The Masada Faktor (11 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY

I
was invited back to visit the Goldins in Jerusalem for a three-day weekend. I was eager to go. I wanted to tell them everything about my life in Israel in regard to the mystery. I needed help. We had been talking on the phone and I liked them very much.

Before leaving for Jerusalem I messaged Absalom again and told him that I was going to be in his area and if he wanted to continue our friendship that we needed to meet as soon as possible. He had said he lived in Jerusalem and I told him I would be there for the weekend. I didn’t receive an answer right away and that troubled me.

Then he messaged, “No, we cannot meet, you cannot know my real identity yet.”

I arrived in Jerusalem on a Friday morning and wanted to take a few photos inside the bus station after I disembarked. I liked the look of where the buses lined up inside and snapped a few shots. Before I could get through the door into the terminal, I was approached by two uniformed policemen.

“What did I do?” I asked in a sweet, polite voice.

“Why are you photographing the bus station?” One of the policeman spoke English.

I went through the same spiel that I had said to the cop at the Haifa Port. It worked, and I deleted the last few photos. We had a friendly chat and lots of smiles and they let me proceed.

The Goldins were waiting for me in the pickup zone outside the Central Bus Station. We found parking and went to
Mahana Yehuda
Market, the glorious Jerusalem
Shuk
. We bought some beautiful produce for the long weekend. I got some cherry tomatoes that reminded me of giant red pearls. The radishes were the biggest I had ever seen. We bought cauliflower, three kinds of lettuce, beets, kohlrabi, green onions, cabbage, mangos, pomegranates, grapes, and pears.

Dalia was planning to make Tunisian roasted chicken for Friday night dinner and we would make enough salads and side dishes to get us through
Shabbat
. I was in the process of getting her recipes down in my notebook and looked forward to some cooking lessons.

Before getting back to their house, Arthur and Dalia wanted to take me on a little tour around the Gush, also known as Gush Etzion, a bunch of Jewish communities which included the area between Jerusalem and Hebron. This was an important location that was fiercely fought over during 1947 and 1948 during Israel’s War of Independence.

It was Friday, June 13, 2014 and we were driving around and they were pointing out different places to me when we noticed a television camera crew set up at a bus stop and also in the median area of the road. We hadn’t heard any news and I remember wondering if they were filming a documentary.

As soon as we arrived at the Goldin’s home and turned on the TV, we heard the news. The night before on June 12, Gilad Sha’ar, Eyal Yifrah, and Naftali Fraenkel, students from a nearby
Yeshiva,
had been kidnapped at the very spot where the TV reporters and cameras had been. The teenagers were
tremping
home from one of the many religious schools in the area. Hitchhiking is common in Israel, and the kidnappers took advantage of this to grab the boys.

I learned a lot about the Goldin family that weekend. Arthur was American and had come to Israel to take Hebrew classes and live on a
kibbutz
in 1967. He met Dalia, a beautiful Israeli
Sabra
on the
kibbutz
where she had grown up. In those days the
kibbutzim
were rural communities based upon the premise of socialism entwined with Zionism. The first one was established in 1909. The
kibbutzniks
are credited with making the desert bloom.

Arthur and Dalia fell in love in ’67 but Arthur went back to the United States and was drafted into the Vietnam War. After the war ended he returned to Israel where he and Dalia were married. Arthur volunteered to become a member of the Israeli Defense Forces and served for twenty years, both on active duty and in the reserves, mostly in and around Lebanon. They raised a beautiful family and they were happy. I felt completely accepted into their lives. They had adopted me.

Arthur had told me about the day he arrived in Israel. “I landed in a black out during the Six Day War. The Egyptians were progressing across the Sinai. Israel had already won the war in the first six hours.”

“I had sold my motorcycle, a red Bridgestone 60cc with Ohio license plates before I left for Israel. My dad was so excited that I was going to Israel that he bought it back from the guy I sold it to and shipped it to me as a surprise. The first thing I did was drive across a mine field on my cycle on the road between Netanya and Tulkarem without knowing it. I was promptly picked up by the IDF and interrogated. Of course they didn’t understand a word I was saying.”

Arthur promised that he would tell me a lot of stories about his time in the IDF. But he hadn’t spoken much about his tour in Vietnam except that he had been trained to be a helicopter mechanic. He said that he didn’t really see that much action. I kind of doubted that from the look in his eyes. Later when he returned to Israel, the IDF was quite interested in using his skills.

We were sitting at their dining room table drinking tea. “I need your help with something that involved my recent trip to Masada. But more than that I need your friendship.” I was hoping that I would not cause them any unease.

“We are happy to have you in our lives.” They were both saying this at the same time and I jumped up to hug them both. And then I told them about The Masada Faktor.

I told Arthur and Dalia the entire story of The Masada Faktor, except for the part about having sex with Saul. They were stunned. They offered to help me in any way that they could. I told them that there might be some danger involved.

Dalia laughed. “You think Arthur is afraid of anything? No way!”

I told the Goldins about Absalom, but did not go into too much detail about the sexting. I thought his getting involved with the clues at Masada quite odd and I told the Goldins about my online disclosures, but that they did not include information about The Masada Faktor mystery.

Arthur and Dalia both believed that he was part of the mystery and wanted me to cut it off with him. I was angry that Absalom had refused to meet me or disclose his identity. I was playing with fire on that front. But not for much longer.

I found a print shop and made a copy of the old German document and gave it to Arthur. He would try to get it translated.

Everything in Israel changed that weekend when the three kidnapped boys did not come home. We were all worried sick. Returning to Tel Aviv after the weekend, I had a foreboding feeling. I was feeling the same as all the Jewish population in Israel at that time. The kidnapped boys were our family and we were terrified that they had come to some harm.

People began to get agitated. You could tell at the bus stops, on the buses, and in the markets. Everyone looked worried. Something had changed. It was in the air.

At Hebrew class the following morning the instructor was practically hysterical about the kidnapping and told us she was sure the boys were dead. We didn’t want to believe her and argued with her about it. We spent the entire class time discussing various aspects of the situation. She told us it wasn’t good and we believed her. After all, she was a
Sabra
and she had lived in Israel her entire life. She knew the score. We were all terrified as to what might happen next.

During March and April while I had been living in Haifa the country had seen a rise in the number of terror attacks and it was increasing since the month before I had come to Israel. An increase in rocket attacks from Gaza was not a good sign.

Besides the rocket attacks, there were plenty of firebombs, stabbings, stone and concrete block throwing in Judea, Samaria, and other places within the Green Line, the old demarcation lines set out in the 1949 Armistice Agreements.

Steadily, the rocket attacks from Gaza were increasing, although at this point they hadn’t done too much damage and had not reached central Israel. But the residents in southern Israel were under incredible stress.

In April and May the increase in terror attacks seemed to concentrate in Judea and Samaria. In May the high-trajectory launchings from the twenty-five mile long Gaza Strip and Sinai started to intensify.

Jerusalem was having a rise in firebomb terror attacks. Now, with the
Yeshiva
boys kidnapped, that and all attacks were all over the news and all that everyone was talking about. Most bus drivers drove with their radios on. You could stop and ask a taxi driver, pedestrians, shop keeper, or just about anyone what was going on and it seemed like no one did not know. The country seemed transfixed.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

T
wo weeks had gone by and the kidnapped boys were still missing. I heard that there was going to be a rally in Rabin Square which I wanted to attend. At first I was fearful, as I knew that Rabin Square was where the assassination of Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin had taken place. My fear was not as strong as my desire to be in solidarity with my people, so I walked there from my flat, which was not far from Rabin Square and I got there quite early.

I was near the stage, able to stand right behind the fence that was set up to separate the crowd from the chairs for the families of the boys and dignitaries that would attend. Within a short time, the Square filled up with thousands of people. I was boxed in but I didn’t care. I felt no claustrophobia or anxiety, just unity.

The music began with the IDF chorus singing
Ha’Tikvah,
the national anthem of Israel
.
I was taking pictures and looking around. The rally was called ‘Bring Back Our Boys.’ I was wearing my yellow, rubber bracelet with those words, given to me by some kids, the night before, near Gordon beach where Israeli dancing took place.

Giant TV screens flashed slide shows with the kidnapped boys and their favorite music. The boys’ lives, their families, and their friends were so real; we all had hope that they were still alive. One by one the kidnapped boys’ mothers got up and spoke about their children and begged for all children to be left out of the conflict.

There were many important people there and the tens of thousands of supporters with Israeli flags united in supporting the three families. A lot of speakers participated and I recognized the American Ambassador to Israel sitting not far from me.

After it was over, I realized that I was hungry and thirsty. I stopped into a bar on Ben Gurion Boulevard and ordered a hamburger and a beer. The bartender offered me a free shot of Arak.

I said, “Only if you join me.”

He seemed pleased and we toasted to the safe return of the kidnapped boys. The Arak, an anise-flavored liquor, was a traditional alcoholic drink in the Middle East. I drank it down in one gulp and it burned my throat and made my eyes water. The bartender, of course, was gorgeous and we got into a conversation about the kidnapping. I didn’t stay long after finishing my meal, as I had plans the next morning to return to Masada.

Originally, the plan was to meet Arthur and Dalia Goldin at the Dead Sea National Park for a picnic. I called them and told them that I needed to go to Masada first and would call them from there. This time I wouldn’t take a tour bus. I’d planned to get a #5 bus from Tel Aviv’s Alozorov Station to Jerusalem Central Bus Station via one of many choices of buses, and from there get the #444 directly to Masada.

It would be a long trip but I figured that I’d be welcome to spend the night with the Goldins in Jerusalem. I didn’t have a specific plan, but strongly felt the need to see Masada one more time to look at the five locations and see if I felt like I missed anything.

Now that I knew that Saul was Hershel the Kapo’s son and that the conspiracy was real, I could possibly see something that I missed. Arthur had told me to be careful of being followed. And Dalia was especially concerned. They decided to pick me up at Masada instead of meeting me at the Dead Sea and would arrive at 1:00 PM. We agreed to stay in touch by phone or text before that.

Looking around for someone that might be following me made me very nervous. My timing had been pretty good in getting to Arlozorov Station, but it was crowded. As I waited for another bus to Jerusalem I saw someone who looked like the German Arab. He was in normal Western style clothing and wearing a baseball cap, so I couldn’t be sure if it was actually him.

Fear was gripping me and as I got on the bus I decided to find a soldier to sit by. They always had their automatic weapons with them on the buses. I sat down next to the first soldier I spotted that had a window seat. The fellow I thought was Tajir got on and went to the rear. I pretended not to notice him and smiled at the soldier.

When I got to Jerusalem I didn’t see the German Arab. He must have gotten off from the rear door. There was about a half hour before the #444 was leaving for Masada, so I went around to where the Ne’eman Bakery was on the first floor to buy some pastries, coffee, and water for the rest of the trip. I wanted to get a particular coffee cake that I knew Arthur loved, to surprise him. I packed it into my backpack leaving a pastry out to eat while I waited for the next bus.

When I boarded the #444 I looked around carefully in the bus and did not see the German Arab. I breathed a sigh of relief, settled into a seat further back this time and drank my coffee.

It was a little after 1:00 PM when I arrived at Masada. I felt relief that the weather was cooler than it was the last time I was there. I texted to Dalia that I had arrived at Masada, and she replied that they had been delayed but were on their way. I texted back that I would wait for them at the top of Masada.

The cable car was starting to fill up and I got on. Suddenly, I realized that the German Arab was right by me. He stuck a gun in my ribs and put a finger to his lips to signal me to be quiet. The three minute ride seemed to take much longer. I noticed that he was licking his lips.

I was trying hard to breathe. There wasn’t much time to think. As the door slid open he pulled me back to the rear. The other riders got off. The cable car conductor also stepped out and then the German Arab somehow slammed the door shut and jumped into the driver seat and let the brake go. I was jolted to the floor and the cable car went in reverse.

I was howling, “Stop, stop, let me out!” He didn’t answer, but then the cable car stopped. I got up off the floor and looked out, we seemed to be halfway between the up and down route. He jumped off the seat and faced me.

“Don’t you see what you have done?” He was angry, and I didn’t respond. I was looking for his gun. I didn’t know where he put it but it wasn’t in his hand at that moment.

“What do you want from me?” My voice was hoarse from yelling. I needed a drink of water.

He started bellowing, “Shut up Jew! You think you can come here and stop our plans?”

“What are you talking about, I am just here to live my life! Who are you and what do you want from me?” I didn’t know what to expect, but I stopped talking in order to let him speak.

“You may as well know that my name is Tajir, and I am the son of Joachim. My father was a proud German soldier who worked with Millie’s grandfather in service of the Fuhrer. We have known of you for a very long time and we have been waiting for you to come to Israel. There is nothing you can do to stop the plan.”

“You mean I was in your scope? How dare you!” My anger was not getting me anywhere and I made a conscious effort to slow my breathing.

In the meantime, Arthur and Dalia had arrived and must have noticed that one of the two cable cars was stopped at the halfway point. I heard the notification sound on my smart phone that I had a text message. When I didn’t answer, Arthur would had alerted the Masada security. I hoped.

I was trying to keep Tajir talking. “Why do you think I am here to disrupt your plans? What plans are you talking about? Who do you think I am? I am your friend’s roommate, that’s all.”

“At first I only thought you were an annoyance, just the stupid daughter of a stinken Jewess from slave labor. You must be punished for what you did to me in Haifa and also for your idiotic snooping into our affairs.” Tajir was clearly agitated and out of his crazy mind.

“Come on Tajir, you are going to kill me anyway, why don’t you tell me who you are and what The Masada Faktor really is?” I was torturing myself trying to think of a plan.

Tajir had a faraway look in his eyes. “I am the eldest son of Joachim. My father was a very important man in the Third Reich. He moved to Egypt after the end of the war, converted to Islam and married my mother, a good Arab woman. I was groomed to continue the important work that Germany had started. When the time came, I was sent to Haifa to be with the German Templar community and to await my orders.”

I didn’t want him to stop talking so I asked, “Where is your father?”

“My father is sick, he had a stroke in 1976 but he is still alive in a care facility.”

I continued, “Who else is involved? Weren’t there six Nazis?”

Tajir was shouting and his English was becoming mixed with German and Arabic but I was able to decipher some of what he was saying, that Bruno and Wilhelm were dead.

At that point he became angrier. “Why am I telling you any of this?” He started to rant about the devotion of the group to exterminate the Jews once and for all, and was waving both hands at me. His spittle hit me in the eye.

“What about Saul? Where is he? Do you know who Absalom is?” I was on a need-to-know basis, and really needed to know. But he didn’t answer any of my questions, as the cable car abruptly moved with a jolt.

It appeared that Masada security had been able to begin to pull the cable car back up, but slowly. It was moving upward possibly inch by inch. The movement made him turn around and I took my backpack and hit him in the head with it. That didn’t do anything, really, except enrage him further and he pulled his gun from his waistband.

Thinking that I had a second or two until the hand holding the gun came back to pointing at me, I decided to try an axe kick on him. A front axe kick requires more flexibility than a real axe kick, but I didn’t want to telegraph my intentions by rotating my hip to increase the height of my kick. Besides, he wasn’t taller than me so I quickly brought my right leg straight up, and leaning back slightly, brought my leg down with full force, aiming my heel on the wrist of his hand that held the gun.

The hard bone of my heel knocked the gun from his hand. This caught him completely off balance and I jumped toward him sticking two fingers directly into his larynx as hard as I could.

Before he could recover I had the gun pointed on him. “I will kill you, you stinking Nazi,” I was yelling and crying and then we were back at the top. Masada security and Arthur and Dalia were there. Arthur took the gun from me and handed it to security.

Dalia came to me and comforted me as best she could by hugging me and whispering in my ear. “
Hacol beseder
, everything will be all right. Natasha, you are not in danger now.”

I was questioned by Masada security with Arthur and Dalia interpreting for me. I told them about the other confrontations with Tajir. He was arrested and I was to be summoned back for questioning at a later time.

Arthur had taken care of the situation for the time being. He said that we really didn’t have enough evidence to present the entire story of Mother’s mystery to the authorities yet. But he had promised that he’d bring me in the next day to give a more detailed statement to Israeli police.

We drove to the Dead Sea in Arthur’s car to get some ice cold drinks, relax in the mineral hot tubs, and then float in the Sea. Dalia had brought a beautiful picnic lunch. I pulled out the coffee cake which was totally flattened after hitting Tajir in the head with my backpack. We had a good laugh out of that. We could not allow what had happened at Masada to ruin our afternoon. Being Israelis, all three of us agreed on that.

Later they took me back to their place where we worked on what I would tell the Masada police. At least Tajir was in custody and I was relieved and safe again.

Arthur and Dalia took me back to Masada in the morning to answer questions from Masada security. Then they drove me to downtown Jerusalem to catch a bus back to Tel Aviv.