The Shield: a novel (13 page)

***

Mohammad Husseini spent several hours driving. He made relatively good progress, despite the security checkpoints. At all of the checkpoints but one he was waved through with just a perfunctory inspection of his ID. The checkpoints were manned by combined Israeli–Palestinian teams which today seemed somewhat relaxed. Only at one checkpoint, the first he encountered when exiting Jenin, was he politely asked to exit the car and patted down for weapons. Even that was done superficially; otherwise they would have found the commando knife he always carried in a holster on his leg.

Moh
ammad arrived in Ramallah with time to spare and began with a visit to his friend and colleague – the Hamas commander of the area. He got a quick update on the local situation and proceeded to the Mukata – the presidential compound. At the entrance he was thoroughly searched and gave his knife and pepper spray to the guards for safe keeping. He was searched two more times, at the entrance to the building and at the guard station inside. Finally he was taken by a guard to the second floor. The guard knocked on the door.

“
Come in,” a voice sounded from inside.

Moh
ammed opened the door and entered. It wasn’t his first visit, but he still marveled at the setup: the room was big, larger than the corridor with its closely spaced doors implied. A large desk occupied the space in front of a picture window. With the light coming through the large window, the figure behind the desk was not clearly visible. The desk and the chair behind it were elevated on a discreet platform, making a visitor feel small and insignificant.

“
My dear friend,” the figure behind the desk said, “I am glad to see you.”

“
As I you, Mr. Chairman,” Mohammad responded. “We need to discuss a plan I developed to make us victorious, with Allah’s help.”

Dr. Ahmad Mazen, Chairman of the Palestinian Authority, rose from behind his desk: “Let’s get more comfortable.” He moved to the armchairs and coffee table in a corner of the room. A pot of coffee, cookies and sandwiches were spread out on the table. Mazen was a big man with a dominant presence. He was not charismatic, but through clever manipulation of different Palestinian factions he rose to power and intended to hold on to his power. His relations with Israel were as good as could be expected. Just before The Event he had been scheduled to meet with the Israeli Prime Minister for another round of peace talks. As usual, if the negotiations went too far and threatened to become practical, he would order one of the factions, preferably H
amas or one of the smaller groups, to kill some Jews. This would interrupt the talks and return everything to normal. That way he managed to keep talking peace without giving up hope of a final victory.

“
What is this plan you want to discuss?” he asked after they were settled with cups of coffee in their hands.

“
Mr. Chairman,” Mohammad began respectfully, “do you believe the Israeli announcement about this strange time displacement?”

“
Well, I have no reason to believe they are lying.”

“
Okay then, this is my plan.” Mohammad went on to describe his plan to contact the Mufti and the Germans.

“
Very ingenious, my dear Mohammad. What will happen if one of your couriers is caught and confesses who sent him?”

“
We’ll not be worse off than before. I will take the normal precaution of the courier not knowing who send him; the worst that can happen is that one of my cell commanders will spend some time in an Israeli jail.”

“
Yes, I believe we can get away with this. As long as the Palestinian Authority can’t be implicated, I will support you. What do you need?”

“
Mr. Chairman, our connections inside Israel are not very good. It would be very helpful if we could use some of your people as guides. We will also need up to date intelligence on the movement of Israeli troops and, if it is at all possible, some kind of legitimate ID cards for our operatives that will allow them to pass at least a superficial inspection.”

“
Let’s start with the easy part. When we are done here ask my chief of security in Jenin to arrange for the ID cards. By the time you get back there, he will have orders to supply you with up to date information on troop movements. He will also supply you with guides. Anything else I can do for you?”

“
No, sir. I appreciate your help. May Allah be with you always.”

“
Allahu Akbar” Mazen responded.

At noon on Wednesday, June 25, 1941, the Reverend John Walker was back at his Jerusalem hotel, mentally exhausted. He had rushed to the
American consulate yesterday morning after being informed that the group he was leading on a tour of the Holy Land would have to vacate their rooms in less than thirty days. The consul was very polite but claimed not to be able to help. It was perfectly reasonable, he said, for the hotel to refuse the group accommodations. Walker threatening to move his group into the consulate persuaded the consul to make a couple of calls to Israeli officials and accompany him to the Foreign Ministry.

A harried Foreign Ministry Deputy General Director told them that since the group was not official guests of the state, there was nothing he could do and advised them to try the Finance or Welfare Ministries. They tried both. Everyone was busy; they couldn’t even get past reception. The consul, slightly offended, gave up.

The Reverend was ready to explode. Finally – at ten this morning – Walker managed to see a functionary at the Department of Social Security of the Welfare Ministry.

The official was polite. “My dear Reverend,” he said in heavily accented English, “it is my pleasure to meet you. How can I be of help?”

“We were told by the hotel management that they expect us to leave within thirty days,” Walker responded, with barely contained anger. “We are American citizens and will not accept shabby treatment. I want you to arrange for us to fly back to the United States as soon as possible!” Walker glared at the official, who smiled pleasantly back.

“
I completely understand your distress, but I don’t know what to say. We are working on long-term solutions and will let you know when we have anything new.” The bureaucrat was finished and expected the Reverend to leave.

But Walker couldn’t give up. “What do you mean ‘long-term’? We have no desire to stay here indefinitely!”

The Israeli official was losing his patience. “Sir, there are no commercial flights from Israel to anywhere. You heard the announcement! There’s a war going on in Europe. And even if you did manage to fly safely to the U.S., where would you go, what would you do? No one in the country knows any of you: your homes aren’t there.

“
Look,” he said, seeing Walker’s growing panic and sympathizing, “there’s no way right now to get you back to where you came from. The only thing to do is to try and take care of your group here, now. In every other place it’s 1941.

I can assure you that you will not be thrown out on the street. Your people will be treated well, but we are still working out the details, so please be patient.”

Walker walked slowly back to the hotel where he assembled his group in a conference room. They looked good, rested and fresh, unlike their pastor. They did not seem worried; they trusted him.

“
We cannot go back to the U.S. as planned,” the Reverend announced quietly, “which isn’t so bad if you consider the circumstances. Right now there’s nowhere else in the world offering the kind of conveniences we take for granted, like being able to consult a doctor who’s heard of the medicines we take. The Israeli government has promised to provide us with the services and accommodations we need. So, as long as we’re stuck here, think about what we’d find in America now and
give thanks.”

The group obediently bowed their heads. But it wasn’t long before their prayers gave way to a loud discussion. Apparently not everyone felt thankful.

***

Gad Yaari was finishing his report to the negotiating Committee. Unsurprisingly, the Nazis had not heeded the warnings about harming the Jews. According to radio intercepts several ‘actions’ were planned, the first to take place in Lutsk, Ukraine – just like in the old time-line. Yaari recommended caution, since the Nazis did seem to be complying with some of the demands. Radioed orders seemed to indicate that Jews were not treated as brutally as in the original time-line. The radio intercepts also talked about Eichmann and a bunch of other experts preparing to go to Italy to survey sites for transfer c
amps in the area designated by the Caliph.

“
The German ambassador in Rome was instructed to start negotiating with the Italian government to establish transit camps for Jews on its territory,” he reported.

“
So do we go ahead as planned if they start killing Jews?” Amos Nir asked.

Mina Katz, a psychologist and experienced hostage negotiator, leaned back in her chair and offered her opinion: “These people are psychopaths. We predicted they’d accept the caliph idea since it fits their warped view of the world. Basically, they bought it. They did not however accept the idea that our Caliph is as dangerous or determined as they are. A strong reaction to their noncompliance is likely to persuade the Nazis that they can’t afford to play g
ames. I recommend that we continue according to plan.”

Almost everyone in the room had lost f
amily to the Holocaust. All of them, even the few who had no relatives in Europe at this time, had learned in childhood how important it was to never again let Jews be slaughtered. There could be no compromise with the Nazis.

“
We need to approve a target then,” Amos Nir stated. “The destruction has to be very painful. The way I see it, we have to destroy a large area in order to demonstrate the Caliph’s power.

“
At the same time, the strategic balance in the war has to be preserved. We’re helping the Nazi war effort by making them treat the Jews humanely instead of making a huge investment in the machinery of extermination. We estimate that that alone will prolong the war by another year. After all, tens of thousands of troops can now be sent to fight the Soviets, including construction groups freed to build fortifications instead of concentration camps. Plus huge amounts of ammunition, railway rolling stock, fuel and industrial effort newly made available. Most historians believe the Germans would have won their war against the Soviets, or at least captured Moscow, if they hadn’t been diverting so many resources to kill Jews. We must compensate; otherwise we’ll have to intervene directly.”

The negotiating committee discussed available options for another hour. When a decision was made, the Chief of General Staff gave his orders to the Commanding General of the Air Force.

***

It was almost dark by the time the Bristol Blenheim carrying Avigdor Mizrahi landed in London. He was stiff, tired, and hungry. The cheerfulness of the British pilots annoyed him. A fresh crew had come aboard in Gibraltar who knew nothing about either Mizrahi or his mission. They were the second new crew, with the first exchange having been made in Malta. It seemed that Churchill abided by the Israelis’ request to keep the whole affair secret. At the moment Mizrahi didn’t care. All he wanted was a hot shower, a meal, a bed.

A car with its lights almost invisible due to the blackout was waiting by the aircraft when they finally stopped taxiing, at a remote corner of the airport. There were no discernible potholes in the landing strip, though Mizrahi knew it had been bombed only a couple of days before.

The driver got out and opened the rear door. The Israeli had the heavy briefcase with him and watched as the rest of his luggage was taken off the bomber and put in the trunk. Nothing more to do but get comfortable in the back of the limousine, where he quickly fell asleep.

It was completely dark when they stopped in front of an open door. The driver ushered him inside and closed the door behind them. When the light came on, Mizrahi was surprised by the size of the entrance hall. The house appeared to be big, well-furnished and comfortable. He looked forward to exploring it sometime, when he wasn’t so tired.

***

Several hours earlier, Hitler had been listening to Fritz Todt, the Third Reich’s armaments minister: “Mein Fuehrer, I have no idea what happened. According to eyewitnesses from the surrounding villages, at approximately six in the afternoon the sun descended on Wolfsburg. I do not give much credit to peasants’ tales, but some of the observers were trained anti-aircraft officers from batteries around the town. I saw them myself - severely burned, some blind. They describe a flash brighter than the sun directly over the Volkswagen plant. We found pieces of the steel structures and machinery, but essentially the plant and town are gone, flattened and burned.”

Goering, Himmler and Goebbels listened along with Hitler. Everyone sat quietly, stunned and sobered.

“Mein Fuehrer,” continued Todt, “we don’t have spare capacity at any other plant to produce vehicles. Volkswagen also made spare parts and assemblies for other manufacturers. I am working on solutions, but as of now we’ve found no industrial replacement and I’m afraid our war effort will suffer.”

“
How many people did we lose?” asked Hitler.