The Fallen Angel

Vatican.”
    “Donati?”
    “Higher up.”
    “Please don’t tell me you got His Holiness involved in this.”
    “I’m afraid he involved himself,” Navot said.
    “How?”
    “He had Alois Metzler of the Swiss Guard place a few discreet calls to Bern. Once Metzler got involved, it was only a matter of time before they let you out. The Office was able to stay entirely on the sidelines.”
    “I had to pay a toll to get out.”
    “How heavy?”
    Gabriel told him about the debriefing.
    “Was any of what you said actually true?”
    “A little.”
    “Good boy.” Another sandwich disappeared into Navot’s mouth.
    “I don’t suppose you’ve managed to identify the two people who arrived at the gallery before me.”
    “Of course we have,” Navot said, brushing the crumbs from his fingertips. “The girl is a fresh-faced newcomer, but her boyfriend is well known to us. His name is Ali Montazeri.”
    “Iranian?”
    Navot nodded. “Ali is a proud alumnus of the Qods Force. He’s now employed by VEVAK as a hired gun and assassin. He’s responsible for the murder of dozens of Iranian dissidents in Europe and the Middle East. In fact, he actually tried to kill me once when I was working out of Paris.”
    “Why would the Iranians send one of their best assassins to Switzerland to kill a Hezbollah operative?”
    “Good question.” Navot was silent for a moment. “While you were eating veal and raclette in your Swiss jail cell, the Office was overwhelmed with a new wave of intelligence suggesting Hezbollah is about to hit us. We’re talking about something big, Gabriel.”
    “How big?”
    “Nine-eleven big,” said Navot. “Big enough to start a war. And based on what we’re seeing in southern Lebanon, it looks like Hezbollah is preparing for one. They’re deploying their battle-hardened fighters close to our border. Their missiles are on the move, too.”
    “Do we know anything more about potential targets?”
    “All the chatter still points to Europe, which is why the timing of David Girard’s death is so interesting. Dina has a funny feeling there might be a connection.”
    “I get nervous when Dina has a funny feeling.”
    “So do I.”
    “How certain are you that the man who planted that bomb was Ali Montazeri?”
    “One hundred percent.”
    “I suppose we should probably tell our new friends the Swiss about this.”
    “It would be the honorable thing to do,” Navot said. “But for the moment, I’d rather borrow a page from the Iranian playbook.”
    “Which one?”
    “Khod’eh . ”
    “Tricking one’s enemies into a misjudgment of one’s true position?”
    “Correct.”
    “What do you have in mind?”
    “First we deceive the Iranians into thinking they got away with one in St. Moritz. Then we take that load of material the Swiss gave us back to King Saul Boulevard and put it in Dina’s hands.”
    “There’s something else we should do,” said Gabriel.
    “What’s that?”
    “Find someone to put that Greek vase back together.”
    “Can’t you do it?”
    “Apples and oranges.”
    Navot looked down at the plate of sandwiches. “You sure you’re not hungry? They’re really quite good.”
    “You go ahead, Uzi.”
    “Maybe we should wrap them up for the ride home. The food on El Al isn’t what it used to be.”
     
     
    They made the 12:45 flight out of Zurich’s Kloten Airport, and by half past five they were touching down at Ben Gurion. Navot’s armored Peugeot limousine was waiting on the tarmac, surrounded by twice the usual number of bodyguards. Leaning against the hood, her blue-jeaned legs crossed at the ankles, her arms folded beneath her breasts, was Chiara. She held Gabriel silently for a long time, her tearstained face buried against the side of his neck. Then she kissed his lips and gently touched the bandages on his cheeks.
    “You look terrible.”
    “Actually, I feel much worse.”
    “I’d tell you to go home and get a few hours of sleep, but I’m afraid there isn’t time for that.”
    “What’s wrong?”
    She handed a slip of paper to Navot. He read it by the glow of the limousine’s headlamps.
    “Hezbollah’s military commander is telling his forces to prepare for a massive Israeli retaliation within the next two weeks.” Navot squeezed the message into a ball. “That means it’s for real. They’re going to hit us, Gabriel. Very hard. And very soon.”
     
     
    As it happened, Gabriel’s interrogator from the Swiss security service