reich.”

The Swiss banker put both hands forward as if trying to ward off the words.

“And the first step,” Elie continued, “is to help the Arabs complete the Fuhrer’s final solution. Our men have kept in top shape, ready to serve under the new leader of the German people: Obergruppenfuhrer Klaus von Koenig. Crack teams of veteran experts-battle strategists, armament specialists, engineers, pilots-will take undercover lead in the Middle East as part of the Egyptian joint-Arab command. Herr Obergruppenfuhrer has decided that the narrow territory inhabited by the Jews in the Holy Land is perfect for a blitzkrieg-cut them in half through Jerusalem and the West Bank to the Mediterranean Sea, then thrust north and south simultaneously in a rapid annihilation of their primary population centers along the coast. It’s a very expensive project, but necessary. As long as the Israelis are still around, Herr Obergruppenfuhrer’s personal safety is in danger. The destruction of the Jews will open the door for the return to power of our Nationalsozialistische Deutsche Arbeiterpartei in Germany and the rest of Europe. It’s time!” Elie stood up, clicked his heels, and raised his arm in a Nazi salute. “ Heil Hitler! ”

Armand Hoffgeitz’s cheeks lost much of their ruddiness. He rose slowly and buttoned his suit jacket over his protruding belly. “My assistant will handle the formalities.”

“Thank you.”

“And please tell my dear friend Klaus that I look forward to seeing him in person.” Pausing at the door, Herr Hoffgeitz said, “By the way, how is his beautiful friend?”

It took a moment for Elie to understand he was referring to Tanya. “The Jewess?”

“Yes.”

“She’s dead.”

When his boss left the room, Gunter Schnell opened a file. The top document was a blank form. He started filling it out, copying the information from Danzig’s passport and SS card.

Elie pulled out a new pack of Lucky Strike and tore off the wrapping.

“Account number please?”

Elie wasn’t ready for this question. “You don’t know the number?”

“Standard procedure. Like every other client, General von Koenig chose a number and a password. This bank will not take instructions or reveal account information before a client provides these two pieces of information. Surely he told you, yes?”

“Of course.” Elie coughed to mask his ignorant surprise. “Now let me think. It’s been several weeks since I left Argentina.”

Gunter waited.

Trying to keep a straight face, Elie had to make a convincing show of forgetfulness. “He didn’t want me to write it down. I’m afraid the memory escaped me momentarily.”

“Well, then.” The banker put down his pen. “We cannot do anything until you provide the account number and password.”

Sudden rage hit Elie as he realized that Tanya had tricked him. “May I use the telephone?”

W hen they left Tanya’s house, Lemmy thought he heard the phone ring inside. She was already by the car, reaching to open the trunk for his duffel bag.

“Isn’t that your-”

“I have an idea.” She held the trunk open. “Let’s stop by Meah Shearim, and you’ll run in to say hello to your mother.”

“ What? ”

She patted his Uzi. “No one is going to mess with you. Just go in and tell her you’re doing fine, not to worry. What’s the worst that could happen? They’ll ignore you?”

“Great idea!” Lemmy threw his bag in the trunk and slammed it shut. “Should I stop by the synagogue to say hello to my old friends? Check out the new chandelier?”

Tanya drove along the border, where hundreds of Orthodox men of all ages were digging up the sidewalks and filling up pillowcases in lieu of sandbags.

“You don’t understand,” he said. “I defied their God, spat on their sacred rules, made a farce out of their divine truth.”

“You didn’t spit on anything. You took a different path, that’s all.”

“My father once hit me for asking an inappropriate question. For a question!” He gestured at his uniform. “This is a million times worse than a question, more than blasphemy. For them, it’s Khilool Ha’Shem — Desecration of God in the worst way! Don’t you understand what Neturay Karta is all about?”

“But still, your mother loves you no matter what.”

“You love me too, right?”

“Of course.”

“Then imagine that I went to Tel Aviv and raped Bira, completely and violently ravished her, left your darling daughter violated, bleeding, broken, sprawled on the sidewalk. Would you still love me? Would you want me to stop by and say hello?”

“It’s not the same thing.”

“Yes, it is! I raped their Talmud, ravished their faith, crapped on their holy way of life, and shot down their chandelier.”

“That was an accident.”

“You don’t get it, do you? I’m dead to them, especially to my parents.” He hit the door of the car with a clenched fist. “Worse than dead!”

After a few moments of driving in silence, Tanya said, “You might be right.”

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t be angry at me, but I went to see your father.”

Lemmy was too shocked to say anything.

“Many weeks ago. I gave him your address in the army so your mother could write to you.” Tanya sighed. “I don’t understand why she didn’t.”

“Because I’ve been excommunicated! I don’t exist anymore!”

At the central bus station, Tanya parked and accompanied him inside. Hundreds of soldiers milled about, some young like Lemmy, others much older, reservists in haphazard combinations of uniform and civilian clothes.

A group of kids sat on the ground in a circle, singing a popular tune: “ Nasser sits and waits for Rabin, ai, yai yai, and he should wait ’cause Rabin is coming, ai, yai yai, to bang him on his head, ai yai yai. ”

They stopped to watch the kids sing. She took his hand.

“Sorry I yelled at you.”

She pulled him toward the row of buses. “You’ll miss your ride.”

“Will you attend my graduation ceremony next month?”

They reached his bus. “I can’t leave my post. We’re sitting on a cinder box.”

“That’s okay,” he muttered. “My friends would be surprised to see anyone showing up for me.”

“My poor little Jerusalem.” She held him tightly. “I shouldn’t tell you this, but just to make you feel better, I really can’t travel. The fate of the city is hanging in the balance. We need as much information as possible.”

The bus began to back up from the dock. He bent down to kiss her lips, but Tanya offered her cheek instead.

T he overseas telephone number had many digits, and Elie tried again, fingering each digit, impatient for the dial to rotate back, the pulses to travel the lines to Jerusalem. But the telephone in Tanya’s house rang and rang without an answer.

He dialed her number again every few minutes for almost an hour, but there was no response. He wondered whether she even knew the account number and password. It would have been careless for her Nazi lover to give her the ledger and the codes. Was it possible to guess them? Back in 1945, SS General Klaus von Koenig must have realized it would be many years before he could return to Zurich. He had to use a memorable pattern. Perhaps the name of a place or a person? Something related to Tanya? Elie jotted down TANYA 1945. Below he wrote in reverse order: AYNAT 5491.