A stout young man with a freckled face and a large knitted skullcap silenced the group with a raised hand and recited from Psalms, “ So shall all your enemies perish, O God, lost and destroyed! ”
Rabbi Gerster pulled down the brim of his black hat. His photo occasionally appeared in news articles about Neturay Karta, the ultra-Orthodox sect that he had led for decades before handing the reins over to his protege, Rabbi Benjamin Mashash.
One of the demonstrators, a skinny youth with dark skin and a colorful skullcap, walked up and down with a cardboard sign: 1936 Berlin = 1995 Oslo.
Rabbi Gerster asked, “What does it mean?”
“ They’re the same.” His face was more mature than his slimness suggested. “Adolf Hitler and Yitzhak Rabin. Pursuers of Jews!”
The intense hate shocked Rabbi Gerster. Unlike the theological objection to Zionism, which ultra-Orthodox Jews held because only God may bring Jewish sovereignty back to the Promised Land, these demonstrators focused on the prime minister personally. The nationalist camp saw the handover of territories to the Palestinians as a handover of Jews to be killed by Gentiles. Until now, their rage had been expressed only with words and threats, but could it evolve into physical violence? Could this be the revival of the old menace of Jewish internecine bloodshed?
“ The sinner shall have no hope,” the demonstrators chanted. “ The traitor’s path shall end in demise! ”
Across the street, a steel gate opened and a guard stepped out of the prime minister’s courtyard. He surveyed the street, glancing left and right, and beckoned a white sedan that was idling nearby. Its headlights came on, and it advanced along the curb until its rear door lined up with the open gate.
As if expecting their voices to reach the prime minister more easily through the open gate, the demonstrators increased the tempo of their chanting, practically shouting each word that King David had written three millennia ago. “ God’s enemies…shall have neither seed…nor issue! ”
A small figure wearing a dark wool cap emerged through the gate, crossed the curb, and got into the sedan. The face was visible for only a second or two, but Rabbi Gerster recognized Elie Weiss by his aquiline nose.
The chubby leader switched from Psalms to a familiar song of Jewish defiance. “ Scheme your evil plot, and it shall be blotted! ”
The rest of them immediately joined him. “ Utter your curse, and it shall not stand, because God stands with us! ”
The white sedan moved off the curb slowly while the rear window rolled halfway down. The interior was illuminated by the floodlights, and Rabbi Gerster locked eyes with Elie Weiss.
“ Scheme your evil plot, and it shall be blotted,” the demonstrators sang again, pushing against the barricades.
Inside the car, Elie’s hand rose in a subtle greeting. Rabbi Gerster nodded, but then he noticed the leader of the demonstrators return Elie’s gesture with a quick thumbs up while chanting, “ Because God stands with us! ”
*
Friday, October 13, 1995
Wilhelm Horch, vice president at the Hoffgeitz Bank in Zurich, adjusted the contrast knob on his computer screen. It showed a live video feed from the hidden camera in the office of the bank’s president upstairs. Satisfied with the picture quality, he put his feet up on the desk and watched his father-in-law dictate the next letter.
“ To the Association of Swiss Banks, chairman of the board, address, greetings, etcetera.” Armande Hoffgeitz tilted his chair backward and gazed at the ceiling. “We are in receipt of your recent inquiry about wartime accounts opened between nineteen thirty-five and forty-five. We commend your initiative to pacify the concerns of the last remaining victims of Nazi aggression. We are thus pleased to report that our records show no inactive accounts from said years-”
“ Perhaps we should use a different term.” The voice belonged to his assistant, Gunter Schnell, who was sitting with his back to the hidden camera. “Something more…vague.”
Wilhelm listened intently. He knew that at least one dormant account existed-a huge account, opened during the war by SS General Klaus von Koenig-which likely constituted a major part of the bank’s assets. How would they get around it without lying?
“ Let’s see.” Armande Hoffgeitz contemplated for a long moment. “Technically Klaus’s account has been inactive, which would require disclosure.”
“ But there was one instance of activity, when he sent a messenger to attempt a withdrawal-”
“ That little Nazi with the long nose, who didn’t know the account number or the password?”
Gunter looked at his notes. “Untersturmfuhrer Rupert Danzig. He tried to make a withdrawal in May, nineteen sixty-seven.”
“ That’s twenty-eight years ago!”
“ He presented appropriate credentials,” Gunter insisted. “And he had General Klaus von Koenig’s ledger showing all of the deposits made to the account.”
“ He could have found the ledger in a ditch somewhere.”
“ But he showed familiarity with Herr General. He clearly knew him well.”
“ Not well enough to know the account number and password.”
“ He claimed to have forgotten.”
“ But he never came back.”
“ Not yet.”
“ Not ever.” Herr Hoffgeitz knuckled his desk three times. “My old friend Klaus is dead. I’m sure of it. He must have perished in a bombardment or on the voyage to Argentina. By that time, the Allies were sinking most U-boats within three days of sailing.”
“ Banking regulations require us to assume a client is alive, unless a death certificate is presented to us by the executor of the estate.” t="0" wra Fifty years has passed since we last saw Klaus at the border. Half a century! And twenty-eight years since that creepy little imposter showed up with Klaus’s ledger, trying to steal from us.” Armande Hoffgeitz pointed to the dictation pad. “Write this down: We are thus pleased to report that our records show no accounts in which the owners or their representatives have made no contact with the bank, directly or indirectly.”
One floor below, Wilhelm laughed. His father-in-law was a clever man.
“ That’s better,” Gunter said, writing it down.
“ Honesty is the best policy!” Armande grinned. “And finish with: Please let us know if we can further assist you in your worthy endeavor. With best personal regards. Armande Hoffgeitz, President.”
Gunter stood. “I’ll have the letter ready for your signature in a few moments.”
“ We must indulge the association.” The banker pushed up the gold-rimmed spectacles that had slipped down his nose. “My poor colleagues have to pacify the damn Jews with a show of a diligent inquiry.”
“ I’m more concerned,” Gunter said, “with the new computer system. My hard-copy records are locked up safely. But how can we keep our clients’ secrets when the information is stored as electronic signals? Wires everywhere, computer terminals on every desk-I’m very uncomfortable!”
“ With the computers or with Wilhelm?”
Gunter didn’t answer.
“ Look, my son-in-law is forcing us to adjust to the information age.” Herr Hoffgeitz smiled. “It’s uncomfortable, old hands that we are, but-”
“ I meant no disrespect, but he’s not one of us.”
“ Look, you remember that I also had my doubts. A young man without kin, not of Swiss ancestry, wants to marry my Paula? I was very concerned. But our investigation showed nothing but the tragic circumstances of his parents’ death.”
Gunter nodded.
“ And he did graduate from Lyceum Alpin St. Nicholas with honors. ” Armande Hoffgeitz tapped his ring, which bore a serpent intertwined with the letters LASN. For two centuries, every man in the bank’s employ had worn the same alumni ring, a prerequisite to hiring.
“ Yes, but-”
“ His professional record was impeccable, and Paula loved him. Still does. How could I deny her this happiness?” The banker didn’t wait for an answer. “And he has proven himself. A hard worker, excellent with clients. And Klaus Junior is growing so nicely.”
“ I don’t-”
“ Wilhelm has been with us for how long?”