He found the boy in the passenger seat, the engine already working. “How did you manage to turn off the alarm?”
“ It’s easy!”
“ Is that so? Then why don’t you just drive yourself to school, smarty?”
“ Can I?”
The Porsche sped down the winding road, tires screeching with each curve. On the right, Lake Zurich was covered by a thin layer of morning mist. Klaus Junior, buckled up in the passenger seat, fiddled with the radio, changing stations. “We’re going to be late. I hate to be late.”
Lemmy glanced at his son. “Nothing wrong with a little tardiness.”
“I’ll tell my teacher it’s your fault.”
“Now I’m really scared.”
The boy laughed and banged on the dashboard with his hand, causing the rectangular storage cover to pop out. Lemmy reached across and tapped it back in. He had not yet returned the Mauser to the safe deposit box at the bank, where it would stay until the next job.
The car phone rang. Lemmy pulled the receiver from its cradle. “Yes?”
“Good morning, Herr Horch.” It was Christopher. “I have Prince az-Zubayr on the line.”
“Put him through.”
The familiar voice came on the line. “Wilhelm?”
“Excellency! How are you?”
“Been better, my friend.” The British accent was not as smooth, the vowels abrupt. “I had to fly home. My private dealings have been compromised.”
Lemmy steered the Porsche onto the shoulder and stopped. Klaus Junior pointed to his watch.
“ My father’s slave has been snooping around.”
“Where?”
“ A wheat vendor. Those Americans have big mouths. No business ethics whatsoever.”
“They’re unscrupulous cowboys. How can I help?”
“My father ordered me to stay here. I expect his anger to subside soon, but if not, I might need your assistance.”
“Not a problem. We have a standing charter arrangement with Swissair. I’ll come for you personally.”
“Your loyalty is exemplary,” the prince said. “I’ll be in touch.”
Lemmy put down the phone. The call had not surprised him. It was typical Elie Weiss methodology-jarring the target, who made hasty moves, precipitated exposure and defeat.
“Papa, was that a real prince?”
“Yes,” Lemmy said. “He’s the first-born son of an important Saudi sheik. They consider themselves royalty.”
“Why did he call you?”
“I’m his banker, probably the only person he can trust.” Lemmy turned on the engine, glanced over his shoulder to find a gap in traffic, and drove on.
“ Does he need money?”
“ He needs his father’s forgiveness.”
“What did he do?”
“ He lied.”
“ That’s bad.” Klaus Junior brought his knees to his chest, resting his feet on the seat and hugging his legs. “Do you ever lie?”
“Well, I must keep secrets. For the bank, I mean. Our clients expect it, you understand?”
*
Abu Yusef stood outside, letting the sun soothe his face, and watched Bashir back up a dark-blue BMW 740iL sedan. The men unloaded wooden boxes of Kalashnikov machine guns, pistols, ammunition, and hand grenades. In all, the car and weapons cost almost everything the prince had given them. But soon their group would headline every news report in the world, and there would be more money, men, and power. He was sure of it.
Abu Yusef pulled Bashir aside and asked him to remove Latif’s clothes from the bedroom. He wanted them in the car when they drove to Paris to punish the Jews.
*
The bus to Efrat, a West Bank settlement that had grown into a town, dropped its passengers at a shaded strip mall, where many women and a few men were shopping for the Sabbath. Rabbi Gerster asked for directions to the address he had written on a piece of paper. The reporter, Itah Orr, had run the name of Professor Lemelson’s student through her sources and obtained the address. He hoped it was correct.
The apartment building had an elevator, but he took the steps to the fourth floor, finding the family name scribbled above a doorbell button. He pressed it.
The woman who opened the door looked at his black garb, reached into the pocket of her apron, and handed him a few coins. “Here. Shabbat shalom.”
“No, thank you.” Rabbi Gerster bowed slightly, declining the charity with a quick gesture. “I’m looking for Ayala. Is she home?”
“My daughter hasn’t arrived yet. What do you want with her?”
“Professor Lemelson from Bar Ilan suggested that I speak with her. It’s nothing serious.”
Two little boys peeked at him from behind their mother. She tightened her head covering. “Well, I don’t-”
“Hello there.” Rabbi Gerster extended his hand to the older boy, who looked about ten. “My name is Abraham. What’s yours?”
The boy shook his hand. “I’m Amos.” He pointed at his brother. “This is Chaim.”
“Hi, Chaim.” Rabbi Gerster shook the little one’s hand. “And do you boys know this week’s Torah chapter?”
“I do,” Amos said. “ Zachor. Remember what Amalek did when we escaped from Egypt.”
“Correct!” Rabbi Gerster smiled at the mother, whose face softened. “And who were the Amalekite people, Chaim?”
“They were really bad goyim,” the boy said. He was not older than seven. “And they hurt the Jews and even killed some. Even that!”
“ Correct. And you, Amos, do you know why God gave Amalek, an evil Gentile nation, the honor of dedicating a whole Torah chapter to them?”
“ Please.” The mother moved aside. “Come in.”
The room had a sitting area on the left and a dining table on the right, with little space left to move around. The smell of cooking was heavy, even with the windows open.
Rabbi Gerster sat on the sofa.
The boys shared an armchair, squeezing together.
“ A whole Torah chapter is a big deal, right?”
They nodded.
“ So there must be a reason for this honor, yes?”
“ Maybe they weren’t all bad,” Amos said, glancing up at his mother, who shrugged and went to the kitchen.
“ But they killed Jews,” Chaim protested. “That’s a big sin!”
“ True,” Rabbi Gerster said. “But maybe the story is such an important lesson that-”
“ I know!” Chaim raised his hand, as if he were in class. “To make peace!”
“ That’s stupid!” Amos elbowed him. “They didn’t make peace! God told them to kill all of Amalek, even goats and cows!”
“ Boys?” The mother reappeared, a towel in her hand. “Are you behaving?”
“ You’re both right,” Rabbi Gerster said. “God named the chapter for Amalek because they taught us an important lesson-the difference between a real enemy and a temporary rival. An enemy we must fight to the end. But a temporary disagreement we must resolve peacefully. Do you understand?”
“ To make shalom?”
“ Correct.” He looked at Amos. “Now, is your brother an enemy?”
