“That’s ridiculous!” Paula brushed her hair. “My father is already eighty-four.”
“ He’s as sharp as a young man, and if he recovers from this heart attack-”
“ Our son is not the banker type.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? He’s good with numbers.”
“Klaus Junior would be miserable as a banker. It’s too boring.”
“Am I miserable and boring?”
She laughed. “You’re delightful and fascinating.”
“In what way?”
“ I can show you.” She came into his arms, smelling fresh and enticing. “If you want.”
“ I’ll be late to work. But if you won’t allow Klaus Junior to become a banker, then we have to-”
“Make a banker.”
“It’s our hereditary duty.” Lemmy began to undress. “A matter of generational traditions. The board of directors expects no less from us!”
Paula’s body shook with laughter. “We’re going to make the rabbits jealous-”
Pop! The window exploded, raining slivers of glass all over them.
Lemmy pushed Paula down and lay on top of her, sheltering her with his body. He glanced up at the ceiling and saw a bullet hole. His mind digested the incredible fact: Elie had acted on his threat!
*
Gideon listened as Prince Abusalim called room service to order breakfast for two. A half-hour later, Abu Yusef called. The prince put the Palestinian terrorist on hold and, after a moment, picked up one of the phones in the bathroom. “The money is ready,” he said without a preamble. “It will arrive at the bank in Senlis later today.”
“The freedom of Palestine shall belong to you!”
“ Insha’Allah. Call me in three days. I’ll give you the time and place for the job. Make sure you have enough firepower. He will be well protected.”
“Don’t worry, Excellency. It will be executed successfully.”
“Don’t underestimate your target. In Saudi Arabia we have a saying: A man whom the desert failed to kill is immortal.”
“We also have a saying,” Abu Yusef said. “A man who feels immortal is easier to kill.”
*
Lemmy expected a second bullet, but none came right away. He heard the Porsche’s alarm whining and recalled leaving it out in the driveway last night. “Stay down! I’ll get Junior.”
Paula tried to rise. “I’m coming-”
“Down!”
Staying low, he headed for the door. The bullet had come through the front of the house. Why had the shooter aimed at the window, when he could have shot them later outside? Was it a diversion while another assassin broke down the front door? Or the rear patio glass? Or was a lone sniper hiding in the woods across the street, waiting to take a second shot when a face appeared in the window? But the angle was too steep, as if the shooter was close to the house!
He ran downstairs, reached the kitchen, and crouched under the counter. “Klaus! Where are you?”
No response.
A sense of terror flooded Lemmy. Was the boy injured? Was he bleeding? But there had been only one shot, and the bullet was stuck in the bedroom ceiling. The boy must be listening to music with headphones.
“ Klaus!”
Nothing. Where was he?
The Mauser! Lemmy knew he had to get it from the car and shoot back. By now he was doubting that this attack was Elie’s doing. It was too imprecise, even illogical considering that Elie’s threat had been directed at Paula and the boy. Elie would not have sent a shooter to attack while Lemmy was in the house, ready to defend them or get killed himself. Without him, how would Elie gain control of the Nazi funds at the Hoffgeitz Bank?
All these thoughts rushed through his mind while the professional assassin within him coldly planned the run for the Mauser and the ensuing shootout. It would be hard to take proper aim at the sniper, but mounting a counter-attack was the best defense. He crouched by the front door, focusing on the task at hand. The Mauser had been in the car since the Paris job. It had taken two bullets to finish off the Arab. Nine left. He would have to run to the Porsche, break the windshield, pull the storage cover, get the gun out of the box, load it, cock it, aim, and start shooting. Even with the car between him and the sniper, Lemmy knew he’d likely get hit at least once. But there was no other way to scare off the attacker before Paula or Klaus got hurt.
He grabbed the knob and realized the front door wasn’t locked. Why? Had Junior gone outside?
He threw the door open and sprinted to the Porsche in the driveway, expecting the pop of a shot and the jolt of a bullet hit.
Nothing. The sniper must have been focused on the windows, not expecting someone to run out. He was adjusting his rifle right now. Lemmy sped up. Ten yards to go. He lifted his arm over his head, ready to elbow in the windshield.
Five. Four. Now-
The windshield was already shattered. Like a spider-web, thousands of tiny cracks spread like rays from a finger-size hole in the upper part.
A bullet hole!
Lemmy glanced up at the broken bedroom window on the second floor of the house. The bullet had come from inside the car!
Through the windshield he noticed the open storage compartment.
Klaus Junior was in the passenger seat. His face was white, his eyes wide open. Lemmy opened the door and removed the Mauser from the boy’s hand. He held the warm barrel and pulled the small forefinger out of the trigger slot. Aiming at the sky, he released the magazine and cocked the Mauser to dispose of the bullet in the chamber, which he picked up and put in his pocket with the gun.
As he lifted his son from the car, Paula ran out of the house.
“He’s okay,” Lemmy managed to say, his voice choking. “He’s not injured.”
*
Christopher jumped to his feet. “Good morning, Herr Horch!” He seemed surprised to see his boss in so early.
“Prince Abusalim called me last night,” Lemmy lied. “A small modification in the transfer instructions. The recipient name will change to Grant Guerra.”
“ Okay.”
“ Send the order as soon as business opens. Such a large amount in U.S. dollars might require them to order extra cash.”
Christopher took the sheet and turned to his computer. The altered order would travel on telephone lines electronically through two inter-European clearing centers to the local branch of Banque Nationale de France in Senlis.
Lemmy wondered how Elie was planning to do the job. Was he sending in his agent to receive the money and wait to shoot Abu Yusef? The Arabs would be armed and alert. The bank probably had security cameras and push-button alarms, possibly even an automatic lockdown feature, which could be a disaster. And even if the assassination was successful, the subsequent investigation could lead to the Hoffgeitz Bank. The Zurich police department would never attempt to obtain the identity of his client-bank secrecy laws were sacred-but the French might tip the media, which would attract unwanted attention. A hit inside a bank was too risky, even in France. What was Elie thinking?
Paula called to report that Klaus Junior was watching TV and eating pancakes but refusing to discuss with her what had happened. She had told him that his father had promised to take him to a shooting range to have proper training in gun safety and usage, which made the boy excited. Lemmy apologized again for making such a foolish mistake-he should not have left a weapon in the car. Paula didn’t ask why he had the gun in the first place-most Swiss men served in the national army reserve and owned personal firearms.
He pulled the Mauser from his pocket and placed it on the desk. He recalled holding it for the first time in his father’s study, back in Jerusalem. So much had happened since then-the abortion riots, his excommunication from Neturay Karta, paratrooper service in the IDF, and the mission into Jordanian-occupied East Jerusalem to destroy the UN radar, which had prevented detection of Israel’s preemptive strike and led to the victory of the Six Day War. And then, alone in the world, he had accepte
d Elie’s offer of clandestine service, spent a summer in intense German-language study, attended Lyceum Alpin St. Nicholas, courted Paula, and turned himself into a successful Swiss banker, a family man, and a secret agent. The key to his long career was careful planning and meticulous execution to minimize risk of exposure. The exception was his continuous use of the Mauser for killing Israel’s enemies. The barrel had been honed to prevent ballistic tracing of the bullets, and he had taken pains to keep it out of sight and utilize generic ammunition. He knew that the repeat use of the same weapon was hazardous, but this Mauser was the single object of continuity in his life, the only physical possession going all the way back to the city of Jerusalem-and a boy named Jerusalem.
*
When Abu Yusef walked into the dining room, the men stopped talking and gathered around the large table. “We achieved a great victory on Saturday,” he declared. “The Zionists are bleeding badly. We must hit them again and again until they scatter to the four corners of the earth or die!”
The men cheered, raising clenched fists.
He turned to a map of Europe, which Bashir had pinned to the wall. “With our donor’s generosity, we are ready to launch a historic campaign that will blow away the Oslo Accords.” Abu Yusef paused, looking around. “Who in this room speaks Italian?”
Two of the men raised their hands.
“Spanish?”
Three hands came up.
“Greek?”
One hand.
“Dutch?”
No hand came up. Abu Yusef shook his head. “Pity. The Dutch are all Zionist bastards. Danish?”
A hand came halfway up. “I get by,” the man said.
Abu Yusef nodded. “Swedish?”
Another hesitant hand.
“Good.” He noticed two men whispering. “What?”
One of them said, “I speak good German.”
Abu Yusef shook a finger. “We’re not going to Germany. We won’t fall into that trap again. The world doesn’t like to watch Jews getting killed in Germany. It’s counter-productive.”
He realized they didn’t understand.
“ Munich was an unusual opportunity,” he explained. “The Olympics, the media. And I admit that even Munich might have been a mistake. When the Nazis exterminated the Jews, the Americans or British could have easily bombed the German rails and silenced the death camps. That’s why, after the war, everybody felt guilty and let the Jews steal our land. Jews know a lot about guilt, and if we kill them in Germany, they’ll cry Holocaust! Everybody will forget about us and feel sorry for the Jews again.”
Some of the men mumbled curses.
“ But you can go to Austria,” Abu Yusef said to the German-speaking man. “There are plenty of fat Jews in Vienna-an excellent target.” He looked at his list. “We still need Flemish and Portuguese.”
“ I have a few recruits,” Bashir said. “They’ll be in later.”
“ Good.” Abu Yusef turned to the map. “The blue pins stand for El Al stations and terminals. Red pins for Israeli embassies and consulates. And yellow pins for synagogues and Jewish schools. We’ll hit all these targets on the same day. Forty-seven targets representing the forty-seven years since the United Nations allowed the Zionists to declare their state!”
The men clapped.
“ That’s right!” Abu Yusef held up a fist. “We’ll rock the world!”
When they quieted down, Bashir stepped forward. “Listen carefully. The money is coming in today. This evening you’ll receive your individual assignments, including maps, blueprints of the target buildings, and escape routes. Also, each team will receive enough cash to purchase vehicles, weapons, explosives, timer fuses and everything else you’ll need to successfully destroy your targets. Tonight you’ll pack up your personal belongings and be ready to head out in the morning, each team travelling separately. After the simultaneous attacks, we’ll reconvene in a new location.”
“Think of the international impact!” Abu Yusef looked each man in the eye. “Forty-seven years of shame will be redeemed by delivering forty-seven unforgettable lessons to the Jews. We’re getting enough money to do what no one has ever dared before-a barrage of attacks at the same time, synchronized to maximum shock and awe. On a single glorious day, we’ll flood Europe with the blood of the Jews, just as the valleys of Palestine are flooded with the Zionist pests.”
He paused to give them time to absorb the enormity of the operation. They seemed excited. And nervous.
“ This time next week, the Oslo process will be derailed by your daring and unprecedented accomplishment. Your spirit will revive our people’s hopes. And soon you’ll lead them back to Jerusalem!”
He turned and left the room, hoping his words had inspired them. He had spoken as if a whole army was lined up in front of him, not merely two dozen men. More were joining, though. And when forty-seven Jewish targets blew up simultaneously all over Europe, every Palestinian man would leave his family and join their ranks. There would be an army of warriors waiting for his orders. The peace process would collapse into accusations and counter-accusations, and soon after that, he would see Palestine again as a victor, sailing his armada into the Haifa Bay through water dotted with the bobbing heads of dead Jews.
Bashir joined him. “It won’t be easy. We’re taking on the whole Oslo peace process. They’ll be pissed off-Arafat, Rabin, Clinton. Everybody will be after us.”
“No,” Abu Yusef said. “Everybody will respect us.”
“ That also,” Bashir said. “Many of Al-Mazir’s men are ready to join. After the operation, we’ll set up recruiting networks all over.”
“But first of all, we need our best two men to do the job for the prince. We can’t afford to disappoint him.” Abu Yusef opened the door to his bedroom. It was dark except for a lamp near the empty bed.
Bashir turned to go.
“Latif was a good boy,” Abu Yusef said. “I miss him. Maybe one day, after our victory, I will marry a woman. Like Arafat.”
“That’s right.” A rare smile appeared on Bashir’s face. “A woman like Arafat.”
*
Gideon wore a navy-blue suit and a gray tie. He stuck on a thin, black moustache. The small leather briefcase completed the image of a young businessman. Bathsheba had brushed his curly hair back, smoothed it down with gel, and sprayed him with Cacharel. Before he left the car to enter the bank, Elie said, “Put your hook deep into him and give him no reason to suspect you.”
“Show him,” Bathsheba said, “how deep you can bend over.”
Gideon slammed the car door and walked down the street to the bank.
The manager, Monsieur Richar, put down his pen and stood up. “ Oui? ”
“Grant Guerra.” Gideon extended a hand. “I believe you have funds awaiting me?”
“Oh, yes!” The bank manager beckoned a bespectacled clerk. “We’re ready for you. It’s an honor!”
“ Much obliged.”
“ Would you like to open an account with us? Our investment department can assist you with devising an appropriate strategy for growth. We’d like to earn your business.”
“ Perhaps in the future. Today’s transfer is earmarked for a joint venture that requires a substantial cash transaction. I will require a meeting room to conduct it.”
“ Of course.” The bank manager seemed a tad disappointed. “We ordered additional bills as soon as we saw the wire. We normally don’t carry that much in U.S. dollars.”
“Excellent.”
They led him to a vacant office. An electrical counting machine rested on the table. The manager examined Gideon’s driver’s license, a fake that matched the particulars on the transfer from Zurich, and asked him to sign a receipt. A few moments later, a clerk brought in the money in a sack-twenty-five thousand $100 bills.
As the manager was leaving the room, Gideon said, “My associate, Monsieur Sachs, should arrive within the hour.”
“Certainly, Monsieur Guerra. Would you like some coffee
while you wait?”
*
The street outside the Banque Nationale de France buzzed with afternoon shoppers. The white Citroen drew no attention. Bathsheba sat behind the wheel, Elie in the passenger seat. It was four o’clock p.m., and there was no sign of Abu Yusef.
Bathsheba turned on the radio and searched the dial until she found music. Her head rocked with the drumbeat. “What if he doesn’t show up?”
Elie shut off the radio. “Abu Yusef has been waiting all his life for something like this. Arafat has always managed to squeeze heaps of cash from donors, who liked and feared him at the same time. Today Abu Yusef will step out of Arafat’s shadow, financially speaking.”
“ And he’ll cast his own long shadow, if we don’t stop him.”
Elie nodded. “They’ll be edgy with so much cash on board. You must be very careful following them back to the nest. If they notice us, bad things will happen.”
Bathsheba used a piece of cloth to shine the binocular lenses. The minutes passed slowly with constant traffic along the street. Customers visited the retail shops and clients frequented the bank. Closing time approached fast.
“Here we go.” Elie pointed.
A blue BMW sedan stopped in front of the bank, followed by a red Mazda RX-7. Bashir Hamami got out of the BMW and looked up and down the street, his right hand under his coat. Two younger men emerged from the red Mazda and joined Bashir. One of them opened the rear door of the BMW, and Abu Yusef stepped out with a large briefcase.
“Nice cars.” Bathsheba reached into a tennis bag on the back seat and took out a handgun with a silencer. She cocked the gun and put it on the floor between her legs. She repeated the process with another gun, which she kept in her lap.
“You’re a pessimist,” Elie said.
“ Wasn’t plan B your idea?”
“ For me, redundancy is a necessity, not an aspiration.”
*
Gideon was on the move as soon as he saw the cars through the glass front of the bank. He took off his jacket, straightened his tie, and hurried to the front door, reaching it just as one of Abu Yusef’s men opened it from the outside.
The Jerusalem Assassin Page 17