Imi Lichtenfeld’s job was to be the switchboard operator between Simon, Jimmy, and Hugh. Al Kaye’s job was to keep in touch with Detectives Loris Mac McIver, and Lyle Davis, in order to continue the debriefing of their captives, the operatives—the Juan Peron operative, Eduardo Velaro, and the Alois Hudal one, Wenzel Wagner.
Maxie had already headed for points unknown under the expert tutelage of Shmuel Kishnov. In addition, Imi told Al that after he’d heard about what had happened to the kid, Willy Travali, that he’d like to keep abreast of Willy’s progress. They then all said their farewells and departed for points that would ultimately take them to destinations all around the globe.
. 17 .
BACK TO THE DRAWING BOARD
The moment the plane touched down at Idlewild, Al looked for a phone to call Gloria. The good news was that Willy was recovering nicely. She told Al it was slow but Willy was walking carefully and slowly and was looking better and better. She also added that Willy had become more talkative without it being too painful for the effort.
“All the nurses have fallen in love with him. They say they’ve never seen anyone so cooperative and nice. It’s true, Al,” she said, “Willy is such a nice kid.”
“You’re the nice one, Gloria. They need to write a song about you.”
“Al,” Gloria responded, come right home.”
And that’s exactly what he did. Al made a bee-line for the Bronx and for Gloria.
Hugh O’Flaherty landed at Fiumicino International Airport in Rome, better known as Leonardo da Vinci International Airport as one of the first landings at the newly constructed part of the airport. He was met by a Vatican service-vehicle and driven to his apartment just outside the Vatican walls. After bathing and resting, he walked to his office within the Vatican, all the while wondering how he was going to access the kind of information that would be valuable for Wiesenthal.
As he passed through the threshold of the Vatican entry point, the Swiss Guards greeted him. As he was walking to his office located at the Apostolic Palace, here and there he exchanged greetings with people he knew. At his office, he immediately began to go through a stack of mail on his desk. He selected several letters, he had received, put them in a folder, left the office and walked directly down a corridor to Sister Agnus Furillo’s office. Sister Agnus was one of Hugh’s trusted lieutenants and worked with him on his so-called transport project whereby hidden allied soldiers and Jewish people in hiding were escorted to safe houses and then out of the country. It was sort of what Hudal was doing but, of course, somewhat different.
Hugh went right to it: “What’s he doing?”
“I don’t exactly know,” Sister Agnus responded. “But the interesting thing is that he has several new secretaries feverishly working on something. Typing, typing, typing is all you hear from their offices. I personally witnessed the handyman, Mr. Stellini making two or three trips into Alois’s offices with typewriters under his arms. Do you have any idea of what could be happening?”
“Yes, I do. I do,” Hugh said. “I think everything is good.”
Imi Lichtenfeld landed at Lod Airport, outside of Tel Aviv. From there, a non-descript auto took him to a destination in the town of Haifa. There he disappeared and then reappeared at a secret Mossad training camp. He immediately reported to Mossad Captain, Ariel Lash. Imi briefed her and together they decided that Imi would set up shop in Lash’s adjacent office. Imi would have access to all communication and any other necessary services whatever they might turn out to be. Imi felt that in Israel women, have as much opportunity as men and further, he was sure they would eventually or in fact very soon, have a woman Prime Minister. He was betting it would probably be Golda.
Jimmy didn’t need to land anywhere. He was already home in London. No wife, no current girlfriend, only M-16, of military intelligence of the British Intelligence Agency. Jimmy reported in as Imi had, and like Imi he was given an assistant, an office, and free reign to do whatever he needed done.
So, in quick order, they were all set to see whether the flurry of activity coming out of Hudal’s Vatican would enable them to understand where certain of their targets were in fact living and where their escape routes would possibly take them—their pre-arranged secondary destinations—those now and newly-arranged through the counterfeit micro, or wandering untethered here and there seeking safety but actually being conspicuous.
Except for Wiesenthal, now a first-name friend, Simon, the others didn’t really know how it would all work. Would they be capturing Nazi escapees or not? Of course, Simon knew. He knew that to corral hundreds of these vermin would not be possible. He also knew, as did his cohorts that it would serve important objectives to put only a few on trial. That meant Eichmann, Mengele, and three or four others. Only a few.
He wasn’t privy to Shmueli and Max’s plans, both who were sharp-shooting Krav Maga magicians—and both not at all squeamish about killing. This, at least would comprise a two-man private assassination squad.
Shmueli held forth for Maxie. “Vee no veapons had, no Jewish State, no money, un vee live most in Ghettos, und poor. Un stupid vorld say vee all rich un secret group. Day use vord ‘passive’ un say vee be meek un valk inside dis gas chamber. Vell, now vee having Jewish state. Now vee be having some of dis money, un vee having guns! So, because now unzer planning, un how vee hoping, un how vee knowing to do tings, vee go definite to make assassination. Un deese vill be no-passive assassination. Be active assassination. No far avay behind dis tree. No. Dis assassination vill be close in face. Direct! No meek. If I deciding den I vant more should be hand-to-hand combat mit deer best fighters. Den vee see who say dis passive un meek—especially vhen vee destroy dem! Un I vant to see dis destroy vone by vone!”
So, there it was for all of the Justice Brigade, each of whom was proceeding to do things in different ways but with one common goal. It all boiled down to ‘just desserts.’
Oh yes, with respect to Simon’s philosophy he had it down—at least in his mind this way: ‘Morality is relative’ he believed. In other words, first, in this primitive world and in an absolute sense, absolute morality becomes an abstraction. Second: ‘One must stand against oppression of any people and for fairness, otherwise one permanently loses integrity, loses oneself. And finally, third, he had the answer to how evil should be treated with respect to any statute of limitations; ‘Evil has no statute of limitations’! That was Simon’s unequivocal answer. Of that he was sure!
Simon Wiesenthal, the Nazi hunter, was going to see to it. He was going to prove in no uncertain terms that evil has no statute of limitations—none at all.
* * *
Information reached Shmuel Kishnov about Albrecht Schmidt. Schmidt was Heinrich Muller’s right-hand man. Muller was head of the Gestapo in Berlin and responsible for many murders as well as horrible tortures. Shmuel also knew that Schmidt, even though he was an aide to Muller, was instrumental in these abominable acts as well. And, as far as Shmuel knew, Schmidt had disappeared immediately after Muller’s body was found, when the war was essentially over, in 1945. Muller’s body was discovered in a mass grave. Either he and the others in that mass grave were caught in a bombing raid and were all killed, or some Jewish assassination squad took care of it. In this latter case, they must have machine-gunned a dozen Nazi escapees or even more.
Certain people weren’t satisfied just with Muller’s death. They also desperately wanted Muller’s main aide, Albrecht Schmidt. Schmidt, like Mengele was very smart and like Mengele didn’t solely rely on Hudal’s pre-arranged locations. In 1950, he disappeared from the scrutiny of Hudal and from Hudal’s blameworthy cohorts. However, there were what Shmuel Kishnov considered to be reliable reports of Schmidt’s whereabouts, most likely in central Buenos Aires. One report was of a Jewish former prisoner of the Gestapo who was held in Muller’s charge in Berlin. This man, this former captive of Muller’s, swore he saw Schmidt in a place called Plazoleta Cortazar, roughly translated meaning Plaza Serrano in the Pale
rmo area of Buenos Aires. And he swore he would know him anywhere.
This man promptly contacted the Jewish Agency in Buenos Aires who in turn gave the information to government sources in Israel. That’s how Shmuel Kishnov eventually got wind of it. This was early in his not yet full career as a Kovner Nazi-hunter or as an Irgunist, and he did not have a full enough budget to go after Schmidt.
However, now, in 1958, more than a half dozen years after Schmidt was first sighted, Shmuel, Maxie, and two others personally went looking for the eye-witness. The man’s name was Arthur Libman. He was an American former paratrooper whose plane was shot down. He parachuted out with others doing the same but they were all caught and sent to Stalag III in the town, Sagan, in Silesia, Germany. He and scores of other allied prisoners decided not to spend the rest of the war in this German Stalag camp. At one point in 1944 many escaped but most were caught and returned to the camp. Libman was one of the returnees.
Shmuel and Maxie tracked down Libman who, had not returned to America. Rather, at that point in his life he was a cab-driver in Tel Aviv, but in reality, was an operative of one of the Israeli secret services—that of Shin Bet. Roughly translated Shin Bet means ‘invisible ones.’ Shmuel and Maxie knew this because they got his name through Shmueli’s contacts at Mossad—another of Israel’s secret services—where they were directed to Libman.
During their interview with Libman his story was that he was on assignment that took him to the main shopping area of downtown Palermo, Buenos Aires, called Palermo Norte, when he first spotted none other than Evita Peron, accompanied by an escort. When he glanced at her escort, Libman said he was instantly electrified. He actually felt he was in shock and almost couldn’t move. He kept staring at the escort. He knew who it was. It was Schmidt, Albrecht Schmidt, himself. Clear as day. It was Albrecht Schmidt, Chief Aide to Heinrich Muller, the former Chief of the Gestapo in Berlin. He hadn’t seen Schmidt in more than a dozen years but recognized him immediately.
Apparently, Schmidt, the Gestapo guy was the one assigned to interrogate the recaptured prisoners at Stalag III, and Arty, as he was known to the other prisoners, was interviewed by Schmidt himself. Thus, Arty Libman told Shmueli and Maxie that Schmidt behaved in a calm manner during the interrogation but claimed there were unusual ways to get people to talk which he further claimed he was not going to use. Arty Libman, from Brownsville, Brooklyn knew very well that Schmidt was playing the good guy, bad guy game, but was only expressing the good guy part.
So, this time Maxie took the lead probably because he spoke English without the broken Shmueli Kishnov accent.
“I know you’re called Arty, right?
“Yeah, right.”
“Where’d ya go to high school—probably Brooklyn, right?”
Libman confirmed it was Brooklyn. He said he knew that they were getting the entire Schmidt story and that he’d been told they were going to reach out to him. With that, Libman related everything he had also told Shin Bet personnel.
Later, when Shmueli and Max were sitting with their two other so-called assassinational associates, Sam Silver and Shimen Pargament, they similarly reviewed the story that the Shin Bet cab driver, Arty Libman had told them. Then Shmueli pulled out the necessary ID photos.
“I having pictures of dem un I knowing dis one of Schmidt. Eskenazy he in Buenos Aires un he vill getting Schmidt’s trail. Vee knowing dat no vone hast here also no seeing Schmidt, excepting maybe dis Shin Bet secret service man, Libman. So, Schmidt he carefulness un smart un hiding. Vee need to figure vhere to starting dis. Dee Peron lady she die few years back so vee no more can getting her. Peron, too, he deposed vone year or two back so also catching him ist vaisting of time. So qvuestion ist: Who can vee knowing could leading Eskenazy to finding Schmidt?”
Shmuel then made a phone call to his Eskenazy contact in Buenos Aires. As far as Eskenazy’s history was concerned, he was a Jew of Turkish nationality whose family had settled in Spain and then emigrated to Buenos Aires not realizing that the future Argentine leader, Juan Peron, was a Jew-hating fascist, who along with his wife Evita, were Nazi lovers who were adored by an under-educated and unsophisticated Argentine populace. The best that can be said is that apparently Peron had a vacuous nationalistic and chauvinistic appeal to Argentineans in general. However, it became clear to those dealing with Peron that his main interest was money. And he became known as someone who was insatiable about increasing his money supply—increasing his wealth endlessly, in avaricious redundancy, with no end in sight.
In any event, Eskenazy, who Shmuel was banking on, would possibly be helpful and provide some lead. When Shmuel mentioned Schmidt to him, Eskenazy, who had made an avocation of learning about escaped Nazis, knew all about Schmidt, his connection to the Gestapo and his role as assistant to Muller and earlier, as assistant to Eichmann himself.
“I know about him,” Eskenazy said. “He very well could be an anonymous person in the German neighborhood of Belgrano within Buenos Aires. There he might be recognized, even though he would surely be in disguise, with perhaps a beard or beard and mustache and maybe have a weight difference from what he weighed before. But my hunch is he’d be in Belgrano because it’s loaded with Germans, all or most who were little Hitlerites, so he’d feel safer surrounded by like-minded people. That kind of population, in a crisis, would help him in any number of ways but mostly, with facilitating an escape to who knows where. “First,” Eskanazy went on, “I’ll investigate the neighborhood. I’ll drive through.”
“Joseph,” Shmuel answered, “I being dere mit friend Max un mit Sam un Shimen. Vee vill helping you.”
* * *
Meanwhile, back in New York City, Mac and Lyle were again interviewing Wenzel Wagner at Police Headquarters near City Hall and Wall Street. They had been at it for about three hours.
“I don’t knowing vat of dis I can saying,” Wenzel pleaded.
“Okay, we thought if you told us something that you know would be helpful to us, be sure you also know we then might be able to make it easier on you. It might be instead of the electric-chair. See? Because shooting down police is considered very serious in America. And I’m sure Detective Lyle here wouldn’t be able to name a single case where someone killed a police officer and lived. And you killed more than one in an act of malice. ‘Malice’ means having a premeditated idea of doing something very bad. And ‘premeditated’ means planning it in advance. And ‘advance’ means before you do it, you plan it out before. Get it?”
“You can promising no electrical chair?”
“Well, we know people and we can talk to them and it could be they would listen to us. You understand?”
“Okay, I knowing tings. Pliss, you asking me dese tings you vanting.”
“Good,” Mac answered. “I need some names of Nazis who escaped and are hiding somewhere like maybe in other countries that you know about.”
“Yah, I knowing. Vone year back I hearing dat Kurt Blome, he ist scientist. He discovering biologic germ dat ist for the killing. He pay money to escaping from prison. In Paris. Mit money he pay so all record of Kurt Blome namen no more to finding. Nobody knowing vhere he ist in dis hiding place. But I knowing. He paying me und Karl—Karl ist now tote you knowing dis.
“To helping Blome vee bringing him to Buenos Aires in Argentina. He vant to going Buenos Aires. You verstehen me? Blome, he vant to going Argentina. Dis vhat ist I meaning it. Dis happening two years back. Now I tink no person knowing vhere he live. So, dis I not knowing. But I knowing vhere he chief aide living. Namen of Freundel Dunst. It ist Dunst who ist killing many people, und many children too. Und he living in Belgrano in Buenos Aires in street namen Belgrado. Ist this good for you informatzie?”
“Yes, it’s very good—if it’s true. We’ll be back to talk to you more. I think you have more such information. Yes?”
“Okay, I vaiting for you. You pliss coming. I vaiting for you.”
“I say again, you have more information. Yes?”
�
�Yah, I giving you.”
On the way out of Police Headquarters, Mac and Lyle agreed that Imi must get Wenzel’s information immediately. To that end, they had an intermediary’s contact number in Rome that Hugh had previously provided. When this intermediary received the news provided by Mac and Lyle, he walked over to Hugh’s apartment knowing full well he wouldn’t be able to telephone him. When he got there, he motioned to Hugh for them to take a walk. As they walked, this intermediary conveyed the information about Dunst’s address.
Hugh made a call from a public phone and, in no time, was in touch with Simon’s office. Hugh asked them to get in touch with Shmuel Kishnov immediately and to have Simon call the number Hugh was calling from. Hugh said he would wait by the phone.
In less than twenty minutes the public phone where Hugh was standing, rang. It startled him but he lifted the receiver and heard a stranger’s voice.
“Hugh, I’m calling for Simon—I’m Eskenazy calling from Buenos Aires on Simon’s orders. If you want to check this, call him to confirm. We’re after two who could possibly be living in the German quarter called Belgrano. It’s about two of them: Albrecht Schmidt and Freundel Dunst. And I know both. I know who they are and pretty sure where they are. They’re probably living an anonymous life style. I’ll bet no one, not even Hudal would know where they are.
“I’ve been told,” Eskenazy continued, “that one of the terrorists, a Wenzel Wagner who incidentally is in custody, tried to burn down a police station and killed some police. Also, Simon specifically told me Freundel Dunst is living in the Belgrano area probably on Belgrado Street. Simon mentioned his name and Schmidt’s name specifically. Many Germans live in that street in that neighborhood”.
“What’s interesting here, Hugh, is that at this moment, as we’re talking, I’m standing right in the middle of the Belgrano neighborhood looking for them both. I’ll keep you informed through Simon. And, by the way, you’ll be interested to know that I’m with Shmuel Kishnov and Max Palace. Looks to me like they will undoubtedly be invaluable in the search for whatever else is needed.”
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