Prince of Fire

said.
    “What?”
    “The flat.”
    “What are you talking about?”
    “You own it now. It was purchased on your behalf by a friend of the Office.”
    Gabriel shook his head. He had always been amazed at Shamron’s gangster-like access to money.
    “I can’t accept it.”
    “It’s too late. The deed is being sent over in the morning.”
    “I don’t want to be in anyone’s debt.”
    “It is we who are in your debt. Accept it graciously and in the spirit with which it is given.” Shamron patted Gabriel’s shoulder. “And fill it with children.”
    Gilah poked her head around the half-open door. “Dessert is on the table,” she said, then she looked at Shamron and, in Polish, ordered him to put out his cigarette.
    “April eighteenth,” he murmured, when Gilah had gone. “That’s not much time.”
    “I’m already watching the clock.”
    “It’s occurred to me there’s one person who might know where Khaled is.”
    “Arafat?”
    “He is Khaled’s father. Besides, he owes you a favor. You did save his life once.”
    “Yasir Arafat is the last person I want to see. Besides, he’s a liar.”
    “Yes, but sometimes his lies can lead us in the direction of the truth.”
    “He’s off-limits. Lev would never grant me authorization.”
    “So don’t tell him.”
    “I don’t think it would be wise for me to just show up and knock on Arafat’s front door. And the only way I’m going to Ramallah is in an armored personnel carrier.”
    “Arafat doesn’t really have a door. The IDF took care of that.” Shamron permitted himself to smile at the sinking fortunes of his old adversary. “As for the armored car, leave that to me.”
    G ABRIEL CLIMBED INTO BED and inched carefully toward the middle. He reached out in the darkness and draped his arm across Chiara’s abdomen. She remained motionless.
    “What were you and Ari talking about in the study?”
    “The case,” he replied absently.
    “Is that all?”
    He told her that the apartment was now theirs.
    “How did that happen?”
    “Shamron and his moneyed friends. I’ll tell Housekeeping to remove the old furniture. Tomorrow, you can buy us a proper bed.”
    Chiara’s arm rose slowly. Gabriel, in the darkness, could see the talisman swinging from her fingertips.
    “What is this?”
    “A Corsican good-luck charm. They say it wards off the evil eye.”
    “Where did you get it?”
    “It’s a long story.”
    “Tell me.”
    “It’s classified.”
    He reached for the talisman. Chiara, with a deft movement of her hand, twirled the talisman so that it wrapped securely around her fingertips, in the manner in which Arabs often toy with their prayer beads.
    “A gift from one of your old lovers?” she asked.
    “An old enemy, actually. A man who’d been hired to kill me and a woman I was protecting.”
    “Anna Rolfe?”
    Yes, Gabriel said, Anna Rolfe.
    “Why did you keep it?” she asked. “To remind you of her?”
    “Chiara, don’t be ridiculous.”
    She tossed the talisman in his direction. The red-coral hand landed on his chest.
    “Is something wrong, Chiara?”
    “What were those papers that Shamron gave you before he left tonight? Or is that classified, too?”
    Gabriel answered the question truthfully.
    “Did you sign them yet?”
    “I thought I should read them first.”
    “You know what they say.”
    “I’ll sign them,” Gabriel said.
    “When?”
    “When I’m ready to sign them.”
    Just then the apartment block shook with the clap of a thunderous explosion. Chiara climbed out of bed and rushed to the window. Gabriel remained motionless on the bed.
    “It’s close,” she said.
    “Ben Yehuda Mall, I’d say. Probably a café.”
    “Turn on the radio.”
    “Just count the sirens, Chiara. You can tell how bad it is by the number of ambulances they call.”
    A moment passed, still and deathly quiet. Gabriel closed his eyes and imagined, with the clarity of videotape, the nightmare taking place a few blocks from his new home. The first siren sounded, then a second, a third, a fourth. After seventeen, he lost count, for the night had become a symphony of sirens. Chiara returned to bed and clung to his chest.
    “Sign the papers when you’re ready,” she said. “I’ll be here. I’ll always be here.”

10

J ERUSALEM : M ARCH 22
    T HE ARMY COLONEL WAITING NEAR THE WALLS OF the Old City did not look much like Ari Shamron, but then Gabriel did not find this at all surprising. There was something about Israel—the