S1-E04: Acquiring the Target

on at the same time, halfway around the world. Has a few parallels with Mio's operation, and it had an ending that sent a warning to the entire agency. Basad had sent an agent to Damascus to spy on the Syrians. His name was Ellie Cohen, and like Meo, he was undercover. He was posing as an Arab businessman, and he'd made friends with people high in the Syrian government, and like Meo,

he'd gone solo, no backup team, no protection. Undercover, Ellie Cohen climbed to the top of Syrian society and was even interviewed on a popular Arabic radio show. Cohen's main mission was simply to find out what serious leaders and especially as military were up to. Were they thinking of war with Israel. Were they building up their forces with a planning sabotage. But he had a sideline too. Dozens

of Nazis had fled to Syria after the war. Cohen was hoping to find out where they were and eliminate them. At one point he located a guy named Walter Ralph, who had helped develop the mobile gas fans that had killed hundreds of thousands of Jews. He sent a letter bomb to Ralph, wounding the x Nazi. Ellie Cohen was probably the only other Massad agent besides Meo working in the field to find Nazis, but Cohen's luck turned bad.

Around seven am one morning, military policeman broke into his Damascus apartment and found the agent sitting on his bed tapping out a message to Massad and a miniature transmitter. Cohen managed to throw a bottle of acid on the code sheets that he used to communicate with his handlers, but he was quickly arrested. Months later, he would be brought into the Central Square in Damascus in front of thousands of spectators and hung. This was all going on

at the same time as MEO's mission. Coin's arrest inevitably influenced our mood. Neo remembered it was a grim reminder of what could happen to him if he took the wrong step and his true identity was revealed. If Meo wasn't careful, he would become the target, hunted down in a place far from any help. On his fifth day in Stal Paulo, Meo drove to the marina in the Interlagos neighborhood in his pocket. He had the letter of

introduction he had gotten from the company director. As soon as he arrived, Mia went to see the guy who ran the marina. I was a real pest and bombarded him with endless questions. Meo didn't care about the answers. He just wanted to impress on the manager how ambitious he was. This astring businessman was going to spend a lot of money in Brazil. He was very patient, and I achieved my goal. He will remember me very well. After the meeting, Mia wandered down to the docks, who

pretended to be relaxing after a day of business. He spotted a bunch of rental boats tied up to one of the piers that jetted out into the lake, and next to it a battered seaplane. It was a sign that Meal might have found the right place. Herbert Supers was obsessed with aircraft. He built them all his life. Next to the dock was a restaurant with a thatched roof. Neo strolled over, sat at the table, and ordered a cold drink. As he sipped it, he kept an eye

on the pier, looking for signs with the butcher. Nea watched the little ticket office at the boat rental business. He spotted young man working on the boats next to it. Neil thought it might be one of the butcher's sons. He was tempted to finish his drink, strolled down to the dock and strike up a conversation with the young man. Maybe the guy could tell him where Zukers was. Maybe the butcher himself would show up. But anything that could make him look too eager to meet Sukers that was

to be avoided. Their meeting had to look casual, as if it had been a coincidence. Zukerts was looking from massade operatives. Don't give him a reason to think you're one. I must be careful not to be too noticeable. I thought. Zukers has been on the run for many years now, and there was no reason to jeopardize the operation because of undue haste. I could come back on Saturday and blending in this a general activity, get even closer to his target. For now, this fus enough. I'm Steven Talty

and this as good assassin's hunting the butcher. Many former Nazis were deserting European droves and moving to the safety of South America. The first month was fine and not bending forwards. Trial. The second son was to find a lay, hearing we must thwarts this shameful forces. He hadn't of a trail of blood and horror, the end of a man whose name will be written in Italy, episode four. Acquiring the target. The next day, Meal was back. The

marina was packed with Brazilians and joined the son. Mio, who wasn't the water skiing type, went back to the restaurant in order to play of oysters. After finishing them, he walked down the ramp to the docks, looking like, as he later said, a middle aged man with a pot belly who had just consumed a dozen juicy oysters and thus taking a stroll to aid his digestion. He went up to the Marina's little office. The young woman

was at the register that morning. He began talking to her, asking her questions about the tourist business in the area. He spoke in English with a German accent. Young woman told him he could speak German to her. She was from Dresden, the city of the Allies had bombed during the war. She didn't know anything about the tourist business, but said that he could speak to someone else. Do you see this tall man with a light hair, she asked, and she pointed to the dock. A man was busy

tying up a seaplane to a pole. He's much more knowledgeable about such things than I am. Talk to him. I'm sure he'd be helpful. Meo turned it saw a broad shouldered, older man, powerfully built, working on the dock. He had eight hair and the same thick buddy hollyglasses that MEO had seen in the surveillance photos. He looked like a former athlete. He had a certain swagger on the way he moved. It had to be Zookers. Neo walked over to the man and said good day in German.

Zookers turned and expected him from head to toe. Neo spoke up my name is Anton Kunz. I'm a businessman. It's a friendly young lady. As the ticket booth preferred me to you. I'm interested in the tour straight here and she she told me you were an expert on the subject. Zookers didn't react. Well, it was a Saturday. He was busy, he needs to make some money, and here was this stranger asking these detailed questions. He brushed Meo off. The spy had to change his pitch quickly

where Zookers would lose interest. Nea looked at the seaplane bobbing on the waves. Got an idea. He told Zukers he'd like to take a flying tour over the city. That way, the Butcher could earn some money and Meal could study him up close. The older man agreed immediately, my name is Sukars. Please or the plane and that was it confirmation. This was indeed the Butcher of Latvia. His attitude had changed completely. It was much friendlier now. Mio took note. He stepped into the plane. There was

a small cockpit designed for only two people. Suckers got in and took the pilot's seat. Mio could tell immediately that the aviator was an expert he lived, loved and breathed airplanes. Neo thought The tour over the city took about twenty minutes, with Suker's pointing out different landmarks. The engine was so loud that Meo could barely hear above it, but he pretended to be deeply interested in what Sukers

had to say. If Anton Kunzla was going to invest hundreds of thousands of dollars in the area, he had looked like he was fascinated by every detail. After they landed, Suckers extended an invitation for a quick drink. He asked me O onto his boat. They climbed aboard, and Suckers brought out some brandy. They clink glasses and drank in the little cabin. Neo studied this man. He was a huge guy. Neo will talk about this again and again in later years. Zukers looked like a bodybuilder with muscled

arms and broadcast. You try not to focus on the stories he'd heard about what the butcher had done during the war. He had to remain objective in character. Anton Kuzla had no idea who Herbert Suckers was. Before they could talk business, Sukers stared at me O. I'm accused of being a war criminal. Me a war criminal after I saved the life of a Jewish girl and protected her during the Old War. He waited for my reaction. I remained impassive. Neo said nothing to this, but his

mind was going a million miles an hour. Why was Suukers bringing this up? They only just met an hour ago. Was it a test? He guessed that Zukers wanted to get an idea of Kunz's views on the war in the Holocaust. If he was too sympathetic to the Jews, Zukers might think he was a Jew himself. If Mio overdid it and defended the Nazis, it might seem over the top, a transparent move designed to appeal to an accused war criminals. Here tues this day, I cannot comprehend

but make him think this was a good tactic. Perhaps he thought I was a former Nazi looking for a safe haven. Many former Nazis were deserting European droves and moving toward the safety of South America. But Mio kept quiet. He just said nothing. When he didn't answer, Zukers tried a different tax. Yes, Mio, if he'd served during the war. Mio told him yes, and Zukers asked where he'd been stationed. Yeah. So. A former officer from another intelligence service early on in

my career said to me, Chris, rule number one. Rule number one is you always always have to prepare, you never improvise. That's Colonel Chris Costa. He's a former U. S. Army intelligence officer, Senior Director for counter Terrorism at the National Security Council, and currently the executive director of the International Spy Museum. Rule number two is, always be prepared to improvise. Right, They seem inconsistent, but he was right. He had a lot of wisdom. Sucers had served in

Latvia and Western Russia. He fought partisans and Soviet soldiers from nineteen forty two onward. Maybe he was trying to see if me it was a fake by asking him some questions about weapons battles. Who knew you had to say something and fast. I served on the Russian Front, he told Sukers. And then, without even thinking, Neo unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it open to reveal a scar that ran across his chest. It looked like the result of a serious bullet wound. Perhaps some shrapnel. Suckers stared

at it. He seemed impressed. He asked another question about which rank Neo held during the war, But after that the conversation turned to business. Zukers relaxed and you had clearly passed some kind of tests again, Chris Costa. You prepare meticulously not to unbutton your shirt and show somebody a scar, but when it happens in the moment and you're in your cover, you have to be able to think on your feet. Your survival depends on it. So the best officers are in a role, but they're living

and breathing that role. Cover is the very air that you breathe. The scar on his chest, Nea would later reveal wasn't a war wound at all, was the result of a minor operation in Israel to remove an abscess. Neo hadn't been wounded during the war, and he'd had no idea that he was going to want to do the buttons until after he did it. It was like this character Anton Kuzla had taken over and told the story of his war experiences without Mio even realizing it.

The Massad agent was deep in the role. He didn't have to make these things up like any good actor. He was improvising. In the moment, Neo told Suckers that he and his partners were thinking of investing heavily in Brazil. Zuker's got the hint. If they were going to pour money into sal Paolo, they would need a local contact who knew the lay of the land, that spoke the language. Neo never actually said it, but he could see that Zukers sensed an opportunity. Maybe there was money to be

made here. After an hour, the two stood up and headed back to the dock. On the way, Zukers asked me to come to his house, which wasn't far away, to meet his family. It was a good sign. Maybe Zukers had begun just a little bit to trust him. But Mea was cautious. He couldn't appear to be chasing the butcher. He thought about it for a minute and told Seekers he had business in other parts of the country. He would be gone for a week. When he came back, if he had time to spare, he would call. It

was the best he could do. They shook hands on it. Neia walked away, gotten his rented VW beetle, and left. When he reached the hotel, he wrote a report and sent it to your reeve. In Paris made contact with Slate one, I carry on and tom As Meal was making contact with suckers in Brazil. On the other side of the Atlantic, in Germany, a car was driving along the Audubon. Inside was a man named Tuvia Freedman. Freeman was headed to the German capital for meeting with the

Justice minister. He had a presentation to give and if he succeeded with it would make Meal's mission completely pointless. Tuvia Freedman was a Nazi hunter. In fact, Freeman was considered one of the two leading Nazi hunters in the world, second only to the more famous activists Simon Well the

What was my main goal? My main goal was to fight against the Nazi med us, who was really Billy murdered us of hundreds of thousand, to abolish the suchect limitation in Germany, to let the Nazi med Us be imprisoned, or to arrest him un till the end of their life. Freeman had grown up into small city in eastern Poland, a place called Radome. He and his family had watched the Nazis arrive. The Germans soon put them into a ghetto just seventeen. When the war started, Freeman saw Jews

being murdered around him. His father starved himself to death so that his children would have more to eat. Freeman's younger brother, Herschel, and his sister Ka, who was his favorite, were taken away to concentration camps, and Freedman himself was transported to a subcamp of Auschwitz. Freedman and four other inmates escaped into the Polish countryside. They were nearly starving and began digging the dirt for potatoes. The farm's owners spotted them. The other escape He's wanted to run, but

Freeman told them to wait. He walked towards the farmer and began shouting at him. Listen, you bastard, forget you ever understand. If you open your mouth, our men will burn your whole goddamn the village down to the last stick of wood to via. Freedman was tough. He didn't mind confrontation. In fact, he sought it out. Freedman survived the Holocaust by the sheer ferocity of his will, but

his parents, along with Herschel and Ika, didn't survive. After the war, many survivors chose to move forward, to emigrate to new countries, go back to school, get married, have children. Freedman, though, was different. He couldn't move on. He wanted to find the people who killed his family and see that they were punished and the chaos of the post war period to via. Freedman hunted down German killers. His specialty was

Gestapo officers and s S men. If he saw one of their black uniforms, he would be filled with the rage that sometimes drove him to extremes. He would beat them, sometimes kill them. He was a Jewish avenger, the real thing. Other Nazi hunters never physically put their hands on their enemies. Friedman did. One time, just after the war, Freedman was walking down the street in Vienna when he heard someone shouting his name. He was an old friend from his hometown,

which somehow escaped the death camps. They got to talking and his friend mentioned this s S man would kill thousands of Jews and Radom. His name was buck Meyer. One of buck Meyer's favorite things had been to rush into the camp where Jews were held and beat them with a club he carried by his side. Freedman had watched him execute many people this way. Buck Meyer had also pulled a group of Jewish children from the camp

and had them shot on the street just outside. Now, Freedman's friend was telling him that he had seen Boutmeyer right there in Vienna. In fact, he discovered Bukmeyer owned a butcher's shop in the city. Freedman immediately went to the shop, pretending to be an old friend of the s S Man. He questioned a worker and found out that Buckmeyer was actually being held in an American pow camp miles away, without anyone to identify him, and to

tell the Americans about the atrocities. He committed there was a good chance Bob Meyer would go free. He'd get away with it. Freedman went to the camp. He got into see the American commander. He told him about book Meyer's crimes and asked to be put inside the camp disguised as a German prisoner. The commander told him there were ten thousand prisoners inside. How was he going to tell which one was the SS killer. Freedman assured him this wouldn't be a problem. The man's face was burned

into his memory. Freedman was given an old s S jacket in a prisoner's uniform, and taken inside the camp as if he had just been captured. He made friends with the German soldier there. Together they had lunch. As he was watching up after the meal, he saw a man approaching whistling. It was Buchmeyer. Freeman turned his face away. That followed Buchmeyer from the cafeteria. Then he went to

talk to the American commander. Book Meyer was pulled out of his barracks and brought to the major's office where some American officers were waiting with the Nazi hunter. Freeman wrote this in his memoir. I stood up and said to the prisoner, but Buchmaier, how could you forget me? We were in Radom together, Oh, ydom? He asked, Were you in the s S. Two? No? I was not, I replied, I was one of the Jews who worked

do your book Mayer. The man's face turned white. Don't you remember you used to love to run around with a heavy club, beating us until the blood covered out entire bodies. You even had nurses with you who used to bandage us up so you could beat us again. Later, his lips trembling, book Myer said to me, but I wasn't the worst one. Was i the Americans through book Meyer into solitary confinement. From there, he was sent back to Poland, put on trial, convicted, and sentenced to twelve years,

which he served under the brutal Soviet occupation. This chance of escaping justice and returning to his comfortable life at the butcher shop was gone for the rest of his life. Who was known as a Nazi murderer in war criminal m In his early twenties to Via, Freeman took a position in a Polish intelligence unit in the city of Danzig, becoming one of the first official Jewish Nazi hunters. He interrogated German troops, sorting out the Nazi party members and

the regular soldiers and delivering them to prison. He also went to investigate crime scenes. Once he went to check out a building on the outskirts of Danzig where Nazis had reportedly held Jewish prisoners, Freeman wrote, one room was filled with naked corpses. Another room was filled with boards on which were stretched human skins. Nearby was a smaller building with a heavy paddle. Look we broke in. There was an oven in the corner, and it was lumps

of something on the floor. We realized the Germans had been using the room to melt down human fat cut from their victims to make soap. Part of Freeman's job was interviewing former Nazis and sending some of them to jail. When they wouldn't answer his questions or when they lied to him, he got violent. He punched them, drue blood, broke some bones. He wanted to know the truth, and if they refused to give it to him, he was unmerciful.

In fact, that's what his fellow investigators started calling him the merciless one. So for the twenty years since the war ended, Freeman had been hunting Nazis. He didn't mass thousands of files on potential suspects, but in Ntour the German government was less and less interested in suing them. Public opinion had turned against the trials of former Nazis. The U S in England now needed Germany as an

ally against the Soviet Union. The Cold War was underway, and Germany's friends didn't want to press it too hard on the Nazi issue. Freedman's obsession, however, only grew. He moved to Israel, but kept looking for escape mass killers. Even his wife was growing tired of his work, all the talk about Nazis and genocide and the rest of it. He made almost no money, and so she was forced

to be the sole support for their family. Finally, she last out at him, telling him that he was ruining their lives with this compulsion of his Again from Freeman's memoir, I said nothing. I was thirty seven years old and defeated. I felt that my life was a mockery. Even the force. I had come to the end of the road. I had a sheer, unscalable mountain confronted me. I was alone, but he couldn't give up. Freeman had learned about the Statute of Limitations for Nazi war criminals, and he was angry,

frustrated an amnesty that was unthinkable. He had to do something. He decided to fly to Germany and meet with the Justice minister, whose name was Evolved Booker, to see if he can convince Booker to come out against the statue. I had come to the conclusion that it was useless for me to spend these last year's searching for twenty or thirty Nazis, while the Statute of Limitations, if it were to go into effect, would permit hundreds of them to come out of their hiding and again swagger into

the beer cellars beyond the arm of the law. I could just imagine them beer stein and their wrists, laughing and drinking and boasting to each other of their exploits in killing Jews. So Freedman had come to Germany. The place made him nervous. He seemed too much hatred and death there. The night before the meeting, he and his friend went out to have something to eat and try to relax. A German Man at the restaurant nodded to them and sat at their table. He was half drunk,

and he began talking about the war. Freeman recalled the interaction in a book he wrote about the Statue of Limitations. Then everything was bummed and ruined. Now you can see the difference. You see the German people, How we have reconstructed everything thoroughly. We Germans do everything thoroughly. The man toasted them and drank his beer. Something about the German's manner bothered, Freedman. Are the Germans so thorough at the murder as well? The man stared at Freeman, his look

hard and energetic. Oh, yes, of course, we can murders thoroughly as well. Take the juice for example, how he murdered them throughout Europe. We only have to get the order and we'd do it. Freedman was depressed, but not shocked. At least the man was being honest. He believed what the Germans said, and it made him even more determined to stop the amnesty. If genocide was forgiven, he believed it would happen again. At the meeting the next day,

the Justice Minister and his aid were very kind. They listened intently as Freedman told this story. I told them how these s s men made Southern raids in the early mornings, the people out of the beds and homes to the central square, how they threw out infants from the windows of their homes, and the bayonetted the young

mothers who tried to save their children. The assistant pulled out his kerchief from his breast pocket and started wiping the tears that were filling his eyes, unable to hold back his emotions, as I myself seemed to reach an ecstasy, as though I was back in the ghetto of Radom and was going through all the horrors again. The Justice Minister, sitting opposite me repeated several times, terrible, Herr Friedman, that

is really terrible. The minister was called away. While he was gone, his assistant lead dover to Freedman told him the minister was on his side. He too favored the cancelation of the statute. He wanted Nazi killers hunted down and brought to trial. Freeman was pleasantly surprised. It seemed he had an ally within the German government. He was wonderful to hear. The meeting finished, and Freedman flew back to Israel. Was optimistic if the Justice Minister was on

his side, he had a chance. Back in South Paulo Meo booked the play to the Brazilian capital, Brazilia. He told Sucres he had to visit other parts of Brazil for work, so he jumped on the plane and went. Anything he told Sucres he actually had to do. It was his nature. He couldn't fake it. He flew to Brazilia and nearly ran into an Israeli diplomat, a man he knew from back home. If the man had spotted him,

news cover would have been blown. This was all I needed, Israel's ambassador to Brazil, approaching me antoncons respectable Austrian businessman, just outside the lobby of the most luxurious hotel in Brazilia calling out, oh that's the price, how are things? What are you doing here on your own? Or is the Vike with you? Well, it happens sometimes. For example, it's also happened to me that I landed in Paris and I saw my neighbor there and I ignored him.

And when he came back to Israel, he told my mom that we met in Paris and I didn't even say hello to him. Okay, that's under Abraham. He's the former Massad agent who has also become something of an historian of the agency. And according to Abraham, every agent treads running into someone from their real life while they're on a mission. But it's a problem when you when you meet someone that knows you in a different way, in a different name, you can he can suddenly call

you. You You feel that you're going to die, because it can be a big, big problem. We will turn the sucked away before the ambassador could recognize him. But in the next city he visited the same thing. This time it was the director of l all the Israeli airline. Another friend from back home. It was too much for me. You, he reminded himself to be on a constant state of alert, always anticipating the unexpected. He was gone from Sal Paulo for nearly a week. He had to look like an

important businessman making deals all over the country. If he was going to convince Sukers he was the real thing. I used my days in Basilia and Bahia to rest and to gather my strength for what was to come next. Although almost two weeks at passed since I left my home and family, I knew that, despite my success is so far, the most difficult pout still lay ahead of me. M It's important to remember that Neo had known people like the butcher earlier in his life. He'd grown up

in Germany during the rise of Hitler. Mio had seen something coming in Germany in the early thirties. He'd seen it in the faces of his German teachers and his classmates, and he'd left it behind. But his parents had stayed, and they'd never made it out as I had researched Mio's life and wondered how he felt about that. If he'd ever felt guilty about leaving his mother and father behind, but there was really nothing a teenage boy would have

been able to do to help them. Nazi soldiers had come to his family's house and put his parents on the train to the death camps. Now he was getting to know a Nazi, being friendly, even drinking with him. I wondered how Mio felt about that. Here's get Shamron, the ex Massad agent, knew me a well. After the war, he found himself alone in the world of family, hearing about the terrible fortune and destiny of European jury, including his parents, and one can understand why running after a

Nazis for him was something more than a mission. The other Messoigy and I spoke to after Abraham agreed. He said that Mio kept his parents in his mind constantly. He actually dreamt about them. During the mission, they met many of the political survivors from different places, and most of them cannot live at night. They have bad dreams almost every night. And he also used to have a bed dreams and to dream about his parents. So for him is something that he cannot talkot and he cannot

talk him. Neo told Gad Shimran that when he was given the mission in September to assassinate Herbert Suckers. It was like reopening a book, the unfinished story of his parents and their faith during the war. There was he felt a final chapter to be written. When Meo returned to Salth Paulo following his business trip, he fixed the Butcher in his sights. Now he needed to set the trap. Ye good assassins. Hunting the Butcher is a production of

Diversion Podcasts in association with I Heart Radio. This season is written and hosted by Stephen Talti, produced and directed by Scott Waxman and Jacob Bronstein. Executive producers Scott Waxman and Mark Francis. Story editing by Jacob Bronstein with editorial direction from Scott Waxman and mangesh At. Ticket editing, mixing and sound designed by Mark Francis, with the voices of Nick Afka, Thomas Armory, Angle, Andrew Polk, Mindy Escobar, Leants,

Steve Routman and Stefan Rudnitsky. Theme music by Tyler Cash. Archival research by Adam Shapiro. Special thanks to Oran Rosenbaum at ut A. Diversion Podcasts