Avraham Azrieli - The Jerusalem Assassin

“ Maybe he already knows. With double agents you’re never quite certain which side they really work for. It’s possible that Freckles’ first loyalty is to Elie. He could be taking Shin Bet’s money and feeding them lies from Elie.”

“ You think Elie has outsmarted the Shin Bet.”

“ We’ll soon find out.” Rabbi Gerster took a deep breath. Deferring to Itah was difficult after spending the past fifty years in Neturay Karta, where women were relegated to household duties and obeyed their learned husbands on all substantive decisions.

“ He’s been out there too long,” Itah said. “Let’s check on him.”

They found the balcony deserted. So was the bathroom.

“ He’ll be back.” Rabbi Gerster picked up the phone and asked for the international operator, who gave him the number for the Hoffgeitz Bank in Zurich. When a receptionist answered, he spoke German. “ Entschuldigen sie bitte. This is Herman von Klausovich from Bonn, general director of inter-governmental financial cooperation of the Federal Republic.”

“ Yes?”

“ I met one of your top executives at a conference in Vienna a couple of years ago, but I cannot remember his name. In his forties, very handsome-Aryan, if you get my gist, ja? ”

“ That would be our vice president, Herr Wilhelm Horch.”

“ Yes, that sounds right. Is he available?”

“ Unfortunately Herr Horch is away on a business trip. If you leave your number, I’ll have him call you.”

“ I’ll try again. Auf Wiedersehen. ” He hung up and turned to Itah. “Wilhelm Horch. That’s my son’s name.”

“ Wilhelm?”

“ I bet his wife calls him Lemmy.”

*

Traffic was heavy on Herzl Road, which led into Jerusalem through dense residential neighborhoods, none of which had existed when Lemmy had last lived in the city. On his right, a restaurant on the ground floor of an apartment building spilled tables and chairs onto the sidewalk, most of them occupied by families. He remembered one of his father’s sermons, given on the last Yom Kippur Lemmy had spent at home. Why was it, his father had asked, that every time the ancient kings of Israel had made peace with their enemies, the Bible went on to describe the elaborate feast that followed? The answer, according to Rabbi Gerster, was that feeding the body calmed the mind, including its fighting spirit. On Yom Kippur, on the other hand, fasting was designed to create a sense of urgency, intensifying reflection over one’s sins and prompting repentance. The memory made Lemmy realize how hungry he was. As the light changed and traffic began to flow, he noticed a parking spot and veered right.

He chose a table that allowed him an open view while a wall protected his back.

A short, dark-haired woman began shuttling plates, not bothering to take an order. The pita bread was warm and slightly singed. The pickles were salty and crisp. And the humus was garnished with olive oil, chickpeas, and toasted pine nuts. Lemmy swiped a healthy load with a folded slice of pita bread and bit into it. The rich taste literally made him sigh with pleasure.

She rushed over. “Everything okay?”

Lemmy’s mouth was full. He gave her a thumbs up.

She beamed and disappeared into the kitchen.

Lamb skewers came next, with couscous and chopped salad. He concluded with mint tea and baklava. While paying the bill, he asked her for directions to the YMCA.

*

Elie sat in a nearby park for a couple of hours. He enjoyed the unseasonal sun and watched a group of kids chase a ball. On his way back to the hotel, he paused occasionally to catch his breath and furtively search for suspicious persons lurking about. There was nothing but the usual bustle of Jerusalem on a busy afternoon.

When he returned to the suite, Rabbi Gerster and Itah Orr were watching a TV talk show, which pitted two Knesset members against each other. The raised voices and red faces were no surprise, but even the moderator seemed riled up when he asked the Likud MK: “Why is Netanyahu pouring oil on the fanatics’ fire? Does he also wish to see Yitzhak Rabin burned at the stake?”

“Your plan is working,” Rabbi Gerster said, pressing the remote control to lower the volume. “You must be proud.”

“Indeed.”

“I’m sorry for losing my temper.”

“And I’m sorry for speaking harshly.” Elie patted his shoulder. “Anger and grief go hand in hand, as we both know from our days of fighting the Nazis. Losing your son must be a never-healing wound. I wish I could ease your pain, my dear friend.”

Abraham nodded, but the look on his face was too cryptic for Elie’s comfort. Did he know more than he was saying? Had he and Itah really dug up Lemmy’s grave? And even if they had, how could Abraham tell if the remains belonged to his son? Elie was about to ask him, but Itah grabbed the remote and increased the volume.

The TV screen showed two photos side-by-side, with a subtitle: Rabbi Abraham Gerster amp; TV Reporter Itah Orr.

“The two suspects evaded police yesterday,” the news anchor said, “when investigators sought them in connection with unauthorized hacking into financial databases and the theft of confidential bank records. The investigation revealed a criminal conspiracy with non-profit religious organizations, including Talmudic yeshiva institutions in Israel and New York, which have allegedly been utilized for money laundering.” The two photos were replaced by a video showing several police cars at the entrance to the Meah Shearim neighborhood, and officers carrying boxes of evidence down the road from the Neturay Karta synagogue. A group of bearded men in black hats and coats held a prayer on the pavement nearby, swaying devoutly.

“Channel One,” the anchor said, “announced it was suspending Itah Orr until the investigation is concluded. Anyone with information on the suspects’ whereabouts should contact the police.”

Itah switched off the TV. “I don’t believe this!”

“They’re clever,” Elie said. “You were identified on the security system at Hadassah, but they don’t want to mention that scene, so they made up a criminal investigation. All you need to do is stay out of sight or change your appearance. Once my operation reaches its successful conclusion, Rabin will pull back Shin Bet, and we’ll be home free.”

“What if Shin Bet stops your operation?”

“They’re groping in the dark,” Elie said. “They know I’m up to something, but they don’t know what. They’re clueless.”

“You’re an optimist,” Itah said, exchanging a glance with Rabbi Gerster. “Anyway, I can use Sorkeh’s headscarf.”

“Yes,” Elie said, “but what about the famous leader of Neturay Karta?”

Rabbi Gerster stood up. “It appears that my rabbinical career is over.”

Elie watched from the bathroom door. The scissors in Itah’s hands were small but relentless. She snipped off the payos and worked through the bushy, gray beard that had masked Abraham Gerster’s face for fifty years. The medicine cabinet was well stocked with shaving cream and disposable blades. She shaved him carefully.

Removing his black skullcap, Itah watered her hands and combed his hair backward. “My my,” she said, standing back to examine her handiwork, “you’re drop dead handsome!”

Elie felt a stab of envy. It had been the same with Tanya Galinski in 1945. Despite the deep snow and the warm corpse of her Nazi lover, Tanya had stared at Abraham Gerster the same way-enamored, enchanted. It was incredible to watch him now, at age sixty-nine, impact a woman the same way. Elie cleared his throat. “Shall we go downstairs for dinner?” He had decided not to warn them that Freckles would be arriving to pick him up. Their reaction would reveal how much they knew about the chubby agent-provocateur.