Gabriel had feared the gathering would be an occasion to relive the dreadful details of the affair, but it was mentioned only once, when Shamron spoke about the importance of what they had achieved. As Jews, they all had relatives whose earthly remains were turned to smoke by the crematoria or were buried in mass graves in the Baltics or the Ukraine. Their memories were kept by commemorative flames and by the index cards stored in the Hall of Names at Yad Vashem. But there were no graves to visit, no headstones upon which to shed tears. By their actions in Russia, Gabriel’s team had given such a place to the relatives of the seventy thousand murdered at the killing ground in Vladimirskaya Oblast. They had paid a terrible price, and Grigori had not survived, but with their sacrifice they had given a kind of justice, perhaps even peace, to seventy thousand restless souls.

For the remainder of the meal, Shamron regaled them with stories of the past. He was never happier than when surrounded by his family and friends, and his good mood seemed to soften the deep cracks and fissures in his aged face. But there was sadness there, too. The operation had been traumatic for all of them, but in many ways it had been hardest on Shamron. With his cool, creative thinking, he had saved all their lives. But for more than an hour that terrible morning, he had feared that three officers, two of whom he loved as children, were about to suffer a horrible death. There was an emotional price to be paid for an operation like that-and Shamron paid it, later that evening, when he invited Gabriel to join him on the terrace for a private chat. They sat together on the spot where Gabriel and Chiara were married, Shamron smoking quietly, Gabriel gazing at the blue-black sky above the Golan.

“Your wife looks radiant this evening. Almost like new.”

“Looks can be deceiving, Ari, but she does look wonderful. I suppose I have Gilah to thank. She obviously took good care of her while I was gone.”

“Gilah is good at putting people back together again, even when she’s not sure how they ended up broken in the first place. I must say, we enjoyed having Chiara for the summer. If only my own children would come more often.”

“Maybe they would if you didn’t smoke so much.”

Shamron took a final pull at his cigarette and crushed it out slowly. “You actually looked as if you were enjoying yourself, too. Or were you just deceiving me?”

“It was a wonderful evening, Ari. In fact, it was exactly what we all needed.”

“Your team adores you, Gabriel. They would do anything for you.”

“They have, Ari. Just ask Mikhail.”

“Do you think he’s actually going to marry this American girl?”

“Her name is Sarah. Surely, as a Jew from Tiberias, you should have no trouble remembering that name.”

“Answer my question.”

“He’d be a fool not to marry her. She’s a remarkable woman.”

“But she’s not Jewish.”

“She might as well be.”

“Do you think the CIA will let her stay on if she marries one of us?”

“If they don’t, you should hire her. If it weren’t for Sarah, Anton Petrov might have killed Uzi in Zurich.”

Shamron made no response other than to light another cigarette.

“How is he?” Gabriel asked.

“Petrov?” Shamron pulled his lips into an indifferent frown. “Not so good.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Apparently, he managed to escape the detention and interrogation facility. A group of Bedouin found his body out in the Negev, about fifty miles south of Beersheba. The vultures had got to him by then. I hear it wasn’t pretty.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t get to have a final word with him.”

“Don’t be. While you were in Europe, we were able to wring one more confession out of him. He admitted to killing those two journalists from Moskovskaya Gazeta last year on Ivan’s orders. But given the rather sensitive circumstances of his admission, we’re in no position to forward the information to the French and Italian authorities. For now both cases will remain officially unsolved.”

“What did you do with the five million euros Petrov left in Becker and Puhl?”

“We made him sign it over to Konrad Becker to cover the costs of the mess you made in his bank. He sends his best, by the way. But he would be most grateful if you did your private banking elsewhere.”

“Were you forced to clean up any other messes?”

“Not really. Our disinformation campaign managed to deflect all suspicion from us onto Ivan. Besides, these were not exactly fine, upstanding citizens whom you killed. They were former KGB hoods who traded in murder, kidnapping, and extortion. As far as the European police and security services are concerned, we did them a favor.”

Shamron looked at Gabriel for a moment in silence. “Did it help?”

“What?”

“Killing them?”

Gabriel gazed out at the black waters of the lake. “I did terrible things in order to get Chiara back, Ari. I did things I never want to do again.”

“But?”

“Yes, it did help.”

“Eleven,” Shamron said. “Ironic, don’t you think?”

“How so?”

“Your first assignment came about because Black September killed eleven Israelis in Munich. And for your final assignment, you and Mikhail killed eleven Russians who were responsible for Chiara’s abduction and Grigori Bulganov’s death.”

A heavy silence settled between them, broken only by the sound of laughter at the dinner table.

“My final assignment? I thought you and the prime minister had decided it was my time to take over the Office.”

“Have you seen your fitness reports?” Shamron shook his head slowly. “You’re in no condition to take on the responsibility of running the Office now. Not when we have a confrontation with the Iranians looming. And not when your wife needs your attention.”

“What are you saying, Ari?”

“I’m saying that you are released from the promise you made in Paris. I’m telling you that you’re fired, Gabriel. You have a new mission now. Get your wife pregnant again as quickly as possible. You’re not so young, my son. You need to have another child quickly.”

“Are you sure, Ari? Are you really prepared to let me go?”

“I’m sure we’ll always find something for you to do. But it’s not going to be sitting behind the desk in the director’s suite. We’re going to inflict that chore on someone else.”

“Do you have a candidate in mind?”

“Actually, we’ve already settled on one. It’s going to be announced next month when Amos steps down.”

“Who is it?”

“Me,” said Uzi Navot.

Gabriel turned and saw Navot standing on the terrace, his heavy arms folded across his chest. In the half-light, he looked shockingly like Shamron in his youth.

“Brilliant choice, don’t you think?”

“I’m speechless.”

“For once.” Navot came forward and placed his hand on Gabriel’s shoulder. “We have a wonderful system, you and I. You turn a job down, then they give it to me.”

“But the right man got the job in both cases, Uzi. I would have been a terrible director. Mazel tov.”

“Do you mean that, Gabriel?”

“The Office is going to be in good hands for years to come.” Gabriel cocked his head toward Shamron. “Now, if we can just get the Old Man to let go of the bicycle seat.”

Shamron grimaced. “Let’s not get carried away. But let us also be clear about one thing. Uzi is not going to be my pawn. He’ll be his own man. But obviously I’ll always be here to offer advice.”

“Whether he wants it or not.”

“Be careful, my son. Otherwise, I’ll advise him to deal with you harshly.”

Navot walked over and leaned against the balustrade.

“What are we going to do with him, Ari?”

“In my opinion, he should be locked in a room with his wife and kept there until she is pregnant again.”

“Done.” Navot looked at Gabriel. “It’s an order. And you’re not going to disobey another one of my orders, are you, Gabriel?”