He looked over his shoulder at the moving traffic. No one stopped behind him or ahead of him. He rolled down the window and looked up at the sky, searching for a plane, a helicopter, or perhaps the Israelis’ favorite-a drone.
Nothing but a blue sky and an endless chain of cars buzzing by his window. Were they waiting for him at Hadassah? Was Elie Weiss the bait in a Shin Bet trap?
The next exit off the highway took him to Bet Shemesh. The mechanic’s shop sat on the main road. An elderly man wearing a greasy coverall and a colorful yarmulke had his hands deep in the engine well of a tiny Alfa Romeo.
“ Shalom,” Lemmy said. “I’m here to see the Citroen.”
The man beckoned.
Behind the shop, twenty or so cars rested in various grades of disrepair. The DS was propped on blocks, but its space age, aerodynamic shape still connoted speed and sophistication. It was white, which would make painting any pirated skin sections easier. It was also rusty in all the suspect spots and was missing the rear seat. But otherwise Lemmy’s meticulous inspection revealed it to be complete inside and out-a treasure trove of usable little parts that would otherwise cost a fortune to fabricate from scratch for the SM Presidential, which shared many of its components with the standard-body DS sedan.
The mechanic was back inside with the Alfa.
Lemmy found a sink and a bar of soap. Over the sound of the running water, he asked, “How much do you want for it?”
After a long silence, the mechanic said, “It was once owned by a lawyer in Haifa. He’s now a minister in the government.”
“ That’s quite a pedigree. I’ll treat it well…except for taking off a bunch of parts.”
That drew a chuckle.
“ I can give you two thousand dollars. That’s my only offer.” Lemmy pulled a bundle of bills from his pocket. “I’ll have it picked up in a couple of weeks.”
The mechanic put on reading glasses and fumbled through a drawer. He produced a creased envelope with a title, which he and Lemmy signed.
He examined the signature. “Baruch Spinoza?”
“ Guilty as charged,” Lemmy said.
The mechanic gave him the title and took the money. “Wait a minute.” He went into an adjoining space, which seemed like a combined kitchen-storage-hangout room, and reemerged with a small volume. “Sign this as well,” he said, holding it forth.
Lemmy looked at the cover. It was a Hebrew translation of Spinoza’s 1662 work: On the Improvement of the Understanding.
*
Elie tossed his cigarette over the balcony railing. “The problem with you, Abraham, is that your emotions drive your decisions. We’re not theorizing over Talmudic esoteric quandaries here. We’re dealing with reality. Don’t you remember what we saw with our own young eyes? Don’t you remember what happens to Jews who let misguided righteousness determine their fate?”
“ I remember,” Rabbi Gerster said. “They died like sheep in the slaughterhouse.”
“You two might as well speak Chinese.” Itah stood. “You better explain what’s going on, or I’m going straight to the police. What’s this talk of an assassination?”
“Calm down,” Elie said. “Nobody is going to die.” He lit another cigarette and puffed a few times. “It’s very simple. The first stage of my plan required that I nurture a right-wing militia.”
“The ILOT group,” Itah said. “I’ve covered their activities for Channel One. Is Freckles your agent?”
“You know Freckles?” Elie looked at her with renewed appreciation.
“He’s getting regular cash deposits in French francs. From you?”
For a moment, Elie considered whether she should be eliminated. But a TV reporter could be useful to his operation. “Some of the ILOT boys are familiar with the VIP protection procedures. When opportunity comes, one will strike at Rabin.”
“When?”
Elie shrugged. “They’ve shadowed the prime minister to major events, waiting for a lapse in security. The bullet will have low velocity, and Rabin will wear a bulletproof vest. A broken rib would be the worst he could suffer.”
“ That’s your plan?” Itah gave him a doubtful look. “You’re counting on a coincidence? You think Rabin’s bodyguards will step aside for your assassin?”
“ They’re only human. The protective ring opens occasionally, even for a brief moment.”
“ And if this unlikely chance presents itself, how do you know the bullets won’t kill Rabin?”
“ Our rabbi here can explain why,” Elie said.
“ A religious man,” Rabbi Gerster said, “especially one with a legalistic mindset, would follow Talmud to the letter. He will shoot at the fifth rib.”
“ The fifth rib?” Itah seemed bewildered. “Why not the fourth rib? Or the sixth?”
“ Talmud is very specific about this. It’s the prescribed method to stop a Rodef who is in deadly pursuit of another Jew, to disable the pursuer by striking him in the fifth rib. It’s discussed in the tractate of Sanhedrin.”
“ Correct,” Elie said. “Rabin will walk away from the shooting almost unscathed, but the Israeli public will have witnessed an honest-to-God assassination attempt. The political ramifications will be spectacular. The whole right wing will be swept off the map of legitimate politics and into the trashcan of fringe irrelevancy. Rabin’s aura as an invincible warrior will be bolstered, making him undefeatable. He will win an absolute majority in the Knesset and use that mandate to push through the rest of his peace agenda.”
“ And owe you everything?” Rabbi Gerster tugged at his side locks thoughtfully. “What’s your reward?”
“ Everything I do is for our people,” Elie said, looking at Itah, whose loyalty he wanted to win. “My work will not only end Arab terrorism, but will also prevent another Holocaust, another Exile, or another Inquisition. I’m determined to end the long chapter of suffering in Jewish history, to inoculate us against national disasters that have repeatedly stricken us.”
“ A lofty goal,” Rabbi Gerster said. “You’re still pursuing that phantom solution.”
“ The two of us are the same,” Elie said while resting his hand on Rabbi Gerster’s arm. “Since the day we hid in an attic and watched the Nazis slaughter our families, we have dedicated our lives to the eternal survival of our people, to the defeat of the next Final Solution, devised by another Fuhrer, another Pope, or another Grand Ayatollah.”
Rabbi Gerster remained quiet, which pleased Elie, who feared his long-estranged mole would rise up in opposition at this critical time.
“ I’ve developed a comprehensive strategy,” Elie continued. “ Counter Final Solution. In short, we will reorganize the existing secret services-Mossad, Shin Bet, and my SOD-into a single worldwide force capable of performing all operational elements at top level. It will gather information, infiltrate government agencies, and worm its way into ideological organizations and academic institutions in order to identify, track down, and eliminate every enemy of the Jewish people at the outset of their hostile activity. The concept aims at preventing attacks on Jews or Israeli interests worldwide, thwarting all on-going anti-Semitic activities, and suffocating all anti-Jewish intellectual enterprises. Ultimately we will achieve a total and complete immunization of the Gentile world, a cure for all of its anti-Semitic tendencies. In other words, our Counter Final Solution will exterminate the anti-Semitic virus in its totality.”
“ By exterminating every human carrier?” Itah Orr shook her head. “Madness!”
Elie considered whether to say more. Recruiting a news reporter was like cultivating a pet wolf. She could become a formidable ally, but she could also turn on him and destroy everything. By sharing his plans, he had committed to playing for her support, which would be a major coup. But failing to recruit her would necessitate silencing her before she could blow the whistle. He asked, “Don’t you believe in self-defense?”
“ I do. But-”
“ You think we should agree to again go into exile? Into the gas showers? Turn the other cheek for the convenience of our mortal enemies?”
“ Of course not. But I also don’t believe in killing indiscriminately.”
“ So you believe in self-defense as long as we’re discriminate in our actions?”
