The Defector

vow to Leah and you couldn’t break it, even though she no longer lived in the present. You took an oath to the Office as well. And you can’t seem to break that one, either.”
    “I’ve given them more than half my life.”
    “So what are you going to do? Give them the rest of it? Do you want to end up like Shamron? He’s eighty years old, and he can’t sleep at night because he’s worried about the security of the State. He sits on his terrace at night on the Sea of Galilee staring off to the east, watching his enemies.”
    “There wouldn’t be an Israel if it weren’t for men like Shamron. He was there at the creation. And he doesn’t want to see his life’s work destroyed.”
    “There are plenty of qualified men and women who can look after Israel’s security.”
    “Try telling that to Shamron.”
    “Trust me, Gabriel. I have.”
    “So what are you suggesting?”
    “Leave them—for good this time. Restore paintings. Live your life.”
    “Where?”
    She raised her arms to indicate that the present surroundings would do nicely indeed.
    “This is a temporary arrangement. Eventually, the count is going to want his villa back again.”
    “We’ll find a new one. Or we’ll move to Rome so you can be closer to the Vatican. The Italians will let you live wherever you like, so long as you don’t abuse that passport and new identity they generously gave you for saving the pope’s life.”
    “Uzi says I’ll never have the nerve to walk away for good. He says the Office is the only family I’ve got.”
    “Start a new family, Gabriel.” Chiara paused. “With me.”
    She tasted a piece of zucchini and switched off the burner. Turning around, she saw Gabriel gazing at her intently with one hand pressed thoughtfully to his chin.
    “Why are you looking at me like that?”
    “Like what, Chiara?”
    “Like I’m one of your paintings.”
    “I’m just wondering why you left that book about child rearing in our room where you knew I would see it. And why you haven’t taken a single sip of the wine I poured for you.”
    “I have.”
    “You haven’t, Chiara. I’ve been watching.”
    “You just didn’t see me.”
    “Take one now.”
    “Gabriel! What’s got into you?” She lifted the glass to her lips and took a sip. “Are you satisfied?”
    He wasn’t. “Are you pregnant, Chiara?”
    “No, Gabriel, I’m not pregnant. But I would like to be at some point in the near future.” She took hold of his hand. “I know you’re afraid because of what happened to Dani. But the best way to honor his memory is to have another child. We’re Jews, Gabriel. That’s what we do. We mourn the dead and keep them in our hearts. But we live our lives.”
    “With names that are not our own, stalked by men who wish to kill us.”
    Chiara gave an exasperated sigh and cracked another egg against the side of the mixing bowl. This time, the shell broke to pieces in her hand.
    “ Now look what you’ve made me do.” She mopped up the egg with a paper towel. “You have three days until Uzi comes back. What do you intend to do?”
    “I need to go to London to find out what really happened to Grigori Bulganov.”
    “Grigori isn’t your problem. Let the British handle it.”
    “The British have bigger problems than one missing defector. They’ve swept Grigori under the rug. They’ve moved on.”
    “And so should you.” Chiara added one more egg to the bowl and began beating. “Russians have long memories, Gabriel—almost as long as the Arabs. Ivan lost everything after Elena defected: his homes in England and France and all those bank accounts in London and Zurich filled with his dirty money. He’s the subject of an Interpol Red Notice and can’t set foot outside of Russia. He has nothing else to do except plot your death. And if you go to London and start poking around, there’s a good chance he’ll find out about it.”
    “So I’ll do it quietly, then I’ll come home. And we’ll get on with our lives.”
    Chiara’s arm went still. “You tell lies for a living, Gabriel. I hope you’re not lying to me now.”
    “I’ve never lied to you, Chiara. And I never will.”
    “What are you going to do about the bodyguards?”
    “They’ll stay here with you.”
    “Uzi’s not going to be happy.”
    Gabriel held his wine to the light. “Uzi’s never happy.”

9
    VILLA DEI FIORI • LONDON
    THE OFFICE had a motto: By way of deception, thou shalt do war. The deception was usually visited