The Jerusalem Assassin

by Avraham Azrieli

  “ Take me back to Hadassah,” Elie said. “They were going to fix my lungs. I’m operating on reserves.”

  “ Fine, as long as you remain in isolation. No outside contacts until after the rally.”

  “ Agreed,” Rabbi Gerster said in Elie’s stead. “I’ll stay with him at Hadassah.”

  “ And I’m staying here,” Gideon said from the kitchen. “The views are breathtaking.”

  “ Excuse me,” the nurse said, “but where’s Itah Orr?”

  There was a long silence as everyone looked around.

  “ She’s not my agent,” Elie said. “Feel free to send your dogs after her.”

  “ Wait.” Agent Cohen was pale as the wall. “What about the Zurich shooter?”

  “ There’s new information,” the nurse said. “He arrived on a KLM flight yesterday. We traced his entry record. He is travelling under the name Baruch Spinoza.”

  Rabbi Gerster barely managed to suppress a smile-Lemmy had assumed the name of another young Jew who, over a century earlier, had been excommunicated by his congregation.

  “ Only a matter of time,” the nurse said. “His name will pop up somewhere, and we’ll take him down.”

  The comment made Rabbi Gerster cringe. The powerful Shin Bet was chasing after his son with the intent to kill! He cleared his throat and asked, “Doesn’t the stand-down agreement extend to all SOD agents?”

  But the phone line had already gone dead.

  *

  Itah Orr changed taxis three times before reaching the central bus station in southern Tel Aviv. The evening rush was peaking, thousands of office workers and day laborers heading home. She lingered at shop windows, but no one was following her.

  At a secondhand clothing store, she exchanged her outfit for a long-sleeved dress that reached down to her shoes and a dark-gray headdress, which she tied in the ultra-Orthodox style, hiding all her hair. She bought basic toiletries at a pharmacy, as well as a note pad, sunglasses, and a fresh can of pepper spray to replace the one confiscated by Shin Bet.

  She paid cash for a room at a seedy motel. Against the background noise of hookers and their eager customers, she sat at a rickety desk and wrote down the events of the last few days.

  *

  Part Six

  The Understanding

  Thursday, November 2, 1995

  The van left Meah Shearim after morning prayers with the same dozen black-garbed men whom Benjamin had brought along yesterday. They obeyed him without question, treating him with a reverence that astonished Lemmy. His childhood study-companion had come a long way.

  As they had planned, the van parked in front of a phone booth on a busy street, and Lemmy stepped out. He placed a collect call to Zurich, and Christopher accepted it.

  “Any news?”

  “Yes,” Christopher said. “I received a call from Prince Abusalim’s father, Sheik Da’ood az-Zubayr. He demanded full accounting of his late son’s dealings with the bank. I explained that you’re away on business.”

  “Call him back and extend my deepest condolences. Tell him that I plan to personally travel to the az-Zubayr oasis at a time of his convenience to assist him with the transition of the account and any other service that he would require.”

  “Understood. Also, Herr Hoffgeitz regained consciousness last night. He asked for Klaus V.K. and had to be reminded that his son had been dead for a long time. He then asked for Klaus Junior. Paula brought your son, and Herr Hoffgeitz told him to learn from you how to run the bank.”

  “He said that?”

  “Yes. The doctors decided to sedate him again, give his heart a chance to heal.”

  “ Anything else?”

  “ A personal message from Paula. I don’t understand it. She said to tell you that she’s still late.”

  “Still late?” Lemmy laughed. “That’s good! That’s very good!”

  *

  Itah Orr took the bus from Tel Aviv to Jerusalem. On the way to Meah Shearim, she stopped at a vegetable stand and filled up two shopping bags, paying in cash. On Shivtay Israel Street she joined a group of ultra-Orthodox women.

  A white Subaru sedan parked on the pavement near the gate. As the cluster of women approached, two men emerged from the car and ambled over. Their presence, though impolite, achieved the desired effect. The women stopped, afraid to risk even accidental body contact with the strangers, which would constitute a sin under Talmud’s strict chastity rules.

  “Shalom!” One of the men held up a silver, feline-shaped keychain. “Any of you girls lost this?”

  Itah recognized the spare keys to her car, which she had parked nearby last Friday. The thought that these men had invaded her home and rummaged through her personal possessions made her see red, which was probably what they were hoping for. She kept her head up, her eyes hidden by the sunglasses.

  “Anyone?” He dangled the keys. “Come on, ladies!”

  None of the women responded.

  “How about this?” The other agent held a short piece of gray, hairy rope. “Anyone?”

  It took Itah a moment to realize it wasn’t a rope. It was her cat’s tail. As the agent shook it, she could see the clipped end, red with blood.

  Biting her lips to block a scream, she reached into her purse for the pepper spray.

  *

  With Elie Weiss and Rabbi Gerster gone to Hadassah Hospital, the apartment felt big and empty. Gideon settled to watch CNN while the housekeeper set the breakfast table for two.

  Agent Cohen showed up with warm pastries and a bandage over his eye. He held up his finger, which was taped to a short stick. “I’m filing a disability claim, maybe an early retirement.” His joviality didn’t mask the jittery tremor at the corner of his mouth.

  “ You shouldn’t feel embarrassed about what happened yesterday,” Gideon said. “Even your Number One is no match for Elie Weiss.”

  The housekeeper served coffee and set the pastries on a plate.

  “Fact is, I failed,” Agent Cohen said. “I underestimated him, and this debacle will haunt me for the rest of my career. Especially if the situation turns into a real disaster.”

  “What do you mean? I thought it’s over. Didn’t SOD and Shin Bet agree to a truce?”

  “That’s the least of our worries.” The agent bit into a chocolate-filled croissant.

  “What else is there to worry about?”

  He swallowed and sipped coffee to chase it down. “Spinoza.”

  “ Isn’t he part of the deal? Surely Elie will send him home now.”

  “ We don’t think Elie controls Spinoza.” Agent Cohen pulled photos from a thick envelope and set them on the table. The first group showed Arab sheikhs in settings that varied from formal dinners to car races and camel rides. “That’s him, with the red kafiya. His real name is Wilhelm Horch. A German national, married to a Swiss woman. He’s vice president at a Zurich bank, and his personal assistant is a member of a Nazi group.”

  “ How do you know?”

  “ Mossad has files on every significant businessman with ties to the Middle East. We have access to those files. Horch has extensive Arab clientele. No one knew of his connection to Elie Weiss-we’re still not sure of the nature of this relationship. When Tanya Galinski met Horch at a Zurich park a few days ago, we happened to be tailing her because we suspected she’s involved with Elie’s assassination scheme.”

  “ What’s Horch’s game?”

  “ He’s been playing Elie,” Agent Cohen said. “Look at these photos from the Galeries Lafayette.”

  The same man, wearing a coat, a fedora, and a fake goatee, stood inside the glass doors of the Galeries Lafayette. Other photos showed him on the stairs and in the menswear section. “These are from the security cameras, recorded during the thirty seconds preceding the shooting of the Arab kid in the dressing room.”

  “ That shooting was a disaster,” Gideon said. “Police descended on the place, and Bashir drove off too fast for us to follow him back to Abu Yusef’s hiding
place. Elie was certain the Arabs killed Latif in some kind of an internal feud.”

  “ We believe the Saudis paid Horch to do the job.”

  “ Why would they?”

  “Latif’s killing-supposedly by Israel-provoked Abu Yusef’s attack on the synagogue.”

  “ But why would the Saudis do this?”

  “ To derail the peace process. Every Mideast dictator is terrified of an Israeli-Palestinian peace, even if they pay lip service in support of peace. Israel is their scapegoat. Peace would allow their masses to focus on the real culprits behind their poverty and suffering.”

  “ So they sent their Swiss banker to kill Abu Yusef’s boy toy to throw us off his tail and provoke another attack? It seems like a big risk for a small gain.”

  “ Not so small. Terror attacks are the main reason for Israelis’ loss of faith in the peace process. Our data shows that Abu Yusef’s attack on the Paris synagogue-just that one attack alone-caused public support for the Oslo Accords to drop four points among Israeli voters. In fact, Abu Yusef was getting ready to launch simultaneous, multi-target attacks all over Europe, which would have dealt a fatal blow to the peace process. Only thanks to Elie’s two-prong method, which allowed you to find Abu Yusef through his sponsor, this disaster was averted.”

  He placed more photos on the table, showing the Swiss at the Metz department store in Amsterdam. “You see the pattern-he loves crowded retail venues. We think Tanya Galinski approached him in Zurich, and he agreed to meet her again in Amsterdam, where he pushed her under the tram.”

  “ Horch did that?” Gideon sipped coffee and examined the photos, which covered half the table. The theory made sense, but one aspect nagged him. Elie was not an easy man to fool. Hadn’t the Swiss banker provided Elie with good information on Prince Abusalim, which led them to Abu Yusef?

  “ Double agents,” Cohen said, as if reading Gideon’s mind, “have to prove their loyalty by giving useful, true information to both sides. But in the end, a double agent is loyal only to himself and therefore must choose one side. And a double agent who fears exposure will kill you unless you kill him first.”

  *

  The van rattled on the cracked asphalt of Shivtay Israel Street. As it approached the gate, Lemmy saw a group of women, their way blocked by two secular men in civilian clothes, one of them holding up something in front of the women.

  “ Hit the horn,” Benjamin told the driver. “Quick! Hit the horn!”

  The driver pressed down, releasing a long, drawn out beep. It startled the women, and Benjamin stepped out of the van. Lemmy watched him speak with the two men, who returned to their Subaru. The women entered the neighborhood carrying their grocery bags. One of them glanced back over her shoulder, and Lemmy recognized her as the woman who had left the King David Hotel under guard with his father and Elie Weiss.

  At Benjamin’s apartment, Sorkeh prepared an early lunch for them. She hugged Itah Orr. “This outfit looks good on you-like a beautiful Neturay Karta woman. We have several learned widowers. We can find you a perfect shiduch! ”

  “I think I’ve already found my match,” Itah said, and Lemmy noticed redness spread to her cheeks. Was she talking about his father?

  Benjamin and Sorkeh left the room, and Itah said, “Your father sent me to warn you. Shin Bet is after you. They claim you shot one of their agents in Zurich.”

  “It’s true,” Lemmy said. “But it was an honest mistake. Tanya knew he wasn’t Mossad, and since Shin Bet is not authorized to operate outside Israel, we assumed the man was an Arab.”

  “Shin Bet sees it differently. And knocking down the nurse at Hadassah didn’t help. They know your assumed name-Baruch Spinoza.” She chuckled. “Nice touch.”

  “Wasn’t my idea.”

  “ Did you find your father’s letter?”

  “ Yes. Have you discovered anything new since he wrote it?”

  Itah pulled off the headdress. She described in detail what had occurred at the apartment in Tel Aviv. “All they care about,” she concluded, “is to ensure that nothing interrupts the Saturday night peace rally in Tel Aviv. It’s supposed to launch Rabin’s reelection campaign. Labor strategists are working hard to bus in supporters from all over Israel, and Shin Bet is locking up every potential troublemaker. They shut down ILOT and Elie’s fake assassination operation.”

  “What about you?”

  “They’re confident that my credibility is ruined and my nerves are shot by the criminal accusations. They’re wrong. None of it will stop me from going public with everything I know, except that I’ll have to find a way around exposing your father.”

  “Where does it leave me? Should I let Shin Bet shoot me in the leg to get even?”

  “ Don’t be ridiculous.”

  Lemmy pulled the gun from his coat pocket and dropped it on the table. “I’m good at what I do, but I can’t fight the whole Israeli secret service.”

  “You won’t need to,” Itah said. “I have an idea. There’s a crucial debate in the Knesset today. We’ll approach Rabin and ask him to order Shin Bet to leave you alone.”

  “That’s bold. Can you get us in?”

  “It’s open to the public. But we’ll need to find a way to meet him.”

  “I can do that,” Lemmy said. “He owes me one.”

  “The prime minister?” She laughed. “What does he owe you?”

  “Oh, just his victory in the Six day War.”

  *

  Agent Cohen lined up a series of photos on the table, showing the Swiss banker at passport control at Ben Gurion Airport, at an Avis counter, and at Hadassah Hospital.

  “ The plot thickens,” Gideon said. “What reason did he give at the airport for his visit?”

  “ Car restorer shopping for parts. Original, isn’t it?” Agent Cohen sneered. “We found his rented Fiat at the YMCA. No fingerprints. He’s a professional.”

  “ Are you watching departures at the airport?”

  “Yes, but only as a precaution.”

  “ Why? He saw Elie being arrested at King David. Without access to Elie, he won’t stick around to get caught.”

  The agent collected the photos, slipping them into the envelope. “He has a job to do.”

  “ What job? To kill Elie Weiss?”

  “ That too, as a defensive move, to get rid of someone who can identify him. But his primary target is not Elie Weiss.”

  “ Then who?”

  “ Our Shin Bet analysts believe the Saudis are paying this assassin a fortune, enough for him to disappear afterwards, retire to some island for the rest of his life. They want him to do something that will destroy the Oslo Accords once and for all, a decisive hit that will end this whole effort to reach a permanent co-existence with the Palestinians in the foreseeable future.”

  Gideon waited for him to continue, but he remained mum, as if the answer was too shocking to be pronounced out loud.

  “ Kill Arafat?”

  “ Worse,” Agent Cohen said.

  “ Who could be worse?”

  “ We believe this Horch-Spinoza guy has come here to kill Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin.”

  *

  Lemmy left the gun in Benjamin’s apartment, and Itah did the same with her pepper spray. Equipped with borrowed Israeli identification cards from a lookalike Neturay Karta couple, they received visitor tags at the entrance to the Knesset building, passed by the giant menorah, and crossed the vast forecourt. Inside, the three giant Chagall tapestries reminded Lemmy of the stained-glass windows at the Fraumunster church in Zurich, though here Chagall had brought to life biblical Jewish figures other than Jesus Christ. But the colors and flair touched Lemmy with warm familiarity.

  The legislature was in session. The public gallery was filled with school children and tourists. Itah and Lemmy found room in the last row. A thick Plexiglas partition offered open views of the assembly hall below, filled with Knesset members of all parties. The government ministers, including Yitzhak Rabin, sat up front near the pod
ium.

  A Knesset member from the government coalition was arguing for censure of the Likud Party over the events at the right-wing rally last Saturday night in Jerusalem. “Is there no shame? Are there no limits to verbal violence? When is it too much? Tell me!”

  Someone from the opposition benches yelled, “Rabin broke his promises!”

  “ He’s a liar,” another member shouted.

  The speaker hit the podium. “Is name calling acceptable? Cursing the prime minister? Slandering him? Chanting sexual innuendo? Urging his early death?”

  No one responded to that.

  “ Democracy and free speech don’t make it kosher to call for the prime minister’s murder!”

  The speech was interrupted by the grave voice of Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin, emerging with an odd echo from the rear benches: “I will never, never give up land that provides Israel with a security buffer against Arab attacks!”

  Knesset attendants in uniform ran down the aisles, looking for the source of the recorded speech.

  “ I will never,” Rabin’s voice roared, “never give back the Golan Heights-”

  Among widespread laughter, the attendants grabbed a young Knesset member who had smuggled in a cassette player and portable loudspeakers to play Rabin’s old speech-an embarrassing reminder that the prime minister’s current policy contradicted his past promises.

  Surrounded by his ministers, Yitzhak Rabin appeared amused by the prank, glancing back at the struggling attendants.

  “ Our Labor leaders changed their minds,” the speaker continued, “because our enemies changed their hearts and agreed to peace. But Likud leaders are sticking to unrealistic policies. At Zion Square on Saturday night, they acquiesced to their supporters’ chants, adopted their murderous demagoguery, and poured oil on the fire of violence that’s consuming our democracy. The Likud Party is trying to topple the government by inciting a mob! I therefore move for a censure of the Likud Party!”

  Benjamin Netanyahu, twenty years younger than the prime minister and an eloquent speechmaker, climbed the steps to give his party’s response. “It’s unfair,” he said, “to indict a large portion of the population because of the unsavory acts of a handful of hoodlums.”