David and the Hebrew word for Bible. He noticed the unusual thickness of the cover and opened it. The back of the wooden plate was lined with a mesh material that connected it to the book’s spine. He gripped the front cover and tore it away from the bible.
A sigh came from the men.
With a knife from the food tray he separated the wood from the back lining. Loud cracking sounded as the two parts separated, and something fell to the floor.
Lemmy picked it up.
A small booklet, bound in black leather, stamped with a red swastika. He browsed through the pages, noting enormous quantities of precious stones, categorized by clarity and carats. On the last page was an acknowledgment: Deposit of above-listed goods was received 1.1.1945 by Hoffgeitz Bank of Zurich. The handwriting and the signature below belonged to Armande Hoffgeitz.
For a moment, Lemmy was Wilhelm Horch again, a meticulous Swiss banker holding an important financial document. He examined each page. It was an undeniable evidence of a horde of blood money, which his bank had kept secret for fifty years. The ledger, if exposed, would subject the Hoffgeitz Bank to the worst scandal in the long history of Swiss private banking. Or, better yet, it represented access to almost 23 billion U.S. dollars, which could be traded with Shin Bet in a bargain that would save him and those he loved.
*
No one waited for them at the rooftop landing pad. Gideon got out first and helped Agent Cohen, who shielded his bandaged eye with his injured hand. They jogged to the end of the helipad and went down a steel staircase to the actual roof of the building.
“ There!” Agent Cohen pointed to sign: Stairs – Emergency Only.
They entered an enclosed stairway and headed down.
“ Weiss is on the fourth floor,” Agent Cohen said. “You can do the talking. I’ll do the finger breaking and eye poking, okay?”
*
Benjamin beckoned his men to the door. Lemmy was ready to leave, but he noticed Elie reaching for the torn bible, which rested on the bed. Lemmy picked it up and ripped off the bottom cover. He used the knife again to separate the lining from the wood and pulled out a few pieces of paper hidden inside. He unfolded the brittle sheets.
Letters.
Familiar handwriting.
Mother!
He picked one letter, dated March 22, 1967, addressed to him in the army:
My Dearest Jerusalem,
You haven’t responded to my previous letter. Perhaps you are away on exercises. Today is Thursday, and I went out of the apartment for the first time since that terrible day, when your father, in his understandable anger, excommunicated you. Everyone was very happy to see me at the synagogue, and most of the donated clothes are gone. I asked Benjamin to take the rest to Shmattas to be exchanged, and he did it well. He also misses you very much and prays for your return. Please write a few words to let us know how you are. Your father agreed that you may come home to celebrate Passover with us, provided that you respect our traditions. Please, I beg you to come, even if you have to go back to the army. Maybe you don’t understand what it means for me. When you have a child one day, God willing, you will understand my agony. So please come home for Passover. I pray for your safe return.
Your loving mother,
Temimah Gerster.
She had written to him three more times, the last letter filled with anxious, urgent pleas. At the bottom, under Mother’s signature, his father wrote:
Jerusalem, please respond to your mother, whose heart is broken. Cruelty is the gravest sin, while forgiveness is the finest virtue.
Your father,
Rabbi Abraham Gerster.
“I had to…intercept your mail,” Elie said, his voice thin. “These letters…would have interfered…diverted you… from your destiny.”
Lemmy was weak with a shattering sense of loss and grief. When you have a child one day, God willing, you will understand my agony.
“ They rejected you…sat shivah for you…and you hated them.”
“ Because I didn’t know about these letters, which show that my parents had a change of heart, that they loved me still, even without my black hat and side locks.” Lemmy shook the letters in Elie’s face. “You’ve read these! You saw her pain! How could you let her suffer like this?”
Elie rose on his elbow, his face twisted in sudden fury. “We are soldiers! We have a war to win! If we indulge there will be real suffering! There will be another Holocaust!”
“These letters,” Lemmy pressed them to his chest, “are my Holocaust.”
*
On the fourth floor, Gideon stood aside as several bearded men in black coats and hats stepped out of Elie’s hospital room. “What’s this? Who let them in?”
The guard smiled sheepishly. “They just wanted to pray with the patient. I couldn’t refuse.”
Agent Cohen pushed his way in. Gideon followed him and froze at the sight of the man standing by Elie’s bed. Unlike the others, he had removed his hat, which rested on a chair with the attached fake beard and payos. His face was unmistakable: Spinoza!
Gideon drew his gun in a single, fluid motion, pulled on the barrel to slip a bullet into the chamber, and aimed at the assassin.
Spinoza raised his hands and said in perfect Hebrew, “ Ani sochen Israeli. I’m an Israeli agent. Just like you.”
“Shoot him!” Agent Cohen maneuvered to the side of the room. He tried to draw his gun with his injured hand, but the gun dropped to the floor. “Kill him!”
“In God’s name!” It was the last of the black hats, who was still in the room. “I’m Rabbi Benjamin Mashash and I know this man. He’s a Jew. We grew up together!”
“Get out!” Agent Cohen pushed him through the door and slammed it.
“I’m unarmed,” Spinoza said. “I’m not a threat to anyone.”
“End this now,” Elie Weiss said, and while Gideon assumed the order was addressed to him, he heard Spinoza reply, “Be quiet. You’ve caused enough damage already.”
Gideon stepped closer, aiming, “Identify yourself!”
“My name is Jerusalem-”
“Shoot him!” Agent Cohen picked up his own gun from the floor with his left hand and tried to cock it. “He’s an assassin!”
“I’m part of SOD,” Spinoza said. “My cover is Wilhelm Horch, vice president at the Hoffgeitz Bank in Zurich. Look at this.” He held forth a small, black booklet. “I’m offering you a trade. I can transfer a huge-”
“Your father,” Elie said from the bed, “went to see Carl. You should follow him.”
Gideon’s finger slipped into the trigger guard. “I’m calling for reinforcement.” With the Beretta aimed at Spinoza, he moved toward the nightstand by the bed, but there was no telephone there.
“Shoot already!” Agent Cohen pounded Gideon’s back, and a shot exploded in the room.
But the Swiss wasn’t standing where he had stood a second before. And while Gideon was momentarily stunned by the blast of his unintended gunshot, a blurred figure rolled across the floor and kicked his legs from under him. Gideon spun in the air, the hard tiles coming at his head. He heard Agent Cohen scream in pain and felt a heavy body collapse on top of him. Then something very hard thumped the back of his head, and the world went dark, accompanied by the eerie laughter of Elie Weiss.
*
Benjamin had the presence of mind to rush downstairs with his men, start the van, and drive it to the front of the hospital, arriving just as Lemmy ran out, his hat askew, his fake beard covering his mouth.
