Hunting Eichmann (21 page)

"Are you absolutely certain?" Juan asked, not wanting to return to Aharoni with any doubts.

The carpenter nodded. He had done work at the house, and the German still owed him some money. Then Juan asked him about Dito, explaining that he had said he was the son of Klement but that he had never delivered the package. The carpenter thought that Klement had only a young son, no more than eight years old, but that he lived with Dito's mother, who had three sons from her first marriage.

Juan thanked the carpenter and walked over to the mechanic's shop. Dito came out into the yard, recognizing him. "And what do you want this time?" he said.

Juan told his story again, how his friend was potentially facing a fine of 500 pesos.

Dito grew hostile. "How come? If she wanted to send it to my brother, why did she not write down my brother's correct name? There is no Nick Klement. It's Nick Eichmann."

At a café near the Israeli embassy later that night, Aharoni waited nervously for Juan. He knew that sending the young Argentine back to the house was a desperate move, potentially disastrous, but he did not feel that he had any other choice. When Juan appeared, he was stripped of his usual smile and looking worn down.

"What happened?" Aharoni asked worriedly.

Juan explained that he now had specific directions to the family's new house. Aharoni could not understand how
this
would depress him, since that was what they had been searching for over the past week, without success. Juan then admitted, "We followed the wrong person. The name's not Klement. It's Eichmann."

Aharoni could have leapt from his seat onto the table, but he restrained himself. "Ah. Never mind. Don't worry about it," he said.

Juan also explained that on asking where Mr. Klement was, Dito had said that he was in Tucumán on business. Aharoni thanked Juan for his fine work and urged him never to speak to another soul about their investigation. In parting, Aharoni reassured him, "We'll find the right man."

13

AHARONI CRAWLED ALONG
Route 202 in his rented station wagon, past a kiosk on the corner to his left. It was late afternoon on March 12, but the sun was still high enough in the sky for him to get a good look at the house. The directions the carpenter had given Juan had played out perfectly so far, and Aharoni had passed several stops on the route of bus 203 from the center of San Fernando. Boosting his confidence that he was on the right track, he remembered coming to this same kiosk a few days before while following the moped.

A railway embankment crossed the road 150 yards ahead, but otherwise the area was level and almost completely featureless. It was a poor, sparsely populated section of San Fernando, without telephone or electrical lines. Fifty yards before the short tunnel that passed underneath the railway, a street turned to the left. On this, Aharoni spotted a one-story brick house with a large wooden door and tiny windows. The masonry was unrendered and the roof flat—just as the carpenter had described. This was the house; Aharoni was sure of it. Apart from a cottage twenty yards up the street, there was not another place within a couple of hundred yards. The house looked more like a provincial jail than a home, an impression reinforced by the barred windows and the low brick wall and chicken wire fence surrounding the property. A wooden shed in the corner of the barren yard could have been an isolation cell.

Driving past, Aharoni saw a woman in a faded sundress sitting on the edge of the porch. A young boy in his underwear, no older than six, played at her feet. The woman was short and thick-bodied, with slightly graying black hair—probably in her fifties. Aharoni suspected that he might be looking at Vera Eichmann and her fourth son, who must have been born after she arrived in Argentina. He continued underneath the railway bridge, stunned at the poverty in which the family was living—worse even than the Olivos house.

Later that night, Aharoni parked fifteen minutes' walk away from the house. It was almost pitch-black, the moon and stars hidden behind clouds. He followed a street that ran parallel to Route 202. Dogs barked in the distance, and as he neared the house, he grew worried that he might run across one of them. But the barking was from somewhere else and had carried across the plain. He was close enough to see the dim light from a kerosene lamp through one of the windows. There was no sign of the supposed stepfather, Mr. Klement, but Aharoni did not expect to see him, since Dieter Eichmann had told Juan that he was in Tucumán.

If Adolf Eichmann lived in the house, he would very likely be back for his silver wedding anniversary a week later, on March 21. Before then, however, Aharoni hoped to confirm that Klement was indeed Eichmann. He needed proof.

In Tel Aviv, Harel excitedly read Aharoni's latest coded message. Although his agent was moving aggressively, chancing his exposure, he was also proving to be more than effective. The Eichmann family had been identified, and Aharoni knew where they lived. In a short while, Harel suspected, Aharoni would confirm whether the man living with the family was Adolf Eichmann himself. Until certain, Harel hesitated to assemble a team for the capture operation.

He drafted a cable to Gat that he cease his actions in Austria. Since they had located Vera Eichmann and her sons, further inquiries might scare the extended family into alerting them. Harel also telephoned Haim Cohen. On the orders of Ben-Gurion, they were to sit down together to finalize the legal justification for the Israelis to capture a German citizen on foreign soil and bring him to trial in an Israeli court. Harel knew that Cohen remained convinced that there was more legal standing for the West Germans to try Eichmann, but they both understood that this was largely a nonissue because their prime minister wanted justice to be served on behalf of the victims of Eichmann's actions.

Two days later, on March 14, at the Waldorf-Astoria in New York, the leaders of West Germany and Israel were meeting for the first time, an occasion of historic and symbolic importance. Ben-Gurion needed to secure a good relationship with Adenauer: this would help tamp down any tensions that might arise were Eichmann caught, although there were decidedly more important issues at stake. In his suite, Adenauer warmly greeted the Israeli prime minister, and the two sat down for a long private conversation. Ben-Gurion hoped to obtain half a billion dollars in economic aid and to further the ongoing illegal arms transfers from West Germany to Israel. Adenauer was looking to bolster his alliance with Israel, a relationship with its own secret military and intelligence advantages for his country. Also critical at that moment was the chancellor's desire to show his people and the international community that the recent outbreak of anti-Semitic attacks was a false representation of the new Germany. He had to exorcise the ghosts of the past.

After the two statesmen concluded their warm meeting, they went to speak to the press. Adenauer expressed how deeply moved he had been by Ben-Gurion and how certain he was that continued reparations served both countries. Ben-Gurion added how pleased he was to have met the West German chancellor, then concluded by saying, "I belong to a nation which cannot forget its past. We do not remember the past in order to brood over it, but in order that we may go on in the certainty that it will not repeat itself. Last summer I said in the Israeli Parliament that the Germany of today is not the Germany of yesterday. Having now met Adenauer, I am convinced that the observation was right." Throughout the meeting, no mention had been made of Eichmann. If Eichmann were captured and were to mention Globke and other ranking members of the Adenauer government, it would be potentially disastrous for the German chancellor. Even so, Ben-Gurion was willing to risk straining relations between the two countries by capturing Eichmann and putting him on trial before an Israeli court.

Back in his Frankfurt office, Fritz Bauer reflected on the meeting between the two statesmen, wondering what impact these discussions would have on the Eichmann manhunt. Despite his ultimatum to the Israelis, they were still moving far too slowly, and he had not had any report of progress since passing his intelligence to Zvi Aharoni several weeks before. No longer willing to depend solely on the Israelis, Bauer had asked the American consul whether the United States would assist in extraditing Nazi war criminals from foreign countries. He was waiting for a response that the Americans would never send. The consul forwarded the request to Washington, but the assistant legal adviser for Europe decided that it was not worth responding to. Although Bauer did not know it, the Israelis were his only hope.

On March 16, Aharoni walked into the San Fernando civil administration headquarters with "Michael," an architect who had emigrated from Israel several years before. After spending a few fruitless days looking into the activities of the Fuldner Company in Tucumán, Aharoni was looking for the proof he needed in the local land records. One did not buy land and build a house without leaving a paper trail.

Using false names and a cover story—that they were interested in purchasing a significant parcel of land for a factory in San Fernando—they requested the names of the people inhabiting the area around where the rail line intersected Route 202. The clerk guaranteed an answer the next day.

Later, as they drove toward the Klement home, Aharoni instructed Michael on their next task. Using a similar cover story—they worked for an American company that was interested in purchasing property in the neighborhood to build a sewing factory—Aharoni hoped to photograph the woman he had seen on the porch to compare with pictures he had of Vera Eichmann.

They parked in front of a cottage adjacent to the Klement house. Michael carried a clipboard, and Aharoni had a briefcase with a camera hidden inside. The lens pointed out of a hole in one side, and a small button by the handle released the shutter. A middle-aged woman appeared from around the side of the cottage. Michael called out a greeting in Spanish and asked her the name of her street. The woman replied that probably none of these dirt side roads had names. Michael explained the reason for his visit, and the woman eagerly offered to sell her house. Inquiries as to who lived next door were less successful. She knew only that they were German and had recently built the house.

While they were speaking, a black-haired woman in her early twenties came toward them from the Klement house. By her looks and accent, she was a native Argentine, and her tone and body language made it clear that she did not like their intrusion on the street. Repeating his cover story, Michael eased her anger, but she was clear that her mother-in-law had no intention of selling the house, nor did she know the name of the street. While Michael was talking to the young woman, Aharoni snapped a couple of pictures. He saw her face turn stern again as she responded that her mother-in-law did not speak Spanish well and could not come out.

When Michael relayed this to Aharoni in English, the woman interrupted him with a nearly flawless command of the language. Aharoni instantly grew nervous, sure that she would notice that he did not have an American accent. She was sharp.

"What's the name of your employer?" she demanded. "What sort of factory were you planning?"

Aharoni wanted to get out of there straightaway. She did not believe them, and if she alerted her husband, he might tell his father about the conversation. This could prove catastrophic.

As Michael began to explain about their sewing factory, she cut him off, wondering why they would want to build in an area without electricity or water. Surely, they were a disreputable company, she declared.

"It's possible there's been a mistake and we've confused the area," Aharoni interjected before turning to Michael and pointing toward the railway. "Let's continue our inquiries on the other side."

They thanked her for her help, retreated to the car, and drove away. Aharoni hoped that he had not just tipped off Eichmann. His aim of getting a photograph of the older woman did not justify the risk. He needed to be more careful.

The next day he learned that their efforts to get a list of landowners also had failed. Apparently, the building office did not keep records on the area because it was sparsely populated, flooded frequently, and lacked any municipal services. Michael had another idea, though. Much of this part of San Fernando had been purchased by a single company, then resold in smaller lots. This company might have the information they needed.

As Michael explored this avenue, Aharoni continued to stake out the house, but he saw no sign of Ricardo Klement. He thought that it might be an advantage to purchase the cottage next door through a third party, as it would serve any operation that the Mossad might launch in the future. He cabled Harel but received a quick reply. "Do Not Buy, Repeat: Not Approved."

The following day, at the embassy, Aharoni met with Michael, who walked toward him waving a piece of paper in the air. "I found the registered owner of plot 14. It's Veronika Liebl de Fichmann."

"I don't know how to thank you. That's exactly what I've been looking for," Aharoni said warmly. He knew exactly what this meant: First, the misspelled name was either a clerical error or an attempt to confuse searchers. Second, they had positively identified the owner of the house as Vera Eichmann. Third, the house was in her name, not her husband's, possibly an effort to keep his name out of the public record. Fourth, and most significantly, she had not remarried, contrary to the story her family was propagating. Otherwise, she would be living under her new husband's name.

Unless Aharoni saw Ricardo Klement and concluded that he did not in any way resemble the photograph he had of Adolf Eichmann, he was certain that he had found the Nazi killer.

"They
looked
like Americans," Margarita said the night after she had confronted the two men outside the house. "They said they wanted to buy a plot of land to build a sewing-machine factory."