“Just so,” Fatima responded, giving Maryse a querying look.
“I’m sorry.” Her face flushed with shame; here she was, interrogating the widow at her husband’s funeral.
But Fatima hadn’t noticed. She was gazing back again toward the tomb of Peter Chandos.
Director’s Office, Shin Bet Headquarters, Queen Helena Street, Jerusalem, 1445h
“What is the lattice?” Ari demanded to know.
He had requested a formal meeting with his superior. Tovah Kristall was mildly impressed at this; it had never happened before. Unlike some other operatives she detested who were forever submitting “formal requests” for this or that, Ari was the informal sort. She knew why he wanted this one. Everything would be recorded so that future reviewers would not be able to blame him for things he was ignorant of. So Alexa 3, the digital pyramid in the corner, now tracked their words.
Kristall looked into the dark brown eyes to gauge just how far off she could put him. In chess, patience was crucial. Her lips tensed. There was no leeway this time.
“Where did you hear of such a thing?” she snapped at him.
“From Jules Halevy,” he threw it back at her.
She reached for her GeM and barked at it. “Come in here.”
Her stick-thin assistant with the big eyes entered. “I want Jules Halevy’s clearance revoked immediately. I also want him brought here for questioning. Now.”
The assistant nodded and started out. “Not yet. Here.” She scribbled a note and handed it to the little man, who read it and left.
Then she turned fiercely back to Ari, but he was not intimidated.
“I’m not cleared to tell you anything about it,” she answered his gaze and lit a cigarette. She knew he hated smoke.
“Why don’t you take a chance and tell me what I’m supposed to be investigating.”
“You’re the one who hangs from cliffs, not me.”
“All right. For the record, this is the situation you and your superiors have put me into.” He stood and paced the room, thinking for a moment, then speaking loudly for the computer’s benefit.
“Here are the main results of our investigation. Emanuel Shor, Monsignor Peter Chandos, and the Pope himself all died the same day. Shor and Chandos both wore finger rings of the same type with identical inscriptions, acronyms for a Biblical verse: ‘Until He comes whose right it is to reign.’ Emanuel Shor also carried a photo of the ancient Temple of Jerusalem with the same verse scrawled on the back, only in Hebrew.
“Shor entered his own laboratory minutes before his death and removed all trace of a DNA sample belonging to someone named Chandos, a Cohanic sample that shows lineal descent from the high priests of ancient Israel who officiated in the Temple. The DNA of Peter Chandos is of a nearly pure Cohanic strain, and a hair matching that DNA profile was found at the Shor death scene. Finally, we know Shor, his brother and niece, and the Halevys were mixed up with an extremist group that wants to rebuild the Temple.”
Ari looked straight at Kristall, who was staring back at him through a thick screen of smoke; he took a breath.
“So, I believe with reason that a religious fanatic—or a group of fanatics—are engaged in some kind of plot regarding the Temple Mount.”
“With what object?”
“I don’t know, but I believe it’s connected with this ‘lattice,’ whatever it is. Unless you tell me what it is, I’m at a dead stop—and that’s what I want on the record.”
Kristall flicked ash into a paper coffee cup. The briefing room was blue with smoke. She looked up at Ari, considered him for a moment, and then said only, “Peculiar story.”
“Jerusalem is a peculiar place.”
“So you would connect a fairly straightforward technology theft with the assassination of the Pope?” She inhaled deeply from her cigarette. “That’s just bizarre.”
“Bizarre it may be, but straightforward it is not. There’s more.”
Kristall nodded for him to continue.
“Chandos and the Pope died in a remarkable room. It’s called the Sancta Sanctorum, or Holy of Holies, said by Roman Catholics to be the holiest place on earth.”
“Holy of Holies. The Debir? I thought that was a feature of Solomon’s Temple. Where the Ark of the Covenant was kept?”
Ari was surprised she knew this; he had always thought of Kristall as totally nonreligious. Unconsciously, he had gone back to his natural tone of voice. “Apparently, Christians envy the Temple of Jerusalem. They’ve always wanted something like it, where God’s presence dwells…thus, this Roman chapel. It’s perfectly cubical, like the Debir in Solomon’s Temple.
“Anyway, a good deal happened in there that morning. Someone wrapped Chandos’ official red sash around his head—like Jewish priests did anciently with the scapegoat. Someone also collected Chandos’ blood and used it to spatter the chapel altar—the same thing the high priest did in the Jewish Temple on Yom Kippur. And someone stole a valuable art object—a silver icon of Jesus of Nazareth that they believe represents God on earth.”
Kristall shivered at this. She was enough of a Jew to abhor the idea of picturing any man as God. “Someone’s been very busy. I hadn’t heard any of it…but then the Vatican are professionals.”
She inhaled smoke again. “It’s intriguing. Still, the connection between Chandos and our Technion problem is tenuous. A stray eyelash that Shor himself might have dropped; after all, Chandos might have been a client of his lab, and he could recently have been in contact with him. A finger ring any number of people might wear—maybe just a souvenir from some religious shop.”
Ari was looking at her skeptically—it wasn’t like her to dismiss important evidence so readily. She went on:
“No, I can’t tell you about that thing…that object. It’s classified at the highest levels. But I can tell you that its value is beyond estimating, and worth whatever trouble the thieves go to screen themselves. It’s just possible that all this hocus-pocus is meant to distract us long enough so they can get what they want.”
“And what do they want?” Ari gave it back.
“Money. And loads of it. I admit it’s a new angle, but ritual murder might be just the kind of angle they want us to pursue. In the meantime, here’s another angle I want you to pursue.” She beamed a message to him.
Eagle went off the grid at 1107. Last seen westbound Ramla checkpoint.
“Who’s Eagle?”
“That’s our designation for Nasir al-Ayoub. Somewhere outside Ramla, our key suspect disappeared a few hours ago. He could have gone to ground there. I want you to find him.”
“The lattice?”
“You talk about that at your own peril. Our discussion is recorded per your request and regulation. And ended.” The pyramid said goodbye politely and went to sleep.
Angry, Ari turned and left the building. Choking on smoke, he cursed her all the way to his car, then pulled out his GeM and rang Toad.
“You’ve been tracking an Eagle?”
“Eagle. Yes,” Toad replied. “He’s disappeared. Our people lost him at the Ramla checkpoint…found his car in a car park nearby.”
“He must have known we were tailing him.”
“Best to assume that. They’re still looking, but it’s