He threw the door open and sprinted to the Porsche in the driveway, expecting the pop of a shot and the jolt of a bullet hit.
Nothing. The sniper must have been focused on the windows, not expecting someone to run out. He was adjusting his rifle right now. Lemmy sped up. Ten yards to go. He lifted his arm over his head, ready to elbow in the windshield.
Five. Four. Now-
The windshield was already shattered. Like a spider-web, thousands of tiny cracks spread like rays from a finger-size hole in the upper part.
A bullet hole!
Lemmy glanced up at the broken bedroom window on the second floor of the house. The bullet had come from inside the car!
Through the windshield he noticed the open storage compartment.
Klaus Junior was in the passenger seat. His face was white, his eyes wide open. Lemmy opened the door and removed the Mauser from the boy’s hand. He held the warm barrel and pulled the small forefinger out of the trigger slot. Aiming at the sky, he released the magazine and cocked the Mauser to dispose of the bullet in the chamber, which he picked up and put in his pocket with the gun.
As he lifted his son from the car, Paula ran out of the house.
“He’s okay,” Lemmy managed to say, his voice choking. “He’s not injured.”
*
Christopher jumped to his feet. “Good morning, Herr Horch!” He seemed surprised to see his boss in so early.
“Prince Abusalim called me last night,” Lemmy lied. “A small modification in the transfer instructions. The recipient name will change to Grant Guerra.”
“ Okay.”
“ Send the order as soon as business opens. Such a large amount in U.S. dollars might require them to order extra cash.”
Christopher took the sheet and turned to his computer. The altered order would travel on telephone lines electronically through two inter-European clearing centers to the local branch of Banque Nationale de France in Senlis.
Lemmy wondered how Elie was planning to do the job. Was he sending in his agent to receive the money and wait to shoot Abu Yusef? The Arabs would be armed and alert. The bank probably had security cameras and push- button alarms, possibly even an automatic lockdown feature, which could be a disaster. And even if the assassination was successful, the subsequent investigation could lead to the Hoffgeitz Bank. The Zurich police department would never attempt to obtain the identity of his client-bank secrecy laws were sacred-but the French might tip the media, which would attract unwanted attention. A hit inside a bank was too risky, even in France. What was Elie thinking?
Paula called to report that Klaus Junior was watching TV and eating pancakes but refusing to discuss with her what had happened. She had told him that his father had promised to take him to a shooting range to have proper training in gun safety and usage, which made the boy excited. Lemmy apologized again for making such a foolish mistake-he should not have left a weapon in the car. Paula didn’t ask why he had the gun in the first place-most Swiss men served in the national army reserve and owned personal firearms.
He pulled the Mauser from his pocket and placed it on the desk. He recalled holding it for the first time in his father’s study, back in Jerusalem. So much had happened since then-the abortion riots, his excommunication from Neturay Karta, paratrooper service in the IDF, and the mission into Jordanian-occupied East Jerusalem to destroy the UN radar, which had prevented detection of Israel’s preemptive strike and led to the victory of the Six Day War. And then, alone in the world, he had accepted Elie’s offer of clandestine service, spent a summer in intense German-language study, attended Lyceum Alpin St. Nicholas, courted Paula, and turned himself into a successful Swiss banker, a family man, and a secret agent. The key to his long career was careful planning and meticulous execution to minimize risk of exposure. The exception was his continuous use of the Mauser for killing Israel’s enemies. The barrel had been honed to prevent ballistic tracing of the bullets, and he had taken pains to keep it out of sight and utilize generic ammunition. He knew that the repeat use of the same weapon was hazardous, but this Mauser was the single object of continuity in his life, the only physical possession going all the way back to the city of Jerusalem-and a boy named Jerusalem.
*
When Abu Yusef walked into the dining room, the men stopped talking and gathered around the large table. “We achieved a great victory on Saturday,” he declared. “The Zionists are bleeding badly. We must hit them again and again until they scatter to the four corners of the earth or die!”
The men cheered, raising clenched fists.
He turned to a map of Europe, which Bashir had pinned to the wall. “With our donor’s generosity, we are ready to launch a historic campaign that will blow away the Oslo Accords.” Abu Yusef paused, looking around. “Who in this room speaks Italian?”
Two of the men raised their hands.
“Spanish?”
Three hands came up.
“Greek?”
One hand.
“Dutch?”
No hand came up. Abu Yusef shook his head. “Pity. The Dutch are all Zionist bastards. Danish?”
A hand came halfway up. “I get by,” the man said.
Abu Yusef nodded. “Swedish?”
Another hesitant hand.
“Good.” He noticed two men whispering. “What?”
One of them said, “I speak good German.”
Abu Yusef shook a finger. “We’re not going to Germany. We won’t fall into that trap again. The world doesn’t like to watch Jews getting killed in Germany. It’s counter-productive.”
He realized they didn’t understand.
“ Munich was an unusual opportunity,” he explained. “The Olympics, the media. And I admit that even Munich might have been a mistake. When the Nazis exterminated the Jews, the Americans or British could have easily bombed the German rails and silenced the death camps. That’s why, after the war, everybody felt guilty and let the Jews steal our land. Jews know a lot about guilt, and if we kill them in Germany, they’ll cry Holocaust! Everybody will forget about us and feel sorry for the Jews again.”
Some of the men mumbled curses.
“ But you can go to Austria,” Abu Yusef said to the German-speaking man. “There are plenty of fat Jews in Vienna-an excellent target.” He looked at his list. “We still need Flemish and Portuguese.”
“ I have a few recruits,” Bashir said. “They’ll be in later.”
“ Good.” Abu Yusef turned to the map. “The blue pins stand for El Al stations and terminals. Red pins for Israeli embassies and consulates. And yellow pins for synagogues and Jewish schools. We’ll hit all these targets on the same day. Forty-seven targets representing the forty-seven years since the United Nations allowed the Zionists to declare their state!”
The men clapped.
“ That’s right!” Abu Yusef held up a fist. “We’ll rock the world!”
When they quieted down, Bashir stepped forward. “Listen carefully. The money is coming in today. This evening you’ll receive your individual assignments, including maps, blueprints of the target buildings, and escape routes. Also, each team will receive enough cash to purchase vehicles, weapons, explosives, timer fuses and everything else you’ll need to successfully destroy your targets. Tonight you’ll pack up your personal belongings and be ready to head out in the morning, each team travelling separately. After the simultaneous attacks, we’ll reconvene in a new location.”
“Think of the international impact!” Abu Yusef looked each man in the eye. “Forty-seven years of shame will be redeemed by delivering forty-seven unforgettable lessons to the Jews. We’re getting enough money to do what no
