The Fallen Angel

across his chest and his head cocked slightly to one side, as though he had just heard a familiar voice outside in the street. Navot was seated next to him in an identical pose. But unlike Shamron, who was staring at Gabriel, Navot was gazing down at a plate of Viennese butter cookies with an expression of studied indifference. Gabriel shook his head slowly. It had been many months since his last operation with the Office, yet in his absence it seemed nothing had changed except the color of Navot’s hair.
    “Hezbollah realized it had a serious long-term problem,” Navot said, picking up where Shamron had left off. “Since it could no longer count on the benevolence of its patrons, it had to develop an independent, reliable means of financing its operations. It didn’t take long for them to decide how to proceed.”
    “Crime,” said Gabriel.
    “Big-time crime,” said Navot, snatching one of the cookies from the tray. “Hezbollah is like the Gambino family on steroids. But they tend to operate like limpets.”
    “Meaning they attach themselves to other criminal organizations?”
    Navot nodded and treated himself to another cookie. “They’re involved in everything from the cocaine trade in South America to diamond smuggling in West Africa. They also do a brisk business in counterfeit goods ranging from Gucci handbags to pirated DVDs.”
    “And they’re good at it,” Shamron added. “Hezbollah is now in possession of at least eighty thousand rockets and missiles capable of reaching every square inch of Israel. You can rest assured they didn’t get them by clipping coupons. Its rearmament is being funded in large part by a global crime wave. And Carlo is one of Hezbollah’s most reliable partners.”
    “How did you find out about him?”
    Shamron studied his hands before answering. “About six months ago, we were able to identify a senior operative in Hezbollah’s criminal fund-raising apparatus. His name is Muhammad Qassem. At the time, he was employed by something called the Lebanon Byzantine Bank. We lured him to Cyprus with a woman. Then we put him in a box and brought him back here.”
    Shamron slowly crushed out his cigarette. “Under questioning, Qassem gave us chapter and verse on Hezbollah’s criminal enterprises, including its partnership with a heretofore unknown Italian organized crime figure named Carlo Marchese. According to Qassem, the relationship is multifaceted, but it’s centered on the trade in looted antiquities.”
    “What does Hezbollah bring to the relationship?”
    “You’re the expert in the dirty antiquities trade. You tell me.”
    Gabriel recalled what General Ferrari had told him during their meeting in the Piazza di Sant’Ignazio, that the network was receiving looted goods from someone in the Middle East. “Hezbollah brings a steady stream of product to the relationship,” he said. “It’s active in some of the most archaeologically significant lands in the world. Southern Lebanon alone is a treasure trove of Phoenician, Greek, and Roman antiquities.”
    “But those antiquities aren’t worth much unless they can be brought to market with an acceptable provenance,” Shamron said. “That’s where Carlo and his network come in. Apparently, both sides are doing quite well for themselves.”
    “Does Carlo know who he’s doing business with?”
    “Carlo is, as we say, a man of the world.”
    “Who runs the Hezbollah side of the operation?”
    “Qassem wasn’t able to tell us that.”
    “Why haven’t you gone to the Italians with what you know?”
    “We did,” replied Uzi Navot. “In fact, I did it personally.”
    “What was their response?”
    “Carlo has friends in high places. Carlo is close to the Vatican. We can’t touch a man like Carlo based on the word of a Hezbollah banker who was handled in a rather extrajudicial manner.”
    “So you let it go.”
    “We needed Italian cooperation on other issues,” Navot replied. “Since then, I’m afraid we’ve had only limited success in interdicting the flow of money from Hezbollah’s criminal networks. They’re incredibly adaptive and resistant to outside penetration. They also tend to operate in countries that are not exactly friendly to our interests.”
    “Which means,” Shamron said, “your friend Carlo has presented us with a unique opportunity.” He stared at Gabriel through a cloud of cigarette smoke. “The question is, are you willing to help us?”
    And there it was, thought