The Jerusalem Inception

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Authors: Avraham Azrieli
Tags: Fiction, Thrillers
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of Israelis as heretics.”
    “You exaggerate.” The prime minister pulled off his shoes and rested his feet on a chair. “How many do we have nationwide?”
    “Altogether about seven percent of the population. And they believe only God and his Messiah may rebuild the Jewish homeland.” Elie snapped his fingers. “Miracle making is reserved for God. They deny the authority of the government, and if they choose to go from Talmudic pontifications to action, they could destroy the Zionist dream.”
    “They can sit back and let the Arabs do the job.” Prime Minister Eshkol sighed. “The Soviets have been arming the Arabs to the teeth—planes, ships, tanks, rockets, guns. The wars of ’forty-eight and ’fifty-six were child’s play compared to what’s awaiting us. They won’t repeat their mistakes. And if the Jordanians join Egypt and Syria? A unified Arab force, trained and armed by the Soviets, attacking us simultaneously on all three fronts! Armageddon! ”
    “What about the UN?” Elie was referring to the Truce Supervision Force, which had monitored the borders since 1948.
    “General Bull is useless.” Eshkol was referring to the former chief of the Norwegian air force, with the unlikely name Odd Bull, who commanded UN forces in the Middle East. “He’s a like a castrated sperm bull who knows what he’s supposed to do but can’t perform.”
    Elie chuckled. The prime minister’s metaphor was poignant. The UN observers, sent to keep the peace, had no power to counter belligerence.
    “The Arabs,” Eshkol said, “learned the lessons of past defeats—”
    “We also learned some lessons.”
    “We have one tank to their hundred! One rifle to their thousand! One soldier to their ten thousand!”
    “One smart Jew is better than ten thousand Arab soldiers. And don’t worry about Neturay Karta. My guy can handle them.”
    “With one man inside you hope to contain such a fire?”
    “It would help if you could delay the abortion vote.”
    Eshkol shook his head. “We’re socialists. Our labor unions and the kibbutzim want to see progressive legislation, gender equality, women’s rights. Otherwise, what differentiates us from the Arabs?”
    “I understand.” Elie stood to leave. “Oh, almost forgot. I have a favor to ask.”
    The prime minister peered at him through his thick eyeglasses. “Money?”
    “My department is self-funded, as you know.”
    “Then maybe you can spare some cash for a few tanks?”
    “Of course, as soon as you appoint me chief of the Mossad.”
    Prime Minister Eshkol laughed.
    Elie didn’t mind. He would eventually get his wish. He had bankrolled the Special Operations Department with money and valuables he and Abraham had taken from the Nazis they had killed. In the past twenty years, he had traveled to Paris regularly to withdraw cash from several accounts he maintained there under a false identity. It allowed him to finance SOD activities outside the Israeli government’s budgetary controls. But SOD was nothing compared with Mossad. His secret plan was to gain possession of General von Koenig’s fortune and win control over Mossad. With both money and the infrastructure of overseas espionage, he would become the master of a formidable clandestine apparatus with limitless powers.
    “So, what’s the favor?”
    “There’s someone,” Elie said, “a Mossad operative whom I need. A temporary assignment.”
    “Yes?”
    “It will only be part-time, nothing too involved.”
    Prime Minister Eshkol grabbed a pencil and opened his notebook. “What’s his name?”
    “Tanya Galinski. She’s currently—”
    “ Ohhhh!” Eshkol grinned, taking off his glasses. “Tanya Galinski! Ah scheinah meidaleh. ”
    Elie didn’t respond.
    “And what do you want with Mossad’s loveliest secret?”
    “She’s been brought back for an eavesdropping assignment. What I need from her won’t interfere with her current duties.”
    “I’ll approve it. Maybe you’ll get lucky with Miss

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