by Isser Harel
When the four of them heard their holy words coming out of that mouth they were horrified. The obsequious tone he used in addressing his captors was enough in itself to disgust them, but when he pronounced the sacred words that millions of Jewish lips murmured three times a day and at the moment of ultimate dread, they were shaken to the core. It was forbidden to do him any harm, those were their orders. It was forbidden to respond to the inner urgings that prompted them to shut his mouth. There was only one thing they could do: get up and leave the room.
They went out to their friends who were waiting tensely for the results of the first interrogation. When they heard that Klement admitted to being Eichmann, they were filled with satisfaction and relief, though their spirits were somewhat dampened at the prospect of having to live cooped up with this hideous man for many days.
Now, however, there was a lot of work-ahead of them: Eich-mann’s medical examination, the organization of guard duty and security regulations, arrangements for supplies, planning emergency measures, and so on. Emotions were put aside, and they went on with the job.
All this was told to me by Avrum and Kenet. When we separated I went to look for Meir Lavi, my liaison man, who had spent the whole day wandering from café to café without knowing why. I reckoned his day hadn’t been an easy one and he would certainly be pleased to be released.
I didn’t know him and he didn’t know me, but when I walked into the café where he was sitting I didn’t have much trouble finding him. We had arranged for him to have a certain book lying on the table in front of him, but long before I could see what the book was I saw a pair of eyes glued on me, eyes that were unmistakably saying, Is this the man I’ve been waiting for all day? I walked straight up to him. The book was right there on the table.
He was very glad to see me and offered me a cup of coffee – but I had drunk such vast quantities of coffee that day that we settled on something else. To my regret, even now I couldn’t tell him why we’d made him run around all day. All I could do was ask him to go to Ilani at a certain place and say to him, The typewriter is in order.’
And that’s all?’ he asked. The surprise and disappointment on his face made me feel sorry for him. How could he accept the thought that he had waited for seventeen consecutive nerve-racking hours in so many cafés just to deliver this stupid message? He sat for some minutes, thoughtful and perplexed, until at last he stood up and said, with a smile, ‘Yes, I understand. I’ll go to him at once.’
Ilani received the message less than an hour later, and he knew that it meant he must transmit an urgent message to Israel to the effect that Ricardo Klement was in our hands and there was no further doubt that he was Adolf Eichmann.
I went out into the chill, damp night. After the twenty hours I had spent in closed smoke-filled cafés, the cold air felt good. I decided to walk to the place where I had left my belongings, and that walk is an enjoyable memory to this day.
I picked up my luggage and took a taxi to a hotel very far from my previous one. Both the reception clerk and the taxi driver had no reason to think I had not just arrived in Buenos Aires.
The instant I stretched out on the bed in my room I fell into a deep sleep. A few short hours later I had to rise to a day of very important work.
18
YAACOV CAROZ was one of my closest friends, and spent many years in close contact with me on numerous operations. In those days he headed one of the departments in the Mossad. Among other tasks he represented the Mossad to various bodies in Israel and abroad. During my absence from Israel he represented me before the Prime Minister, the Foreign Minister and the Army High Command.
Before leaving I arranged with Caroz that as soon as he received my message of the capture and identification of Eich-mann he would pass it on at once to three people – the Prime Minister, the Foreign Minister and the Chief of Staff.
On May 13, a Friday, Drori brought the message that Eich-mann was in our hands. Caroz immediately asked for an appointment with Prime Minister Ben-Gurion but was told that he was out of town at Sde Boker, a kibbutz. His Political Secretary, Yitzhak Navon, asked Caroz to postpone the appointment until Sunday, unless the matter demanded urgent action or decision on Ben-Gurion’s part. Caroz agreed.
As was usual on a Friday, Golda Meir was at Government Offices in Tel Aviv. In spite of her packed schedule, she agreed to grant Caroz a short interview, but when he arrived, the secretary told him with obvious embarrassment that one of the ministers had taken his time. Caroz asked her to tell Mrs. Meir that he was there. The Foreign Minister came out at once and invited him out onto the balcony; she knew that Caroz wouldn’t bother her unnecessarily.
‘What’s happened?’ she asked.
Adolf Eichmann has been found.’
‘Where is he?’
‘All I know at this point is that Eichmann has been captured and identified.’
For a second her breath caught. She pressed her hand to her chest and looked for something to lean against. Then she put her other hand on Caroz’s shoulder and said, ‘I beg of you, if you hear any more, come and tell me without fail.’
From the Foreign Minister’s office Caroz hurried to Army Headquarters. There were strong ties of personal friendship between General Chaim Laskov and myself. As Caroz walked into his office, he asked, ‘What news? Anything from Isser?’
There certainly is,’ Caroz replied. ‘Eichmann has been found and his identity is no longer in doubt.’
‘Well done!’ exclaimed Laskov, his eyes sparkling behind his glasses. ‘Do you know any of the details?’
‘No. And I don’t expect to know anything until they come back to Israel.’
At five o’clock Sunday morning Caroz set out for Sde Boker in a car driven by Yaki. They arrived a few minutes before nine. Ben-Gurion’s bodyguards took Caroz to his cottage at the kibbutz, where the Prime Minister welcomed him into his study and asked the purpose of his visit.
‘I have come to inform you that Eichmann has been found and his identity established beyond doubt.’
Ben-Gurion remained silent for a moment and then asked, ‘When will Isser be back? I need him.’
As far as we knew, nobody had noticed anything special about Tira, on the night Eichmann and his party of guards arrived there. Rafi knew it was vital that the house continue to appear as quiet as it had been before they came, so for the first thirty-six hours nobody was allowed in or out, except to buy provisions. Yitzhak was appointed caterer because he was already accepted as the tenant. He should really have remained in the house to deal with possible visitors, but there were more important things for him to do.
First of all, he had to return the car used for the capture. Some casual passer-by might have noticed it at the scene of action and might remember it when he heard that the police were investigating a disappearance there. The car had to be out of the way before any witness came forward to help the authorities. Admittedly, if the witness had somehow already given his evidence to the police, there was clear risk in the mere act of returning the car, but I considered it more risky not to do so. If we held on to the car, or tried to abandon it somewhere, the rental agency might complain to the police, who might in turn link Klement’s disappearance with the theft of a rented car. If that happened, the large unclaimed deposit could increase their suspicions.
Taking all this into account, I had arranged for the car to be returned only on my authorization. The morning after the capture, I still had no idea if a search for Klement had already started or if the police had been called in. My only source of information was the local press. Ilani checked the newspapers thoroughly and told me that there was no mention of what had happened the night before in San Fernando. In that case, I said, the car must be given back without delay.
A few hours later I was told that it had been returned without any complications and the deposit repaid in full. The operational team breathed more freely when they knew that no suspicion was attached to the car.
The doctor e
xamined Eichmann and found him to be perfectly healthy. He was a model prisoner and spared no pains in proving himself willing to cooperate. Keeping him in custody would not, it seemed, entail any practical security problems. There were, however, many intangible difficulties which arose primarily from the very fact that we had to be in continual close contact with him, keeping a strict watch on him.
The men took turns doing guard duty in the room itself and at the observation posts inside the house and in the back yard. They were constantly on the lookout for strangers in the neighborhood or for anybody displaying undue interest in what was going on at Tira. Special safety regulations were formulated in case of emergency, including making use of the hideout and evacuating the house in a hurry. These maneuvers were practiced over and over again, and each man knew his post and function. The Tira group consisted of Rafi, Ezra, Eli, Zev, the doctor, and Yitzhak. Avrum, Kenet, and Ilani, who were not living at Tira, attended to the acquisition of supplies.
The only one cut off from the rest was Shalom Dani, who was going through one of the most frustrating experiences in his life. On the evening of May 11, while the operational team was preparing to set out for San Fernando to capture Klement, Dani was on his way to Down to put it in order in case they h.ad to bring the captive there. He made all the necessary arrangements for receiving the party and then reconnoitered the surroundings, checking entrances and exits.
The watchman-gardener kept trying to make things pleasant for him in the large house, and Shalom couldn’t get rid of him. He told the man that he had been left alone in the house because something unexpected had happened; he claimed he was a friend of the tenant’s and had been invited to spend a few days with him, but his host had been called away unexpectedly to see friends who were passing through Buenos Aires, It could happen, Shalom explained, that the friends might be persuaded to come to the villa, but if not his host would have to join them on their tour of Argentina, which would probably take several days. The host had apologized profusely to his guest for possibly having to leave him on his own.
Shalom calculated that if the operational team intended coming there with the prisoner they wouldn’t be arriving before nine-thirty, but the watchman would have to be sent away earlier than that. If Shalom could find some excuse to shake the man for several hours, the team would have a chance to settle in properly.
Shortly before nine Shalom started complaining of excruciating pains in his head, and the watchman immediately offered to go and get a doctor. Shalom told him he didn’t need a doctor because he knew what was wrong and what medicine to take, but unfortunately he had forgotten to bring it with him. It wasn’t a remedy in common use and only the very largest pharmacies would be likely to stock it. The watchman said he couldn’t bear Shalom’s suffering and would do anything he could to help relieve it. He would go to Buenos Aires at once and scour the city for the medicine. So Shalom wrote down the name of a certain pill that he knew could be bought without a doctor’s prescription, and the watchman set off posthaste.
At nine-thirty Shalom stood in front of the house, holding the key to the gate, watching for a pair of headlights to pierce the solid blackness. He mentally reconstructed the course of the operation. He knew every detail of it and longed to take part, but he was relegated to the background while his friends went to accomplish a great and dangerous mission. Had Klement appeared at his usual hour? Had the action gone as planned? If it had, then the team would by now be halfway to Down. But were they coming to Down? After all, the original plan was to go to Tira …
After two hours of waiting he assumed they weren’t coming. He went inside and sat down with a book he’d bought at the airport in Europe, but he simply couldn’t concentrate on it. His eyes were moving over the printed page, but his brain wasn’t taking in a word of it. He kept hoping someone would remember him and come to tell him what had happened, even though no one had promised to do so. For many long hours he sat there – but nobody came.
After midnight the watchman returned with the medicine. Willynilly, Shalom had to swallow one of the pills and go to bed. He knew there was no likelihood that anyone would come in the middle of the night.
He woke up late in the morning. The huge house was empty. It was nearly noon, and still nobody had come to tell him how the operation had turned out. Anxiety stole slowly into his mind: had the operation failed? Here he was, cut off from everything and everybody: how could he be certain that everything had gone off properly? No, it was inconceivable that they should leave him so long without news.
But an inner voice whispered that if – God forbid – things had gone wrong, someone would have to come to tell him. Unless ... unless none was left to tell the tale. After all, more than sixteen hours had passed since the time fixed for the capture. Was it possible that everything was all right and yet they never came to tell him so?
He couldn’t eat, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to eat until he knew, until they came to tell him what had happened at San Fernando the night before. The hands of the clock moved with irritating slowness. It was three o’clock. How long would he have to sit like this, forgotten by all the others, unaware of the fate of his friends?
A car drew up in front of the house. Shalom dashed outside. At last. Avrum came toward him with rapid strides. There was no need to ask questions, Avrum’s face spoke volumes.
Shalom impatiently brushed aside Avrum’s apologies about all the work they had to do and how the men were tied down at Tira. He wanted details, he wanted to know all about it. His gloom vanished, the weight was lifted from his mind. He didn’t try to hide the tears that started to his eyes, nor was he ashamed of them.
Avrum drove him to the city, back to his dingy room at Maoz and the work that was going to be more copious and vital than ever.
I worked out my appointments that day so that at eleven in the morning and five in the afternoon I would be at the meeting places for Dina Ron. The other men were all overburdened with urgent problems of supply and organization and I didn’t want to add the chore of waiting for Dina. For two days she hadn’t appeared; no one had kept the five o’clock appointment the day before because we were all too busy preparing for the capture. But now, a few minutes before eleven, I was waiting for Dina in one of the large city cafés.
She left her hotel early that morning and set out with a map to find the rendezvous. She wandered leisurely through the wide streets and made her way slowly to the corner where the meeting was to take place.
At five minutes past eleven I saw her enter the café. When her eyes had adjusted to the dim light and she caught sight of me, a surprised smile spread over her face. She sat down next to me and apologized for the delay in her arrival.
I couldn’t wait to break the news. ‘We’ve got him!’ I said.
‘Who? What do you mean?’ asked Dina in bewilderment.
Now it was my turn to be surprised. ‘Don’t you know why you were sent here?’
‘No,’ she said. ‘They told me I’d receive instructions when I got here.’
I laughed, and told her what had happened the previous day. Dina was dumbfounded. She was new to the work and had no idea that one of our activities was hunting war criminals. She had read about Eichmann in the novel Exodus, but she had never thought of him as a living man. The thought that she would have to live in the same house with a mass murderer shocked her.
I explained that she would have to go to Tira to pose as the girl friend of the man who had rented the house, Yitzhak, and to make life at Tira appear as natural as possible. I arranged a time for Yitzhak to take her to the house.
She went back to her hotel to check out, and a little later Yitzhak came for her in a taxi. They went to where Yitzhak’s car, loaded with supplies for the ‘besieged’ in the safe house, was parked. Close to six-thirty Dina arrived at Tira.
19
THOSE FIRST few days after the capture were by no means pleasant. We were isolated from both Argentina and the rest of the world, and thus had no not
ion of how Klement’s family had reacted to his disappearance. They may have decided to look for him themselves, or they may have turned to the Nazi colony in Argentina for help, or they may have appealed to the police. We didn’t know whether they were raising an outcry or handling the matter quietly. There was no source of information other than the press, and the press carried not one word about a certain German resident of San Fernando.
Under such circumstances all I could do was try to assess the situation on the basis of known facts and pure logic. I arrived at the following evaluation:
When her husband was late coming home Vera Eichmann would undoubtedly begin to fear for his safety. She wouldn’t immediately suspect, however, that he had been abducted by people who knew his true identity. She would first consider that he had been injured in an accident or that something had gone wrong at work. Instead of going to the police right away, she would most likely first try to find out from one of his friends at work if Ricardo had left at the usual time or if he had mentioned that he wasn’t going straight home. Once she had learned that everything had been all right at his place of employment, she would probably try to find out whether he had been involved in an accident on the way home. It could be assumed, I told myself, that for a day or two she would make discreet inquiries at the first-aid stations and hospitals in the area to find out if any injured person by the name of Klement had been brought there. She would then try all the friends her husband was likely to turn to if he were suddenly called away or if he were warned that he had better not go home or get in touch with any of his family.
Only if all these inquiries had no results would she consider appealing to the police; even then she wouldn’t be in a hurry to turn to them, because the police would treat this as no more than a routine disappearance. They would tell her to try hospitals and friends of the family. They would also surely question her about relations between her husband and herself. This could be embarrassing: Was Klement often drunk? Were there fights? Arguments? Was he mixed up with some other woman? And like police the world over, they would finally tell her that husbands disappear and return and all she had to do was wait patiently until homesickness brought him back.