The Second Messiah

“He almost convinced himself the brake line in my father’s pickup had been deliberately tampered with. But he couldn’t prove it.”

Becket paled a little and shook his head. “The sergeant never mentioned his suspicion to me, Jack.”

“Then what about the missing scroll? There was no evidence to prove it was destroyed by fire. I think you know more than you’re telling.”

“Jack—”

“What happened to my parents ripped my heart out. I don’t think I’ve ever found peace since that day. But this isn’t just about burying ghosts or even solving a crime. It’s not even about justice. It’s about simple truth. Something you’re supposed to believe in.”

Becket fell silent. Beads of perspiration glistened on his brow. It appeared as if a great weight was pressing down on his shoulders, that he was under enormous stress. He tightly shut his eyes, then opened them again. As he sat there, rigid, his face set in stone, his breathing became more labored. He rubbed a bony hand over his face. There seemed to be an agony in that simple gesture, as if he faced a colossal decision.

He turned his head and fixed Jack with a penetrating stare. “Please understand one thing. I didn’t set out to harm anyone.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

The sound of footsteps approached along the path. Abbot Fabrio appeared and bowed. “Holy Father, my apologies. The security detail says that your car will be here in ten minutes to take you to the Vatican. You are due to give your speech and blessing from St. Peter’s Square after your meeting with the cardinals.”

Becket waved a hand in dismissal. “Tell them to delay the car.”

“Until when, Holy Father?”

“Until I say I am ready.”

“But—”

“No arguments, Fabrio. And tell Cardinal Cassini that he is to assemble the Curia in the Sistine Chapel. I will have an important announcement to make.”

“As you wish, Holy Father.” The abbot left.

Jack looked up at Becket as he stood. The pope’s face was suddenly tired and sagged. In the space of ten minutes he had aged ten years. He gestured to the path through the garden. “Will you walk with me, Jack?”

“Why should I?”

“Because I think it’s time you knew the truth about what happened to your parents.”

111

Lela studied her wristwatch as she sat outside the café. She sipped her espresso. The sidewalk table gave her a view of the monastery entrance at the far end of the street. Every now and then she could see the guards discreetly patrol behind the gate.

She put down her espresso and sighed. She felt confused. Her relationship with Jack went back such a long time. She still had feelings for him, and that troubled her. What right had she to think it might be rekindled? Besides, Jack still seemed more than a little smitten by Yasmin Green. And why shouldn’t he? She was beautiful and young. But who is she?

“The rain’s gone, the sun’s out. Nice day for a coffee.”

She turned, startled, and saw Ari standing behind her, his injured hand bandaged. He held a newspaper in his other hand. He pulled up a chair and indicated to the waiter that he wanted an espresso, the same as Lela. The waiter went to fill the order. Ari smiled. “Don’t think of running, Lela. You wouldn’t get far.”

Across the street, she saw the Mossad taxi driver, Mario, leaning against his cab. Farther along, Cohen smoked a cigarette as he lounged next to a wall.

Lela felt the barrel of Ari’s pistol prod her in the side as he leaned in closer with the newspaper. “Where’s your pistol? Give it to me.”

“Ari, please. . .”

“You’ve been playing hide-and-seek with me. Lela. I don’t like that.”

“Ari, there’s been good reason—”

“Make a fuss and I swear, I’ll have you bundled into our car in no time, screaming or not. Now, where’s your pistol?”

“In my pocket.”

“Any other weapons I should know about?”

“Another pistol, in my right pocket.”

Ari reached into Lela’s pockets, removed her own pistol and Pasha’s weapon, and tucked them inside his jacket. “It looks like you were expecting trouble.”

“I wasn’t expecting you. How did you know where to find me, Ari?”

“Lots of state security organizations keep loose contact with each other. A case of ‘you scratch my back, and I’ll scratch yours.’ Mossad and the Vatican are no exception, that’s all I’ll say.”

The waiter came with Ari’s espresso and left. Lela said, “Tell me how Mossad and the Vatican are connected in all of this.”

Ari used his bandaged hand to add a sugar cube to his cup and stirred. “You can ask Weiss when you see him.”

“That’s where you’re taking me?”

“Yes. Then onward to Israel. Along with your friend Cane.” Ari gave a tight smile and sipped his espresso. He pulled his pistol back from Lela’s side but kept it clutched in his good hand, tucked under his newspaper and out of view. “Just as soon as he appears from his private papal audience, we’re going to finally bring this to a conclusion.”

112

“For twenty years I’ve lived with a lie. I’ve kept a dark secret I chose not to speak about. Do you know why?”

Jack was frozen, not knowing what he was about to hear. “No. . .”