Hunting Eichmann (33 page)

What would happen if Eichmann managed to escape and reach his house? Harel commanded them to break into the house, using whatever means necessary, and to grab him there. If the police chased them before reaching the safe house, they were to use every evasive maneuver in their repertoire, to break every traffic law, and even to use the second car, the one driven by Shalom, to ram any pursuers.

What if they were caught with Eichmann? "Under no circumstances whatsoever are we to let him go or allow him to escape," Harel insisted. As many of the team as possible were to slip away, but once they were surrounded, Harel wanted Eitan to handcuff himself to Eichmann and ask for the authorities' ranking officer. Eitan was then to declare that they were Jewish volunteers, operating without governmental authority. They had heard that this notorious Nazi war criminal was living in Buenos Aires and wanted him brought to trial. Until they were promised that their captive would be held pending an investigation, Eitan was to do everything in his power not to be separated from Eichmann.

Although the team had always known the stakes involved in the operation, hearing what they were to do if they were caught made the risks even more tangible.

"Are there any questions?" Harel asked.

Thinking of his wife and two children (his daughter barely six months old), Yaakov Gat asked, "If there's a problem with the authorities, and they arrest us with Eichmann, how long can we expect to sit in jail in Argentina?"

"I checked," Harel replied, not surprisingly. "Maximum, ten years. But with diplomatic influence, maybe two or three."

"Who looks after our families?" Gat then asked, knowing it was a question the others wanted answered as well.

"I'm responsible," Harel said firmly. "I'm in charge."

Not one of the team doubted for an instant that their chief would follow through on his word. He was a difficult taskmaster, but his loyalty to his people was unquestioned.

Harel then told the men that if Eichmann did escape during the capture and the police were on their trail, they had to get out of Argentina fast. He suggested that they take a train out of Buenos Aires; the airports and hotels were sure to be searched first. Apart from the doctor, they all had enough experience to handle themselves.

Balancing this grim slate of contingencies, Harel reassured his men that he had complete trust in their skills and resourcefulness. In his view, their success was guaranteed. With that, he finished by wishing good luck to every one of them. They were now on their own.

Some stayed at Ramim for the night. Others returned to Tira or went to the safe house they had leased in the same neighborhood. Each man spent time mulling over the next day's operation.

Lying in his bed at Ramim, Shalom knew that despite their preparations, there were many opportunities for the operation to go terribly wrong. The traffic in the area was undependable. A neighbor might be walking along one of the adjoining streets and see them take Eichmann. The Nazi might manage to shout out, and someone might hear him—perhaps one of his sons. A police blockade might be set up in their path, or a reckless driver might hit their car. Or their vehicle might break down. Tira might prove unapproachable because of a random patrol. Despite these possibilities, Shalom understood that the time to take their chances had come.

In his room at Tira, Malkin tried on a new pair of fur-lined leather gloves. He had bought them partly to ward off any numbness from the cold, but also because he did not want to physically touch this man, this killer. Memories of his family dominated his thoughts, followed by a rush of fear that he might fail his team and, in some way, all the people who had died because of Eichmann. To push away this fear, he kept repeating to himself, "I'm going to catch him."

20

WHEN THE MOSSAD TEAM
awoke on May 11, they faced a long day of nervous anticipation. Tabor and Malkin double-checked that the safe house was ready and finished the hideout. Shalom, Gat, and Eitan drove to San Fernando and back to check that no obstruction had appeared along the return routes they had chosen. Aharoni made a rushed trip to a garage to buy a new battery for the Buick limousine. By early afternoon, however, they had run out of ways to pass the time.

Everyone involved in the capture operation waited at Tira. Between games of chess and gin rummy, they looked for anything other than the operation to talk about, but it was useless. Some retired to their rooms to relax—maybe even sleep—but they were all back in the living room after a short while, more on edge than ever.

Malkin was one of those who attempted to lie down. He slowed his breathing to calm himself, but he kept thinking of Eichmann approaching him in the darkness and would then grow agitated.

An hour before they were scheduled to leave, Malkin splashed some water on his face and dressed for the operation. He pulled on a wig, along with a blue wool sweater and black pants, and for a long time stared at himself in the mirror, mentally charging himself up. Then he went downstairs, to find that almost everyone else was ready. Tabor had also covered his bald head with a wig and wore a heavy overcoat, looking even more gargantuan and imposing than usual. The other operatives had outfitted themselves in jackets and slacks. A few wore ties, to look more like diplomats, but they were not in disguise. Only Malkin and Tabor would be outside the car.

Dr. Kaplan sat on one of the couches, his medical bag drawn close to his side. Obviously ill at ease, he was idly shifting chess pieces around the board, his face blank.

Before they left, Eitan reviewed their plan one more time. He offered no eloquent words of inspiration. Each of them knew what he needed to do. It was half past six, time to go.

Adolf Eichmann started his day as usual, rising from bed at the crack of dawn. He shaved, washed himself with a pail of water, and then had breakfast. Before he left, his wife told him about her nightmare. She warned him to be careful, but he told her there was nothing to worry about. He left his house, caught bus 203 at the kiosk, and began his daily two-hour trek to work. He switched buses twice, catching the one for the final leg at the Saavedra Bridge, which separated the city center from the outlying districts of Buenos Aires. This bus was usually filled with the same people every day, mostly his fellow workers at the Mercedes-Benz plant. Typically, he never said much to the other passengers during the twenty-mile ride southwest of the city. Some of them knew his name, Ricardo Klement, but that was about it.

Once at the plant, he clocked in like everyone else and put on a pair of dark blue Mercedes-Benz overalls to keep from dirtying his pants and shirt. As foreman, he spent the morning walking the assembly line, inspecting the work in progress. When the 12:30
P.M.
whistle blew, Eichmann took his lunch break, alone, at the same restaurant a block away from the plant at which he ate every working day. An hour later, he returned to work exactly on time and finished out his shift. Typically, he left the plant in time to catch the 6:15 bus back to the Saavedra Bridge, but that evening he had a short trade union meeting to attend. Otherwise, it was just another day. This was not the existence he had imagined for himself when he had been climbing the ranks of the Nazi Party, enjoying ever more the power and the spoils of his position. Eichmann remained embittered over the past, but as aimless as his life was now, at least he was free.

Aharoni turned the Buick limousine off the highway, heading toward Route 202 in the darkness. Eitan sat by Aharoni's side, and Tabor and Malkin were in the back. Only a blustery wind and the distant rumble of thunder broke the silence. They all kept their eyes trained on the road, though occasionally they glanced at one another, recognizing how much each depended on the others for the success of the operation—and, potentially, for their own freedom or even lives. This realization bonded them together in a unique way. There was also a touch of fear in the air, but they had long since become accustomed to tuning out that feeling so that it barely registered.

At 7:35
P.M.,
they reached Garibaldi Street. Shalom, driving the Chevrolet, had taken a different route to the target area, but they arrived at the same time. Gat was next to him in the passenger's seat, at relative ease because he knew they had a good plan. More than that, he had faith in the team. In the back seat, the doctor was silent, looking at the operatives through different eyes. They were almost a different breed, so calm in the moments before the operation began.

In five minutes, the bus would arrive. They had not wanted to be in the area for too long before the capture to avoid drawing attention to themselves, but now they needed to move to get into place. On Route 202, Shalom stationed the Chevrolet facing Garibaldi Street and turned off the headlights. Behind them, between their car and the railway embankment, a truck was parked. Its driver was preoccupied with eating his dinner, and Shalom had to hope that he would stay that way. There was nothing they could do about him now.

Aharoni stopped his limousine ten yards in from the highway on Garibaldi Street, facing toward Eichmann's house. Tabor and Malkin stepped out into the cold and opened the hood. Tabor leaned over the engine; he would be concealed from Eichmann when he turned onto his street. On the limousine's front left side, Malkin also bent slightly over the engine, as if to watch. Eitan slipped into the back seat, his forehead pressed against the cold glass as he kept his eyes trained on the bus stop. Staying in the driver's seat, Aharoni stared in the same direction through a pair of night vision binoculars. Their backup car was in place, roughly thirty yards away. Again, there was no reason for them to speak, only to wait and watch.

A minute before bus 203 was scheduled to show, a boy wearing a bright red jacket, probably fifteen years old, pedaled down Garibaldi Street on a bicycle. He stopped at the limousine's side. Aharoni stepped halfway out of the car; he was the only one of them who spoke any Spanish. They needed to get the boy out of there. He asked what was wrong and if they needed some help. Tabor dropped the hood down, and Aharoni smiled at the boy, saying, "Thank you! No need! You can carry on your way." Malkin waved him away as well. The boy took off, his unzipped jacket swirling around him in the wind as he disappeared in the darkness. A storm was definitely coming.

Then 7:40
P.M.
passed, and the bus had not yet arrived. Three minutes later, they saw the lights of a vehicle approaching from the direction of San Fernando. They had spent enough nights on the railway embankment to know that the lights were from the bus.

Malkin prepared himself, running the words "
Un momentito, señor
" over in his head and gauging where in relation to the road and the car he would make his move. Tabor prepared to drop the hood and help Malkin. Both reminded themselves that they were not to hurt Eichmann. Every care must be taken that he not be injured. They also had to keep him from screaming, which complicated their effort, but they had practiced plenty. Malkin was to seize him by the throat, spin behind him, and drag him toward the open car door. Tabor would grab his legs and help throw him into the back seat with Eitan. They had no guns, nor any need of them. Guns would only amplify the risk if the police caught them on the road.

The lights from the bus cut through the night, but instead of stopping opposite the kiosk, the bus kept going past the second capture car and underneath the railway embankment, and then it was gone. It had not even slowed down near its usual stop. Instantly, a rush of doubt overcame the team. Had Eichmann altered his schedule or gone on vacation? Had he simply returned early from work? Or, worst of all, had he learned of their presence and fled from Buenos Aires?

Malkin looked toward the house, noticing that only a lone lamp was lit. Usually after Eichmann returned at day's end, there was a lot more light and activity. He was definitely not home. But this did not rule out the possibility that he had run or had taken the week off. After all, because of the rush to switch safe houses and to finalize their plans, they had not been there the previous two nights to see Eichmann come home at his usual time.

Each man remained in his position as the surge of expectation that the capture was about to take place slowly ebbed. Nobody wanted to give voice to the concern they all shared: they might have missed their opportunity. The wind continued to strengthen; the thunder from the approaching storm grew closer, and now there was an occasional burst of lightning in the distance. Every few minutes, a train roared by on the tracks.

Five minutes passed. Then ten. Another bus approached from San Fernando. The team readied for action, but this bus did not stop either. The possibility that Eichmann had missed his usual bus was losing credence.

Shalom and Gat stood alongside Route 202, looking toward the limousine to see if there was any movement. According to their plan, if Eichmann did not show up by eight o'clock, they would return the next day. The longer they stayed in the target area, the greater the chances that the police or someone else would come upon them. Behind them, they heard the sudden start of an engine. They whirled to see the truck that had been parked to their rear take off down the highway. At least the driver was no longer a concern.

After taking a few steps closer to Garibaldi Street and seeing no activity at the limousine, Shalom decided to wait. He did not want to go over to talk to Eitan because if somebody was watching them, this would connect the two cars. Until he saw the limousine roll away, he planned to remain where they were on Route 202.

As the deadline to leave arrived, Aharoni turned in the seat and asked Eitan, "Do we take off or wait?"

Eitan had already made his decision when the first bus had passed without stopping. He knew he was jeopardizing their chances to return the next day by remaining in the area for so long, but he also knew that the team was more ready now than it ever would be again. It was worth the risk. "No, we stay," he said adamantly.