Along in the silent synagogue, Rabbi Gerster turned off the lights, locked the front doors, and went out into the cold night. He walked down to the gate and turned right. Halfway up Shivtay Israel Street, a car flashed its headlights. He got in.
“Almost gave up on you.” Itah Orr wore a scarf over her head, tied loosely under her chin.
“I didn’t want anyone to notice me leaving.”
“ How did it go with Ayala?”
“ Very well. She’s a lovely young woman. We need to take a look at former boyfriend, Yoni Adiel, also a law student at Bar Ilan. Apparently he suggested that the Talmudic law of Rodef applies to politicians who hand over parts of the land of Israel to the Arabs.”
“ That’s all? He’s not the only one making this argument. I don’t have time to go around engaging right wingers in theological debates. It’s a waste of time.”
“The girl says he’s got money to spend but no regular job and no family support. He hinted that the funds came from a rich sponsor who likes Freckles.”
“ Who’s the sponsor?”
“ She only knew that he was an elderly man living in Paris.” Rabbi Gerster suspected Elie Weiss was that sponsor, but that was not a name he would mention to anyone. “But the combination of cash and know-how in guerilla resistance, such as the ILOT manual you gave me, indicates a high level of competency. Go to your sources and find out everything possible about Yoni Adiel.”
“If you’re right,” Itah said, “this story might be much bigger than a group of right-wing youths harassing a few Arabs.”
“Follow the money. That’s the key.” He opened the door to leave, but shut it when the interior light came on. “Have you heard from Freckles? Anything going on with ILOT?”
“ He told me to attend the large Likud rally at the Zion Square on Saturday night.”
“ If these guys have money for girlfriends, restaurants, and handguns, they could afford more serious weapons.”
“I’ll make some calls and let you know.”
“Good. Once we have the facts, I’ll corner Yoni Adiel.”
“ Why would he talk to you?”
“ He’s a fundamentalist Jew. You think he would pass up an opportunity to talk shop with Rabbi Abraham Gerster of Neturay Karta-”
“- who doesn’t believe in God?” Itah grinned in the darkness.
“ Shush.” He put his finger to his lips. “That’s our secret.”
*
Monday, October 23, 1995
At the Hilton in Paris, Elie took the elevator down to the lobby and found a bank of pay phones near the restrooms. He called the Hoffgeitz Bank in Zurich and asked for Gunter Schnell.
“ Guten Morgen, Herr Schnell,” Elie said.
“ Who is this?”
“ Untersturmfuhrer Rupert Danzig. Remember me?”
The sound of air sucked in a shocked inhalation was followed by a long silence. “Please hold.”
After a few minutes, two clicks sounded, and another voice came on. “Armande Hoffgeitz speaking. What is this about?”
“ Herr President?” Elie waited for a couple of hotel guests to pass by on their way to the restrooms. “This is Untersturmfuhrer Rupert Danzig.”
“ Who?”
“ It’s been a long time, but here I am again, calling on behalf of your old friend, Oberstgruppenfuhrer Klaus von Koenig.” Elie spoke German with an eastern accent, an area until recently under Soviet communist control.
“ That’s impossible!” The banker’s voice was shaking. “I don’t know who you are!”
“ I think you do, Herr Hoffgeitz.”
“ Do not call here!”
“ But surely you want to hear from dear Klaus, yes?”
“ I will summon the police! This is Zurich, not some lawless East German province!”
“ The police?” Elie chuckled. “Perhaps you should consult your lawyers before contacting the authorities. Even Swiss law forbids misappropriation of clients’ funds. It’s a serious felony.”
“ How dare you! This bank has never lost a deposit from any client-”
“ Including Klaus von Koenig?” Elie didn’t expect a response. “If anyone should call the police, it should be me, don’t you think?”
There was a loud bang as if someone hit the desk in frustration.
“Very good,” Elie said. “Please make sure the records are in good order for my inspection. I will see you soon. Auf Wiedersehen!”
*
After dropping Klaus Junior off at school, Lemmy drove to the bank. As he climbed the stairs, Gunter was coming down, his face ashen. “Gunter? Are you feeling ill?”
“Ah, Herr Horch.” He paused, looked up toward the next floor, and continued on his way down, mumbling something incoherent.
Christopher was at his desk. “Prince Abusalim az-Zubayr called. He just landed in Paris. He’ll call from his hotel.”
Lemmy went into his office and shut the door. “Here we go,” he said out loud. He called the Hilton in Paris and asked for Rupert Danzig’s room.
After a few rings, a woman answered. “Who is this?” She said it as an Israeli, and he assumed she was the agent he’d seen by the Galeries Lafayette.
“ I’d like to speak with E.W. please.”
“ E.W. is out right now,” she said, switching to English with an even sharper Israeli accent. “A message?”
“ Tell him that the prince has landed.”
“ Thank you.” She hung up.
The computer completed its boot-up process. After two separate pass codes, the live video menu appeared with the list of the cameras: On the third floor, the interior of Herr Hoffgeitz’s office and the anteroom with Gunter’s desk, on the second floor, Christopher’s desk just outside Lemmy’s door, and on the first floor, the large room where the account managers worked. Each camera was smaller than a fingernail, built into a smoke detector, together with a pin-sized microphone. His computer was set up by the Dutch specialist to operate all cameras remotely.
He selected Herr Hoffgeitz’s office.
The chair at the desk was vacant, the office quiet. Lemmy used the arrows on his keyboard to turn the camera left and right.
No sign of his father-in-law.
As his finger reached to hit the escape button, Lemmy heard an odd sound, like an abrupt whizzing. He moved the camera again, searching the empty office. At the bottom of the screen a black object appeared. It grew as he aimed the camera lower, closer to the door.
A shoe.
The whizzing sounded again.
Lemmy made the camera shift to the right. A face appeared. Armande Hoffgeitz was on the floor, his eyes closed. He breathed with a whizzing.
This would be Armande’s fourth heart attack, Lemmy thought. A few more minutes and he would be dead of natural causes-no need to plan and execute a job or fight Elie over it.
He closed the video program, and Armande Hoffgeitz’s face disappeared from the screen. All he had to do was sit tight for a few more minutes, let the old man take his last few breaths.
Lemmy’s gaze wandered to the desk and met Paula’s laughing eyes in a photograph, standing with Klaus Junior. She loved her father, and the boy loved his grandfather. Lemmy imagined them crying at the news, sobbing by the open coffin, kneeling at the gravestone-
“ Damn!” He ran out of his office, startling Christopher, and sprinted upstairs. The door was slightly open. Herr Hoffgeitz was lying behind it. Lemmy pushed until there was enough space to squeeze in.
Christopher followed him.
“ Call an ambulance!” There was no pulse, or it was too weak to detect. Lemmy shoved his fingers into Armande’s mouth and pulled on the tongue. With the airway clear, he began resuscitation.
*
Gideon watched Elie walk into the suite, find a chair, and sit down, panting heavily.
“Someone called,” Bathsheba said. “A man with a very nice voice.”
Elie pulled off his wool cap. “The message?”
“ The prince has landed.”
Black rings circled Elie’s eyes. He pressed his chest and coughed again.
“ I’m listening to his phones,” Gideon said, pointing to the equipment. “Nothing yet.”