“Ah, yes.” The sheik’s hand pointed vaguely. “I’m sure it’s nonsense, but do you remember the deal we made about a year ago with Jamson, the American wheat dealer?”
“Yes. Thirty million, I think.”
“Exactly! You always had a good memory for numbers. Anyway, Vahabh was told that you asked them for a reward.”
Abusalim stood up. “ What? ”
“A bribe,” the hajj said.
“Who told you this lie?”
Sheik Da’ood put a hand on Prince Abusalim’s shoulder. “We know it’s a lie. But Vahabh recommended that I ask, that we hear it from you, that’s all.”
The hajj picked up the sheik’s Koran. “Swear that the accusation is false.”
Prince Abusalim turned to his father. “This is outrageous!”
“Swear!” The hajj held the Koran forward.
Sheik Da’ood looked at his son expectantly.
“Fine!” Prince Abusalim rested his hand on the holy book. “I swear in Allah’s name that-” He tried to continue, but his throat became parched like the desert outside. He coughed, but his voice was gone.
The hajj put the Koran aside.
The prince knew he had to come up with an explanation. But how much did they know? “Abusalim?” Sheik az- Zubayr sounded bewildered. “Why don’t you swear it?”
“ Because he took the bribe,” the hajj said. “And whatever he demanded, they added to the price we paid.”
Prince Abusalim considered arguing, but remained silent.
“My son is a common thief.” The sheik’s voice shook. “In Allah’s name, why?”
The hajj asked, “What did you do with the money?”
Prince Abusalim was relieved. It appeared that they didn’t know about the Swiss account or the other vendors. “I gave it away. For you, Father.”
“To whom?”
“The Palestinians.”
“ Which Palestinians?”
“Abu Yusef, leader of the opposition to Arafat.”
“You stole money from me to sponsor a terrorist?”
“He’s not a terrorist. He’s the leader-”
“ They already have a leader!”
“ Arafat sold out. Abu Yusef will soon emerge as the new Palestinian leader. He’ll inspire a new intifada that will drive the Jews away. And when he takes Jerusalem, he’ll restore us to our throne.”
“ What throne?”
“ Abu Yusef promised to make you mufti of Jerusalem. The Kharass El-Harem.” That was inaccurate. Abu Yusef had promised to appoint Prince Abusalim, not his father. “We will be the equals of the House of Saud-”
“You are a fool!” The sheik spoke with rage his son had rarely witnessed before. “A filthy murderer promised to make me mufti of Jerusalem? Me? The father of a thief?” He paced across the room and leaned against the wall as if he were going to faint.
“ It’s our destiny,” Prince Abusalim insisted. “We must help the Palestinians in their war against the Jews.”
“ Don’t preach to me! I’ve given millions to ease their suffering! In Gaza, the West Bank, the refugee camps-a worthy charity for a man righteous enough to be Kharass El-Harem. I give them food and fresh water, I build schools and underground sewers. But I don’t fill the pockets of murderers who fornicate with other men!”
Hajj Ibn Saroah took the sheik’s arm. “Calm down, Your Highness.”
“I know what I’m doing, Father.”
“You’re an imbecile! Abu Yusef is on the Munich list. The Israelis will kill him sooner or later, and maybe they’ll kill you too.”
“The Israelis don’t assassinate Palestinians anymore. The Oslo Accords granted complete amnesty to all PLO veterans.”
“Enough!” The sheik pointed a trembling finger at Prince Abusalim. “You will remain here with your wives and children, pray and study the Koran until I decide your punishment.”
“But I cannot stay.” He bowed to his father. “Please, forgive me. The company’s business requires my presence in Paris.”
“The company is my business.” Sheik Da’ood az-Zubayr picked up his Koran and left the room.
*
In the morning, after Gideon and Bathsheba left for Ermenonville, Elie swallowed one of Dr. Geloux’s pills. It took the edge off his pain but also interfered with the clarity of this mind, which he found frustrating. He stayed in bed, hoping for a few hours of sleep, but soon the phone rang. It was Tanya. Mossad had received information that a Palestinian group was buying weapons from a dealer in Paris.
“ Thanks for the tip,” Elie said. Was it a lie? Another Mossad manipulation? Or was Abu Yusef using the money he got from Zurich? No. He wouldn’t spend the first cash infusion on buying weapons in the overpriced French black market. Rather, he would spend it on food and booze to keep his men happy and use the next transfer to send Bashir to Algiers to buy cheap guns and explosives, which he would smuggle back into France. “It’s not Abu Yusef, but at any event we’re going to take care of him in the next few days.”
“Let us assist you.”
“I’ll contact you if I need help.”
“ For your sake, I hope you do that.”
He hung up and thought about Tanya’s offer. The stakeout at the intersection near Ermenonville was useless if Abu Yusef had already acquired a different car. The best chance to catch him was at the next bank pick-up in Senlis. The fax to Saudi Arabia should have caused a crisis in the prince’s relationship with his father, which should provoke the ambitious young man to speed up his scheme by increasing his sponsorship of Abu Yusef. But what if the old sheik locked up his wayward son in the family oasis, away from phones and jet planes? Without another transfer to Senlis, Abu Yusef might not be stopped until it was too late. Elie wondered for a moment: Should he accept Tanya’s offer? Should he trust Mossad?
No!
If he let them in, they would try to take over SOD at the very moment of its maturity and success. Many years had passed since Tanya had surrendered to him the ledger detailing the fortune that General Klaus von Koenig had deposited with the Hoffgeitz Bank. But she had never told her superiors about it, probably afraid that Elie would kill her if she did. Not that he would ever hurt Tanya, but she didn’t know that. And now Lemmy, the Israeli youth Elie had transformed into a Swiss banker and the Hoffgeitz heir-apparent, was about to fulfill his ultimate mission within one of the most secretive financial institutions in the world.
Obtaining access to the Nazi fortune was the key to Elie’s plan-the money to finance his grand vision. And soon Prime Minister Rabin would make the only rational decision and accept Elie’s offer of help. Rabin would regain his popularity and win the next election, and Elie would become Israel’s intelligence czar, gaining control of both Mossad and Shin Bet-a combined clandestine force with a worldwide infrastructure and highly trained personnel. He would have the money, the power, and the means to launch a potent network of assassins, ready to strike down the next Hitler, the next Arafat, Khomeini, or Gaddafi, the next Eichmann, Nasser, or Stalin. Multiple teams would burrow under the social fabric of every country, ceaselessly working to identify, pinpoint, and eliminate every agitator who spewed hatred of Jews. For the first time in their painful three thousand-year history, the Jewish people would wield a global weapon capable not only of eliminating contemporary enemies, but also of eradicating altogether the sturdy germs of a chronic, murderous mental disease called anti-Semitism. And considering what was at stake, the risk of another Abu Yusef terror attack seemed irrelevant.
*
When Lemmy went downstairs, Klaus Junior was already in the kitchen, eating cereal with milk. “We’re late, Papa!” He snatched the keys to the Porsche and sprinted out.
Lemmy rinsed the cereal bowl in the sink, collected a bottle of water from the fridge, and went to the garage.
