The Jerusalem Assassin (32 page)

“The holy Sabbath.” He pressed a button, and the bed rose to a sitting position. “My last Sabbath.”

The guard’s blushing discomfort was exactly what Elie expected.

“A person can feel the end. Do you know?”

The guard looked away. “Well, I’ll be outside.”

“Is there a synagogue here?” He knew the answer. Hadassah Hospital had a chapel on the lobby level, where a rabbi led services three times a day. “I want to pray before I die.”

“We’re not supposed to—”

“You can see.” Elie tried to smile. “I can’t run away.”

The guard stuck his head out the door and exchanged a few words with his partner. They helped Elie out of bed and into a wheelchair. A short elevator ride took them down to the lobby, where they followed a sign to the synagogue.

It was a windowless room with a modest wooden ark. About fifteen men, most of them in hospital gowns, rocked over prayer books. The rabbi was a youngish man with a short beard and glasses. He read each portion of the evening service in a thin, pleading voice.

Once Elie’s wheelchair was secured at the back of the room, one of the guards fetched a yarmulke and put it on Elie’s head. The other gave him a prayer book. They went to the door and stood just outside, engaged in a hushed conversation.

When the service reached a quiet part, with each man murmuring the prayers, Elie caught the rabbi’s eye. He came over and shook Elie’s hand. “May God bless you with a full and complete recovery.”

“I’m dying,” Elie said, leaning forward, his lips close by the rabbi’s ear. “I must get my own rabbi’s blessing, but they’re not letting me call him.”

The rabbi glanced at the two guards. “I’m sorry, but this is not something I can help—”

“Rabbi Abraham Gerster of Neturay Karta. Have you heard of him?”

The rabbi’s eyes widened. “Who hasn’t?”

“Tomorrow night,” Elie said, his voice masked by the praying men around them, “after the Sabbath, go there and give him this note.” He pressed a piece of paper into the rabbi’s hand. “God will reward you for helping a dying Jew.”

*

The bench they were sitting on faced the low wall. As Lemmy stood up, his eye caught a movement among the trees by the giant chess board. “How many people did you bring?”

“None.”

“The Israeli Mossad sends a woman alone on a mission?”

“I expected a business meeting with a nervous banker,” Tanya said, “not a shootout.” She started to turn around.

“Don’t look.” He pretended to tie his shoe. “Perhaps your superiors sent a backup team?”

“I run all Mossad activities in Europe.”

He was impressed. “Could your subordinates have followed to watch your back?”

“Not without my knowledge.”

“There’s a man in a beige coat over there.”

“Maybe he’s a local getting some fresh air?”

“In this weather? Crouching behind a tree? I don’t think so.” Lemmy took her arm. “Are you armed?”

“No. I flew commercial from Tel Aviv this morning.” She leaned against him as they strolled toward the chess boards and the only exit. “How many bullets do you have left?”

“Enough for another tragic mistake. Could it be a Shin Bet team?”

“No way. Only Mossad is allowed to operate outside Israel, and I’d know if another team was here.”

“Elie operates outside Israel.”

“SOD is independent. It’s not a government agency. And Elie knows better than to interfere with Mossad.” Tanya bent down, pretending to fix her boot. “Could be a remnant of Abu Yusef’s group. Perhaps they followed you.”

“Impossible.”

“Didn’t I manage to find you? The Arabs are no less sophisticated these days, and the money transfer to Senlis came from your bank with your signature.”

They kept strolling. A chess board now separated them from the hiding man. The Mauser was ready in Lemmy’s hand. “Get down!”

Tanya dropped, and Lemmy broke into a sprint. His first bullet hit the tree trunk, and the target leaped a short distance, hiding behind another tree, yelling something. Lemmy shot again, the pop of the silencer followed by the knock of his bullet on the side of the trunk and the splash of bark pieces. The target yelled again, still behind the same tree, coattail fluttering in the wind.

Lemmy closed in.

His next shot must have grazed the target, who lost his nerve and ran. Lemmy stopped, aimed carefully at the next gap between the trees, estimated the time to catch the target as he passed, and released the shot.

The target screamed and fell.

Holding the Mauser steady, Lemmy advanced, aiming at the head.

“
Al tirah,
” the target yelled in Hebrew. “Don’t shoot!”

Lemmy kept the Mauser aimed, finger on the trigger. “Are you Israeli?”

“Yes!” The man was short and bald and wore eyeglasses. “
Ai yai yai!
I’m wounded!”

“What Torah chapter did you read for your Bar Mitzvah?”

“
Ahhh!
My leg!”

“Answer me if you want to live.”

“I don’t remember! The story of the golden calf!”

“What happened to Korach and his men?”

“Shit! You’re
meshugah!
” He moaned and curled on the ground, blood pooling under his leg. “They died, okay?”

“How?”

“The ground swallowed them! It should swallow you too!”

Lemmy reached under the man’s coat, exposing a shoulder holster. He pulled out the gun, a standard Beretta, and tossed it far into the trees. “Why didn’t you shoot back?”

Tanya reached them. “Identify yourself!”

The man shifted to look at her, causing his shattered leg to twist. “
Ahhh!
”

“He speaks Hebrew,” Lemmy said. “Seems like your Mossad colleagues don’t trust you.”

“Plenty of Arabs speak Hebrew,” she said. “Who do you work for? Abu Yusef?”

He groaned in pain.

“Okay,” Lemmy said. “I’ll shoot his other leg.”

“No! My name’s Tuvia Berr. Help me!”

Surveying the area, Lemmy said, “I don’t see anyone else.”

“He must be one of Abu Yusef’s—learned Hebrew in a refugee camp.”

“Right.” Aiming the Mauser at the man’s face, Lemmy said, “Say hello to Allah.”

“No!”

“Tell us who you are,” Tanya said, “and we’ll get you medical help.”

Rising halfway to a sitting position, the man uttered hoarsely, “Shin Bet.”

“Impossible.” Tanya patted the man’s pockets, finding nothing. “You’re lying.”

“If you’re Shin Bet,” Lemmy said, “then tell us who to call for help.”

The man recited a phone number.

“A Paris number?” Lemmy committed the digits to memory. “We’ll try it, but if you’re lying—”

“Make the call!” The man fell back, panting. “Ask for Number One.”

Lemmy removed the man’s belt and tied a makeshift tourniquet around the leg wound. He buttoned up the coat to keep the man warm. “By the way, which one of us were you following?”

The man pointed at Tanya.

They left him and hurried down the cobblestone street.

“He’s lying,” she said. “Shin Bet is limited to domestic security.”

“Maybe they consider you a security risk?”

“
Domestic
security. It means within Israel’s borders, which doesn’t include Zurich, Switzerland.”

“Not yet. And who’s Number One?”

“Can’t be the chief of Mossad. He’s in Turkey. We spoke last night. This is a crucial time for Israel. We need support in each country for the Oslo Accords. We’re enlisting various secret services to help us prevent attacks on Jewish targets. A couple of extravagant terrorist attacks could sway the Israeli public against Rabin and his peace policies.”

“Could this Number One be the chief of Shin Bet?”

“In Europe? No way. And to put a tail on me? Only the prime minister has the authority to order an investigation of someone at my rank, and then only Mossad’s own internal affairs division could do it, not Shin Bet.”

“Maybe Rabin made an exception?”

“Send Shin Bet agents outside Israel? They’d be operating outside their immunity from criminal prosecution, outside their chain of command, and outside the law. It could be a cause for dismissal, possibly criminal indictment. That’s the whole point of separating the secret services!”

“We’ll soon find out.” At a pay phone on the corner of Bahnhofstrasse, Lemmy inserted a phone card into the slot, punched in the number, and held the receiver near his ear so that Tanya could listen in.

“Hello?” It was a male voice.

“Tuvia Berr,” Lemmy said, trying his best to imitate the injured man, “calling for Number One.”

“This is Number One. Did you lose her?”

“The opposite.”

“She’s with you?”

“Aha.”

There was brief silence on the other line. “Take her to your hotel room. Use all means to extract everything she knows about Weiss. And keep her locked up until I personally give you new orders. Understood?”

“Okay.” Lemmy hung up. “Recognize the voice?”

She nodded, her lips pressed together until they bleached.

“Chief of the Shin Bet?”

Another nod.

Lemmy glanced surreptitiously in both directions, detecting no irregular activity on the busy street. He called the police, informed the dispatcher about a wounded man in Lindenhof Park, and hung up before they asked any questions.

“They’ve gone rogue!” Tanya grabbed the receiver and punched in a series of numbers. “I must alert my team in Paris.” She waited, but no one answered.

*

The prayers concluded with the singing of
Adon Olam
, praising the Master of the Universe for His creation, His oneness, and His mercy. Rabbi Abraham Gerster kept his eyes on the prayer book while the men of Neturay Karta departed the synagogue. When they were all gone, Benjamin came over and greeted him, “Sabbath Shalom, Rabbi.”

“Sabbath Shalom, Benjamin. Why don’t you send your boys ahead, so the two of us can talk?”

Benjamin complied, and Rabbi Gerster held his arm as they walked into the chilly night. The alleys were empty, lit by the glow from the windows of the apartments overhead, where families were gathering for the Friday night meal. Muffled voices came through, singing,
“Shalom aleichem, malachey ha’sharet
. Welcome, angels of peace, angels of heaven.”

“You want to ask me about the woman journalist,” Rabbi Gerster said, “but you hold back. A leader must not be timid.”

“It’s my respect, not timidity.”

“Is there a difference?” Rabbi Gerster chuckled. “You know what Ecclesiastes said about the cycle of life, yes? Everything has a beginning and an end.”

“He also said that there is a time for war and a time for peace.”

“True. And a time to plant and a time to root out the planted.” He squeezed Benjamin’s arm. “All the sages interpret Ecclesiastes as a serious philosopher, but I sometimes think he was writing comedy.”

“Comedy?”

“You could read his pontification as joking about how our scriptures—everyone’s scriptures, in fact—can be read to support contradictory agendas, how the righteous can find divine authority in the scriptures for anything one wants to preach—love and hate, forgiveness and revenge, peace and war. You can find words in the Torah or Talmud, in the Koran or the New Testament, to proclaim God’s divine support of your agenda, whatever it is—and I say this from experience.”

They reached the entrance to the apartment building where Benjamin lived. He leaned against the stone wall, as if feeling weak. “But Talmud is the absolute truth, right?”

“Absolute truth is in the eye of the beholder.” Rabbi Gerster pointed upstairs. “Itah Orr is helping me investigate the truth.”

“Here?”

“No. Outside of Neturay Karta. This community is now your responsibility. Should something happen—”

“To you?”

“To me. To others. Events might take unexpected turns. Our community includes some of the most feverish minds. In times of political upheaval, emotions tend to spike up. A few of our people might erroneously breach our tradition of insular Talmud studying and devout prayer. They might advocate political subversion and impious violence. As leader of Neturay Karta, you must face those hotheads decisively. You must smother each fire before it spreads.”

“But you will help me, yes?”

“I know your strengths.” He patted Benjamin’s bearded cheek. “And I know your weaknesses. But this is a time for strength only. God is testing our community, while the secular society around us tears itself apart over the Oslo Accords. Israel is in the midst of political crisis of the worst kind.”

“That’s no surprise,” Benjamin said. “Zionism has always been a rebellion against God, so how could it succeed?”

“There’s time for gleefulness, and there’s time for a clear mind. Do not heed your heart, even when it feels broken.”

“By your absence?”

“Or by what people might say about me.”

Benjamin’s face was white against the darkness. “I don’t understand!”

“All I’m saying is that, as a leader, your duty is to keep our men’s noses in their books of Talmud and out of the news, no matter what happens to me.”

*

Down in the bowels of Zurich’s central railway station, they stood on the platform while the train to Amsterdam hissed with pressurized air. Tanya held on to him. “I don’t want to lose you again. What if they come after you?”

“You’re the one being hunted.” Lemmy glanced at his watch. “There is a reason to this madness. Could it be the fortune hidden in my bank?”

“But no one knows about it except Elie, Abraham, me, and you.”

“Maybe the Shin Bet is running a high-stake operation in Israel, and Elie somehow figured out what they’re up to? Or the other way around—Shin Bet has stumbled on a rogue SOD operation?”

“But Elie is locked up. Why would Shin Bet engage in something so outrageous as going after me?”

“They probably suspect that, when you apprehended him in Paris, Elie told you what’s going on. And we must assume they’re not just speculating. Something triggered their extreme reaction. Try to remember. Did he say anything?”

“Not a word. But even if that’s what they’re worried about, I mean, for the Shin Bet to break the law by going to Europe, putting a tail on me and disabling my team—”