Avraham Azrieli - The Jerusalem Assassin

“These letters,” Lemmy pressed them to his chest, “are my Holocaust.”

*

On the fourth floor, Gideon stood aside as several bearded men in black coats and hats stepped out of Elie’s hospital room. “What’s this? Who let them in?”

The guard smiled sheepishly. “They just wanted to pray with the patient. I couldn’t refuse.”

Agent Cohen pushed his way in. Gideon followed him and froze at the sight of the man standing by Elie’s bed. Unlike the others, he had removed his hat, which rested on a chair with the attached fake beard and payos. His face was unmistakable: Spinoza!

Gideon drew his gun in a single, fluid motion, pulled on the barrel to slip a bullet into the chamber, and aimed at the assassin.

Spinoza raised his hands and said in perfect Hebrew, “ Ani sochen Israeli. I’m an Israeli agent. Just like you.”

“Shoot him!” Agent Cohen maneuvered to the side of the room. He tried to draw his gun with his injured hand, but the gun dropped to the floor. “Kill him!”

“In God’s name!” It was the last of the black hats, who was still in the room. “I’m Rabbi Benjamin Mashash and I know this man. He’s a Jew. We grew up together!”

“Get out!” Agent Cohen pushed him through the door and slammed it.

“I’m unarmed,” Spinoza said. “I’m not a threat to anyone.”

“End this now,” Elie Weiss said, and while Gideon assumed the order was addressed to him, he heard Spinoza reply, “Be quiet. You’ve caused enough damage already.”

Gideon stepped closer, aiming, “Identify yourself!”

“My name is Jerusalem-”

“Shoot him!” Agent Cohen picked up his own gun from the floor with his left hand and tried to cock it. “He’s an assassin!”

“I’m part of SOD,” Spinoza said. “My cover is Wilhelm Horch, vice president at the Hoffgeitz Bank in Zurich. Look at this.” He held forth a small, black booklet. “I’m offering you a trade. I can transfer a huge-”

“Your father,” Elie said from the bed, “went to see Carl. You should follow him.”

Gideon’s finger slipped into the trigger guard. “I’m calling for reinforcement.” With the Beretta aimed at Spinoza, he moved toward the nightstand by the bed, but there was no telephone there.

“Shoot already!” Agent Cohen pounded Gideon’s back, and a shot exploded in the room.

But the Swiss wasn’t standing where he had stood a second before. And while Gideon was momentarily stunned by the blast of his unintended gunshot, a blurred figure rolled across the floor and kicked his legs from under him. Gideon spun in the air, the hard tiles coming at his head. He heard Agent Cohen scream in pain and felt a heavy body collapse on top of him. Then something very hard thumped the back of his head, and the world went dark, accompanied by the eerie laughter of Elie Weiss.

*

Benjamin had the presence of mind to rush downstairs with his men, start the van, and drive it to the front of the hospital, arriving just as Lemmy ran out, his hat askew, his fake beard covering his mouth.

They drove in the opposite direction from Jerusalem along winding mountain roads in a circular path that led them eventually back to the city through its northwest suburbs. Lemmy used the time to digest the changed circumstances. If Elie had spoken the truth, Rabbi Gerster had left Israel to be with Tanya. But following his father would not be possible as long as Shin Bet continued the chase. For some reason, Agent Cohen was determined to eliminate him, which made any deal unlikely.

Lemmy asked Benjamin to stop at a post office, where he mailed Koenig’s ledger to Christopher with instructions to keep it locked in the safe until his return to Zurich. He also sent the signed title for the Citroen DS with a note to arrange its shipping from Bet Shemesh to Zurich. The old letters from his mother he kept folded in his pocket.

Back in Meah Shearim, the white Subaru was still parked near the entrance, the two agents leaning against the hood, smoking. They had been checking women, obviously under orders to locate Itah Orr, but they ignored men entering the neighborhood. This would change now, Lemmy knew. His safe haven was no more.

Benjamin sent his men to the synagogue to resume their Talmud study, but not before instructing them to keep mum about the events at Hadassah Hospital. Sorkeh was ready with lunch, but Lemmy had no appetite. He told Itah what had happened.

“It’s obvious,” she said, “that they think you intend to kill Prime Minister Rabin.”

“That’s illogical,” Benjamin argued. “They saw Lemmy with us at Hadassah, so they now know we’re giving you shelter here. Why would we, a religious community, hide an assassin?”

“Come on, this is Neturay Karta, the most anti-Zionist Jewish sect in the world. You’re an enemy of Israel!”

“ We have no enemies,” Benjamin protested. “Our Talmudic theology dictates that only God, through his Messiah, may collect the Chosen People from exile and rebuild our homeland. Therefore we are ideologically and religiously opposed to Zionism and the establishment of the State of Israel. But we’re not its enemy in a physical, worldly sense.”

“ Really? Don’t you preach against Israel?” Itah counted on her fingers. “First, that modern Zionism caused the collapse of Jewish observance. Second, that Israel’s secular nationalism and emphasis on material land possessions contradicts spiritual Judaism? Third, that the promiscuous Israeli society is a menace to the future of the Jewish faith?”

“ Yes, we contend that-spiritually speaking-modern Zionism has cost this nation more Jews than the Holocaust. But we don’t advocate violence. We would never condone killing of another Jew!”

“Even of a Zionist politician who’s a danger to others? Even a Rodef, a pursuer of Jews, who must be struck down according to Talmud?” Itah knuckled the table. “From Shin Bet’s perspective, your support of Rabin’s assassin is perfectly logical.”

Benjamin shook his head. “The only possible explanation is that Shin Bet thinks Lemmy is fooling us into hosting him, that we don’t realize who or what he really is.”

“Then I must leave,” Lemmy said. “It’s only a matter of time before they come here. I don’t want to put you at risk.”

Benjamin gestured at the window, painted red with the setting sun. “Sabbath is about to begin. They won’t dare to invade our community.”

“ Why?”

“ This is the City of Jerusalem, home to over two hundred thousand ultra-Orthodox Jews, many of whom are prone to religious protests. Our Neturay Karta community is small, but visible. The government will not risk inciting a riotous explosion in Jerusalem on the eve of the peace rally. I think you’re safe within Meah Shearim, at least until after the rally.”

*

Gideon and Agent Cohen spent a couple of hours in the emergency room. A series of tests revealed no concussions, fractures, or internal injuries for either of them, which was surprising as they had been unconscious for almost an hour. Spinoza clearly knew his business.

A report came from the Shin Bet desk at the airport. The name Horch had popped up on a KLM passenger list for that morning’s flight to Amsterdam. The individual had been dressed in a sport coat and khaki slacks, eyes shielded by gold-rimmed Ray-Ban sunglasses. He presented a valid German passport that identified him as Abelard Horch, age 69. Carrying an overnight bag though security, he bought a Sony Walkman at the duty free store and a German translation of an Ira Levin novel, Sliver. Despite the identical last name, the German tourist did not match the age and physical description of Spinoza. He was allowed to board his flight, which had taken off before noon, passing over Tel Aviv and the Mediterranean coast toward Europe.