The Jerusalem Inception by Avraham Azrieli Page A

apartment, which was missing furniture and its front door. The crowd by the gate jeered as the policemen ran back and hunkered down behind their vehicles. The road was dotted with black shoes, vegetables, and patches of yolk and eggshells.
    Lemmy realized that his hat was gone, his black coat was torn in two places, and blood stained his white shirt. His buttocks ached badly.
    “Coming through!” Redhead Dan pushed through the crowd with a wheelbarrow loaded with bricks. He reached the gate and handed out bricks.
    The officer shouted at his subordinates, and they advanced at the gate.
    Redhead Dan yelled, “Heretics!” He hurled a brick, hitting the windshield on one of the vans. A cheer came from the crowd, and he shouted: “Death to the Zionists! Death to the enemies of God!”
    The officer pulled out his handgun. He aimed upward and released one shot.
    All the black-garbed men turned as one and fled up the narrow alley toward the synagogue, except for Redhead Dan, who stayed by the gate and shouted, “Don’t run! God is great! Don’t run!”
    Lemmy took refuge in a doorway. He heard someone yell, “The rabbi! The rabbi!”
    Rabbi Abraham Gerster appeared at the synagogue doors up the alley. He walked in measured steps toward the gate. The men parted to give him a wide berth, bowing their heads in respect, or embarrassment. He was dressed in Sabbath clothes—black coat, white shirt, and a wide-brimmed, black velvet hat, which cast a shadow over his bearded face.
    The officer watched from across the gate, gun in hand, deputies wielding their clubs.
    The rabbi waved a hand, and a handful of men removed the chairs, tables, and doors. The hinges screeched as the gate opened.
    He walked into the street, approaching the officer, who holstered his gun and took off his helmet, revealing gray hair. They spoke for a few moments. The officer kept shaking his head, and Rabbi Gerster pointed at the van. The officer pulled out a mouthpiece attached to a spiral cord. He stood in a pool of shattered glass, engaged in an angry exchange with a person on the other end of the radio. He threw the mouthpiece onto the driver’s seat and beckoned his men.
    Rabbi Gerster spoke to him, and the officer gestured at his crotch, his eyes searching the silent crowd. He pointed. “There! The punk with blond hair!”
    Rabbi Gerster curled his finger at Lemmy.
    Benjamin muttered, “ Oy vey! ”
    “Say Kaddish for me.” Lemmy limped out the gate.
    His father looked at him—the dirty pants, the bloodied shirt, and torn coat. “Major Buskilah says you punched him.”
    “He clubbed me. Here!” Lemmy motioned at his behind.
    The major took a step forward. “You little—”
    “ Jerusalem! ” Rabbi Gerster pointed. “Apologize to this man.”
    “I’m very sorry.” Lemmy smiled at Major Buskilah. “May God ease your pain in a week or two.”
    “That’s enough!” Rabbi Gerster waved his hand. “Go home and clean up!”
    Benjamin waited at the gate. “What did he say?”
    “We discussed the weather. Why are they here, anyway?”
    “You don’t know?”
    “What?”
    “There was a demonstration downtown!”
    Cheering sounded as Major Buskilah and his men drove off. Rabbi Gerster crossed the soiled street. The cheering quieted down. He entered the gate and walked up the alley. The men watched in silence until he entered the synagogue.
    “Did you see that? Your father scared away the police!”
    “What demonstration?”
    “Redhead Dan organized a group. They went to King George Street to protest the abortion law. The drivers were honking, so Dan threw a rock at a car. They say the driver was injured.” Benjamin nodded knowingly. “God punished him for driving a car on Sabbath.”
    “Throwing rocks is also forbidden on Sabbath.” Lemmy had heard his father say it. “Let’s find my hat.”

Chapter 7
     

     
    A fter instructing Major Buskilah over the radio to leave Meah Shearim, Elie Weiss waited at the Russian Yard police