“Where are you going?”

“You know better than to ask me that.”

“A job?”

“Yes, of course a job.”

“How long will you be gone?”

Her silence told him she was not coming back.

“When it’s over, I’m going back to Venice.” Then she added: “To take care of my family.”

He stood motionless and looked down at her. Chiara’s tears, when they spilled down her cheeks, were black with mascara. To Gabriel they looked like streaks of dirty rain on a statue. She wiped them away and examined her blackened fingertips, angry at her inability to control her emotions. Then she straightened her back and blinked hard several times.

“You look disappointed in me, Gabriel.”

“For what?”

“Crying. You never cry, do you?”

“Not anymore.”

He sat down next to her and tried to hold her hand. She drew it away from him and dabbed at her smudged makeup with a tissue, then she opened a compact case and looked at her reflection in the mirror.

“I can’t get on a plane looking like this.”

“Good.”

“Don’t get any ideas. I’m still leaving. Besides, it’s what you want. You would never tell me to leave-you’re far too decent for that-but I know you want me to go.” She snapped the compact shut. “I don’t blame you. In a strange way, I love you more. I only wish you hadn’t told me that you wanted to marry me.”

“I did,” he said.

“Did?”

“I do want to marry you, Chiara”-he hesitated-“but I can’t. I’m married to Leah.”

“Fidelity, right, Gabriel? Devotion to duty or to one’s obligations. Loyalty. Faithfulness.”

“I can’t leave her now, not after what she’s just been put through by Khaled.”

“In another week, she won’t remember it.” Chiara, noticing the color in Gabriel’s face, took his hand. “God, I’m sorry. Please forget I ever said that.”

“It’s forgotten.”

“You’re a fool to let me walk out of here. No one will ever love you the way I’ve loved you.” She stood up. “But we’ll see each other again, I’m sure. Who knows, maybe I’ll be working for you soon.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The Office is swirling with rumors.”

“It usually is. You shouldn’t pay attention to rumors, Chiara.”

“I once heard a rumor that you’d never leave Leah to marry me. I wish I’d paid attention to that one.”

She slung her bag over her shoulder, then bent down and kissed Gabriel’s lips.

“One last kiss,” she whispered.

“At least let me drive you to the airport.”

“The last thing we need is a tearful good-bye at Ben-Gurion. Help me with my bags.”

He carried the suitcases down and loaded them in the trunk of the car. Chiara climbed into the backseat and closed the door without looking at him. Gabriel stood in the shade of a eucalyptus tree and watched the car drive off. As he walked upstairs to the empty apartment, he realized he hadn’t asked her to stay. Eli had been right. It was easier that way.

A WEEK AFTER CHIARA’S DEPARTURE GABRIEL drove to Tiberias for dinner at the Shamrons. Yonatan was there, along with his wife and three young children. So was Rimona and her husband. They both had just come off duty and were still in uniform. Shamron, surrounded by his family, seemed happier than Gabriel had seen him in years. After supper he led Yonatan and Gabriel onto the terrace. A bright three-quarter moon was reflected in the calm surface of the Sea of Galilee. Beyond the lake, black and shapeless, loomed the Golan Heights. Shamron liked it best on his terrace, because it faced east toward his enemies. He was content to sit quietly and say nothing for a time while Gabriel and Yonatan talked pessimistically about the matsav-the situation. After a while, Shamron gave Yonatan a look that said he needed to speak to Gabriel privately. “I get the message, Abba,” Yonatan said, getting to his feet. “I’ll leave you to it.”

“He is a colonel in the IDF,” Gabriel said, when Yonatan had gone. “He doesn’t like when you treat him like that.”

“Yonatan has his line of work, and we have ours.” Shamron adroitly shifted the focus from his personal problems to Gabriel’s. “How’s Leah?”

“I’m taking her to the Mount of Olives tomorrow to see Dani’s grave.”

“I assume her doctor has approved this outing?”

“He’s coming with us, along with half the staff of the Mount Herzl Psychiatric Hospital.”

Shamron lit a cigarette. “Have you heard from Chiara?”

“No, and I don’t expect to. Do you know where she is?”

Shamron looked theatrically at his wristwatch. “If the operation is proceeding as planned, she’s probably sipping brandy in a ski lodge in Zermatt with a certain Swiss gentleman of questionable character. This gentleman is about to ship a rather large consignment of arms to a Lebanese guerrilla group that doesn’t have our best interests at heart. We’d like to know when that shipment is leaving port and where it’s going.”

“Please tell me Operations isn’t using my former fiancée as bait in a honey trap.”

“I’m not privy to the details of the operation, only the overarching goals. As for Chiara, she’s a girl of high moral character. I’m sure she’ll play hard to get with our Helvetian friend.”

“I still don’t like it.”

“Don’t worry,” Shamron said. “Soon you’ll be the one deciding how we use her.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The prime minister would like a word with you. He has a job he’d like you to take.”

“Javelin-catcher?”

Shamron threw back his head and laughed, then suffered a long, spasmodic fit of coughing.

“Actually, he wants you to be the next director of Operations.”

“Me? By the time Lev’s committee of inquiry has finished with me, I’ll be lucky to get a job as a security guard at a café in Ben-Yehuda Street.”

“You’ll come out of it just fine. Now is not the time for public self-flagellation. Leave that for the Americans. If we have to tell a few half-truths, if we must lie to a country like France that is not interested in our survival, then so be it.”

“By way of deception, thou shalt do war,” Gabriel said, reciting the motto of the Office. Shamron nodded once and said, “Amen.”

“Even if I come out of it in one piece, Lev won’t allow me to have Operations.”

“He won’t have a say in the matter. Lev’s term is ending, and he has few friends in King Saul Boulevard or Kaplan Street. He won’t be invited to stay for a second dance.”

“So who’s going to be the next chief?”

“The prime minister and I have a short list of names. None of them are Office. Whoever we select, he’ll need an experienced man running Operations.”

“I knew it was leading to this,” Gabriel said. “I knew it the moment I saw you in Venice.”

“I admit my motives are selfish. My term is coming to an end, too. If the prime minister goes, so do I. And this time there won’t be a return from exile. I need you, Gabriel. I need you to keep watch over my creation.”

“The Office?”

Shamron shook his head, then lifted his hand toward the land.

“I know you’ll do it,” Shamron said. “You have no choice. Your mother named you Gabriel for a reason. Michael is the highest, but you, Gabriel, you are the mightiest. You’re the one who defends Israel against its accusers. You’re the angel of judgment-the prince of fire.”

Gabriel, silent, looked out at the lake. “There’s something I need to take care of first.”

“Eli will find him, especially with the clues you’ve given him. That was a brilliant piece of detective work on your part. But then you always did have that kind of mind.”

“It was Fellah,” Gabriel said. “She doomed him by telling me her story.”

“But that’s the Palestinian way. They’re trapped in their narrative of loss and exile. There’s no escaping it.” Shamron leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Are you really sure you want the job of turning Khaled into a martyr? There are other boys who can do it for you.”