The One From the Other Read Online Free PDF Page A

a cool bath, went to Tel Aviv, met Mr. Rabinowicz, and instructed him to find a suitable property for Paul Begelmann.
    I did not see the two SD men until breakfast the next morning when, slightly the worse for wear, they came down to look for some black coffee. They had made a night of it at a club in the old town. “Too much arak,” whispered Eichmann. “It’s the local drink. A sort of aniseed-flavored grape spirit. Avoid it if you can.”
    I smiled and lit a cigarette but waved the smoke away when it seemed to nauseate him. “Did you get hold of Reichert?” I asked.
    “Yes. As a matter of fact he was with us last night. But not Polkes. So he’s liable to turn up here looking for us. Would you mind seeing him, just for five or ten minutes and explaining the situation?”
    “What is the situation?”
    “Our plans are changing by the minute, I’m afraid. We may not be coming back here after all. For one thing, Reichert seems to think we won’t have any better luck getting a visa in Cairo than we’ve had here.”
    “I’m sorry to hear that,” I said. I was not sorry at all.
    “Tell him we’ve gone to Cairo,” said Eichmann. “And that we’ll be staying at the National Hotel. Tell him to come and meet us there.”
    “I don’t know,” I said. “I really don’t want to get involved in any of this.”
    “You’re a German,” he said. “You’re involved whether you like it or not.”
    “Yes, but you’re the Nazi, not me.”
    Eichmann looked shocked. “How can you be working for the SD and not be a Nazi?” he asked.
    “It’s a funny old world,” I said. “But don’t tell anyone.”
    “Look, please see him,” said Eichmann. “If only for courtesy’s sake. I could leave a letter for him, but it would look so much better if you told him in person.”
    “Who is this Fievel Polkes, anyway?” I asked.
    “A Palestinian Jew who works for the Haganah.”
    “And who are they?”
    Eichmann smiled wearily. He was pale and sweating profusely. I almost felt sorry for him. “You really don’t know very much about this country, do you?”
    “I know enough to get a thirty-day visa,” I said, pointedly.
    “Haganah is a Jewish militia group and intelligence service.”
    “You mean, they’re a terrorist organization.”
    “If you like,” agreed Eichmann.
    “All right,” I said. “I’ll see him. For courtesy’s sake. But I’ll need to know everything. I’m not meeting any of these murdering bastards with only half the story.”
    Eichmann hesitated. I knew he didn’t trust me. But either he was too hung over to care, or he now realized he had no choice but to level with me.
    “The Haganah want us to supply them with guns to use against the British here in Palestine,” he said. “If the SD continues to promote Jewish emigration from Germany, they’re also proposing to supply us with information on British troop and naval movements in the eastern Mediterranean.”
    “The Jews helping their own persecutors?” I laughed. “But that’s preposterous.” Eichmann wasn’t laughing. “Isn’t it?”
    “On the contrary,” said Eichmann. “The SD has already financed several Zionist training camps in Germany. Places where young Jews can learn the agricultural skills they will need to farm this land. Palestinian land. A National Socialist-financed Haganah is just one possible extension of that same policy. And that’s one of the reasons I came here. To get the measure of the people in command of Haganah, the Irgun, and other Jewish militia groups. Look, I know it’s hard to believe, but they dislike the British even more than they seem to dislike us.”
    “And where does Haj Amin fit into these plans?” I asked. “He’s an Arab, isn’t he?”
    “Haj Amin is the other side of the coin,” said Eichmann. “In case our pro-Zionist policy doesn’t work out. We had planned to meet the Arab High Committee and some of its members—principally, Haj Amin—here, in Palestine. But it seems