The Jerusalem Inception Part 18

Everyone looked up at him, holding their breath.

Like a conductor leading his orchestra, he suddenly waved his hands, and his forceful baritone bounced from the walls, "Doorways of the universe!"

They joined him with a wonderful, earthshaking roar, "The King of Honor, G.o.d is coming!"

The men of Neturay Karta danced in circles, their pace faster, their unb.u.t.toned coats flying around them, their faces red with ecstasy, brilliant with sweat, their legs going up and down with boundless energy, their black shoes drumming the floor in honor of their beloved rabbi, who had returned to lead them.

But Lemmy broke off from the circle and went outside to the forecourt. The breeze was cool on his moist face. The sun had descended below the horizon. Sabbath had arrived.

"Turning your head saved your eyes." The doctor on call at the Sharay Tzedek Hospital smeared ointment on Elie's left cheek, neck, and upper chest, where the tea had scalded him. "Eyes are like eggs. Hot water would boil them." He was young and not too happy about having to work on Friday night.

Elie wasn't listening. His mind was filled with vengeful images of Tanya suffering all kinds of torture. But those images would have to remain in his mind. Hurting Tanya in any way was outside the realm of possibility. It had been his fault anyway. His infatuation with her had loosened his tongue, and he had bragged like a schoolboy on a p.u.b.escent date, receiving his just reward in the form of second-degree burns. Now she was under guard at a safe house on the outskirts of Jerusalem, where she would remain until after tomorrow morning's operation. The doctor put down the ointment jar and pulled off the gloves. "We'll keep you overnight with a fluid drip. I can prescribe something to make you comfortable."

"No." Elie gave him a look that discouraged any argument. "Pain isn't a problem. I'll take this." He pointed at the jar of ointment.

Ten minutes later, he walked out of the hospital, all the records of his treatment already in the trash. He wore a cotton undershirt, separating the rough khaki shirt from the ointment and his angry-red skin. One of the agents was waiting for him in the car.

"Drive me to the police compound at the Russian Yard," Elie said. "They're waiting for me."

The Special Force combined experienced police officers and veterans of elite IDF units, men who engaged in extreme violence without raising their pulse. The group filled a conference room on the second floor of the building. Pinned to the wall was a street map of the Rehavia neighborhood, marked with green, blue, and black pushpins that represented the troops, the commanders, and the attackers respectively. The prime minister's residence was circled in red.

Elie listened as Major Buskilah a.s.signed men to positions, discussed the chain of command, the range from each position to the targets, the lines of fire a.s.signed to each team, and the need to avoid civilian casualties.

When Major Buskilah was done, Elie addressed them. "This operation is based on a tip we received from an informant that two members of Neturay Karta plan to attack the prime minister in the morning. We don't know their ident.i.ty or appearance," he lied, "and unfortunately, senior members of the media have already been invited to a press conference tomorrow on the roof of the prime minister's residence." He cleared his throat, and the movement shot burning pain across his scalded skin. "We suspect that the conspirators have obtained some kind of explosives. We're still investigating how and what they have, but time is running out."

He looked around the room, waiting for his lies to sink in. The faces he browsed showed no doubts. They were eager and attentive, open faces of men accustomed to trusting their commanding officers and adhering to a plan of action.

One of them raised his hand. "Why don't we raid Meah Shearim tonight and search door to door?"

Elie was ready with an answer. "The political situation, especially with the abortion vote coming up, would make such a search appear to be politically motivated to hara.s.s the religious community."

Another man said, "We can shoot them on approach, before they attack."

"Israeli forces don't shoot at unarmed Jews," Elie said, "especially while a bunch of journalists are watching from the roof. A mishap like that could turn the whole Jewish world against this government. As you know, our desperate armament needs depend on the generosity of the Diaspora, especially American Jews."

Some of the men nodded.

"You may only-and I emphasize the word only-shoot after you have clearly witnessed one or both of them using deadly weapons. Now, that's me." He pointed to a black pushpin at the intersection of King George and Ramban streets. "I'll be scouting their probable approach path, dressed as an ultra-Orthodox Jew for the occasion, so make sure not to shoot me."

Several of the soldiers laughed.

"Remember that on Sabbath morning many religious Jews go to their synagogues. Watch carefully, but do not engage anyone until you witness an actual attack. That's your license to kill. Any more questions?"

Someone asked, "Why don't we stop and search black hats who approach the area? If they carry nothing, let them walk. Why take the risk?"

It was a good question that Elie had expected. "We can't stop and search religious Jews randomly. It would be viewed as police hara.s.sment of the innocent Orthodox community. And if we're lucky enough to actually stop these two, they might detonate and kill themselves and the arresting officers. Either way, it's bad. Better let them go through with whatever they've planned and act according to the orders you have received."

There were no more questions. Major Buskilah dismissed the troops until sunrise.

The tall windows of the synagogue grew darker. Lemmy watched from his bench in the rear as his father mounted the dais and kissed the blue velvet curtain of the Ark. The silence was deep, almost unreal for a hall filled with hundreds of men. The moment of truth had arrived. Their rabbi was about to reveal his decision: How would Neturay Karta combat the Zionists' most infuriating sin to date.

Rabbi Gerster's face was white under the black hat. He opened his arms as if he wanted to embrace his followers. "I love you, my sons, as I love my Creator, His name be blessed." He sighed. "I have sought His guidance. I have prayed and studied the words of the sages."

A murmur pa.s.sed through the hall.

"Yes, we all want the Zionists to put aside their heretical law that sanctions the murder of innocent Jewish babies. And, yes, we want them to embrace G.o.d's law, so that one who commits an abortion shall be punished as a murderer."

Before Rabbi Gerster could continue, Redhead Dan sprang up from his seat and yelled, "Kill Levi Eshkol!" His payos wriggled wildly as he turned left and right and yelled again, "It is written: He who comes to kill a Jew, kill him first!" He earned loud applause, which encouraged him. "Smash the head of the snake! Bring down the defiler of G.o.d!"

Lemmy noticed Yoram, who sat next to Redhead Dan, raise his beady eyes to his admired study companion. It was neither a glance of support nor of admiration, but of fear.

"Our learned friend," Rabbi Gerster said, "wants to kill the Zionist prime minister."

"It's G.o.d's will," Redhead Dan yelled.

The rabbi nodded. "It reminds me of the story about a man who stood in line at the post office with a package."

The men hushed each other. They loved the rabbi's stories. Redhead Dan sat down.

"After waiting for three hours to send his package, the line was still long. His feet hurt terribly, his shirt stuck to his back with sweat, and he got so angry that he dropped the package and screamed that he was going to kill Prime Minister Eshkol. A woman standing in line behind him promised to keep his spot, and he ran off to kill Eshkol."

A few men laughed.

Rabbi Gerster took out his white handkerchief and wiped the sweat from his face. "An hour later he returned. The line had moved forward a bit, and the woman who had kept his spot asked, So, did you kill him? The man answered, No, I couldn't, because the line there is even longer!"

The hall exploded with laughter.

Redhead Dan stood up, ready to speak.

"Some of us," Rabbi Gerster said, "believe the abortion law is a reason to go to war against the Zionist regime even today, when millions of Arab enemies are gathering to attack this sliver of the Promised Land from all directions. Some of us believe G.o.d demands that we raise our hands against our misguided brothers. But I disagree."

A collective sigh came in response-a sigh of relief or of disappointment, Lemmy couldn't tell.

"G.o.d is our beacon," the rabbi declared, "the divine luminary that guides us. How could we spill blood because of laws made by foolish, faithless men in the Knesset?"

Redhead Dan's round face was crimson. "Kill the Rodef to save the babies!"

"The law of Rodef is an extreme exception, narrowly defined." The rabbi looked up in contemplation. "As Talmud tells the story of Yoav and Asa'el, G.o.d permits striking a pursuer in the fifth rib to disable him, but killing is allowed only if nothing else would stop the Rodef from murdering another Jew. Now, even if we a.s.sume that the Zionist prime minister is a pursuer who is intent on killing-"

"He is!" Redhead Dan looked around, seeking support. "G.o.d expects us to cut him down before-"

"And even if his demise would cause their Knesset to drop the abortion legislation and instead pa.s.s a law that banned abortions altogether, it would still be a meaningless law, wouldn't it?"

The cryptic question ignited a flurry of hushed exchanges as the men consulted their study companions.

The Zionists enacting the opposite law?

The Knesset banning abortions?

Meaningless?

Why?

"No!" Redhead Dan must have felt compelled to respond, as if the question had been directed at him. "It wouldn't be meaningless! It would be G.o.d's law!"

The rabbi's voice remained calm. "Do you really think that a law pa.s.sed by the secular Zionists would stop faithless women from promiscuity? Prevent unwanted pregnancies? Save innocent babies from the abortionist's blade?" He caressed his beard. "Such a law would only send confused women to back alleys in search of help."

The crowd muttered in agreement.

"All we can achieve by fighting the Zionist laws is to endanger the lives of mothers on top of the babies. You remember Solomon's judgment, yes?"

Many of the men nodded.

"Laws inscribed by human hands are meaningless," Rabbi Gerster said. "Without faith in G.o.d, women wouldn't know any better. It's a waste of time to fight against Zionist laws, an exercise in futility that won't help them see the light."

Redhead Dan yelled, "But they're blind!"

"By studying Talmud, by setting an example of a righteous life, by praying to G.o.d for an end to sins, we can bring out the light of Judaism. I therefore decree that in this community we shall never again mention the laws of the Zionists." Rabbi Gerster shut his eyes, his face turned up, his hands stretched out in a gesture of begging, and his sad baritone filling the hall: "This world is just a very narrow bridge."

The men of Neturay Karta joined their rabbi's singing, "Leading to Heaven; so don't be afraid, no fear at all."

Their voices grew stronger, their bodies swayed back and forth, and they joined in a forceful, repeated affirmation of faith, "This world is just a very narrow bridge."

From the rear of the hall, Lemmy's lips moved with the words, yet his voice was mute. His body swayed, yet his heart remained indifferent. He looked at Benjamin, whose eyelids were shut tightly, his hands pressed against his chest, his voice trembling, "So don't be afraid, no fear at all." Watching his devoutness, Lemmy knew the gap between them had widened. Tears filled his eyes, and for the second time that night, he left the synagogue unnoticed.

Chapter 23.

At sunrise, the marksmen took their positions on the roofs near the prime minister's residence and in discreet locations along the street. Major Buskilah had direct command. Elie went up to the third-story roof, which was set up for the press briefing with folding chairs, hot coffee, and maps of Jerusalem pinned onto plywood.

General Yitzhak Rabin leaned on the railing. "Got a cigarette, Weiss?"

Elie held out a pack of Lucky Strike for the chief of staff.

Rabin pulled a few cigarettes, put one between his lips, and pocketed the rest. "My wife wants me to quit," he said with a lopsided grin. He drew deeply, holding the smoke for a long while before releasing it into the air in a long, straight thread. "Rumor has it that your Nekamah campaign has killed more n.a.z.i officers than the Allied forces managed to kill."

"An exaggeration. Many of them continue to live with impunity." Elie lit a cigarette. The burns on his neck itched as h.e.l.l, and he struggled to keep from scratching.

"They say that you caught an SS officer raping a Jewish girl, cut off his genitalia, and shoved it down his throat."

"Not his throat."

General Rabin chuckled. "An inspiring story nevertheless."

"I like working with blades," Elie said. "I find it nostalgic."

Rabin's cigarette stopped midway to his lips. "Nostalgic?"

"My father, rest in peace, was a kosher butcher."

The young general laughed. But when he realized Elie had not been joking, he tried to control himself, his face turning red. "Sorry, Weiss, it just sounded funny."

"I understand." Elie hid his anger, thinking how this ignorant sabra knew nothing of Jewish life in old Europe. A shoykhet was the only person trained in the ritual slaughter of livestock. Without him, the community would have no kosher meat and starve through the harsh winters, losing children to simple infections. A shoykhet should have been more important than a rabbi, yet the Jews of his childhood had revered Abraham's father, Rabbi Yakov Gerster, while Elie's father, Nahman Weiss, was treated like the carpenter, the shoemaker, or the blacksmith. How the tables had turned!

"Jerusalem!" It was his father's voice. "Wake up!" Lemmy got out of bed and opened the door. Rabbi Gerster was dressed and ready. "We must go now."

On Sat.u.r.days, morning prayers were held later, giving the men of Neturay Karta an opportunity to observe the command: And on the Sabbath you and your livestock shall rest from all the work that you have done. But for some reason his father was up early.

When they left the house, Rabbi Gerster turned in the opposite direction from the synagogue. Lemmy followed, still not completely awake. They entered an apartment building at the edge of Meah Shearim and went down a damp staircase. The rabbi knocked on a door.

Redhead Dan was still in his pajamas. He held the door open, and they entered a small room packed with a table, a sofa, and a bookcase. A baby started crying in the next room.

"Good Sabbath, Dan," Rabbi Gerster said. "I believe you have in your possession something that a G.o.d-fearing Jew should not possess."

Redhead Dan's mouth opened for an instinctive denial, but he thought better of it.

They waited as he disappeared into the other room. The baby cried harder, and a woman's voice comforted him. A moment later Redhead Dan returned with the box, which he placed on the table. "G.o.d had ordained this," he said. "A righteous man was jailed with me and we just knew that G.o.d-"

"You were tricked by the Zionists." Rabbi Gerster opened the box. "These things could have killed you and your family." He took out each of the grenades and checked the fuses. "And the neighbors too."

Redhead Dan sat down, his face buried in his hands.

The rabbi closed the box. "Tonight, when the Sabbath is over, you'll pack a suitcase and take the bus to Safed, where Rabbi Shimon Elchai will take you into his yeshiva on probation. Your wife and son will remain here, and the community will take care of them. One year from now, not a day earlier, you may return. If I find your repentance sincere, you'll be allowed to return to this holy community and reunite with your family."

Lemmy carried the box up the stairs. He shuddered at the sound of Redhead Dan crying and realized that his father had taken him along to witness the banishment of a Neturay Karta member and to hear his sobs.

It was a lesson.

A warning.

The alleys of Meah Shearim were still deserted. At the gate, Rabbi Gerster turned east toward the border. They heard soldiers chattering in Hebrew and an occasional laughter from the concrete bunker facing the rolls of barbed wire and the Jordanians across. The entrance to the bunker was surrounded by sandbags. Two soldiers sat outside, their backs against the sandbags, smoking.

Rabbi Gerster said, "Shalom!"

The soldiers were startled.

"We found this box." He motioned for Lemmy to put it on the ground. "Please be careful."

One of the soldiers opened the box. "Hey! Look at these puppies!"

"Have a good Sabbath." The rabbi walked away.