As he lit another cigarette, he decided to get in touch with John Barry, the cultural attache to the United States embassy. John was actually CIA, like almost every cultural attache in foreign embassies around the world. Governments didn't have much imagination for working out covers for their agents. Even so, Barry was a nice guy. He wasn't a field operative; he worked for the CIA's Office of Intelligence Assessment, analyzing and interpreting the intelligence that came in from field agents before it was sent on to Washington. The two men had been friends for years- a friendship forged through work, since many of the pieces of art stolen by the art mafias wound up in the hands of wealthy Americans who-sometimes because they were in love with a particular work, other times out of vanity or to turn a quick buck-had no scruples about purchasing stolen art. It was a dark area of international commerce, where many interests often intersected.

Barry didn't fit the stereotypical image of the American or of the CIA agent. He was fifty-something, like Marco, and he had a doctorate in art history from Harvard. He loved Europe and had married an English archaeologist, Lisa, a charming and fascinating woman. Not beautiful, Marco had to say, but so full of life that she radiated enthusiasm and charisma. She'd hit it off wonderfully with Paola, so the four of them had dinner together once in a while, and they'd even spent weekends together in Capri.

Yes, he'd call John the minute he got back to Rome. But he'd also call Santiago Jimenez, the Europol representative in Italy, an efficient, very likable Spaniard with whom Marco also had an excellent working relationship. He'd buy them lunch. And maybe, he thought, they could help him in his search, even if he wasn't quite sure what he was looking for.

At last, Josar's eyes beheld the walls ofJerusalem. The brightness of the sun at dawn and the light's reflection off the desert sand made the stones of the wall seem to shimmer in a golden haze.

Accompanied by four men, Josar made his way on horseback toward the Damascus Gate, where at this early hour men who lived nearby were beginning to enter the city, and caravans seeking salt made their way out into the desert.

A platoon of Roman soldiers, on foot, was patrolling the perimeter of the walls.

How Josar longed to see Jesus, whose extraordinary figure radiated strength, sweetness, firmness, and deep piety.

He believed in Jesus, believed that he was the Son of God, not simply because of the wonders he had seen him work but also because, when Jesus' eyes fell on him, he could feel something more than human in them. He knew that Jesus could see within him, that not even the smallest and most hidden thought could escape him.

But Jesus did not make Josar feel ashamed of what he was, because the Nazarene's eyes were filled with understanding and with forgiveness.

Josar loved Abgar, his king, who had always treated him like a brother. He owed the king his estate and fortune. Yet Josar had decided that if Jesus did not accept Abgar's invitation to come to Edessa, he would present himself before his king and ask leave to return to Jerusalem and follow the Nazarene. He was prepared to give up his house, his fortune, his earthly comforts and well-being. He would follow Jesus and try to live according to his teachings. Yes, he had reached that decision.

Josar went to the house of Samuel, a man who for a few coins would care for the horses and allow Josar and his companions to sleep. As soon as they were set-ded there, he would go out into the streets and try to find Jesus. He would go to the house of Mark, or Luke, for they would be able to tell him where to find him. It would be difficult to convince Jesus to travel to Edessa, but Josar would argue that the journey was short and that, once his king was cured, Jesus could return, should he decide not to remain.

As he left the house of Samuel to find Mark, Josar bought two apples from a poor cripple, and he asked the man about the latest news of the city.

"What would you know,.stranger? Every day the sun rises in the east and sets in the west. The Romans- you are not Roman, are you? No, you do not dress like a Roman or speak in their manner. The Romans have raised taxes, to the greater glory of the emperor, and Pilate the governor now fears a rebellion, so he is attempting to win over to his purposes the priests of the temple."

"What do you know of Jesus, the Nazarene?"

'Ah! You want to know about him as well! You are not a spy, then, are you?"

"No, good man, I am not a spy. I am simply a traveler who knows of the wonders that the Nazarene has worked."

"If you are sick, he can cure you. There are many who say they have been healed by the touch of the Nazarene's fingers."

"And you do not believe that?"

"I, sir, work from sun to sun, tending my orchard and selling my apples. I have a wife and two daughters to feed. I keep all the laws that a good Jew must keep, and I believe in God. Whether the Nazarene is the Messiah, as people say, I know not-I cannot say he is, and I cannot say he is not. But I will tell you, stranger, that the priests, and the Romans as well, are against him, for Jesus has no fear of their power and he defies them equally. A man cannot stand up against the Romans and the priests and expect any good to come of it. This Jesus will, I think, regret his pride."

Josar wandered through the city until he came to the house of Mark. There he was told that he could find Jesus beside the southern wall, preaching to a multitude.

Josar soon found him. The Nazarene, dressed in a simple linen robe, was speaking to his followers in a voice that was firm yet wonderfully sweet.

He felt Jesus' eyes upon him. He had seen Josar, he smiled upon him, and he beckoned him to come closer.

Jesus embraced him and bade him to sit there beside him. John, the youngest of the disciples, moved aside so that Josar might sit at the master's left hand.

There they all spent the morning, and when the sun had reached the highest point in the sky, Judas, one of the disciples, brought bread, figs, and water to the crowd. They ate in silence and in peace. Then Jesus stood to leave.

"My lord," Josar said softly, "I bring a letter for you from my king, Abgar of Edessa."

'And what does Abgar want of me, my good Josar?"

"He is ill, my lord, and asks that you help him. I, too, ask it of you, my lord, because he is a good man, truly, and a good king, and his subjects know that he is fair and kind. Edessa is a small city, but Abgar will share it with you."

Jesus laid his hand on Josar's arm as they walked. And Josar felt privileged to be near the man he truly believed to be the Son of God.

"I will read the letter and answer your king."

That night Josar broke bread with Jesus and his disciples, who were uneasy at the news of the priests' growing antagonism. A woman, Mary Magdalene, had heard in the market that the priests were urging the Romans to arrest Jesus, whom they accused of being the instigator of certain disturbances, some violent, against Rome's power.

Jesus listened in silence and ate calmly. It appeared that all the matters the others were talking about were already known to him. After they had eaten, he told them that they should forgive those who did them harm or spoke against them, that they should show compassion toward those who wished them ill. The disciples replied that it was not easy to forgive a man who does one harm, to remain passive without returning ill for ill.

Jesus listened, but again he argued that forgiveness was a balm for the soul of the person aggrieved.

At the end of the evening, he sought out Josar with his eyes and beckoned him to come closer. Josar saw that the Nazarene was holding a letter.