The Fallen Angel

Shamron lived now in something akin to internal exile at his villa overlooking the Sea of Galilee. The politicians and generals who used to seek his advice no longer beat a path to his door. To fill the empty hours, he repaired antique radios and tried to concoct some way to convince Gabriel, whom he loved as a son, to come home again.
    “How often does he call to check up on me?”
    “Never,” replied Pazner, shaking his head for emphasis.
    “How often, Shimon?”
    “Twice a week, sometimes three. In fact, I just got off the phone with him before you called.”
    “What did he want?”
    “King Saul Boulevard is in an uproar. They’re convinced something is about to come down. Something big.”
    “Is there anything specific on the target?”
    Pazner took a final pull at his cigarette and sent the ember arcing into the darkness. “It might be an embassy or a consulate. It might be a synagogue or a community center. They think it’s going to happen in the south, probably Istanbul or Athens, but they can’t rule out Rome. We’ve barely finished rebuilding from the last time we were hit.” Pazner glanced at Gabriel and added, “Something tells me you remember that attack well.”
    Gabriel didn’t respond directly. “Is it al-Qaeda?”
    “After your last operation, there’s probably no al-Qaeda network or cell capable of carrying out a major attack in Europe. And since the Palestinians have no interest in hitting us here at the moment, that leaves only one other candidate.”
    “The Iranians.”
    “Acting through their favorite proxy, of course.”
    Hezbollah . . .
    They had reached the edge of the Piazza di Siena. The broad dusty oval was awash with pale moonlight, and the sound of the traffic along the Corso was but a whisper. It was almost possible to imagine they were the last two men alive in an ancient city.
    “What’s the source?” asked Gabriel.
    “Sources,” countered Pazner. “It’s a mosaic of intelligence, both human and signals. It appears the Qods Force of the Revolutionary Guard is running the operation. Department Five of VEVAK is apparently involved as well.”
    VEVAK was the Persian-language acronym of the Ministry of Intelligence and National Security, Iran’s formidable intelligence service. Department Five was among its most important divisions, for it dealt exclusively with the State of Israel.
    “According to one of our assets in southern Lebanon,” Pazner continued, “a team of Hezbollah operatives left Beirut about six weeks ago. We think it’s a straight revenge operation. Frankly, we’ve been expecting something like this for some time. They have good reason to be angry at us.”
    For much of the past decade, the Office had been waging a not-so-secret war against the Iranian nuclear weapons program. Scientists had been assassinated, destructive computer viruses had been introduced into labs and facilities, and faulty parts had been cleverly inserted into Iran’s nuclear supply chain—including several dozen sabotaged industrial centrifuges that destroyed four secret enrichment facilities. The operation had been one of Gabriel’s finest. Fittingly, it had been code-named Masterpiece.
    “Has my name come up in any of the intel?”
    “Not a whisper. But that doesn’t mean they don’t suspect you were the one behind it. Anyone who underestimates the Iranians does so at his own risk, you included.”
    “I’ve never underestimated them. But I have no intention of spending the rest of my life in hiding.”
    “No one’s suggesting that.”
    “What are you suggesting?”
    “Jerusalem is lovely this time of year.”
    “Actually, it’s miserable. But that’s beside the point. I’m too busy to leave Rome.”
    “So I’ve heard. I’ve also heard that your friend the monsignor asked you to have a look at the suicide in the Basilica while the body was still in situ.”
    “Very impressive, Shimon. How did you know I was there?”
    “Because Lorenzo Vitale told one of his old friends in the Guardia di Finanza. And that friend told one of his friends in the Italian security service. And the friend from the Italian security service told me. He also told me that if you step out of line, he’ll put you on the first plane out of town.”
    “Tell him I’m living up to the letter and spirit of our agreement.”
    “Is that why Donati’s assistant invited you to coffee this afternoon?”
    “I see you’re monitoring my mobile phone again.”
    “What makes