Avraham Azrieli - The Jerusalem Assassin

Elie grabbed his shirt and made him lean closer. “Tell her.” He struggled for air. “Tell Tanya.”

“ Tell her what?”

“ That I sent you to take care of her. To be with her. Tell her!”

“I will.” Rabbi Gerster tiptoed to the door, put his ear against it, and waited. A while later, the soft sound of the guard’s snoring came through. He cracked the door and slipped out.

*

The Kings of Israel Plaza was a vast concrete square in the center of Tel Aviv. Gideon looked up at the massive, Soviet-style city hall, which towered over the plaza on the north side. In its shadow, carpenters were assembling the stage for tomorrow night’s peace rally. He had already briefed the director of security on the need to empty the building at the end of the workday and keep it secured until after the rally tomorrow night.

Around the plaza, teams of laborers unpacked audio equipment and placed loudspeakers at regular intervals. Ibn Gevirol Street ran along the east side. It was a six-lane artery that connected north and south Tel Aviv and was due to be shut down to vehicle traffic hours before the event. They waited for a lull in traffic and ran across.

The sidewalk teemed with pedestrians, who patronized the retail stores on the street level. Above the stores, the buildings had six or seven floors of residential apartments, many sporting balconies that enjoyed unobstructed lines of fire at the stage, as did the hundreds of apartments along King Saul Boulevard on the south side of the plaza.

“ This is unacceptable,” Gideon said. “We have to remove the residents and secure all these apartment buildings before the rally.”

“ You can try,” Agent Cohen said.

“ Why not?”

“ You’ve obviously spent too much time away from Israel.” He gestured at the buildings. “You think these Israelis would just pack a bag and leave their apartments? Every one of them has already invited his friends and relatives to come up and sit on the balcony during the rally. They’ll drink lemonade and crack sunflower seeds, spitting the skin shards on the poor schmucks below, who will stand on their toes to catch a glimpse of the dignitaries, get squeezed by total strangers, and gag on body odor and cigarette smoke, because they don’t know anyone who owns an apartment overlooking the plaza.”

Gideon laughed.

“ That’s why we have to count on sharpshooters, about a hundred of them, on the roofs all around.”

“ They should pay special attention to empty balconies,” Gideon said. “I don’t think Spinoza would try shooting from a populated apartment, even if he can somehow get invited.”

“ He won’t be able to bring a rifle to the area. We’re setting up roadblocks. Anyone carrying a package or a bag will be searched. Israelis are used to being searched at the entrance to every mall and movie theater, so no one would mind.”

“ We have to assume,” Gideon said, “that Spinoza knows those facts, that he has a plan that’s not vulnerable to a roadblock, a search, or a pat-down.”

*

At Lemmy’s request, Benjamin had called the chaplain at Hadassah Hospital and asked for his assistance in accommodating a group of Neturay Karta men, who wished to visit the sick before the Sabbath, comfort them, and pray for their salvation. It was a common enough occurrence, and the chaplain was happy to oblige.

Twenty minutes later, the van dropped Lemmy, Benjamin, and eight other men at the hospital entrance. The chaplain waited for them with visitor stickers, which they placed on the lapels of their black coats.

The hospital rooms held six beds each. Benjamin conducted a brief service in every room, his men following his lead, praying with the patients, some of whom were too sedated to notice.

*

“ What is Spinoza’s plan?” Gideon shaded his eyes with his hand as he looked up at the buildings surrounding the King of Israel Plaza. “Without a long-range rifle, he could try a handgun with a silencer. Could he enter the area behind the stage and ambush Rabin on arrival or departure?”

“ Impossible,” Agent Cohen said. “Our VIP Protection Unit always sets up a sterile area to prevent such attempts. It’s standard procedure for public events. No one but the VIPs and our own guys can enter a sterile area. But he could shoot at the stage from the front, standing among the crowd.”

Gideon turned and looked across the plaza toward the half-constructed stage. “Even if he’s up front, aiming up at the stage, he would still be pretty far. And let’s say he can manage a perfect shot, how does he plan to get away?”

“ There’s going to be panic. He could slip through the crowd and disappear.”

“ What if the guy next to him is a kibbutznik? Or a reservist from an elite commando? Spinoza knows that almost every Israeli is an IDF veteran. They won’t panic. They’ll jump him!”

“ Only if they notice the gun.”

Gideon wasn’t convinced. “It’s too chancy. This guy is calculated, careful, Swiss. He won’t risk a wild shot at the prime minister while surrounded by thousands of aggressive Israelis.”

They strolled to the middle of the vast plaza. A couple walked a dog nearby. A woman rode her bicycle toward King Saul Boulevard. And a teenager dribbled a basketball, jogging with oversized headphones. The sun was up now, its warmth building up.

“ A diversion,” Gideon said. “He could use a few small bombs, even firecrackers, to create mayhem. He’ll shoot Rabin and disappear.”

“ Dressed up as a policeman, he could easily slip away.”

“ For all we know, he might have a collaborator, ready with uniform and appropriate IDs.”

“ There could be a rifle hidden someplace on one of the roofs or in an apartment, waiting for Spinoza.” Agent Cohen waved at the surrounding buildings. “There are a thousand spots he could have chosen.”

“ That’s right. And tomorrow night, he would walk through a checkpoint, get to his prearranged position, prime the rifle and shoot at his leisure.”

“ And walk away while Rabin bleeds to death.”

Despite the fresh morning air, the image made Gideon break into a sweat. “Would Rabin agree to speak via video instead of attending the rally in person?”

“ Yeah, right!” Agent Cohen rolled his eyes. “The peace process hinges on this event. Labor Party officials expect a record number of supporters-two or three hundred thousand, possibly more. Rabin’s political career depends on this event. If it’s successful, they expect an upswing that will last through the elections.”

“ Will he at least wear a bulletproof vest?”

“ He considers it a sign of chicanery.”

“ An old soldier.” Gideon sighed. “Then we must find Spinoza before tomorrow night.”

“ And eliminate him,” Agent Cohen said. “A final solution.”

Gideon followed Agent Cohen into the Shin Bet mobile unit, a box truck that was parked in the designated sterile area near the stage. It was packed tight with electronic equipment, operated by several technicians in civilian clothes. A number of monitors showed video input from various sections of the Kings of Israel Plaza.

“ Let’s watch the video from the King David Hotel.” Agent Cohen loaded a cassette into a player connected to a TV set. “Maybe you’ll see something I’ve missed.”

The black-and-white picture showed the main entrance to the King David Hotel from above, with two bellmen, guests coming and going, and car horns in the background. A man in a baseball hat appeared on the right, just as a group came out of the lobby.

“Here!” Agent Cohen paused the player and used the stick taped to his broken finger to indicate each person on the screen. “That’s Spinoza, standing aside with the baseball hat. That’s me, with my four agents around Itah Orr, Elie Weiss, and Rabbi Gerster without his beard and hat.” He restarted the video.