had had his retribution. That, more than anything, cemented his place within the political spectrum of the city.
“I am sure Uzzi explained our interest in your inquiries. Most odd, someone asking after my old friend Akim after all this time. I had thought the world had forgotten him like it has forgotten so much else. But suddenly there his name was. You understand, I am sure, why it raised a red flag with our office. We, of course, did our homework. You’re a very well connected young woman, Miss Nyren. Friends in those much vaunted ‘high places.’”
Orla nodded. She didn’t say much. She waited to hear what the toad had to say. In this world, she knew, knowledge was hard currency. The adage that knowledge was power had been invented for the hallowed halls of spydom. Sharing knowledge was a matter of quid pro quo: giving on both sides. She had to decide how much she was willing to give up, and how much she thought she might get in return. She began with the bare minimum, repeating what she had already told Sokol back at the graveside. She outlined the insurance payouts from Humanity Capital, the numbered accounts at Hottinger amp; Cie, with their irregular deposits and withdrawals made by the dead man, and as a coup de grace showed the toad the two different Akim Caspis in the photographs she carried. When she was done she said, “Sokol said I needed to know about the Shrieks? I think now would be a fine time to find out what it is, exactly, that I need to know.”
The toad nodded, the folds of flesh around his neck rippling. He didn’t seem the least bit surprised to see this second Caspi, or likewise, the least bit curious as to why the impostor had drawn the attention of foreign intelligence. There was something unnerving about the fat man. He seemed far too sure of himself. Orla didn’t like it.
“They call themselves the Disciples of Judas,” the toad said. “They’ve become known to Aman as the Thirteen Shrieks.”
“As in screams?”
“Yes. It is some sort of unholy chorus, I believe. When all of their voices come together, the world will listen. You get the idea. It is all very portentous and not a little insane. What the world is meant to listen to, well, that is not even particularly interesting. They claim that Judas Iscariot was the true Messiah, not Jesus Christ. Shock, horror, I know. It seems the new millennium, even a decade old, is still obsessed with pseudo-historical-religious nonsense. You have to remember, in those days every man and his dog was walking around laiming to be the son of God. Tinker, Tailor, Candlestick Maker, Messiah, Beggar Man, Thief. What’s the difference? That was just the way it was.” The toad shrugged. “I always imagine it was like something out of that Monty Python movie, The Life of Brian, every street corner boasting its own Savior.” He smiled wryly.
“But, I must admit I have a certain amount of sympathy for their argument. If you think about it rationally, there would be no Christianity today without Judas, would there? No resurrection. No redemption for the sins of the world. No clean slate for humanity. Of course being the Great Facilitator doesn’t automatically make you divine, does it? But, think about it for a moment, if Judas was the true Messiah, I would ask them, what did his death do for mankind? How did his sacrifice redeem us? It didn’t, did it? Or am I missing something?” Schnur said, reasonably. “I look around me today at all of the wars, all of the senseless killing and all that random violence, and wonder if we weren’t actually damned.”
Orla looked at the fat man as he spread his arms wide.
“I know, not a terribly fashionable sentiment. I am sorry. Some days I miss Dassah more than others. I find myself given over to melancholic rambling. I have thought about this a lot, though. It is the curse of living in this place and time. What do you think messiah means, Orla?”
“The son of God,” she said. She knew she was wrong, but she wanted to hear what he said to that.
“In Hebrew it means Anointed One. There have been any number of messiahs. Did you know that? In the Jewish tradition it was said that a son of the line of King David, a ben yishai, would return to lead the Jews from Exile, rebuild the Temple in Jerusalem and bring about a period of prosperity and peace. In that sense, belief in a messiah was nothing more than a belief in the restoration of Israel and an end to the troubles. Now would be a good time for a new messiah, I think. The messianic ideal changed through time, especially when Judaea was conquered by the Babylonians and under the rule of Emperor Hadrian. New gifts were associated with the word and suddenly they were talking about raising the dead, which is supposed to mark the end of days.
“In Christian terms the Messiah was the divine one who would initiate the Kingdom of God on earth. Then you have the Ephraitic Messiah, a concept which existed in ancient Judaism and the book of Zerubavel, which tells of a woman named Hephzibah who accompanies the messiah ben Joseph into war with the enemies, where he is killed, and after his death she will save Jerusalem. In our own time the Rabbi of the Lubavitch Hassidim was worshipped as messiah. He never claimed to be the son of God. It’s such a strange thing that it has become so corrupt in meaning because of the rise of Christiany aThe concept of messiah is not part of biblical Judaism, did you know that? No, why should you? It was developed from folk tradition with countless variants, countless understandings of what it truly meant.
“It’s the subject of Hassidic songs and even occurs in the Babylonian Talmud, but there it is about the time when Jews will regain their independence and all return to the land of Israel. It even says that all prophecies regarding the Messiah are allegorical, and the only thing important is that all religions return to the true religion, that Jews are free and we know the wisdom of the Torah. It’s all a bit different, isn’t it? So even the word messiah is just another thing Christianity has corrupted.”
Orla didn’t know what to say. She hadn’t come here for a religious studies lesson, but she couldn’t help but think she’d just learned something, even if she wasn’t sure what. “Fascinating,” she said, more out of politeness than true interest.
“Of course, on a personal level, I always found it fascinating that Judas isn’t mentioned once in the Gospel of Peter. Think about it. What does that tell you? The so-called great betrayer doesn’t even warrant a mention in the first saint’s gospel? That ‘betrayal’ bought this whole mythology we’ve swallowed whole, and it doesn’t even appear in one of the main gospels? But,”-the toad chuckled at the thought before he shared it-“if one is to believe that Judas was in fact the divine object, the-for want of a better word-Messiah, then surely that would turn the thirty pieces of silver that bought our religion into the most holy artifacts known to man, wouldn’t it? Instead of the cross people would be worshipping money.” He placed a single coin on the table between them. It was a new Israeli shekel with the word Yehud written in ancient Hebrew. Silver. “It almost seems like it is that way already, doesn’t it? Money, money, money. Still, they’re all just stories, aren’t they? But it is an interesting turnabout, don’t you think?”
“Who are they?” Orla asked.
The toad shrugged, his entire upper body undulating in place with the roll of his shoulders. The flesh of his forearms dug into the edge of the desktop as he leaned toward her. “Who are they indeed? We have as many guesses as there are days in the week. More. There have been a number of suicide bombings and other attacks in Jerusalem and Tel Aviv over the last few years that the Shrieks have laid claim to, but in terms of concrete knowledge we know very little. I would say they are ghosts, but they’re not-they’re more like wraiths. They feed on despair.
“What we have managed to work out is sketchy at best, but we believe each disciple has his own followers. So rather than one cohesive organization we’re talking about splinter cells that have grown like offshoots from the core group. Essentially you’re looking at thirteen separate organisms, eh with one purpose-to spread terror. And when you have that image firmly rooted in your mind, then, my dear, you are beginning to understand the nature of the Shrieks. Think about the scope of it for a minute.”
She did. She thought about the thirteen innocent people who, by burning themselves alive in thirteen European cities, started this entire chain of events she found herself caught up in.
“Last year we did a sweep of the city based on an anonymous tip we’d received. We brought in two men we believed to be fairly well placed within one of the chains. They might have been dog’s bodies for all the use they were to us. If we think of each Shriek as a self-sufficient organism, each one seems to be structured in such a way that no one knows who the next step above them in the chain is, or who is two steps below them. They are each responsible for recruiting one man, and one man only, who works directly below them and reports only to them. The identity of their recruit is reported to no one-not even the disciple himself-so no one has a complete picture of how widespread the network is, what positions of authority have been infiltrated. They’re all working blind.
“That kind of organizational set-up makes it damn near impossible for us to crack open. If we take out one man, we break the chain, but it doesn’t take long for it to grow a new tail. And those left behind simply become a new head for their own serpent. You try infiltrating that kind of set-up. It’s paranoia at its finest. It also means it is damned near impossible to stop them. We’re chasing our tails half the time, their shadows the other half. We hit
