A few catcalls sounded in response.
“ We have found a partner for peace,” Rabin said. “The PLO, once an enemy, has now forsaken terrorism.”
He paused, but there were no cheers. Even after signing the first two Oslo agreements, the murderous PLO and its scruffy, arch-terrorist leader were perceived as necessary evils rather than friends.
“ There is no painless way forward for Israel,” Rabin said. “It is our fate. And the way of peace is painful also. Filled with sacrifices. But better the pain suffered along the way of peace than the way of war. Anyone who served like me, who has seen the grieving families of the IDF, knows it. We must exhaust every possibility. Every opening. Bring a comprehensive peace!” He paused and watched the applauding crowd, indulging them like a father.
“ This rally sends a message to the Israeli public,” Rabin announced. “To Jewish people everywhere. To the multitudes in the Arab lands. And to the world at large. The nation of Israel wants peace and supports peace! And for this, I thank you!”
Elie watched a blonde woman take the microphone, Rabin and Peres at her side. She had a clear, sonorous voice, as she broke into an old, familiar tune of Israel’s lingering hope: “ Let the sun rise, the morning brighten up, and the purest of prayers, shall not disappoint us… ”
The camera caught faces in the crowd, singing, waving flags, throwing flowers at the stage. Rows of men and women clasped hands and swayed from side to side, lips moving with the words, eyes bright with hope, some with tears of joy.
Back on Prime Minister Rabin, the camera showed him singing, his eyes on a piece of paper, scribbled with the lyrics. “ So let’s sing a song for peace, no whispered prayer, sing for peace, cheer it loudly!”
Elie closed his eyes and listened to the singing from Tel Aviv. He knew that soon the singing would give way to screaming.
*
Police had set up detours in the center of Tel Aviv, the roads clogged with stop-and-go traffic. Lemmy threaded the bike between cars. His elbow hit a side-view mirror, and the driver shouted an expletive. He passed several buses. None was number 247. He scanned the road ahead. He was not familiar with the streets, unsure where the peace rally was taking place.
Pedestrian traffic was getting denser. He heard music from loudspeakers and recognized the tune as an old song from his army days-something about giving peace a chance.
Farther ahead a bus took a left turn, and Lemmy recognized the swimsuit ad on the side of Yoni’s bus. But in the moment before the bus disappeared, he saw the vacant rear bench. There must be other buses displaying the same advertisement! On the other hand, the proximity to the peace rally could mean that Yoni had disembarked.
On the right, Lemmy saw a bus stop, now empty. The passengers who had stepped off the bus were walking away, melting into the crowd. He proceeded slowly down the road, searching. Many bare heads, a few skullcaps, none blue-and-white.
A side street was blocked off to vehicle traffic with steel barriers. At the far end Lemmy could see the bright glow of the Kings of Israel Plaza, the throngs of people, the banners, and huge flags. He stood on the pegs, holding on to the handlebar, and from that higher perch scanned the forest of heads that filled the side street between him and the plaza.
Blue-and-white skullcap! Halfway down!
His finger on the horn button, Lemmy steered the Bonneville around and jumped the curb. He rode between two barriers, speeding up just as a policeman noticed him and blew his whistle. People heard it and turned. Others were startled by the engine noise and moved aside.
He was halfway down when the pounding of horseshoes made him glance back. Two policemen mounted on huffing beasts bore down on him. With one hand, Lemmy pulled off the helmet and tossed it over his shoulder. It hit one of the horses on the snout, causing it to neigh, swerve, and bump the other horse. Lemmy returned his gaze to the front while the noise behind went from huffing and trotting to cursing and shouting.
The blue-and-white skullcap was near the end of the blocked-off street, close to the plaza and the mass of people at the peace rally. Lemmy maneuvered around a group of elderly ladies bearing flags of the Workers Union and circled back, stopping in front of a young man who resembled Haim Adiel. He bumped into the bike, but as Lemmy reached to grab his arm, he stepped back. His face was covered by a film of sweat, which the mild winter night did not merit.
Yoni Adiel turned and ran.
Lemmy rode after him.
He turned into a path that led to the entrance of an apartment building, where the Bonneville leaped over the front step and roared into Yoni, pinning him to the wall. Lemmy leaned forward over the handlebar and punched him hard in the right kidney.
The two policemen showed up, batons at the ready.
“ Sorry about the horses,” Lemmy said as he lowered Yoni to the floor. “This guy is armed and dangerous. Call for reinforcement!”
*
“ They got Spinoza!” Agent Cohen broke into a run down Ibn Gevirol Street, shoving people aside, and turned right into a dense, pedestrian-only street. Gideon followed him close behind. A few policemen were running from the opposite direction.
A narrow path led to an apartment building.
Inside the small lobby, Agent Cohen pushed between the policemen.
Gideon saw a motorcycle. Behind it, a dark-skinned youth was being held facedown by Spinoza, who smiled and said, “There you are. The beauty and the beast.”
Gideon drew his gun, cocked it, leveled it at the Swiss, and pressed the trigger. But the man again acted with swiftness that belied nature as he dodged out of the line of fire and somehow kicked up the motorcycle. The bullet must have hit the gas tank, which burst out in flames and sent everyone running outside.
Agent Cohen yelled, “Don’t let him get away!”
“Not going anywhere,” Spinoza said in perfect Hebrew, appearing next to them, his skinny captive dragged along by the neck. “Your patsy here has switched his blanks for hollow-point bullets. He would have killed Rabin.”
Gideon was already raising his gun, but noticed Agent Cohen’s expression turn into fear as he turned and yelled at the policemen, “Get all the civilians out of here!”
They started pushing back the spectators.
“ Hey!” Gideon pointed to the dark youth Spinoza was holding. “Who’s this guy? What bullets?”
“ It’s his accomplice!” Agent Cohen pointed. “Shoot them both, idiot! Now!”
“He’s framing you,” Spinoza said. “Shin Bet wants to pin everything on SOD in case the assassination scheme goes badly.”
“What scheme?” Gideon turned to the Shin Bet agent. “Didn’t you shut it down?”
Agent Cohen drew his own gun with his left hand and aimed it at Gideon. “Shoot, or I’ll shoot you!”
With a casual flip of the hand, Spinoza knocked the gun from Agent Cohen’s hand. “Shin Bet kept Elie’s operation going,” he said. “But Rabin won’t wear a vest, so they loaded Yoni’s gun with blanks.” He shook the young man, causing his skullcap to fall off. “Right?”
The assassin reached behind his back. “I’m just getting my wallet.” He pulled it and showed them a laminated card. “I have a license to carry a gun everywhere, including into secured zones.”
Spinoza patted him down and found a package stuffed under Yoni’s shirt. “You always carry it like this?” The gun was wrapped in a parchment, but the wax seal was broken in half. He handed it to Gideon. “They had a fake rabbi load it with blanks, recite a blessing, and seal the parchment. But this kid outsmarted them, switched the bullets back to deadly hollow points. Did you recite another prayer over it?”
“Of course,” Yoni Adiel said.
Gideon turned to Agent Cohen. “Is it true?”
“Don’t worry about it.” The Shin Bet agent pointed at Spinoza. “This is the real assassin!”
Drawing a large pistol, Spinoza held it up with two fingers. “This is the only weapon I have-took it from Freckles earlier. It’s an FN Browning, nine millimeters long. No silencer. If I try to shoot Rabin with this, it will make more noise than a Howitzer. I’ll be lynched.”