Avraham Azrieli - The Jerusalem Assassin

“Thanks for the double compliment,” Itah said. “I can see why you’ve been anointed.”

“Go ahead.” Rabbi Gerster patted Benjamin’s shoulder. “I’ll be a few minutes.”

Benjamin obeyed, glancing over his shoulder as he walked away.

The rabbi gestured at her outfit. “Thanks for complicating my life.”

“You took the words out of my mouth.” Itah looked up and down the street. “They’re after me. And they’ll be after you if they find out we talked.”

“Who’s after you? The boys from ILOT?”

“Worse.” She led him across the street and into a doorway of an apartment building. “I managed to give them the slip, but they’ll find me again, I know it.”

“Tell me everything.”

“My friend works for the Commissioner of Banks at the Ministry of the Treasury. She has access to the database of every bank. I went to her office and we ran searches for Yoni Adiel. There were several people with that name, and we had to weed out the wrong ones by age, occupation, and so on. We eventually found the right one. He’s paying tuition at Bar Ilan University out of his account, so we knew it’s him. But we got screwed because it’s a tripping account.”

“ What’s that?”

“ Like a trip wire. If someone steps on it-electronically speaking-an alarm goes off, and nasty people come after you.”

“ You’re exaggerating the Israeli government’s efficiency.” Rabbi Gerster chuckled. “Maybe someone would call your friend to ask why she looked at the account, but there’s no way they’ll mobilize a surveillance team for something so benign.”

“ Obviously it’s not benign.”

A car engine sounded outside, and they peeked to see a white sedan with darkened windows cruise down Shivtay Israel Street, which was otherwise quiet in the minutes preceding the commencement of the Sabbath.

“ Damn!” Itah pushed him back inside, where the darkness made them invisible to the people in the car. “They found me!”

“ Impossible,” Rabbi Gerster said. “How would anyone know you’re here?”

“ They must have put a tracer on my car. It’s parked around the block.” Itah stuck her head outside. “They’re gone for now, but I can’t go back to my car.” She handed him a stack of papers held together with a rubber band. “That law student, Yoni Adiel, has an account at the Bank Hapoalim branch in Herzlia, which is where his parents live. Top three pages, here.” She flipped through the stack. “His account gets a monthly transfer of funds from an account at Bank Leumi, which belongs to Freckles. Here.” She showed him a sheet with numbers. “And Freckles’ account gets frequent cash deposits, as well as a regular monthly paycheck from a multi-signature account.”

Rabbi Gerster went through the stack, finding a page with tiny print that showed a copy of the signature requirements on an account. There were three sample scribbles. The account owner was listed as a series of numbers and letters. “What does it mean?”

“ It’s a government account. You remember the embezzlement scandal last year at the Ministry of Defense, with the fake acquisitions of light weapons?”

“ So?”

“ The Knesset passed legislation requiring each government agency to set up expenditure approval panels.”

“ Of three officials each.”

“ Correct. Freckles has been getting regular paychecks from a government account for the past ten years. And the fact that the agency’s name doesn’t appear on the account means that it’s one of the secret services. Conclusion: Freckles has been a government agent for nine years!”

“ Shin Bet?”

“ Probably. Now look at this.” She turned a few more pages. “Copies of checks Freckles gave to Rina Printing Ltd. It’s a small shop in the Talpiot industrial area. Looks like nothing, but I sifted through the trash in the back and found leftover copies of some ugly right-wing propaganda.”

“ For example?”

“ The poster that shows Prime Minister Rabin in Heinrich Himmler’s SS uniform. Another shows him in a checkered kafiya. And a bunch of stickers: Rabin = Rodef! Government of Traitors! Rabin is a Terrorist! Do you understand?”

“ There are several possible explanations. But I guess we have to assume that Freckles is an agent-provocateur. The Shin Bet gives him money to operate the fundamentalist ILOT group, print provocative anti-Rabin posters and stickers, and hand out money to activists such as Yoni Adiel. They’re probably gearing up for the Likud rally on Saturday night.”

“ And look at this.” She showed him a page listing deposits into Freckles’ account. “He’s enjoying not only the government’s generosity, but some serious cash deposits.”

“ What’s the FF next to each deposit?”

“ French francs,” Itah said. “Someone besides the Shin Bet is giving him tens of thousands in cash every couple of months, which he uses for the same right-wing provocations.”

“ It’s probably the old sponsor that Yoni’s girlfriend told me about. That’s how Freckles explains the money to Yoni and the other ILOT members without telling them he’s also in the pay of Shin Bet.” Rabbi Gerster didn’t say more, but he was certain now that the money was coming from Elie Weiss. The two knew each other-the stocky young man leading the demonstration by the prime minister’s residence was Freckles, who had given Elie the thumbs up. Rabbi Gerster wondered if the dark-skinned youth with the sign 1936 Berlin = 1995 Oslo had been Yoni Adiel. And what was Elie up to with these young men anyway?

“ This is explosive,” Itah said. “The government finances right-wing militant activities, which taints the whole political right wing as anti-government fanatics!”

“ It’s not the first time a government used an agent-provocateur to delegitimize the opposition.”

“ But does the sponsor from Paris know that Freckles is also a government agent?”

“ In other words, you think Freckles is a double agent?”

“ Yes, but Yoni Adiel and the others have no idea that Freckles is anything but a fellow right winger.” Itah showed him another paper. “And I found out how they met. This is an earlier statement from Yoni Adiel’s account, and this is from Freckles’ account, about the same time. My friend managed to pull out past history in both accounts. It’s from a period before online banking and the advent of personal computers, so the government didn’t bother to hide the agency’s name. It appears that the two had worked together for another agency before going to the university, drawing regular paychecks. Look at these entries.”

Holding the pages side-by-side against the dim light from the doorway, Rabbi Gerster saw entries that fell on the first or second day of each month for two years. The notations said: Sherut Bitachon Klali, Hebrew for General Security Service, otherwise known as Shin Bet. Smaller letters in parentheses read: YLI. “What’s this acronym?”

“ I also wondered, so I looked it up.” She took a deep breath. “YLI stands for Yechida Le’Avtachat Ishim.”

“ The VIP Protection Unit?”

“ Correct. Freckles and Yoni Adiel had worked for Shin Bet together, guarding VIPs for two years. Imagine the operational knowledge they accumulated, the familiarity with security procedures, even the lingo.”

The VIP Protection Unit! Rabbi Gerster felt a sensation he had not experienced since hiding with Elie in the attic of the butcher shop while the Nazis slaughtered their families. It took him a moment to recognize the sensation, which resembled a flush of cold water through his veins: Fear.

*

Lemmy left the bank early, wrapped in his coat and a soft hat with a narrow brim. He had fitted the silencer to the Mauser, which he carried under the coat against his right hip. From Bahnhofstrasse he veered left into the Rennweg, then to Fortunagasse, a narrow, uphill alley lined with one-story, well-preserved medieval houses-a sharp contrast from the stately splendor of Bahnhofstrasse. The rubber soles of his shoes paced silently on the wet cobblestones.