Lone Wolf in Jerusalem

by Ehud Diskin

  “The only breasts I want pressed against me are yours,” I said.

  When I met up with Avrum the next morning, he seemed excited and happy. “Max has made a complete turnaround,” he said. “He’s polite and friendly. He even compliments me on my work. Did you say something to him?”

  “No,” I said. “I haven’t spoken to him yet. I guess he realized you’re a good man. I told you that he treated me the same when I first started there, but his attitude changed over time.” As Avrum beamed, I moved the conversation to the matter at hand—selecting a target for Operation Barrels Raised. “I know some people planning an operation, and I think you could be very helpful.”

  “I’d be glad to help,” he said. “What can I do?”

  “If they were to attack a British command post in Jerusalem, which one would cause the most damage to their national pride?” Avrum thought for a moment. “Schneller Barracks would be the obvious choice—or the British police and CID headquarters in the Russian compound, if they prefer a police target. But the CID building has been attacked twice in the past two years, so I’d assume that security there has been beefed up considerably.”

  “I tend to prefer the Schneller Barracks,” I said. “Can you get me information about the base—anything and everything? Every little detail counts.”

  “Absolutely,” Avrum responded enthusiastically.

  “Keep this to yourself. Not even Hannah.”

  Avrum frowned but nodded. “I understand.”

  We decided to talk again in a week.

  Fall was advancing, and the days were growing colder. As natives of Belarus, Shoshana and I enjoyed the chilly weather, especially after the stifling heat of July and August. I went back to my job at the restaurant, and it felt good to be close to Shoshana again. Avrum kept me amused as well—there were a few older patrons who doted on him, which he loved, but he was oblivious to the polite impatience of the customers who just wanted to be left alone with their meal.

  Max clearly wasn’t impressed with Avrum, but every time he walked by, he’d force a smile and say, “Well done, Avrum. Good job.” Avrum would glow in the light of the praise, while Max would go about his business with a look of disgust on his face.

  ONE EVENING, I NOTICED A tall, well-built British soldier with sergeant stripes on his sleeves sitting at the bar, glancing frequently in my direction. His blond hair was short and spiky, and he had a fierce look in his eyes. His face was familiar, but I couldn’t place him. I approached him and asked politely if there was anything he needed.

  “David,” he responded with a smile, “you obviously don’t recognize me. I used to work for Inspector Jeffries, may he rest in peace.”

  “Ah, yes, as a matter of fact, I do remember you,” I replied in a friendly tone. Jeffries’s department had been closed after his murder, so what—or who—had sent one of his old staff to me?

  “It was a good team,” he was saying, “but very unlucky too. First, John Perry was murdered and then the inspector himself and three other members of the team. As a result, the HQ decided something was rotten in our department and shut it down. The three of us who were left had to hand over all our intelligence to the CID headquarters.”

  “That’s terrible,” I said. “I never met Perry, but Jeffries was a real bulldog.”

  The soldier smiled and extended his hand. “Bill. Bill Stanley. Thank you for trying to warn us about the King David bombing. What a mess. I can tell you that Jeffries and I were as frustrated as you were with how that played out. I want to find his killers, and I’m hoping you can help me. You were the only one who provided us with any useful information about Perry’s murder. I’ve come to the restaurant several times this month looking for you. Where did you disappear to?”

  “I quit,” I said. “The owner used to treat me like dirt. No one was more pleased than me to see Inspector Jeffries hit him over the head with his club. But this place was falling apart without me, so he apologized and asked me to come back to work. He even gave me a raise. Anyway, I’d be happy to help you however I can. Just tell me how I can get in touch with you.”

  “You still have the number of our office that Inspector Jeffries gave you, right? The three of us who are left will be there for the next seven months.”

  Stanley stood up, paid his bill, and added a generous tip. “I’m an ex-commando. Our fighting style is based on innovation and creativity. I’m looking for creative ways to tackle the underground, and I hope you’ll work with me.” We shook hands, and he left.

  “Interesting,” I said to myself and then got back to work.

  MAX SUGGESTED THAT ALEC AND Eva hold their wedding at Café Pinsk on a Sunday, the restaurant’s quietest day of the week. Shimon, Misha, Hannah, and Avrum were among the guests. Shoshana asked that Brigita be invited as well.

  “She’s so lonely,” she explained to Eva and Alec.

  On the day of the wedding, Misha came with Magda, and I was happy to see that they were growing closer. It was nice to see Magda speaking slowly and clearly to Misha in an effort to improve his Hebrew.

  Misha, Max, Avrum, and I held the chuppah poles, and after the ceremony, we all sat together around a large table while Alec and Eva made speeches thanking everyone for their love and support. Eva said that the moment she’d first laid eyes on Alec, she’d known he would be the love of her life.

  As we all toasted the happy couple and drank Carmel Mizrachi wine, which came from a vinery located in the city Rishon Lezion, Brigita, sitting next to Shoshana, asked me if I would pay her a visit.

  “We haven’t spoken together in a long time,” Brigita said with a smile.

  I had no idea why she wanted to see me, but I didn’t want to talk about it there, so I told her that I’d drop by soon.

  On the walk home, Shoshana and I walked arm in arm, both a little tipsy. “Don’t you think it’s time for us to get married too?” she asked, leaning against me.

  “It has crossed my mind more than once, my love,” I replied. “Of course we’ll get married—but only after the British have left Israel and we can live here in peace in our Jewish homeland.”

  It was the truth but not the whole truth. I hadn’t asked Shoshana to marry me because I wanted to wait until my dangerous missions were complete, and I knew I wouldn’t be finished until the British occupation had come to an end. Since I always tried to satisfy Shoshana’s wishes, and to make her happy, I came up with a plan.

  I would buy two rings in the Zagury’s jewelry store on Jaffa Street, which had the nicest jewelry in Jerusalem: one ring for Shoshana and one for me. I’d surprise her with these two rings during a romantic evening and tell her that when the fighting was over, we would get married traditionally.

  The following night, I met with Alec and Shimon after the restaurant had closed. We went for a walk through the streets as I briefed them on the upcoming operation.

  “We have to start combat training for the newcomers,” I said. “I think we can find a quiet spot in Tel Arza for that. I already have a nice collection of firearms, and Zvi should be able to help us with anything we need.”

  “Have you chosen a target?” Alec asked. I nodded.

  “I’ve decided that Schneller Barracks is our best bet. I have Avrum gathering information, which I’ll use to formulate a plan of action, including an escape path and a rescue strategy in case something goes wrong. We also need to make sure our attack gets attention and doesn’t get lost amid the fallout from some attack by one of the other organizations.”

  “You’re so right,” Shimon said unexpectedly. “If we had taken action right after the King David, the response in Britain would have been nil.”

  “Put some feelers out,” I told them. “Let’s make sure there aren’t any other operations lined up against the barracks.”

  A few days later, I met again with Avrum outside the barbershop. I had decided to keep him out of the loop on Operation Barrels Raised for as long as possible, but I saw no reason not to involve him in weapons
training for our new fighters.

  “In Britain, calls for withdrawal from Israel are getting louder,” I said. “But the general assumption, which I share, is that when the British pull out, the Arabs will almost certainly attack us. We must establish a Jewish fighting force that will be able to face them. I want to put together a group of instructors who can provide combat training to the newcomers. Would you like to be one of those instructors?”

  “That would be perfect,” Avrum exclaimed. “And I agree that al-Husseini will see the British withdrawal as an opportunity to fulfill his despicable dream. When do we begin training?”

  “First, we have to find a suitable location. I was thinking we could find a place in Tel Arza, and I’d like you to join me for a look around.”

  “How about right now?”

  “That sounds good to me.” We headed toward Tel Arza on foot, as it was only a short distance away. “Have you made any progress on the Schneller Barracks?” I asked as we walked.

  “Yes,” Avrum said. “It was originally built by German Templers—devout Christians who came to live in Israel. They built it as an orphanage in 1860 for Christian children who had survived the massacres by Druze and Muslim forces in Lebanon and Syria. The kids got a German upbringing, and in the years leading up to the war, the German staff absorbed the Nazi ideology, even staging a choir performance on Hitler’s birthday. From 1936 to 1939, the orphanage staff tried to smuggle in weapons and ammunition from Germany to prepare the kids for war against the Jews. At the outbreak of World War II, the British expelled all German residents of Israel, including the staff of the orphanage, and they seized the compound, turning it into a British military base.”

  “Did you find anything about its current layout?” I asked. “Potential breach points, which military units it serves, each unit’s location within the base?”

  Avrum scowled. “I’ve only just started looking into it,” he said. “It takes time to find everything you want. Just be patient.”

  I remembered Avrum had failed to come up with anything on Inspector Jeffries as well, and I suspected I’d have to find another way to get the information I needed.

  Meanwhile, we had reached the undeveloped section of Tel Arza, the same slope beneath the Nabi Samuel ridge where Alec and I had practiced our shooting before the operation against Inspector Jeffries. We wandered around for a while and then came across an abandoned warehouse near the neighborhood’s industrial area. We discussed the possibility of secretly refurbishing it and using it for combat training. Avrum agreed the site was suitable.

  “When do we start?” he asked.

  “Within a month, I think,” I replied. “There’s a lot of work to do. There’s one more thing …” I paused and stared at the ground for a moment, not liking what I was about to say.

  “Yes?”

  I looked up. “I want you to train Shoshana on the sniper rifle. She wants to join the fight, but I’m hoping to keep her behind the lines somewhat by teaching her how to pick off the enemy from a distance. Are you willing to help me with that?”

  Avrum’s brows darted up. “Of course! However, I must say I’m surprised that such a sweet girl—”

  “She’s a brave woman,” I corrected. Of course, Shoshana was a sweet girl, but I knew now that she was so much more. “She wants to take part in some operations, and I’m going to give her the chance. I plan to train her myself to handle a pistol for short-range fighting, in order to protect herself. I’ve already started teaching her self-defense techniques and hand-to-hand combat in our backyard, when our landlords are at work.”

  “Are you sure you want to bring her into this, my friend?” Avrum asked quietly.

  No, I’m not sure at all, I wanted to say. All I really wanted was to keep Shoshana safe, but she had a right to her vengeance. She had a right to fight for her people. How could I deny her that? All I could do was protect her the best that I could.

  “I’ll send her to you once we’re ready,” I told Avrum.

  WHEN I GOT TO CAFÉ Pinsk at noon, I took Max aside and told him about the spot I had selected for the training sessions. I asked him to arrange our schedules to allow Alec, Avrum, and me the time we needed to be on-site for training. I also told him I wanted to meet with Zvi and Shimon at the earliest opportunity so we could all go together to Tel Arza.

  Two days later, Max informed me that Zvi and Shimon would meet me at three o’clock on Thursday, October 30, outside the barbershop on Zephaniah Street.

  On Thursday, on my way to meet them, I noticed an unusually large number of military and police vehicles in the streets. Zvi and Shimon arrived late and signaled me to get into the car.

  “Sorry we were late,” Zvi said. “I was waiting for an update about an Irgun operation—a bombing at the Jerusalem train station this afternoon. Unfortunately, three of the fighters were captured by a British ambush and another three were wounded.”

  “Do you think someone on the inside betrayed them?” I asked.

  “I do. The Irgun suspects a man who goes by the name Yanai but whose real name is Heinrich Reinhold. He was a soldier in the British army until about six months ago. He had advanced demolitions training and was supposed to oversee the operation, but he didn’t show up at the rendezvous.”

  “Then they should have aborted the operation and not taken the risk,” I said.

  “It’s easy to pass judgment after the fact,” Zvi retorted. He was clearly distressed by the capture of the Irgun fighters. I decided to drop it.

  I showed Zvi the warehouse I had chosen. He estimated the renovation would take about a month and training could begin in early December. I suggested that the trainees should dress as though they were heading for a hike or picnic. They could take the No. 3 bus to its last stop in Tel Arza, where a guide would lead them to the training site.

  “In addition to the weapons I have,” I said, “we’ll need at least another ten rifles and four submachine guns. I suggest we also include a concealed weapons cache in our renovations so we can store them on-site.”

  “Sounds good,” Zvi said. “We’ll arrange everything. Shimon will keep you up to date on the preparations, and he can relay any other requests you may have. Before we go, have you made any progress on Operation Barrels Raised?”

  “Certainly. We’ve selected the target—the Schneller Barracks. I’m busy gathering intelligence, and when I have the entire plan worked out, I’ll present it to you so we can decide the timing of the operation.”

  “Excellent choice,” Zvi said. “Remember, we must ensure the attack does maximum damage to British national pride with minimum casualties.”

  On my way home, I thought about what kind of information I’d need for the operation and how I could get it. I didn’t have much faith in Avrum, but perhaps someone serving at the base could play the role—someone like Stanley, the sergeant who had come looking for me at the restaurant. On second thought, Stanley was an experienced ex-commando, not some naïve bureaucrat. The smallest mistake on my part could arouse his suspicions and jeopardize everything.

  I had one last option—reconnaissance from a building on Geula Street. The building from which I had fired into the base would be an ideal spot. I decided to have a talk with Regina Federbusch, the woman who had come onto her balcony to hang laundry that day right before I shot the British soldiers with Avrum’s sniper rifle.

  I figured a couple would be less suspicious than a single young male, so I asked Shoshana if she would like to join me in a reconnaissance mission. She looked at me with disbelief for a second and then realized I was serious.

  “Yes, of course I would!”

  I explained that we would be visiting Mrs. Federbusch in the next couple of days. I explained the plan I had in mind, and we rehearsed our parts.

  ON THE VERY NEXT FRIDAY before work, we knocked on Mrs. Federbusch’s door. She opened the door wearing a faded robe, her hair disheveled, and the moment she saw us, she tried to close the door. I stuck my foot in the door and said,
“I apologize for disturbing you. We just have a quick question, and then we’ll be on our way.”

  Mrs. Federbusch relaxed. “Sorry, I’m not cleaned up,” she said. “I only opened the door because I thought it was my son. He always brings me a loaf of challah for Shabbat. What can I do for you?”

  “I heard there’s an apartment for rent in this building,” I said. “A friend of mine just separated from his wife and urgently needs to find a place to stay.”

  “I haven’t heard anything about that, and I would know if there was one. Does your friend want an entire apartment, or would he make do with a comfortable room?”

  “Actually, I think he’d prefer a room, to save on expenses,” I said.

  “Well, then, if he’s as nice as the two of you, I might be willing to rent out a room in my apartment,” Mrs. Federbusch said. “I’m a widow and have very little income. My son supports me, but I’d love to tell him that I no longer need his help.”

  “That sounds like an interesting idea,” I said. “May we see the room?”

  “Certainly,” she replied. “By the way, my name is Regina.”

  Shoshana and I introduced ourselves, and Regina, eager to close the deal, led us to a room with a balcony overlooking Geula Street.

  “That’s a lovely balcony,” I said. “Can I go out and have a look?”

  “Sure,” Regina said. I walked onto the balcony and saw the Schneller Barracks stretched out below me, practically in the palm of my hand. I also noticed the washing lines Regina had used when I’d been on the roof above her with my rifle.

  Two of the hooks that attached the laundry line to the wall were loose. “Our friend is a stickler for cleanliness,” I said to Regina. “He does laundry almost every day. Will he be able to use these washing lines?”

  “Of course,” she replied.

  “I see that some of the hooks have come loose,” I said. “I’ll tell him to repair them so the lines don’t fall off.”