“ And the idea that intrigued you most? Was it the duty to kill a person who endangers the life of another Jew?”
“ The duty is not in doubt. Only the scope of it.” Ayala hesitated. “Of course you should stop a person who’s intentionally endangering a Jew. Torah’s Rodef is a murderer in hot pursuit of his victim. The same goes for Moser, a Jew who hands over other Jews to be killed by the Gentiles. But some people argue that the rule applies more widely.” She drew a large circle in the air with her hands.
“ To include someone who’s not actually pursuing or handing over other Jews, but who persists in actions that endanger Jews?”
“ Maybe.”
“ Like a politician who pursues policies that imperil Jewish lives?”
“ Or hands over Jewish land,” Ayala said. “I mean, you could argue that the Land of Israel is as sacred as a Jewish life, so the same concept applies to land concessions, correct?”
“ Are you saying that the Rodef and Moser rules require killing a Jewish leader like Prime Minister Rabin, for example, who’s handing over parts of biblical Israel to the Palestinians?”
“ In theory, it’s a valid line of reasoning, a logical conclusion, don’t you agree?”
“ Was that your boyfriend’s conclusion?” Rabbi Gerster leaned forward, narrowing the distance between them. “Is that why you became uncomfortable?”
“ With Yoni?” She laughed. “Oh, no. Ideas don’t scare me. I love to argue about ideas. I mean, no one’s going to kill anyone. He was just theorizing, you know?”
“ Are you sure?”
“ Of course! We’re law students, and Jewish law is a big thing at Bar Ilan University. We always compare modern Israeli law to the law of Talmud, okay?”
“ Then what scared you about him?”
“ I didn’t like his friends.”
“ The one nicknamed Freckles?”
She nodded, surprised. “You know Freckles?”
“ A lucky guess.” He smiled. “I’ve heard of him.”
“ Oh.” Ayala looked at the window, her face contemplative. “Yoni was secretive. I can’t waste my time on someone who doesn’t share, right? How can we get married if we don’t know everything about each other?”
“ Such as?”
“ Money and stuff. Yoni has nice clothes, a new handgun-”
“ He carries a gun?”
“ We all do. I got a Beretta twenty-two. It’s cheap, but you can’t travel in the territories without a gun.” She patted the pocket of her long skirt.
“ What kind of a gun does he carry?”
“ Also a Beretta, but bigger caliber. He let me shoot it when we went hiking in the desert. It’s nice. I mean, we had fun together. Like, we drove to the Galilee and to Haifa, ate at nice restaurants. But I know his parents don’t have money, so how? ”
“ He must have told you something.”
She rolled her eyes. “Some story about an old Jew who likes Freckles, kind of a sponsor, wants to help religious-nationalistic young men who are dedicated to the Land of Israel.”
“ Did you meet this sponsor?”
“ No.” She laughed. “He supposedly lives in Paris.”
“ Did Yoni mention a name?”
“ No, but I didn’t believe it anyway. Why would a rich old Jew from Paris give money to some Israeli students to buy stuff and take their girlfriends to restaurants? It made no sense.”
“ But the money must have come from somewhere.” Rabbi Gerster tugged at his beard, pondering what she’d said and whether to push any further. “It must be very frustrating for you.”
“ Not anymore.” Ayala smiled, looking very young. “I met someone else. Really nice.”
“ May God bless your new relationship.”
“ Amen.”
“ Would you mind telling me Yoni’s last name?”
“ Yoni Adiel.” She jotted down a number. “Please don’t mention my name.”
*
After sunset, when Gideon and Bathsheba returned to the apartment, Elie took Gideon to bug the phones in the prince’s suite at the Hilton. On the street, Elie noticed police signs along the barricades by the synagogue: No Parking!
“Must be a big function here this coming Sabbath,” Gideon said.
“ This is useless.” Elie stopped and leaned against one of the metal barricades. “To effectively prevent a car bomb, they must block off the street completely, ban all vehicles, and frisk pedestrians. Do they really think a terrorist cares about getting a parking ticket?”
At the Hilton, it took Gideon less than thirty seconds to bypass the cardkey system and enter the suite. He drew his gun and checked the rooms. No one was there, but it clearly served as someone’s permanent living quarters.
One corner of the living area was taken by a desk and a filing cabinet. Gideon started working on the phone. Elie browsed through the files, which contained copies of contracts between Transport International El-Saud and its vendors.
“ Look at this!” Gideon called Elie to the bathroom. It was vast, including a makeup station that accommodated a full-size barber chair. Inside the cabinet, arranged on shelves, were chains, hooks, nooses, studded leather straps, handcuffs, and a horse whip.
Elie shut the cabinet doors. “How stimulating.”
The bathroom phones-one on the counter, another by the toilet-kept Gideon busy for a few more minutes. All bugs were voice-activated and set for the same frequency. The signals could be picked up within a quarter of a mile.
Eleven minutes later they were back in the car. Elie swallowed another pill.
*
Part Three
The Diversion
Saturday, October 21, 1995
They dressed in suits and ties, their black shoes shining. Outside the villa, it was quiet and chilly. Bashir opened the door, and Abu Yusef got into the back seat of the BMW. As they drove out the gate, he looked back over his shoulder and wondered if he would survive the day to sleep here another night. This morning’s attack would be a needle prick compared to what he was planning for the Jews, a sample intended to whet Prince Abusalim’s appetite and reassure him that their group had the competence to shake up the world and shoot down the Oslo Accords. But if Abu Yusef died today, his plans would die with him. Bashir had tried to convince him to assign the job to the younger men, but he had insisted that age was an advantage. The police would stop young Mideast-looking men, whereas two gray-haired gentlemen would likely be allowed to pass through uninspected. Besides, he felt an irresistible urge to take this revenge with his own hands and watch the Jews die with his own eyes.
On the radio, a French woman sang about love. He thought of Al-Mazir and Latif, both of whom he had loved and lost. Now it was the Jews’ turn to lose those whom they loved.
*
Tanya rang the doorbell at Andre Silverman’s art gallery on Avenue Junot, and the lock clicked open. She nodded at her escorts, and they drove off while she took the stairs up to the duplex above the gallery, where Andre lived with Juliette and their son, Laurent.
Andre hugged and kissed her. They had known each other since she had acquired the small bookstore on the ground floor, next to the gallery. The location in the heart of Paris, only a few hundred yards from Moulin De La Galette, made it an ideal front for a Mossad station.
Today was Laurent’s Bar Mitzvah, and Andre had insisted that Tanya come over for breakfast before the synagogue service. The stately house was full of guests, who did their best to avoid collision with the myriad antique treasures, which Andre had found in estate sales and rural markets. Tanya introduced herself to Juliette’s parents and widowed sister, who had flown in from Lyons the previous night, and to Andre’s brother, who had driven from Antwerp with his wife and three daughters.
The large table in the dining room on the second floor was loaded with fresh baguettes, scrambled eggs, and an assortment of French cheeses. The guests gathered noisily, piling food on their plates.
A few minutes later, Laurent appeared in the dining room. His round face flushed as everybody circled him and patted his shoulders. “Mazal tov! Mazal tov!”
Andre clapped his hands. “Time to go!”
They walked to the synagogue along the quiet avenues. The men carried zippered bags made of soft blue velvet that contained their folded prayer shawls and prayer books. The women held shopping bags filled with candy. Tanya walked with Juliette, who shared in detail the difficulties she had endured to conceive and carry Laurent through a horrendous pregnancy.