Avraham Azrieli - The Jerusalem Assassin

And why was Shin Bet so eager to take custody of Elie before Mossad had a chance to properly question him? The Abu Yusef assassination clearly fell under Mossad’s overseas jurisdiction. Something was up, and she was piqued. Did they know about the Nazi fortune? Everyone in the upper echelons of the small Israeli intelligence community envied the financial independence of SOD and its consequent freedom from bureaucratic budgetary constraints. But Elie’s operation had always been tiny in comparison, too little for anyone at Shin Bet or Mossad to make a move to take over SOD. And as far as Tanya knew, only Abraham and Elie were aware of the plundered fortune her Nazi lover had deposited with the Hoffgeitz Bank of Zurich fifty years earlier. Had Elie managed to put his hands on it?

She turned to her agents. “I’ll see you at headquarters tomorrow morning.”

They departed toward the main terminal, and she held Gideon’s arm, following behind. “Gidi’leh, how long have you worked for Elie?”

“Three years.”

“ Do you know where he got the money to finance SOD operations?”

“ I know where he got the orders-from the prime minister.”

“Elie was his own man. He took no orders.”

“Why do you use the past tense? He’s not dead yet.”

There was no point in arguing. She stopped at the foot of the steps leading up to the terminal. “What are your plans?”

“ I’d like to continue to serve.”

“ Well, SOD has just gone out of business.”

“ Don’t be so sure. Elie believed in redundancy. He always had two tracks going on at the same time.”

“Not when it came to himself. SOD was his show, and it’s retiring with him. It’s over. Would you like me to talk to Bira about a position for you at Hebrew University’s archeology department?”

“In exchange for information?”

The sun was in her eyes, and Tanya used her hand as a visor. “I’ll help you no matter what. But you care about Israel’s security, don’t you? Elie spent decades building a network of agents in Europe, possibly elsewhere. And he’s got money for operations. Why should his agents and funds go to waste?”

“ I can’t help you. Elie traveled on his own, conducted hushed telephone conversations, and told us only what we needed to know. He kept things strictly compartmentalized.”

“ How about a notebook? A computer file? Any lists?”

“ None that I saw, other than the files concerning Abu Yusef.”

“We got those. Do you know names? Contacts? Locations?”

“ Sorry.”

She sensed that he was holding back. “Come by Bira’s house later. Her vines have ripened late this year, red and juicy. I’ll have her squeeze a pitcher for us, okay?”

Gideon smiled.

They passed through the wide doors into the main terminal and were greeted by the familiar air of impatience and excitement. The place was bustling with passengers and luggage carts. Loudspeakers played Hebrew music. They were home.

*

Tanya’s team had tried to pry information from him in Paris the night before, but Elie had laughed at them. So they had put him to sleep, and now he was back in Israel. He held his bible, which gave him confidence that his plans would proceed despite this interruption. The switch at the airport had troubled him. It was all temporary, of course, until the deal with Rabin materialized. But why was Shin Bet so eager to take him in? He could hardly think with the drugs still in his system.

From the sights outside the window Elie could tell the ambulance was traveling east, across the Ayalon Valley on the Tel Aviv-Jerusalem Expressway. He glanced at the nurse, a plain, middle-aged woman, who sat on the bench with the patience of one used to long hours on the job.

The ambulance slowed down and took an exit ramp. A moment later it stopped on the side of the road. The nurse opened the rear doors and stepped out. Elie saw a gray Cadillac stop behind the ambulance.

A man in oversized sunglasses came out of the Cadillac and climbed into the ambulance. The doors closed, and a moment later they were moving again.

Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin sat on the bench and took off his glasses. His face was wrinkled, his hair almost white, but his vital gruffness hadn’t changed.

Elie cleared his throat. “Shalom, Yitzhak.”

“ Welcome home, Weiss.” Unlike most of his generation, Yitzhak Rabin was a born Israeli, not an immigrant from Europe, and his Hebrew was free of any Diaspora accent. “How’re you feeling?”

“In need of a major overhaul.” Elie coughed.

“The doctors at Hadassah Hospital will put you back on your feet.” Rabin leaned closer. “You’ve done Israel a great service by removing Al-Mazir, Abu Yusef, and their Saudi sponsor. Arafat can now proceed with the third phase of the Oslo process. And you can finally rest.”

“Rest? I must get back to work. Great dangers ahead-”

“You’ve done enough.” Rabin tilted his head sideways, signaling impatience. “It’s the era of peace, my friend. Two states for two people.”

“ It’ll never happen if your government falls. I told you. Everything is lined up.”

“ I can’t accept your deal.”

So that’s what he came to say.

“ Don’t you want to stay in power? Don’t you want Oslo to succeed?”

Rabin shifted on the hard bench. “I can’t appoint you intelligence czar. Your agenda is too militant.”

“ Peace won’t work without it. Carrots need sticks. Our enemies need deterrence.”

“ You’re an old warrior. Me too. For us, peace is hard to believe in. But it’s happening.”

“ All the more reason to eliminate anti-Semitic germs before they infect those willing to make peace with us. My network will launch-”

“ Your time is over, Weiss. Retire, pass the torch, let other people do the job. We’ll take care of your people, of course, once you tell us who they are.”

Elie tried to speak, yet no voice sounded. He coughed again, and the burning in his chest blurred his vision. It was maddening that now, when he had finally managed to line up all his cards in a neat row, his own body was betraying him.

“Calm down, Weiss.” The prime minister rested his hand on Eli’s forearm. “Everything is taken care of.”

Feeling Yitzhak Rabin’s cool hand against his burning skin sent a shudder through Elie. It was a large hand, soft yet meaty, like a farmer’s hand that had been away from the plow for too long. This unexpected gesture of affection told Elie that this was a farewell visit, not the bargaining among equals he had expected. “Not yet.” He forced the words out. “There’s work to be done.”

Rabin smiled, his eyes creased. “Your life is a legend. I know better than anyone else that our victory in sixty-seven would have been a terrible defeat, a calamity, if not for your secret operation to destroy the UN radar. We owe you the glory of the Six Day War. And the Yom Kippur War, which could have been a second Holocaust if not for you. And now, our peace with Arafat would have been in peril if not for your decisive actions in Paris.”

“ There’s more-”

“ It’s time to say enough. You must cooperate with the Shin Bet in winding down your operations. It’s an order!”

Elie reached with great effort and grabbed the prime minister’s shirt. “Don’t you understand? I’m about to save you!”

“Save me?” Rabin laughed. “I have signed a peace agreement with Jordan, two interim agreements with the Palestinians-a dream come true! But when I come home at night, Orthodox hoodlums curse me and wave posters showing me in SS uniform. And to get Knesset approval for Oslo, I had to rely on the Arab members, and Shimon Peres had to bribe a member with a ministerial post and a staff car to get the tiebreaking vote. How can you help me? Get real!” The prime minister lit a cigarette, drawing on it a few times, filling the ambulance with smoke.