The Fallen Angel

voice calm and pleasant. “It’s quite possible that some of you might remember me, but that’s not important right now. What is important is that you all leave the sanctuary through the back door as quickly and quietly as possible.”
    Lavon had been expecting a Talmudic debate on why such a step was necessary, or even whether it was possible on the Sabbath. Instead, he watched in wonder as the congregants rose to their feet and followed his instructions to the letter. In his earpiece, he could hear a voice in German saying the four Hezbollah operatives had just changed onto a Number 3 U-Bahn train bound for the Innere Stadt. He looked at his watch. The time was 6:05. They were right on schedule.
     
     
    At the far end of the Rotenturmstrasse, just a few paces from the banks of the Donaukanal, is a café called Aida. The awning that shades its tables is Miami pink, as is the exterior of the building, making it, arguably, the ugliest café in all of Vienna. In another lifetime, under another name, Gabriel had brought his son to Aida most afternoons for chocolate gelato. Now he sat there with Mikhail Abramov. Four members of EKO Cobra were huddled around a nearby table, as inconspicuous as a Times Square billboard. Gabriel had his back turned to the street, the weight of the .45-caliber Beretta tugging at his shoulder. Mikhail was drumming his fingers nervously on the tabletop.
    “How long do you intend to do that?” asked Gabriel.
    “Until I see those four boys from Hezbollah.”
    “It’s giving me a headache.”
    “You’ll live.” Mikhail’s fingers went still. “I wish we didn’t have to let him go.”
    “Massoud?”
    Mikhail nodded.
    “I gave him my word.”
    “He’s a murderer.”
    “But I’m not,” said Gabriel. “And neither are you.”
    “What if he wasn’t telling you the truth? Then you wouldn’t have to live up to your end of the bargain.”
    “If four suicide bombers from Hezbollah come walking up that street in a few minutes,” Gabriel said, nodding toward the window, “we’ll know he was telling us the truth.”
    Mikhail started drumming his fingers again. “Maybe we don’t actually have to kill him,” he said philosophically. “Maybe we could just . . . forget him.”
    “What does that mean?”
    “It means that Yossi and the others could just drive away from that house in Denmark with Massoud still chained to the wall. Eventually, someone would find his skeleton.”
    “A dishonest mistake? Is that what you’re suggesting?”
    “Shit happens.”
    “It would still be murder.”
    “No, it wouldn’t. It would be death by negligence.”
    “I’m afraid that’s a distinction without a difference.”
    “Exactly.” Mikhail opened his mouth to continue, but he could see Gabriel was listening to the radio.
    “What is it?”
    “They’re getting off the train.”
    “Where?”
    “The Stephansplatz.”
    “Right where Massoud said they would.”
    Gabriel nodded.
    “I still think we should kill him.”
    “You mean forget him.”
    “That, too.”
    “We’re not murderers, Mikhail. We are preventers of murder.”
    “Let’s hope so. Otherwise, they’re going to have to pick us off the street with tweezers.”
    “It’s better to think positive thoughts.”
    “I’ve always preferred to dwell upon the worst-case scenario.”
    “Why?”
    “Motivation,” said Mikhail. “If I imagine a rabbi soaking up my blood for burial, it will motivate me to do my job properly.”
    “Just wait until the guns appear. We can’t kill them until we see the guns.”
    “What if they don’t draw their guns? What if they just detonate themselves in the street?”
    “Positive thoughts, Mikhail.”
    “I’m a Jew from Russia. Positive thoughts aren’t in my nature.”
    The waitress placed a check on the table. Gabriel gave her a twenty and told her to keep the change. Mikhail glanced at the four EKO Cobra men.
    “They look more nervous than we do.”
    “They probably are.”
    Mikhail turned his gaze to the street. “Have you given any thought to what you’re going to do next?”
    “I’m going to sleep for several days.”
    “Make sure you turn the phone off.”
    “This is the last time, Mikhail.”
    “Until some terrorist comes along who decides he wants to reduce the world’s population of Jews by a few hundred. Then we’ll be right back here again.”
    “I’m afraid you’re going to have to do it without me next time.”
    “We’ll see.” Mikhail looked at