Jerusalem
T he taxi dropped Dr David Kaufmann on the busy corner of King George V Street and Ha Histradrut. Just over six foot, olive-skinned, with blue eyes and thick, black curly hair, he strolled casually through the Friday night crowd and into Numero Venti, which took its name from nothing more imaginative than the street number. The small, intimate restaurant had not changed since the British mandate over seventy years before.
‘Good evening, Dr Kaufmann. Your table is waiting. I trust you’ve had a pleasant week?’
‘Not bad thanks, Elie. It’s been a pretty long one, so it’s good to have a night off.’
The wizened old waiter with the large hooked nose smiled. His smile held genuine warmth, his old grey eyes matching the colour of his receding curly hair.
‘Your colleague, Dr Bassetti. She is coming later?’ Elie asked, pulling out a chair.
‘At the hairdresser’s,’ David said, rolling his eyes.
‘Something from the bar while you’re waiting?’
‘A beer thanks, Elie.’ David stretched his long legs under the table and smiled to himself. Elie had been the head waiter for as long as David had been coming to Numero Venti and he never failed to make you feel as if you were the most important person in the restaurant. David had introduced Allegra on a very busy night and the next time they had come in Elie had greeted her as if he’d known her for years. He took the first mouthful of his favourite Maccabee lager and looked around. The restaurant was beginning to fill up. Over at the bar one or two members of the Knesset, as well as the odd prominent businessman, were in animated conversation. David glanced casually at the solidly built Arab reading at a table in one corner.
‘Shalom!’ The couple at the next table clinked their glasses. A toast of ‘peace’ in a land that had known only centuries of bloodshed and war. Always lurking behind the laughter and the camaraderie was a noise of a very different kind; the shattering sound of death and destruction at the hands of Hamas and the Palestinian Arabs.
Yusef Sartawi made it look as if he was engrossed in his book. The lone Arab at the corner table worked with Cohatek, the Israeli events company, but in reality he had a far more sinister role, of which neither Mossad nor the CIA was yet aware. He was now one of Hamas’s most experienced operations planners. It had been over twenty-five years since the Israelis had murdered his family in the small village of Deir Azun. The nightmares were still with him.
Were it not for the large sum of money being offered, Dr Allegra Bassetti would not normally have interested Hamas, especially given the curious origin of the contract. It had come from somewhere high up in the Vatican, but if the Christians wanted their own killed that was their business. What had caught his attention was the target’s partner, Dr David Kaufmann, the son of Professor Yossi Kaufmann. Both men were already on the Hamas target list. It was Hamas policy to become thoroughly familiar with the target of an assassination and Yusef Sartawi’s planning was always meticulous. Tonight’s reconnaissance was just the first step.
David Kaufmann took another sip of beer and reflected on Allegra’s breakthrough. Her DNA analysis had been nothing short of outstanding, but they were still only halfway through sorting the fragments. David glanced towards the door where Elie was taking Allegra’s coat. Allegra was slender with round, dark brown eyes and an oval face. In the lab Allegra normally wore her hair up, but tonight she had let it tumble to her shoulders, black and glistening in the light of the restaurant.
‘You look even more stunning than usual,’ David said, giving her a kiss as he pulled her chair out from the table.
‘Thank you, Sir. That sort of flattery will get you a long way.’
‘Beer? Gin and tonic? Champagne?’
‘I think champagne,’ Allegra replied, looking pleased with herself.
‘Better make that a bottle, Elie,’ David said, taking the menus.
‘Have you heard from your folks lately?’ Allegra asked.
‘Both fine. Yossi’s still juggling mathematics at the university with politics and Marian is quietly supportive, although sometimes I think she would rather Yossi just remain a professor.’
‘An impressive woman your mother. And neither of them look much older than sixty.’
‘Yes. The powers of the universe got it right when they put those two together.’
‘Except they produced you,’ Allegra responded quickly. ‘Yesss! I love it when you leave yourself open, David Kaufmann.’
‘You’ll keep. Shalom!’ he said with a grin. ‘A good week, non e vero?’ David said, mixing Hebrew with Allegra’s native Italian.
Allegra smiled. ‘A very good week. No wonder Monsignor Lonergan didn’t want anyone to have access to the fragments he had in that trunk of his in the Rockefeller vault. Once the Vatican gets wind of what we’ve got all hell will break loose.’
‘Yes,’ David agreed, suddenly serious. ‘It looks as if their greatest nightmare has finally surfaced, although ultimately it might not be a bad thing.’
‘Meaning?’
‘Meaning in the long run the Vatican may have to re-examine their dogma. You’ve always said that you left the Church because it was based on fear. Run by old men who refuse to shift their position no matter what the evidence.’ David picked up on the shift in Allegra’s body language.
‘As you know, that wasn’t the only reason,’ she replied, the bitter memory of the Cardinal and a Church she once loved shadowing the usual softness of her eyes.
‘Is there no one you can trust?’
Allegra shook her head. ‘Not in the Vatican. Their response will be ferocious and whatever it takes, they will bury it. But Giovanni Donelli would help. He is one of the few people at the top who would allow debate on this scroll within the Church.’
‘An impressive man, the Cardinal Patriarch of Venice,’ David observed with a small touch of jealousy, aware of the special bond between Allegra and the brilliant Catholic priest. ‘But even if he doesn’t help, couldn’t we release the information here on our own?’
‘Without someone like Giovanni supporting us,’ Allegra insisted, ‘the Vatican will simply denounce the scroll as a fraud. They’re masters of spin control, and this is arguably the most important discovery in the entire history of Christianity. This is the real message, David, a warning that civilisation has entered its final phase.’
‘Do you think anyone else knows about it?’
Allegra shook her head. ‘Lonergan’s trunk in the vault of the Rockefeller Museum was marked “personal” so I doubt if even the Director knows what was in it. We’re going to have to be careful of Lonergan when he gets back.’
‘Do you think he knows what he’s got, or rather had?’
Allegra looked thoughtful. ‘It’s hard to tell with him. He may know more than we think. Although he may not have had time to decipher any of the fragments, and without a DNA analysis to help that could have taken years.’
‘You think he’s on the Vatican payroll?’
‘He’s certainly one of Cardinal Petroni’s boys.’ Allegra shivered. ‘The Omega Scroll is going to shake them to their foundations.’