The Defector

Venice. Indeed, there was a time, not so long ago, when she would have never imagined a life outside the picturesque canals and narrow alleyways of her native city. The daughter of the city’s chief rabbi, she had spent her childhood in the insular world of the ancient ghetto, leaving just long enough to earn a master’s degree in history from the University of Padua. She returned to Venice after graduation and took a job at the small Jewish museum in the Campo del Ghetto Nuovo, and there she might have remained forever had she not been noticed by an Office talent spotter during a visit to Israel. The talent spotter introduced himself in a Tel Aviv coffeehouse and asked Chiara whether she was interested in doing more for the Jewish people than working in a museum in a dying ghetto. Chiara said she was and vanished into the secretive training program of the Office.
    A year later she resumed her old life, this time as an undercover agent of Israeli intelligence. Among her first assignments was to covertly watch the back of a wayward Office assassin named Gabriel Allon, who had come to Venice to restore Bellini’s San Zaccaria altarpiece. She revealed herself to him a short time later in Rome, after an incident involving gunplay and the Italian police. Trapped alone with Chiara in a safe flat, Gabriel had wanted desperately to touch her. He had waited until the case was resolved and they had returned to Venice. There, in a canal house in Cannaregio, they made love for the first time, in a bed prepared with fresh linen. It was like making love to a figure painted by the hand of Veronese. Now that same figure frowned as he removed his leather jacket and tossed it over the back of a chair. She made a vast show of hanging it in the closet, then unzipped her overnight bag and began removing the contents. All the clothing was clean and painstakingly folded.
    “My mother insisted on doing my laundry before I left.”
    “She doesn’t think we have a washing machine?”
    “She’s a Venetian, Gabriel. She doesn’t believe it’s proper for a girl to live on a farm. Pastures and livestock make her nervous.” Chiara began placing the clean clothing in her dresser drawers. “So why weren’t you here when I arrived?”
    “I had a meeting.”
    “A meeting ? In Amelia? With whom?”
    Gabriel told her.
    “I thought you two weren’t speaking.”
    “We’ve agreed to let bygones be bygones.”
    “How lovely,” Chiara said coldly. “Did my name come up?”
    “Uzi’s miffed at you for failing to tell the desk that you were going to Venice.”
    “It was private.”
    “You know there’s no such thing as private when you work for the Office.”
    “Why are you taking his side?”
    “I’m not taking anyone’s side. It was a simple statement of fact.”
    “Since when have you ever given a damn about Office rules and regulations? You do whatever you want, whenever you want, and no one dares to lay a finger on you.”
    “And Uzi gives you plenty of preferential treatment because you’re married to me.”
    “I’m still angry with him for leaving you behind in Moscow.”
    “It wasn’t Uzi’s fault, Chiara. He tried to make me leave, but I wouldn’t listen.”
    “And you almost got yourself killed as a result. You would have been killed if it wasn’t for Grigori.” She lapsed into silence for a moment while she refolded two items of clothing. “Did you two have something to eat?”
    “Uzi devoured about a hundred pastries at Massimo. I had coffee.”
    “How’s his weight?”
    “He seems to be carrying some postnuptial happy pounds.”
    “You never gained any weight after we were married.”
    “I suppose that means I’m deeply unhappy.”
    “Are you?”
    “Don’t be silly, Chiara.”
    She slipped a thumb inside the waistband of her blue jeans. “I think I’m gaining weight.”
    “You look beautiful.”
    She frowned. “You’re not supposed to say I look beautiful . You’re supposed to reassure me that I’m not gaining weight.”
    “Your shirt is fitting you a little more tightly than normal.”
    “It’s Anna’s cooking. If I keep eating like this, I’m going to look like one of those old ladies in town. Maybe I should just buy a black frock now and get it over with.”
    “I gave her the night off. I thought it might be nice to be alone for a change.”
    “Thank God. I’ll make you something to eat. You’re too thin.” Chiara closed the dresser drawer. “So what brought Uzi to