Lone Wolf in Jerusalem

by Ehud Diskin

Colin didn’t say anything, but I could tell from the look on his face that he shared his wife’s sentiments.

  “It was very nice to meet you both,” I said when we had finished our tea and cake. “Thanks for your hospitality.”

  “We enjoyed your company very much,” Colin said. “Can you come by again sometime for another game?”

  “I’d love to,” I said, and we arranged to meet up again in four days.

  I checked out the building on my way out, looking for a way to get in without being spotted by the guard. I found nothing and resolved to take a closer look on my next visit.

  When I returned four days later, the guard at the entrance didn’t remember me and called Colin on the intercom before he would let me in. We played for about an hour before Jenny appeared with tea and cookies. At that moment, the children playing in the next room shrieked loudly. Someone pounded on the wall to hush them.

  Ellis, I thought.

  “Have you done anything yet about that damn policeman?” she snapped at her husband as she sat the tray down with a clatter.

  “Yes, we’re taking care of it,” Colin said. He looked at me and frowned. “The past few days have been awful,” he said, a look of disgust on his face. “His wife just went back to England on holiday, and he’s turned their apartment into a brothel. Every evening around seven, a prostitute, caked in makeup, goes up to his apartment and then leaves around midnight. It’s unacceptable. The building is home to families with young children. I’ve spoken to the other tenants, and we’ve decided to lodge a complaint with the Housing Department and ask that he be removed from the building.”

  Jenny began to clear the cups and plates from the table, and I couldn’t help but admire her delicate facial features. In a way, she reminded me of Alec. She could have been his twin—except for the makeup of course. A light dawned suddenly within my mind.

  Nelka was a beautician. With her help, Alec, with his own delicate facial features, could dress up as a prostitute and simply walk in through the front door. I wanted to leave at once to tell Alec about my plan but didn’t want to offend Colin, so I stayed for a few more games.

  Alec wasn’t thrilled about dressing up as a woman, but he was fired up by the opportunity to assassinate Ellis. We went to see Nelka, and I told her that we were going to play a prank on one of our friends. When she heard our idea for Alec to dress as a sexy woman and pretend to proposition one of our friends, she laughed and agreed to help.

  “But you can’t tell anyone,” I added. “Especially not Max. He doesn’t approve of our foolishness.”

  Nelka smiled. “My lips are sealed. I’ll take Alec’s measurements now, and then you can come back tomorrow at four o’clock. Alec, you must shave thoroughly or this won’t work, despite those sultry eyes of yours.”

  “I will,” he said, and I saw a sudden gleam in those “sultry” eyes. “But I’m not going to do this alone.” He glanced over at me and grinned. “Although you’ll likely be the ugliest woman on the street, you’re coming with me, friend.”

  “I can’t see how anyone would believe that I’m a woman,” I protested. “I’m too manly!”

  Nelka laughed. “You underestimate my abilities, David. I can make you quite presentable, I promise.”

  Alec’s grin widened, and I gave in. I was concerned about letting my friend go into the apartment building without backup anyway. It hadn’t occurred to me that I could pass as a woman too. I still wasn’t sure, but I decided to trust Nelka’s talents.

  WE CAME BACK THE NEXT day, and Nelka showed us the costumes she had put together for us. First, we put on large padded bras. Alec got a low-cut red dress that hugged his body so tightly he had to do some strategic tucking so the bulge in his crotch wouldn’t give us away. The dress came above his knees, and I frowned.

  “You shaved your legs?” I asked.

  He raised one brow. “And my chest. Didn’t you?”

  I smiled slightly. “Not going to happen, friend.”

  “The guards will never believe you’re a woman if you don’t,” he complained. “You look like a wolfman.”

  Nelka intervened with a solution. “I have a floor-length evening gown,” she said. “It will cover your legs, and the blue will go wonderfully with your dark skin, David.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Lovely.”

  The blue dress was as low cut as Alec’s, but Nelka provided a stylish matching cape that covered my chest. I felt so silly.

  Next, she opened two large round boxes and took out two wigs: a long blond, itchy one for me and a dark one, pulled back into a chignon, for Alec.

  “You both look ridiculous,” Nelka said, “but some makeup will fix that!”

  She applied long false eyelashes to our eyelids, and although we had shaved before coming, we still needed a thick layer of face makeup to make our skin look more even. She used eye shadow and eyeliner to highlight our eyes and painted our lips with a bold shade of red lipstick. We refused the false nails, knowing how much we’d have to use our hands, but we allowed her to paint our nails dark red. Nelka laughed frequently through the whole procedure.

  I kept reminding myself this was all necessary. I looked at Alec and blinked. He really did look like a sexy woman. I couldn’t help myself. “You look great, honey,” I said.

  “If you were a man, I’d say maybe we should go straight to bed,” he responded in a womanly voice. We all burst out laughing.

  “This is the most I’ve laughed in years,” Nelka said. She looked at us appraisingly. “You’re tall, David, so you should wear flat shoes.”

  She handed me a pair of fancy flats. I was relieved. I’d had visions of tripping over my own feet as I tried to walk down the street in heels.

  “Alec, you’re shorter, so you can wear these.” She reached into a box and pulled out a pair of high heels. She handed them to him with a teasing smile.

  Alec waved his hands in front of him in protest. “Oh no—no, no, no! There’s no way I can walk all the way from Geula to Talbieh in those shoes! I’ll break my neck!”

  We came to a compromise: Alec would wear his regular shoes until we neared Ellis’s building, and then he’d change into the heels, carrying his regular shoes in the handbag Nelka had provided.

  Once dressed, we headed out, knowing we had to get to Ellis’s apartment building before his nightly prostitute arrived at seven o’clock. On our way to Talbieh, we encountered curious and interested looks from men we passed by. To be honest, it was Alec who got most of the stares and propositions—which was perfectly fine with me. Fortunately, none of the men were very persistent, and we quickly made our way undisturbed down the street.

  Thirty minutes later, we stopped around the corner from Ellis’s building to let Alec put on the high heels. He stashed his regular shoes in the handbag.

  “You talk to the guard,” I said. “Talk in a feminine voice. And don’t forget, you can always use one of your shoes as a weapon.” I grinned. “The heels are like spikes.”

  “True,” he said, “but I have something a little deadlier in mind.”

  I stopped smiling and glanced at my watch. It was 6:40 p.m. Getting ready for the mission had been amusing, but now it was time to get down to business. I peered around the corner and saw that the guard, as usual, was sitting at the entrance to the building.

  “Let’s go,” I said.

  Alec walked around the corner of the building with a convincing swing of his hips. I followed.

  “We’re here to see Mr. Ellis,” Alec said in his high-pitched voice. The guard gave us a dirty look and told us Ellis’s floor and apartment number. As we climbed the stairs, Alec opened his handbag and took out a short, thin knife. He stuck it through the bun at the nape of the wig he wore.

  “Clever,” I said.

  When Ellis opened the door, he only saw Alec at first. “Good, you’re early, my darling,” he said. Then he saw me, and his beady eyes lit up. “What a nice surprise—I asked for one girl, and they sent me two. Don’t worry, I can han
dle both of you, and I will pay you generously.”

  He ushered us in, locked the door, and immediately grabbed Alec, fondling his breasts through the padded bra. The look of surprise on his face when he felt Alec’s muscular chest under the padding was priceless. I wanted to laugh, but things quickly turned serious.

  Alec pulled the knife from his wig and shoved Ellis against the wall, holding the weapon to his throat. “Inspector Ellis,” he said in his pseudo woman’s voice, “I entered Palestine on a forged passport, and I want to turn myself in to your corpse.” Ellis panicked and pushed Alec with both hands, making a break for the door. I tripped him on the way, and he sprawled across the floor. Alec was on him in seconds, his blade making short work of our enemy. As soon as we confirmed he was dead, we headed back down the stairs.

  The guard was surprised to see us leaving so soon. “Mr. Ellis doesn’t like us; he wants another woman,” Alec explained in his feminine voice. The guard rolled his eyes and waved us on.

  We walked around the corner, and Alec changed back into his regular shoes. Then we hurried back to Nelka’s apartment. We stopped in the shadows near her place, waiting until the street was empty before walking quickly to her apartment.

  “That was quick,” Nelka said after opening the door and welcoming us back in. “How did your prank go?”

  “Perfectly,” I said. I pulled the wig off, glad to be free of it. “We couldn’t have done it without you.”

  “I was glad to help,” she said. As she smiled at me, I suddenly realized that it would be better to get rid of the costumes and the wigs in order to avoid any connection to Ellis’s murder.

  “Would you mind if we held on to these?” I asked. “We might want to pull another prank in a few days.”

  She raised her eyebrows in surprise but nodded. “Of course. If you need help with the makeup again, just let me know.”

  “Speaking of makeup …” Alec said, pointing to his pretty face. “It comes off, I hope?”

  Nelka smiled and helped us remove our makeup. We changed back into our regular clothes and put the costumes in a bag. I hoped Nelka wasn’t too attached to the clothes or wigs, because she would never see them again.

  THE FOLLOWING DAY, I WENT to work my shift at Café Pinsk. As the dinner rush was dying down, Avrum appeared in the window and waved me outside.

  “Nick Ellis!” he said in an excited whisper.

  “Yeah, what about him?” I asked.

  “He was murdered yesterday,” Avrum said. “At first, they thought it was the underground, but it turns out he was ordering prostitutes to the house while his wife is back home in England. Two women were there last night, and the police think maybe they got into a fight over money or something. One of them stabbed him—can you believe that?”

  “Based on what you told me, it doesn’t sound like there’s much reason to mourn the man,” I said.

  “On the contrary,” Avrum responded. “I’m starting to believe that maybe there’s someone up there, watching over the Jewish people after all their terrible suffering.”

  “Maybe you’re right,” I said. “I sure hope so.” And maybe there’s someone down here too, I thought.

  Ellis’s assassination had been a satisfying and well-executed operation, but it did nothing to soothe my frustration about Inspector Jeffries. I was more determined than ever to get rid of him too.

  14

  “READY AS ONE TO FACE THE FIRE”

  (FROM “ON GUARD WE STAND,” A POEM BY AVRAHAM SHLONSKY, 1941)

  A week later, when I was working my evening shift at the restaurant, a British soldier came in and notified me that I had an appointment with General Barker for the following Monday morning at ten. He said I should be at the Schneller Barracks thirty minutes early with my ID.

  Max heard the conversation, and he approached me after the soldier left. “What’s going on? Are you collaborating with the British now?”

  Pulling him aside, I explained how I had fooled Inspector Jeffries with the newspaper clippings about General Barker and the liberation of Bergen-Belsen. When I told Max that Jeffries had arranged a meeting with the general to allow me to thank him for saving my aunt and uncle, he actually smiled.

  “I have to admire your resourcefulness,” Max said. “I think you should update our man from the underground as soon as possible.” I agreed, and he wasted no time contacting the unnamed commander.

  My familiar muscular chaperone appeared at the café just before closing time. Some fifteen minutes later, I walked into the house in Talpiot.

  “I understand you’ve become someone of importance,” the commander said. “General Barker, no less, wants to meet with you. Can you tell me why?”

  I repeated my explanation, and the commander took a moment to think. “Barker is a cruel and harsh opponent of Jewish immigration to Israel,” he said. “He is our top target for assassination, as you must remember, and an anti-Semite of the worst kind.”

  “Any plan based on my meeting with Barker is doomed to failure,” I said. “I’ve visited the Schneller Barracks before, and it’s impossible to smuggle in a weapon. There will be other people at the meeting too—aides and bodyguards. Even if I were willing to undertake a suicide mission, there’s no way I’d be able to kill him inside the barracks. You’ll have to think of another way.”

  “Unfortunately, I have to agree with you. We’ll try to think of another plan, and I’d like you to reconsider my offer to join our organization. You can let me know through Max if and when you are ready.”

  I reported to the gate of the Schneller Barracks on Monday morning, and after a thorough search, a soldier escorted me to Inspector Jeffries’s office. I thanked him for arranging the meeting with General Barker.

  “You deserve it,” Jeffries said. “You’re the only person who has given me any useful information about Sergeant Perry’s murder, although we still have no suspects. Come, I’ll escort you to the bureau of the base commander. You’ll meet the general there.”

  I was patted down again before entering the commander’s bureau, and General Barker walked in at precisely ten o’clock. He was a relatively small man, with a thin mustache and a severe look on his face. In spite of his size, his presence filled the room. The officers and soldiers snapped to attention and saluted him, and he returned the gesture.

  “Sir, this is David, whose aunt and uncle you saved when you liberated Bergen-Belsen,” Jeffries said.

  The general extended his hand, and I thanked him with all the groveling I could muster.

  “To begin with,” Barker said, “I must point out that I was not single-handedly responsible for the liberation of Bergen-Belsen. The brave men I had the honor of leading into battle also deserve your gratitude. Secondly, I appreciate your loyalty to your benefactors, which is far too rare among your people. We rescued them from the bloody Germans and provide peace and order to this—” Barker stopped and composed himself. “Your aunt and uncle, where are they now?”

  His question threw me for a moment, and I inwardly cursed myself for not having prepared a story. “The Jewish people owe the British nation and its courageous armed forces a huge debt of gratitude for their efforts to defeat the Nazi enemy,” I said, buying myself a moment. “My aunt and uncle are currently in a displaced persons camp in Italy. Due to the restrictions on Jewish immigration, they haven’t been able to obtain the official permits that would allow them to come here.”

  Barker scowled at me. “I’m a soldier,” he said, “and I don’t intervene in politics. The British government made its decision concerning immigration as part of its efforts to maintain peace and coexistence between the Jews and Arabs in Palestine. We’re allowing fifteen hundred Jews into Palestine every month. The Jewish Agency decides who gets in, not us. Your aunt and uncle should talk to them.”

  “Of course, sir.”

  And with that, our conversation ended.

  Jeffries accompanied me to the gate of the barracks. “Do you have any contacts in the Jewish Ag
ency?” he asked. “Perhaps you could grease the wheels a bit. And if you’re short of cash, you should know you could earn good money working for us. We pay handsomely for information that leads to the arrest of a wanted underground member. Even more if it’s a senior level member. How much do you earn as a waiter at the restaurant?”

  “Two pounds a month and perhaps another pound in tips,” I replied.

  Jeffries smiled. “For information leading to the capture of Lehi leader Yitzhak Shamir, we’d pay you fifteen hundred pounds—your total wages for fifty years! What do you say, David?”

  “Fifteen hundred pounds is a lot of money indeed,” I said. “I’m not helping you for the money, but that’s certainly an attractive offer to consider.”

  THE FOLLOWING MONTH, JUNE 1946, was a painful one for the British, for the underground fighting the British, and for the entire Jewish community. On June 10, the Irgun launched a coordinated attack on the rail lines from Lod to Jaffa, Haifa, and Jerusalem. On June 12, the British government reneged on its agreement to permit one hundred thousand Jews from displaced persons camps in Europe to immigrate to Israel. The following day, a British military court sentenced Irgun fighters Yosef Simhon and Michael Eshbal to death by hanging. The two had been injured and captured in the Irgun’s assault on the Sarafand base.

  On the night of June 16, the Haganah carried out an operation known as Night of the Bridges, blowing up nine major bridges, from Metula in the north to the Gaza region in the south.

  On June 18, Lehi fighters attacked a railroad maintenance facility in Haifa, causing extensive damage to engines, cars, and other rail equipment. On their way back from the operation, the Lehi fighters ran into a British ambush. Nine Lehi members were killed and twenty-three others, men and women, were captured. That same day, Irgun fighters stormed the Yarkon Hotel in Tel Aviv, kidnapped five British officers, and announced that they would be released only if the British authorities retracted the death sentence handed down against Yosef Simhon and Michael Eshbal five days earlier.