THE GREEN KING (part 64)
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The Candlesticks
of Bogota
‘Pathetic,’
said Lazarus. ‘Unbelievably pathetic. Your only hope would be that the British
sentry would have a great sense of humour. In which case, hilarity would kill
him for sure.
He got up,
moving like a shadow, and went to stand next to the dummy.
‘Try it on me,
Yoel. Try to slit my throat. Start when you like. Take off your shoes. And
really try to kill me.’
Bainish removed
his shoes, hesitated. The knife in his hand was as sharp as a razor and the
blade was nine and a half inches long.
‘You have one
minute to kill me.’ Said Lazarus, with his back turned. He was facing the white
wall of house on a narrow street between the Jewish and the Armenian sections
of Jerusalem, near the Tower of David. Yoel looked at Reb, who nodded.
Bainish jumped…
…. And three or
four seconds later, the knife was pointed at his own throat, grazing ever so
slightly the skin below his Adam’s apple, and a terrible pain flashed in his
left arm and shoulder.
Silence.
Klimrod asked:
‘Can I try?’
Their eye met.
Bainish remembers the silence that followed. Dov Lazarus smiled.
‘No, he said.
The two young
men from Mauthausen participated in their first real operation on September 28,
1945. They had learned, among the hundred other things, how to make
nitroglycderine, by pouring, drop by drop, preferably without trembling,
glycerine into equal parts of nitric acid and sulfuric acid at a seventy-degree
Baume concentration; and to make the classic black powder from saltpeter taken
from the walls of stables and catlessheds, sometimes even from catacombs. They
learned to handle military explosives, usually obtained by commando raid on
British quarters: trinitrotoluene, C-4 melinite, and others.
TO BE CONTINUED
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I LOVE YOU…
I LOVE YOU…
I LOVE YOU…
I LOVE YOU…
I LOVE YOU…
I LOVE YOU…
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