On May 20, the day of Eichmann’s planned departure, the agents prepared to bring their mission to a close. Those who weren’t busy with guard duty went over their new identities or worked on returning the safe houses to their original condition. Early in the afternoon, Zvi Aharoni put on a suit and tie and flagged a taxi to the Israeli embassy. There, “Yossef” provided him with a new Chevrolet limousine with diplomatic plates to take Eichmann to the airport. He also gave him a diplomatic passport, which identified Aharoni as a member of the South American desk of the Israeli Foreign Ministry, and an international driver’s license.

At Maoz, Shalom Dani rushed to finish the last of Eichmann’s documents. He even created an official medical certificate from a local hospital stating that “Zichroni” had suffered a head trauma in an accident but was cleared to fly. Dr. Elian had put Eichmann on a strict diet to reduce the risk of any complications from the sedatives he planned to give him.

Moshe Tabor spent most of the day at the airport. Klein had arranged for the El Al plane to be parked at the Aerolíneas Argentinas hangar, away from the main terminal. After inspecting the Britannia with the two mechanics, Tabor set about preparing a secret compartment where they could hide Eichmann if the plane was searched. He built a hinged false wall in front of one of the lavatories in the first-class cabin. When he was finished, no one would guess that there was ever a bathroom in that part of the plane.

Avraham Shalom was also at the airport, ensuring that the guards he had befriended over the past week had not been moved to different posts and that they knew he would be coming in and out of the gate throughout the day. He reconnoitered the roads from Tira one last time, finding no new checkpoints along the routes he had chosen.

Isser Harel set up his headquarters at an airport terminal restaurant. The restaurant was always crowded, the conversation and clanking dishes deafening, and people were constantly milling in and out of its doors. Harel could stay there for hours, meeting all his operatives for their briefings, without anybody giving him so much as a second glance. With the plane scheduled to depart at midnight, he knew it would be a long evening.

At 7:30 P.M., Shalom and Aharoni arrived in the smoky, cacophonous restaurant. They told Harel the team was ready for the transfer to the airport. Having received confirmation from Klein that the plane and El Al crew were also ready, Harel gave the green light.

At the safe house, the team finished the last of their preparations for departure. Those traveling with Eichmann to the airport dressed in El Al uniforms and packed their belongings. After Dr. Elian gave the prisoner a thorough physical examination, Peter Malkin dyed Eichmann’s hair gray and applied makeup to his face, aging him further by drawing lines on his forehead and around his mouth, and shadowing the skin underneath his eyes. He glued a thick mustache onto Eichmann’s top lip. Then he dressed him in a starched white shirt, blue pants, polished shoes, and an El Al cap with a blue Star of David on the front.

By the time Malkin finished his work, Aharoni had arrived with Yoel Goren, one of the Mossad operatives who had come on the El Al flight. Goren was the agent who, more than two years before, had investigated the house in Olivos and stated it was impossible Eichmann lived in such a shabby place. Nonetheless, he was an obvious asset in this part of the operation because of his fluent Spanish and knowledge of Buenos Aires.

Dr. Elian rolled up Eichmann’s right sleeve and wiped his arm using a cloth soaked with alcohol. Eichmann drew his arm away. “It isn’t necessary to give me an injection,” he said. “I won’t utter a sound … I promise.”

“Don’t worry,” the doctor said. “It’s nothing, just something to control your excitement.” He moved to insert the needle.

“No, no … I’m not excited at all,” Eichmann insisted.

“Please,” Malkin said. “We have to do this. We have orders.”

The hypodermic needle used by Yonah Elian to sedate Eichmann before the El Al flight.

Eichmann gave in and laid his arm in his lap. The doctor slid the needle into a vein and attached a tube. Then he delivered the sedative. Eichmann soon faded, mumbling, “No, no. I don’t need it.”

“We’re ready to travel,” the doctor said, checking Eichmann’s pulse.

Yaakov Gat and Rafi Eitan grasped Eichmann under the arms and carried him into the garage. He was conscious but barely able to speak. Looking drowsily at the others, all in their El Al uniforms, he said, “I don’t look right. I have to put on a jacket.” They had not given him one because it would have restricted access to his arm, but it was a good sign that he seemed to actually want to help. Maybe he would not resist at all while getting on the plane.

Gat climbed into the backseat of the limousine and drew Eichmann down beside him. Dr. Elian also sat in the back, ready to inject more sedative if needed. Yoel Goren took the passenger’s seat, and Aharoni started the engine. Malkin pulled open the gate — he was staying behind at Tira in case there was trouble at the airport and the team needed to retreat to the house. Eitan and Tabor were to follow in another car. The limousine rolled out of the driveway and turned the corner.

At the same time, in a quiet corner of the Hotel Internacional lobby, Captain Wedeles assembled the El Al crew members who had yet to be informed of the true reason for the flight. The seven individuals included the radio operators, pursers, and flight attendants, all of whom had spent the past twenty-four hours enjoying Buenos Aires. They grew curious on seeing Yosef Klein and Adi Peleg standing beside Wedeles, and worried on seeing how serious the captain looked.

“We’re advancing the return departure,” Wedeles said. “Please be downstairs in an hour. No shopping. No nothing. After that, you’re to stick with me. If I get up, you get up with me. If I sit down, you sit down, because I want you all around me at all times.”

“You’re participating in a great event,” Peleg said. “Don’t ask me what it is, but we’re taking a very important person back to Israel with us. I will tell you his identity later on.”

“We’ll be boarding the plane in three cars at the maintenance area,” Wedeles continued. “In one of the cars will be that man.”

Aharoni took a long, circuitous route to the airport in order to avoid the checkpoints on the major roads. Eichmann was still and silent in the back — almost too still, too silent. They feared that he might be acting more drowsy than he actually was in order to fool them. Then, when his chance came — perhaps even while boarding the plane — he might scream out for help and jeopardize the operation.

At the airport’s main entrance, the guards waved the car through without inspection because of its diplomatic plates. In the parking lot, they met Peleg and a minibus carrying the crew. Shalom was there as well. It was almost 11:00 P.M. Someone ran to alert Harel, and he came hurrying out of the terminal.

He glanced into the limousine. Eichmann appeared to be asleep. Dr. Elian assured Harel that he was able to see and hear, though not alert enough to know what was going on around him. Harel gave the order to move out to the plane.

Peleg took over the escort car that Eitan had driven to the airport. Shalom sat by his side in the passenger’s seat. Both of them had gone in and out of the airport often enough to know the guards by their first names. They would lead the convoy through the gates into the maintenance area. Behind them was the limousine, driven by Aharoni, and last was the minibus with the plane’s crew.

The line of vehicles approached the gate to the Aerolíneas Argentinas hangar, where the El Al plane waited. An armed sentry walked up to the first car and recognized Peleg and Shalom sitting inside. He raised the barrier and waved them forward, pleasantly shouting, “Hi, Israel!” The limousine and minibus rolled by slowly to give the guard a chance to look inside and see that everyone was wearing an El Al uniform.

“Be absolutely silent,” Gat warned Eichmann as they neared the Britannia. “We’re about to go onto the plane.”

Eichmann remained listless, as if he didn’t even hear the warning. The limousine stopped at the bottom of the stairs that led up to the plane. Captain Tohar opened the back door. Gat lifted Eichmann out. His legs had almost no strength, so Yoel Goren supported him from the other side.

The crew filed out of the minibus. “Form a circle around us and follow us,” Eitan instructed them.

Gat and Goren hauled Eichmann up the stairs. His feet dangled limply, hitting each step in turn. An airport searchlight illuminated the gangway. Everyone was crowded closely together, making Eichmann all but indistinguishable in the mass of El Al uniforms.

The fake air crew ID card for “Zeev Zichroni,” created by Shalom Dani.

Once on board, Gat and Goren led Eichmann to the back of the plane and placed him in a window seat in the first-class cabin. Gat sat down across the aisle, and Dr. Elian took the seat directly behind. A flight attendant covered Eichmann with a blanket.

“Pretend to sleep,” Gat told everybody.

A purser lowered the overhead lights and drew a curtain across the first-class cabin entrance. If customs officers or the police searched the plane before takeoff, they would be told that the relief crew was getting some rest before the long flight.

At 11:15 P.M., the doors were locked closed, and Tohar fired the engines. Then he taxied to the terminal to pick up their remaining passengers.

In the terminal restaurant, Isser Harel felt the reverberations from the Britannia’s engines against the window. He knew Eichmann was on board. Once the crew had gotten through customs and the Mossad agents who were returning on the flight had boarded as well, they would depart. Harel was eager for that moment to come. He still feared the police or a group of Nazis would rush into the airport at the last minute to stop the flight.

Harel left his restaurant headquarters and met up with Yosef Klein, who assured him that everything was ready. He then headed outside the terminal, where Eitan and Shalom had just arrived by car from the hangar. They reported that the transfer of Eichmann onto the plane had gone flawlessly. They were staying behind with Malkin to return the cars and clean up. Harel shook hands with each of them in turn, and the men wished one another luck on their journeys back to Israel.

Then Harel hurried into the passenger lounge, where he was joined by Aharoni and Tabor. Medad finally appeared, his car having broken down on the way to the airport. The agents all had piles of luggage with them.

Klein came up to Harel, his face stricken with worry. “You surprise me with this crowd!”

“They’re all my people. Don’t worry,” Harel said.

At 11:30 P.M., Klein received word that the plane was ready for takeoff. However, there was still no sign of the customs and passport-control officers who were to check their papers and allow them to board. Since there were no other flights leaving at that late hour, it was unlikely that the officials were busy.

As midnight approached, Harel and Aharoni paced back and forth in the passenger lounge. Had someone seen them bringing Eichmann onto the plane? Had the airport been tipped off that there was something suspicious about the El Al flight? Harel considered sending word to Tohar to leave without him and the rest of the passengers, but then he calmed himself and gave it a few more minutes.

At last Klein found a customs official. The tall, heavily bearded officer walked into the lounge and apologized for the delay. From his sheepish grin, they knew it had merely been an oversight. The officer stamped everyone’s passports, wishing each of them a hearty “Bon viaje!”

As Harel boarded the Britannia, he spotted a man in a suit running out of the terminal from another exit and speaking urgently with an airport official. The Mossad chief had a sinking feeling that something was wrong, but the plane doors shut behind him.

In the cockpit, Tohar finished the preflight checklist with his crew. After Harel sat down in the cockpit jump seat, Tohar ordered the flight engineer to start the engines. Following procedure, he radioed the control tower. “El Al is ready to taxi. Request clearance to Recife.” Then he gave them the checkpoints and altitude that Shaul had provided for their false flight plan to Brazil.

The tower answered, “El Al, proceed to runway. Hold for takeoff clearance en route to Recife.”

They were so close to being away, thought Harel. The man he had seen leaving the terminal was not important. Still, he wished they had already left Argentina far behind them.

Tohar released the brakes, and the Britannia moved forward to its takeoff position. The plane cleared the airport terminal. They were almost free.

But then the tower radioed a new message. “El Al, hold your position. There is an irregularity in the flight plan.”

Everyone in the cockpit went still. Harel was sure that they had been caught. Tohar did not respond to the tower. Instead, he stopped the plane and turned around in his seat to see what Harel wanted to do.

“What happens if we ignore the tower’s command and take off for Dakar?” Harel asked.

Tohar told him he could fly the Britannia low to the ground and evade the radar, head south instead of north to Recife, and throw any pursuers off for a while. He doubted that the Argentine air force was on standby, but if they took off without clearance, there was a chance that a fighter plane might be scrambled to force them down. Tohar was an Israeli air force reserve pilot, and he could do whatever needed to be done, but the risks were many.

“There’s one more option,” he said. “Before having the Argentine air force put on our tail, we should check and see if they really know that Adolf Eichmann is on board. Let’s not create a problem that doesn’t exist.”

Harel nodded, even though he knew the longer they waited on the tarmac, the more time the authorities would have to alert the air force and prevent the Britannia from taking off.

Tohar turned to Shaul. “They are saying there’s an irregularity in the flight plan. So let’s send the guy who prepared it to the tower to find out what’s going on. If you don’t return in ten minutes, we’ll take off without you.”