He held up a mobile phone. “I just have to make a couple of calls.”
Jacqueline put her arms around his waist. Yusef drew her forehead to his lips and kissed her softly.
“I wish you wouldn’t make me do this.”
“It’ll just be for a few days. And when you come back, we can be together.”
“I wish I could believe you, but I don’t know what to believe anymore.”
He kissed her again, then placed a finger beneath her chin and lifted her face so he could look into her eyes. “I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it. Go to bed. Try to get some sleep.”
She entered the bedroom. She didn’t bother to turn on the light; it would feel less depressing if she had only a vague sense of her surroundings. She reached down, grabbed a handful of the bedding, and sniffed. Newly laundered. Still, she decided to sleep in her clothing. She lay down and carefully placed her head on the pillow so that it touched no portion of her face or neck. She left on her shoes. She smoked a last cigarette to cover up the overpowering smell of the disinfectant. She thought of Gabriel, her dance school in Valbonne. She listened to the jetliners and the trains and the resounding thump of a foot making solid contact with a leather ball out on the football pitch. She watched the shadows of high-stepping athletes dancing on her wall like marionettes.
Then she heard Yusef, speaking in a low murmur over his mobile phone. She couldn’t quite make out what he was saying. She didn’t care. Indeed, her last thought before drifting into a feverish sleep was that Yusef, her Palestinian lover, probably did not have long to live.
Isherwood opened the door of his home in Onslow Gardens a few inches and eyed Gabriel malevolently through the security chain. “Do you have any idea what time it is?” He unchained the door. “Come inside before we both get pneumonia.”
Isherwood wore pajamas, leather slippers, a silk dressing gown. He led Gabriel into the drawing room, then disappeared into the kitchen. He returned a moment later with a pot of coffee and a couple of mugs. “I hope you take your coffee black, because I’m afraid the milk in the fridge was purchased during the Thatcher government.”
“Black is fine.”
“So, Gabriel, my love. What brings you here at”-he paused to look at his watch and grimaced-“Christ, at two forty-five in the morning.”
“You’re going to lose Dominique.”
“I guessed that when Ari Shamron rolled into my gallery like a poisonous cloud. Where’s she off to? Lebanon? Libya? Iran? What was her real name, by the way?”
Gabriel just sipped his coffee and said nothing.
“Hate to see her go, actually. An angel, that one. And not a bad secretary once she got the hang of things.”
“She won’t be coming back.”
“They never do. I have a way of driving away women. Always have.”
“I hear you’re in final negotiations with Oliver Dimbleby to sell the gallery.”
“One doesn’t really negotiate when one is tied to the railroad tracks, Gabriel. One grovels. One begs.”
“Don’t do it.”
“How dare you sit there and tell me how to run my affairs? I wouldn’t be in this mess if it weren’t for you and your friend Herr Heller.”
“The operation may be over sooner than we expected.”
“And?”
“And I can get back to work on the Vecellio.”
“There’s no way you can finish it in time to save my neck. I am now officially insolvent, which is why I’m negotiating with Oliver Dimbleby.”
“Dimbleby’s a hack. He’ll ruin the gallery.”
“Frankly, Gabriel, I’m too tired to give a shit at this point. I need something stronger than coffee. You?”
Gabriel shook his head. Isherwood shuffled over to the sideboard and dumped an inch of gin into a tumbler. “What’s in the bag?”
“An insurance policy.”
“Insurance on what?”
“Against the possibility that I’m unable to complete work on the Vecellio in time.” Gabriel handed the bag to Isherwood. “Open it.”
Isherwood set down his drink and unzipped the bag. “My God, Gabriel. How much is it?”
“A hundred thousand.”
“I can’t take your money.”
“It’s not mine. It’s Shamron’s, via Benjamin Stone.”
“The Benjamin Stone?”
“In all his glory.”
“What the hell are you doing with a hundred thousand pounds of Benjamin Stone’s money?”
“Just take it and don’t ask any more questions.”
“If it’s really Benjamin Stone’s, I think I will.” Isherwood raised his glass of gin. “Cheers, Gabriel. I’m sorry for all the miserable things I’ve thought about you during the past few weeks.”
“I deserved it. I should have never run out on you.”
“All is forgiven.” Isherwood stared into his drink for a long moment. “So where is she? Gone for good?”
“The operation has moved into its final stages.”
“You’ve not put that poor girl in any danger, have you?”
“I hope not.”
“So do I, for her sake and yours.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You know, I’ve been in this lousy racket for almost forty years, and in all that time, no one’s ever managed to sell me a forgery. Dimbleby’s had his fingers burned. Even the great Giles Pittaway has managed to buy a fake or two in his time. But not me. I have the gift, you see. I may be a lousy businessman, but I can always tell a fraud from the real thing.”
“Are you coming to the point of this?”
“She’s the real thing, Gabriel. She’s golden. You may never get another chance like this. Hang on to her, because if you don’t, it will be the biggest mistake of your life.”
Part III. Restoration
THIRTY-FIVE
Before the Catastrophe, Daoud al-Hourani lived in the Upper Galilee. He was a muktar and the richest man in the village. He owned livestock-several head of cattle, many goats, and a large flock of sheep-as well as a grove of lemon, orange, and olive trees. When it was time to pick the fruit, he and the other village elders organized a communal harvest. The family lived in a whitewashed house with cool tile floors and fine rugs and cushions. His wife bore him five daughters but only one son, Mahmoud.
Daoud al-Hourani kept up good relations with the Jews who had settled on land near the village. When the Jews’ well became fouled, he drafted men from the village to help them dig a new one. When several Arabs in the village fell sick with malaria, Jews from the settlement came and drained a nearby swamp. Daoud al-Hourani learned to speak Hebrew. When one of his daughters fell in love with a Jewish man from the settlement, he
