The Jerusalem Inception

Chapter 24





Tanya pointed at the figure standing by her house, and Elie slammed on the brakes, which made the tires screech as the car rocked back and forth on its soft suspension.

“That’s Abraham’s son,” she said. “You don’t want to meet him.”

“No,” he said. “Not yet.”

“What do you mean?” She looked at him, alarmed.

“Only kidding. He’s all yours.”

Tanya collected her coat from the rear seat.

“I assume our deal is still on?” Elie did not turn to her, keeping the burnt skin out of her view.

“Next time you screw with me, it won’t end with hot tea.”

“Do not threaten me.” Elie pulled the wool cap down to his eyebrows. His head hung forward, his aquiline nose almost touching the steering wheel. Would Abraham’s son recognize the car as the one that had delivered the grenades to Redhead Dan? Even if he did, the cheap Deux Chevaux was a common car in Israel.

She waved at the boy through the windshield. He waved back.

“Ah,” Elie said, “the allure of youth.”

“Jealous?”

“Through and through.”

One foot already outside the car, she pointed at the beggar’s cloak he was wearing. “That thing stinks like somebody pissed on it.”

Lemmy watched Tanya get out of the little Citroën and walk up the street toward him. The driver sat low, his wool cap showing over the steering wheel. Did they work together? Another translator of secret documents? Or a lover? For a moment, Lemmy felt foolish for rushing to see her, for waiting by her door like a desperate suitor. But there was no one else he could talk to.

The car U-turned and drove away, leaving a trail of bluish fumes.

“Who’s the mystery man?”

Tanya reached and pinched Lemmy’s nose between a finger and a thumb.

“Nice car.”

Tanya unlocked the door. “Sarcastic today, aren’t we?”

“No, really.” He followed her inside. “It’s a Citroën Deux Chevaux—very innovative!”

“A piece of French junk.” Tanya went into the bathroom and washed her hands and face.

“He was Jewish, Andrea Citroën, the largest car maker in Europe before the second world war. He asked farmers what’s important to them, and they wanted a car to transport eggs to the market on dirt roads and drive to church wearing a top hat.

That’s why it looks like a frog. And there’s no axle—the first car in history to have an individual suspension for each wheel.”

“Where did you learn all this?” She started brushing her teeth.

“I read it in one of your magazines. Citroën built one hundred prototypes for a media demonstration, but the Nazis invaded France. All cars were destroyed, except two that were hidden in barns in the south of France. When the war ended, he was long dead, but one of the prototypes survived and was used to build millions of Deux Chevaux cars.”

Tanya clapped her hands. “Bravo!”

Lemmy bowed, taking off his black hat, holding it to his chest, and then throwing it behind his back. She turned to him while undoing the bun in her hair. He took her face in his hands, her carved cheekbones aligned with his thumbs. He kissed her hungrily, his hands moving down her back, to her buttocks, pressing her slim body against him. She balked at his sudden assertiveness and drew back. But then, she gave in, reached up, and pulled down his head, her fingers in his hair, their tongues exploring each other. His yarmulke fell to the floor. They moved together toward the sofa, Tanya’s shoe leaving a dusty footprint on his black yarmulke.

“We should stop doing this,” Tanya said. It was late in the afternoon. Her hand was on Lemmy’s bare chest, and he was examining the lines on her open palm. “I’m twice your age.”

“More than twice,” he said.

She laughed.

“It doesn’t matter. Love has nothing to do with age.”

“You’re not in love with me.” Tanya’s finger circled his bellybutton. “You’re infatuated. It will pass.”

She was wrong, but he said nothing.

“I’m too old for you, and not only in years. By the time I reached your age, I’d been through enough to fill a hundred years of life. I could never fall in love again.”

“Again?”

She bit her lower lip.

“Then maybe I should start seeing Bira. We had a good time walking to the city together.”

“No!” Tanya pulled away from him. She collected her shirt from the floor and put it on.

“I’m joking.” He placed his arms around her waist. “Bira is way too young for me.”

“She’s three years older than you, silly!” Tanya turned within his embrace.

“I only have eyes for you.”

“That has to change.”

“Why? Are you still in love with my father?”

She sighed. “Whatever happened between me and your father was a long time ago. In another life. I doubt we’ll ever speak again.”

“Tell me more.”

“No.”

“I found a Mauser in his study last night.” He reached down to the floor, where his clothes lay in a pile. “It must have belonged to a Nazi once. Look!” He showed her the engraved inscription: K.v.K. 1943 Deutschland Über Alles. “And someone scratched Nekamah in Hebrew on the other side.” He turned the gun to show her.

Tanya looked away. “Your father is a foolish man for keeping this gun. And you must return it.”

“But—”

“Promise me you’ll forget you’ve ever seen this gun, and never ask me about your father again.”

“But why—”

“No more questions! Otherwise, I won’t see you anymore.”

“That’s not fair!”

“Promise!”

“Okay, I promise.” He held the Mauser in his hand, feeling its weight. “On one condition: That you teach me how to use it.”

“Hell, no!”

“What if I’m attacked on my way home?”

“Oh, please!” Shaking her head, Tanya plucked the gun from his hand. “I’m going to regret this.” She held the gun up. “Magazine release.” She pressed the release, letting the magazine drop to her open hand. “Magazine in.” She pushed it in. “Loading.” She held the gun with one hand and pulled back the barrel with the other hand, letting it spring forward. “Cocked. Bullet in the barrel.” She aimed at the opposite wall. “Safety switch, secure position.” She flipped the switch with her thumb. “Safety off. Ready to shoot.”

“Let me try.”

Tanya secured the Mauser and handed it to Lemmy, handle first. He repeated the process, only that when he cocked the gun, the bullet already in the barrel popped out.

She picked up the bullet. “If you ever have to shoot, press the trigger slowly until it goes. Otherwise, you’ll spoil your aim by shifting the direction of the gun.”

“I’ll remember that.” He released the magazine and added the bullet back in.

“And no more questions!”

“It’s not fair.”

Her face softened. She touched his lips with a finger. “You’re young, smart, and handsome. You have a great life ahead of you.” With both hands she manipulated his dangling payos behind his ears, out of the way. “Your father is a prisoner of a horrible past, serving a life sentence. As I am. But you are free to read, explore, choose your own way in the world.”

Suddenly, as if a chandelier had turned on inside his head, the dim twilight of doubts cleared up and he knew what he must do. He looked deep into the green pools of her eyes and kissed her.

“Elie Weiss! Just the man I wanted to see!” Prime Minister Levi Eshkol leaned over the wide desk, extending a hand, which Elie shook. “So? The black hats stood you up?”

“Seems so.”

“At least they didn’t riot this morning after the Knesset approved the abortion law. Great job, Weiss!”

“Thank you.”

“I have another thorn in my side, and I decided you’re the man to pull it out.”

“I’m better at sticking thorns in than at pulling them out.”

The prime minister laughed. “Pull this one out of my side and stick it in someone else’s side, if you know what I mean.”

“Moshe Dayan?”

“Exactly.”

Elie felt in his pocket for a cigarette. He had already guessed what Eshkol wanted. Now it was time for bargaining. “You want me to meddle in politics?”

The prime minister pulled off his spectacles. “Politics schmolitics! It’s about our survival! That pirate will launch a war we can’t win!” He wiped sweat from his head with a handkerchief. “The public is fooled by his cheap charisma. But Israel needs mature leaders, not a young sabra who shoots from the hip.”

Elie nodded. Did Eshkol know that Rabin wanted Dayan? The situation was becoming more and more interesting. “From what I hear, the generals are anxious for a preemptive strike on Egypt, and they feel Dayan is more likely to authorize it.”

“Because he’s reckless. We have two hundred jets, and Weitzman wants to launch all of them at first light, fly across the desert, and bomb Nasser’s airfields—a suicidal mission if there ever was one.”

“Why?”

“They’ll know we’re coming as soon as the first plane takes off. The UN radar in Jerusalem will pick it up in a second. General Bull will tip the Jordanians, and they’ll bombard West Jerusalem to death while alerting the Egyptians to scramble their planes into the air before we’ve even crossed the Suez Canal!”

Elie was impressed. The prime minister had outlined a viable doomsday scenario. “Do we know the UN radar’s capabilities yet? Perhaps it’s not powerful enough to see planes take off in the Negev or Galilee?”

“We must assume the worst. With our luck, it can track every gefilteh fish in the Mediterranean Sea and all the way to the Cyprus!”

“What exactly do you want me to do about Dayan?”

“You’re creative. Bring him down, and I’ll appoint you.”

“Chief of Mossad?”

“I promise!”

The deal done, Elie got up to leave. “You can rely on me.”