be disposing of her as we speak.”
*
Itah and Lemmy strolled across the forecourt to the main exit, pausing to look at the views of the Israel Museum and the Supreme Court. There was no sign of trouble as they exited though the visitors’ gate and flagged down a taxi.
“To the Old City,” Lemmy said.
Traffic was slow in the city’s center, and the cabby dropped them off near the Jaffa Gate. They stopped at a store filled with knickknacks and bought pocket-size binoculars. Passing by David’s Tower, Lemmy found stairs leading up to the top of the ancient wall surrounding the Old City. He led the way to the southern ramparts and found an archer’s slit that the wind and rain had widened over the centuries.
Across a wide gulch, the opposite ridge was dominated by the massive whitewashed structure of the old Government House, where the British high commissioner had resided until Israel’s independence in 1948, followed by the UN Mideast Command until 1967, when Israel captured East Jerusalem from Jordan. There was no trace of the giant radar receptor, which Lemmy had destroyed with a bomb on the first morning of the war.
The most striking view was a long promenade, which crested the ridge all the way to the right, across what used to be the border, and connecting with the main road to Hebron. He trained the binoculars on the boardwalk and scanned it slo wly. The parking area at the eastern end was sparsely used by a few cars and three tour buses. But suddenly two white sedans sped up the access road and let out a group of men. He switched his focus to the parking lot at the western end of the promenade. A similar group arrived there in a hurry. They advanced from both directions, like pincers. They stopped visitors, checked papers, and held up photos to compare faces.
Itah took the binoculars. She scanned the view across the gulch. “Unbelievable. The prime minister lied to us!”
“ I don’t think so.” Lemmy took the binoculars and headed back toward David’s Tower.
“ What are you saying?” She followed him. “Shin Bet won’t act against Rabin’s explicit orders!”
“ Why not? VIP protection is a tricky business. They have to ignore the wishes of the individual VIP. A public figure cannot dictate the terms of his own protection. On the contrary. Everything must be done to remove a threat, even against his orders.”
“ But you’re no threat to Rabin.” Itah held his arm as the narrow path atop the ancient wall turned right.
Lemmy stopped and turned to face her. “What makes you so sure?”
Itah looked at him.
The dry wind picked up, stinging them with dust. A muezzin chanted nearby.
She glanced at the edge of the wall and the long drop to the bottom.
“ See what I mean?” Lemmy chuckled. “Even you aren’t completely sure. As far as they’re concerned, I could be a turncoat. As long as I’m walking around, I’m an unacceptable risk.”
*
Friday, November 3, 1995
After midnight, the hospital quieted down. But Elie waited another hour before getting out of bed. In the soft light from the window, he saw Rabbi Gerster rise from his cot and follow him into the bathroom. He pressed the lever to flush the toilet. “Abraham,” he whispered, “are you still committed?”
“To what?”
“Preventing another Holocaust.”
“Counter Final Solution?”
Elie nodded.
“I’m committed. But first I must save my son.”
It was the response Elie had expected. “Lemmy needs no saving. He’s capable of saving himself. He came here to help you. Leave the country, and he will follow you. I’ll make sure of it.” Before Abraham could argue, he added, “Tanya is the one who needs your help.”
“ I know. But how can I leave the country?”
“ I’ve prepared papers for you, only I didn’t think you’d need it so soon. Go to Hapoalim Bank, Herzl Boulevard branch. Manager is David Abulafia. He has an envelope for you. Cash, credit cards, German passport under the name Abelard Horch.”
“ Abelard Horch?”
“ Lemmy’s father.”
In the darkness, Rabbi Gerster gripped Elie’s thin forearm. “You were planning to reunite us all along!”
“ I’m not a monster,” Elie said. “Tomorrow, take a flight to Amsterdam. Look for the Mullenhuis Data Recovery Company. The owner, Carl, will know where to find Tanya.”
“ How do you know?”
“ That Dutchman is the only person Lemmy would trust. They’re true friends.”
His breathing belabored, Elie lay back under the covers in the elevated hospital bed. He watched Abraham get dressed and bunch up the blankets on his cot in the shape of a sleeping person. His shadow bent over Elie’s bed. “Shalom,” he whispered.
Elie grabbed his shirt and made him lean closer. “Tell her.” He struggled for air. “Tell Tanya.”
“ Tell her what?”
“ That I sent you to take care of her. To be with her. Tell her!”
“I will.” Rabbi Gerster tiptoed to the door, put his ear against it, and waited. A while later, the soft sound of the guard’s snoring came through. He cracked the door and slipped out.
*
The Kings of Israel Plaza was a vast concrete square in the center of Tel Aviv. Gideon looked up at the massive, Soviet-style city hall, which towered over the plaza on the north side. In its shadow, carpenters were assembling the stage for tomorrow night’s peace rally. He had already briefed the director of security on the need to empty the building at the end of the workday and keep it secured until after the rally tomorrow night.
Around the plaza, teams of laborers unpacked audio equipment and placed loudspeakers at regular intervals. Ibn Gevirol Street ran along the east side. It was a six-lane artery that connected north and south Tel Aviv and was due to be shut down to vehicle traffic hours before the event. They waited for a lull in traffic and ran across.
The sidewalk teemed with pedestrians, who patronized the retail stores on the street level. Above the stores, the buildings had six or seven floors of residential apartments, many sporting balconies that enjoyed unobstructed lines of fire at the stage, as did the hundreds of apartments along King Saul Boulevard on the south side of the plaza.
“ This is unacceptable,” Gideon said. “We have to remove the residents and secure all these apartment buildings before the rally.”
“ You can try,” Agent Cohen said.
“ Why not?”
“ You’ve obviously spent too much time away from Israel.” He gestured at the buildings. “You think these Israelis would just pack a bag and leave their apartments? Every one of them has already invited his friends and relatives to come up and sit on the balcony during the rally. They’ll drink lemonade and crack sunflower seeds, spitting the skin shards on the poor schmucks below, who will stand on their toes to catch a glimpse of the dignitaries, get squeezed by total strangers, and gag on body odor and cigarette smoke, because they don’t know anyone who owns an apartment overlooking the plaza.”
Gideon laughed.
“ That’s why we have to count on sharpshooters, about a hundred of them, on the roofs all around.”
“ They should pay special attention to empty balconies,” Gideon said. “I don’t think Spinoza would try shooting from a populated apartment, even if he can somehow get invited.”
“ He won’t be able to bring a rifle to the area. We’re setting up roadblocks. Anyone carrying a package or a bag will be searched. Israelis are used to being searched at the entrance to every mall and movie theater, so no one would mind.”
“ We have to assume,” Gideon said, “that Spinoza knows those facts, that he has a plan that’s not vulnerable to a roadblock, a search, or a pat-down.”
*
