Gabriel looked out at the excavation trenches.
A TRIO OF American students joined them beneath the shade of the tarpaulin. Lavon and Gabriel excused themselves and walked slowly around the perimeter of the dig. Gabriel told him everything, beginning with the dossier discovered in Milan and ending with the information Nabil Azouri had brought out of Ein al-Hilweh. Lavon listened without asking questions, but Gabriel could see, in Lavon’s clever brown eyes, that he was already making connections and searching for further avenues of exploration. He was more than just a skilled surveillance artist. Like Gabriel, Lavon was the child of Holocaust survivors. After the Wrath of God operation, he had settled in Vienna and opened a small investigative bureau called Wartime Claims and Inquiries. Operating on a shoestring budget, he had managed to track down millions of dollars in looted Jewish assets and had played a significant role in prying a multibillion-dollar settlement from the banks of Switzerland. Five months earlier a bomb had exploded at Lavon’s office. Lavon’s two assistants were killed; Lavon, seriously injured, had been in a coma for several weeks. The man who planted the bomb had been working for Erich Radek.
“So you think Fellah al-Tamari knew Khaled?”
“Without question.”
“It seems a bit out of character. To remain hidden all those years, he must have been a careful chap.”
“That’s true,” Gabriel said, “but he knew that Fellah would be killed in the bombing of the Gare de Lyon and that his secret would be protected. She was in love with him, and he lied to her.”
“I see your point.”
“But the most compelling piece of evidence that they knew each other comes from her father. Fellah told him to burn the letters and the photographs she’d sent over the years. That means Khaled must have been in them.”
“As Khaled?”
Gabriel shook his head. “It was more threatening than that. She must have mentioned him by his other name-his
“So you think Khaled met the girl under ordinary circumstances and recruited her sometime after?”
“That’s the way he’d play it,” Gabriel said. “That’s how his father would have played it, too.”
“They could have met anywhere.”
“Or they could have met somewhere just like this.”
“A dig?”
“She was an archaeology student. Maybe Khaled was, too. Or maybe he was a professor, like you.”
“Or maybe he was just some good-looking Arab guy she met in a bar.”
“We know her name, Eli. We know she was a student and that she studied archaeology. If we follow the trail of Fellah, it will lead us back to Khaled. I’m sure of it.”
“So follow the trail.”
“For obvious reasons, I can’t go back to Europe just yet.”
“Why not turn it over to the Office and let their searchers do the job?”
“Because after the fiasco in Paris there’s not going to be an appetite for having another go at Khaled on European soil-at least not officially. Besides, I
“True, but I’ve lost a step or two.”
“Are you fit enough to travel?”
“As long as there’s no rough stuff. That’s your department. I’m the bookish one, you’re the muscle Jew.”
Lavon dug a cigarette from his shirt pocket and lit it, cupping his hand against the breeze. He looked out over the Valley of Jezreel for a moment before speaking again.
“But you always were, weren’t you, Gabriel?”
“What’s that?”
“The muscle Jew. You like to play the role of the sensitive artist, but deep down you’re more like Shamron than you realize.”
“He’s going to kill again. Maybe he’ll wait until next April, or maybe a target will come along sooner-something that will allow him to temporarily quench his thirst for Jewish blood.”
“Maybe you suffer from the same thirst?”
“A little,” Gabriel conceded, “but this isn’t about revenge. It’s about justice. And it’s about protecting the lives of innocents. Will you find him for me, Eli?”
Lavon nodded. “Don’t worry, Gabriel. I’ll find him-
They stood in silence for a moment, looking down at the land.
“Did we drive them out, Eli?”
“The Canaanites?”
“No, Eli. The Arabs.”
“We certainly didn’t ask them to stay,” Lavon said. “Maybe it was easier that way.”
A BLUE SEDAN was idling in Narkiss Street. Gabriel recognized the face of the man seated behind the wheel. He entered the apartment house and climbed quickly up the stairs. Two suitcases stood on the landing, outside the half-open door. Chiara was seated in the living room, dressed in a smart black European two-piece suit and high- heeled shoes. Her face had makeup on it. Gabriel had never seen Chiara with makeup before.
“Where are you going?”
“You know better than to ask me that.”
“A job?”
“Yes, of course a job.”
“How long will you be gone?”
Her silence told him she was not coming back.
“When it’s over, I’m going back to Venice.” Then she added: “To take care of my family.”
He stood motionless and looked down at her. Chiara’s tears, when they spilled down her cheeks, were black with mascara. To Gabriel they looked like streaks of dirty rain on a statue. She wiped them away and examined her blackened fingertips, angry at her inability to control her emotions. Then she straightened her back and blinked hard several times.
“You look disappointed in me, Gabriel.”
“For what?”
“Crying. You never cry, do you?”
“Not anymore.”
He sat down next to her and tried to hold her hand. She drew it away from him and dabbed at her smudged makeup with a tissue, then she opened a compact case and looked at her reflection in the mirror.
“I can’t get on a plane looking like this.”
“Good.”
“Don’t get any ideas. I’m still leaving. Besides, it’s what you want. You would never tell me to leave-you’re far too decent for that-but I know you want me to go.” She snapped the compact shut. “I don’t blame you. In a strange way, I love you more. I only wish you hadn’t told me that you wanted to marry me.”
“I did,” he said.
“I
“Fidelity, right, Gabriel? Devotion to duty or to one’s obligations. Loyalty. Faithfulness.”
“I can’t leave her now, not after what she’s just been put through by Khaled.”
“In another week, she won’t remember it.” Chiara, noticing the color in Gabriel’s face, took his hand. “God, I’m sorry. Please forget I ever said that.”
“It’s forgotten.”
“You’re a fool to let me walk out of here. No one will ever love you the way I’ve loved you.” She stood up. “But we’ll see each other again, I’m sure. Who knows, maybe I’ll be working for you soon.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The Office is swirling with rumors.”
