The Jerusalem Inception - By Avraham Azrieli Page 0,9

of the war. In 1948, when the Jordanians had exiled the Jews from the Old City, Abraham Gerster took a vow not to travel away from Jerusalem until Temple Mount was restored to Jewish sovereignty. And when a son was born to him, he named him Jerusalem, though everyone called the boy Lemmy, as if his given name was too holy to be used lightly. With the passing years, Abraham Gerster had gained a vast knowledge of Talmud and a reputation for calm wisdom, becoming the leader of Neturay Karta.

As they reached Shivtay Israel Street, Lemmy saw a woman standing by the roadside. She was petite and slender, her dark hair collected in a bun. A sleeveless dress exposed her shoulders, and her plain sandals revealed tanned ankles.

Lemmy was shocked. Zionist women never ventured near Neturay Karta with their hair and limbs so immodestly exposed.

The men murmured contemptuously and pulled down the brims of their hats to hide the sinful sight.

The woman stepped forward and blocked Rabbi Gerster’s way. She stared up at him with piercing green eyes. And before anyone managed to interfere, she reached up and touched his beard.

This unimaginable violation—a woman’s impure hand touching the rabbi!—unleashed Redhead Dan, who charged forward like a bull, ramming her. Her heel caught the curb, and she fell backward and banged her head on the sidewalk.

The men closed in, cursing in Yiddish, fists clenched. Redhead Dan shouted, “Shanda! Shanda!” He plucked off his shoe and lifted it over the woman’s head.

Without thinking Lemmy hurled himself at Redhead Dan and knocked him to the ground.

“Stop!” Rabbi Gerster raised his hand. “Enough!”

The men stepped back.

She sat up. A thin stream of blood dripped from her forehead, down her cheek, and onto her plain dress.

The rabbi kneeled by her side. He said nothing, but his face was pale. The woman pushed a lock of hair away from her face. He offered her a white handkerchief. She took it, pressed it to her bruised forehead, and began to laugh.

She laughed!

Lemmy realized she must be mad. Why else would she laugh?

She continued to laugh, yet tears flowed from her eyes.

The men watched their rabbi to see how he would react to her madness.

“Please visit us tomorrow.” He gestured at the gate. “Over there.”

She nodded.

He stood and walked away. His men hurried after him. Lemmy offered a hand to Redhead Dan, who refused it with an angry grunt and sprang to his feet unaided.

Just before entering the neighborhood gate, Lemmy glanced back. The woman was still sitting on the ground. She waved at him with his father’s handkerchief, stained with her blood.

Elie Weiss crouched on the rooftop of a deserted house near the border. The gray beggar’s cloak kept him warm, but the hood made his bald scalp itch. He unscrewed the sniper scope from the rifle and gazed through it as a monocular, watching Abraham and his bearded men disappear through the gate into Meah Shearim. Elie shifted his focus to Tanya. She pulled herself up and walked away. Unlike Abraham, the years had left no mark on her. She had remained delicate and childlike, a porcelain doll. But her appearance no longer matched her inner substance. The pregnant, teenage orphan had turned into a confident Mossad agent. It had been a stroke of luck when he had noticed her name, after all these years, on a secret list of decorated agents. He knew not to approach her directly, but had found a way to pass the information to her about the rabbi of Neturay Karta, whose name matched her dead lover. Yet throwing the two lovers back together was a gamble. It could set off a conflagration of passions that would derail his plans. But Elie had weighed the chances and bet on the idealistic innocence Abraham and Tanya shared, which would keep them from rushing into each other’s arms at the expense of their respective missions. And having watched Abraham’s son leap to Tanya’s defense so impulsively, Elie suspected the youth might prove to be the key to effectively manipulating both his father and Tanya.

The UN siren, which his shots had awakened, died down. The armistice observers would assume it had been another bored Jordanian soldier and do nothing about it, as was their custom. He used the rifle scope to watch the UN Mideast Command at the old Government House across the border. Other than the guards kicking a ball in the courtyard, there was no activity. On the hill behind the UN