Avraham Azrieli - The Jerusalem Assassin

Tanya sat on the ground by Lemmy’s grave. His face came to her, tanned under the military haircut, his blue eyes squinted in laughter, his lips moist and sweet and warm. Despite what the old man had said, the guilt would forever fester in her. She had won Lemmy’s heart, and his body too. But to achieve that, she had to tear him away from his world and put him on a path that took him to war and made him another statistic in the great victory of the Six Day War. And now, twenty-eight years later, Abraham was living as a monk among the ultra-Orthodox, and Tanya was working around the clock without a break lest her mind find the time to roam a regrettable past. And if she ever retired from Mossad, would she come here every day with a beach chair to carry on a conversation with a dead boy?

A while later she got up to leave. It was true, she realized, that the older you get, the fresher your memories become. Before she reached the gate, rain started to fall. She quickened her pace. The drizzle turned to a downpour. The guards hid under a canopy.

Bira leaned over and opened the passenger door. She held a pen between her teeth and a pile of students’ exams in her lap. “You’re soaked.” She handed Tanya a box of Kleenex.

The rain drummed on the roof of the car, and the water formed streams down the windshield, giving the world a distorted, gray appearance.

When she wiped her face, the thin tissue paper fell apart, the pieces sticking to Tanya’s skin. “Look at this. Who makes this junk?”

“ It’s not a bath towel, Mom.”

They looked at each other and burst out laughing.

“Do you see these spots?” Tanya showed the back of her hand to Bira. “Like an old woman!”

Bira put the exams on the back seat and turned on the engine. “You’re sixty-seven. What do you expect? Acne?”

“ I expect nothing,” Tanya said. “I had misery when I was young and beautiful, so why should I care about getting old.”

“ Why don’t you retire and come live with us? The kids would love it. Eytan wants to build an extra bathroom to provide you with privacy. He’s giving a new meaning to the Oedipal complex-he’s in love with his mother-in-law!”

Tanya looked out the window at the passing views of wet sidewalks and people bent under umbrellas. “A man told me that he sees Abraham here often.”

“Don’t change the subject.”

“ I wish you didn’t choose a career that runs so opposite to his people.”

“ You agree with what he said?” Bira quoted. “‘Archeologists incite hate and violence between secular and Orthodox Jews for the sake of meaningless clay shards!’”

“Here we go again.” Tanya sighed. “You could sympathize a tiny bit with his lifelong efforts to prevent fighting among Jews-”

“By appeasing those fanatical black hats?”

“Fine. You win.” Tanya looked away. “Let’s go home. I only have one night to spend with my grandkids.”

“Only one night?” Bira glanced at her mother while changing gears. “Can’t they leave you alone? You’ve done so much. Let others risk their lives.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not risking my life. I’m a government bureaucrat, a paper-pusher.”

“ I read the news, okay?” Bira drove slowly, staring forward through the mist left by the swishing wipers. “The Palestinian, Al-Mazir, killed in Paris. The attack on the synagogue. Abu Yusef’s macabre departure. The Saudi prince’s botched haircut. And the next day you suddenly show up in Jerusalem with a nasty bruise on your forehead, looking like you’ve been up for a week straight. I’m not stupid, and you’re too old to dodge bullets.”

“ Rabin is older than me. And Golda Meir was even older when she took office. Maybe I’ll run for prime minister? Shamir left Mossad to enter politics.”

“You took over his job, didn’t you?”

Tanya looked at her with surprise. “Shamir ran the Europe desk before me. But we are very different.”

“I hope so. Had Shamir won another term as prime minister, we would still have no hope of peace. I couldn’t wait for Rabin to beat him in ninety-two.”

“Me too,” Tanya said quietly. “Me too.”

*

“ Herr Horch?” Christopher was on the intercom. “There’s a call for you. From Jerusalem.”

“From whom?” A cold front passed through Lemmy’s chest.

“ He says his name is Grant Guerra.”

“From Senlis?”

“It’s the same name, but the call came from Jerusalem through the international operator. It’s a collect call.”

“I’ll take it.” Lemmy had seen the news of Abu Yusef’s gruesome assassination and the ensuing firefight at the villa in Ermenonville, where most of his men were either killed or injured in a massive police raid. A clever setup, vintage Elie Weiss. But why would Elie’s agent call from Jerusalem?

Christopher transferred the call, and it rang on Lemmy’s desk.

“ Yes?”

“ Herr Horch?”

“ Speaking.”

“ Have I reached the right person?”

“ There is no other banker in Zurich with my name, if that’s your concern.”

“ Good. Are we alone?”

“ I’m alone in my office. As to the open international phone line you’re calling on, we might as well be shouting at each other across Bahnhofstrasse.” Lemmy switched his computer to the video portal.

There was hesitation, as if the caller was framing his sentences with great caution. “You saw the news from Paris?”

“ I watch CNN like everyone else. How can I help you?”

“ It’s about E.W. You know who he is?”

“ What is this about?”

“ He’s been confined.”

“ Yes?”

“ He ordered me to call you, tell you to launch CFS.”

“ Say again?” Lemmy looked at his computer screen and saw Christopher at his desk, holding the receiver to his ear, his hand on the mouthpiece.

“ E.W. wants you to launch CFS. I don’t know what it means.”

“ Neither do I,” Lemmy lied. “You called the wrong number. This is a bank in Zurich. We don’t launch anything. Good day.”

“ Wait! You transferred the money-”

Lemmy hung up. On the screen he saw Christopher put down his receiver. Why was his assistant listening in on the conversation? Lemmy put the thought aside. The message from Israel was more important right now. Elie had looked sick at their last meeting, and his order to get rid of Herr Hoffgeitz and expedite the takeover of the bank had implied the urgency of a man whose time was running out. And then he had phoned Armande and scared him into a heart attack. And now this! The order was clear. Launch CFS! Launch Counter Final Solution!

How was he supposed to launch it? The money was within reach, but what about an organizational chart, detailed plans, lists of agents? Everything had been Elie’s exclusive domain. He had hinted about sleeper agents, ready to activate at any time. But how was Lemmy supposed to find their names and contact information? Perhaps someone else would soon be activated, ordered to make contact. For now, it was clear that his task only was to penetrate Herr Hoffgeitz’s veil of secrecy and take possession of the Koenig account. Perhaps that’s what Elie had meant with his order.

*

Bira’s home was in Ramot, a suburb of two-story homes built of roughly cut Jerusalem stones. Her oldest son, Yuval, was home on leave from the army. There were three other children-two girls in their teens and a nine-year-old boy who walked around the house wearing Yuval’s red beret.

As they sat down for an early dinner, the doorbell rang. Bira went to the door and returned with Gideon. He was introduced to everyone. The girls giggled and whispered in each other’s ears.

Tanya led Gideon to the small garden in the back, where they sat at a white plastic table. Three bicycles in different sizes leaned against the wall near a barbecue grill covered by a piece of stained gray cloth. A fence with climbing vines separated them from the next house, but the back of the garden was open to the east, where arid hills stretched all the way to the glistening lights of a distant Arab village.