black binder containing the prepared text and in its place left a single sheet of ruled white paper. On it were the handwritten notes the Holy Father had made during his final conversation with Gabriel in the Apostolic Palace. The pope was about to deliver one of the most important pronouncements of his papacy without a script.
He stood at the podium for a long moment as though Yad Vashem’s unique combination of horror and beauty had rendered him incapable of speech. Having helped the Holy Father from the Children’s Memorial, Gabriel knew it was genuine. But he also knew that His Holiness was about to begin his homily with a point about words versus deeds. His silence, therefore, had purpose.
“In this place of unbearable pain,” he began at last, “mere words cannot possibly describe the depths of our sorrow or our shame. This beautiful garden of memory is more than just a ceremonial gravestone to the six million children of God and Abraham who perished in the fires of the Holocaust. It is a reminder that evil, true evil, is present in the world. It is a reminder, too, that as Christians we accept a portion of the responsibility for what occurred during the Holocaust, and we must beg forgiveness. A decade ago, in the Great Synagogue of Rome, we spoke of our complicity in the crime that Yad Vashem commemorates. And today, we reaffirm our sorrow, and once again we beg forgiveness. But now, in this time of escalating tension in the Middle East, our sorrow is mixed with fear. It is a fear that it could happen again.”
The line sent a murmur through the crowd. Several of the reporters from the Vatican press corps were now staring bewildered at their copies of the speech. The pope sipped his water and waited for silence. Then he glanced briefly at Gabriel and Donati before resuming his homily.
“Since our appearance at the Great Synagogue of Rome, the Church has taken great steps toward eliminating anti-Jewish sentiment from our teaching and texts. We asked our Islamic brethren to undertake a similar soul-searching, but, sadly, this has not occurred. Across the Islamic world, Muslim holy men routinely preach that the Holocaust did not occur, while at the same time, radical jihadists promise to bring about another one. The contradiction is amusing to some, but not to me—not when a nation that has sworn to wipe Israel from the face of the earth is relentlessly developing the capability to do just that.”
Again, the audience stirred in anticipation. Gabriel’s eyes swept over the perplexed members of the Curial delegation before settling on the diminutive figure in white who was about to make history.
“There are some leaders who assure me that Israel can live with an Iran armed with a nuclear weapon,” the pope continued. “But to someone who lived through the madness of the Second World War, they sound too much like those who said the Jews had nothing to fear from a Germany led by Hitler and the Nazis. Here in this sacred city of Jerusalem, we are reminded at every turn that great empires and great civilizations can vanish in the blink of an eye. Their antiquities fill our museums, but all too often, we fail to learn from their mistakes. We are tempted to think that we have reached the end of history, that it can never happen again. But history is made every day, sometimes by men of evil. And all too often, history repeats itself.”
Several of the reporters were now whispering into mobile phones. Gabriel suspected they were informing their editors that His Holiness had just taken a newsworthy departure from what was supposed to be a routine speech of remembrance at Yad Vashem.
“And so,” the pope resumed, “on this solemn occasion, in this sacred place, we do more than remember the six million who suffered and died in the Holocaust. We renew our bond with their descendants, and we assure them that we will do everything in our power to make certain it never happens again.”
The pope paused one final time, as if signaling to the reporters that the most important line of his address was yet to come. When he spoke again, his voice was no longer tinged with sorrow, only resolve.
“To that end,” he said, his arms spread wide, his amplified words echoing through the monuments of Yad Vashem, “we pledge to the people of Israel, our elder brothers, that this time, as you confront a challenge to your existence, the Roman Catholic Church will stand by you. We offer our prayers and, if you are willing to accept it, our counsel. We ask only that you proceed with the utmost caution, for your decisions will affect the entire world. The soil of this sacred city is filled with the remnants of empires that miscalculated. Jerusalem is the city of God. But it is also a gravestone to the folly of man.”
With that, the audience erupted into a thunderous ovation. Gabriel and the rest of the security detail quickly went to the pope’s side and escorted him to the waiting limousine. As the motorcade headed down the slope of Mount Herzl toward the Old City, the pope handed Gabriel the notes for the address.
“Add that to your collection.”
“Thank you, Holiness.”
“Still think I should have canceled the trip?”
“No, Holiness. But you can be sure the Iranians are putting a bounty on your head as we speak.”
“I always knew they would,” he said. “Just make sure no one manages to collect it before I leave Jerusalem.”
40
JERUSALEM
DONATI AND THE HOLY FATHER were spending the night near the Jaffa Gate, at the residence of the Latin Patriarch. Gabriel saw them to the door, made a final check of security, then headed westward across Jerusalem through the late-afternoon shadows. Rounding the corner into Narkiss Street, he immediately saw the armored Peugeot limousine parked outside the apartment house at Number 16. Its owner was standing at the balustrade of the third-floor balcony, partially concealed by the drooping limbs of the eucalyptus tree, a sentinel on a night watch without end.
As Gabriel entered the apartment, he smelled the unmistakable aroma of eggplant with Moroccan spice, the specialty of Shamron’s long-suffering wife, Gilah. She was standing in the kitchen next to Chiara, a flowered apron around her waist. Chiara wore a loose-fitting blouse with an embroidered neckline. Her hair hung about her shoulders, and her lips, when kissed, tasted of honey. She adjusted the knot of Gabriel’s tie before kissing him again. Then she nodded toward the television and said, “It seems you and your friend have caused quite a stir.”
Gabriel looked at the screen and saw himself, following a few feet behind the pope as he emerged from the Hall of Remembrance at Yad Vashem. A news analyst in London was talking about a wholesale realignment of the Vatican’s policies toward the State of Israel. As Gabriel switched from news channel to news channel, it was more of the same. It seemed His Holiness Pope Paul VII had fundamentally altered the dynamic of the conflict in the Middle East, with the Vatican now squarely on the side of the Israelis in the conflict against Iran and radical Islam. And what made it all the more remarkable, the commentators agreed, was that the Vatican had managed to conceal the Holy Father’s intentions prior to his departure from Rome.
Gabriel switched off the television and went into the bedroom to change. Then, after accepting two glasses of Shiraz from Chiara, he headed out onto the little terrace. Shamron was in the process of lighting a cigarette. Gabriel plucked it from his lips before sitting.
“You really have to stop, Ari.”
“Why?”
“Because they’re killing you.”
“I’d rather die from smoking than by the hand of one of my enemies.”
“There
“I put mine in storage when I joined the Office. And now that I’m in possession of it again, it’s giving me no end of grief.” He drank some of the wine as a breath of wind moved in the eucalyptus tree. “Do you remember what I said to you when I gave you this flat?”
“You told me to fill it with children.”
“You have a good memory.”
“Not as good as yours.”
“Mine isn’t what it once was, which I suppose is fortuitous. I’ve done many things in my life I’d rather forget, most of them involving you.” He looked at Gabriel seriously and asked, “Did it help at all?”
“What?”
