morning. Alone. No escort.”
She put down the phone and looked at Gideon. “Our contact in the French police said that a man resembling Abu Yusef visited a bank in Senlis, supposedly for a meeting with a young business associate regarding a large cash payment. The money had come from the Hoffgeitz Bank in Zurich. Does it ring a bell?”
“ For Whom the Bell Tolls? ” Gideon stood up. “Shalom, Tanya.”
*
Part Four
The Resurrection
Friday, October 27, 1995
Lemmy reached the bank before seven a.m. and dialed a telephone number he had obtained from the international operator for Kibbutz Gesher in the north of Israel. A cheerful woman answered, “ Boker tov! ”
“And to you,” he said in Hebrew, using his mother tongue for the first time in many years. “I am sorry to bother you. My wife and I are on a holiday in Switzerland.”
“ Good for you. How can I help?”
“ We’re trying to find an old friend who once worked at Kibbutz Gesher as a volunteer, and we’re hoping you still have his contact information.”
“We’ve had many foreign volunteers. When was he here?”
“Maybe five or six years ago. His name is Christopher Ditmahr.”
“Oh, that name I do remember. Tall, skinny, always a happy smile?”
“ That’s him!”
“ How devious they can be.” She sighed. “He’s not someone you want to be friends with.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me. How did you meet him, anyway?”
Lemmy was ready for the question. “We were on a road trip, passed by your kibbutz, and he was hitchhiking. We gave him a ride to Tel Aviv. I think it was in eighty-nine or ninety, middle of the summer. We had a wonderful chat along the way, stopped for dinner in Haifa, and so on. He told us how much he loved Israel even though he wasn’t Jewish. And he said something about going to work in a Swiss bank. That’s why we thought of touching base with him now, since we’re visiting his country.” Waiting for her reply, he wondered if she believed his story.
“I don’t think you want to touch base with this guy.”
“Why not?”
“We kicked him out.”
“For what reason?”
“We found out he was a skinhead. A Nazi aficionado.”
“Christopher? That’s impossible!”
“He fooled us also. But one of the girls saw it.”
“ It? ”
“He has a tattoo-black swastika and the letters SS.”
“Are you sure?”
“I saw it with my own eyes,” the woman said. “As kibbutz secretary, I had to.”
“ And?”
“ It was right there.”
“Where?”
She chuckled. “When you see him, pull down his pants. You won’t miss it.”
*
Gideon thought of his father’s photograph, hanging on the living room wall at home. It was a face filled with youth and hope. Would Joshua Zahav have wanted his son to serve Israel the same way as he had served? To risk death in a distant, cold land?
At the phone booth on the street corner Gideon asked the operator to dial collect to Paris. Dr. Geloux was in his office. He agreed to ship the cash-filled briefcase to the address Gideon gave him in Tel Aviv. He didn’t ask any questions.
When Gideon put down the receiver, he found several men blocking his way.
The Shin Bet officer, who had introduced himself at the airport as Agent Cohen, pulled a sheet of paper from the breast pocket. “By authority promulgated by the emergency regulations, a decree has been issued to hold you in administrative detention for up to ninety days.”
*
When Christopher arrived at his desk, Lemmy was still contemplating what to do with the shocking information from Kibbutz Gesher. Was his assistant a Nazi mole? It had been fifty years since Germany lost the war, but Nazi organizations continued to flourish in Germany, Austria, Belgium, and some of the Balkan countries. But here in Switzerland? He had always thought of skinheads as a bunch of frustrated racist youths trying to attract attention with shaven scalps and swastika tattoos. Their wrath was directed mostly toward poor immigrants and ethnic minorities, expressed with petty violence and street demonstrations. But obviously they were much more ominous. Was Christopher employed by such a group? Were they after the Koenig fortune?
He pressed the intercom. “Good morning, Christopher. Please come in.”
His assistant entered the office and sat down.
“ Have you thought about Herr Hoffgeitz’s inactive accounts?”
“ What else?” Christopher smiled. “It can’t be anything illegal. I mean, Herr Hoffgeitz would never engage in criminal activity. It could risk the bank’s future.”
And you, Christopher? Are you engaged in criminal activity? Are you a risk to the bank’s future? Lemmy suppressed the hostility that rose inside him. “Perhaps Herr Hoffgeitz knows facts that would protect the bank in case of exposure. But he’s unconscious in the ICU, his recovery in doubt, and I don’t trust Gunter.”
“ He’s very secretive. I don’t think he has a life outside the bank.”
“ Gunter is merely an employee. If there’s trouble, they would look to the executive in charge for answers. That’s me, and I’m concerned. Very concerned.” In fact, Lemmy wasn’t concerned at all. There was no risk of government interference in the bank’s affairs, and according to Elie, the Nazi general had been dead since 1945. “What do you think they’re hiding?”
“Maybe,” Christopher said, “it’s about Recommendation 833?”
Lemmy considered the idea. In 1978, the Council of Europe had adopted what became known as Recommendation 833, which required European countries to share banking information when clients were suspected of international money laundering and tax evasion. Switzerland was not a member of the European Community, and Swiss bankers enjoyed a surge in business.
“ It doesn’t make sense,” Lemmy said. “This money isn’t moving-no withdrawals, no deposits. Why? Tax evaders and criminals use their accounts. We know this from our own clients. Why is this account inactive? Maybe it’s related to Clause 47b?”
“What’s that?” Christopher shifted uncomfortably. He hated being caught unprepared.
“When Hitler came to power, Switzerland added Clause 47b to the 1934 Banking Act. It was aimed at reinforcing secrecy of bank accounts against the competition of bankers from Liechtenstein, in order to attract deposits from German Jews, who at that time thought the new Nazi government was only after their money.”
“Wasn’t there a big case about it?”
“Good memory.” Lemmy gave Christopher an appreciative nod. The Interhandel case involved proceeds from a post-war sale of General Aniline and Film Corporation by the German cartel I.G. Farben, which employed slave labor during the war. The scandal had exposed the Swiss banks as Nazi profiteers.
“At least we’re not like Banque Leclerc.”
“No,” Lemmy chuckled, “we’re not. Our president is dying naturally.” In 1978, the Swiss Banking Commission had shut down Geneva-based Banque Leclerc after the suicide of its CEO and the discovery of another executive
