TWENTY-THREE LONDON

2:30 PM

MALONE WAITED FOR GEORGE HADDAD TO FINISH EXPLAINING. His old friend was hedging.

I wrote a paper six years ago, Haddad said. It dealt with a theory I had been working on, one that concerns how the Old Testament was originally translated from Old Hebrew.

Haddad told them about the Septuagint, crafted from the third to the first centuries BCE, the oldest and most complete rendition of the Old Testament into Greek, translated at the Library of Alexandria. Then he described the Codex Sinaiticus, a fourth-century CE manuscript of the Old and New Testaments used by later scholars to confirm other biblical texts, even though no one knew whether it was correct. And the Vulgate, completed about the same time by St. Jerome, the first translation from Hebrew directly to Latin, major revisions to which occurred in the sixteenth, eighteenth, and twentieth centuries.

Even Martin Luther, Haddad said, tinkered with the Vulgate, removing parts for his Lutheran faith. The whole meaning of that translation is muddled. A great many minds have altered its message.

The King James Bible. Many think it presents original words, but it was created in the seventeenth century from a translation of the Vulgate into English. Those translators never saw the original Hebrew, and if they had, it's unlikely they could have understood it. Cotton, the Bible as we know it today is five linguistic removes from the first one ever written. The King James Bible proclaims itself authorized and original. But that does not mean genuine, authentic, or even true.

Are there any Hebrew Bibles? Pam asked.

Haddad nodded. The oldest surviving one is the Aleppo Codex, saved from destruction in Syria in 1948. But that's a tenth-century CE manuscript, produced nearly two thousand years after the original text from who-knows-what.

Malone had seen that manuscript's crisp, cream-colored parchment, with faded brown ink, in Jerusalem's Jewish National Library.

In my article, Haddad said, I hypothesized how certain manuscripts could help resolve these questions. We know that the Old Testament was studied by ancient philosophers at the Library of Alexandria. Men who actually understood Old Hebrew. We also know they wrote about their thoughts. There are references to these works, quotations and passages, in surviving manuscripts, but unfortunately the original texts are gone. Further, there may well be ancient Jewish textsuwe know the library accumulated many of those. Mass destruction of Jewish writings became common later in history, especially Old Testaments in Hebrew. The Inquisition alone burned twelve thousand copies of the Talmud. Studying just one of those could prove decisive to resolving any doubts.

What does it matter? Pam asked.

It matters a great deal, Haddad said. Especially if it's wrong.

In what way? Malone asked, becoming impatient.

Moses parting the Red Sea. The Exodus. Genesis. David and Solomon. Since the eighteenth century archaeologists have dug in the Holy Land with a vengeanceuall to prove that the Bible is historical fact. Yet not one shred of physical evidence has been unearthed that confirms anything in the Old Testament. Exodus is a good example. Supposedly thousands of Israelites trekked across the Sinai Peninsula. They camped at locations specifically identified in the Bible, locations that can still be found today. But not a shard of pottery, not a bracelet, not anything has ever been found from that time period to confirm Exodus. This same evidentiary void is present when archaeology has tried to corroborate other biblical events. Don't you think that odd? Wouldn't there be some remnant of at least one incident depicted in the Old Testament still lying in the earth somewhere?

Malone knew that Haddad, like many people, bought into the Bible only so much as history. That school of thought believed there was some truth there, but not much. Malone, too, possessed doubts. From his own reading he'd come to the conclusion that those who defended the narrative as history formed their conclusions far more from theological than from scientific considerations.

But still, so what?

George, you've said all this before, and I agree with you. I need to know what's so important that your life is at stake?

Haddad rose from the table and led them to where the maps adorned the walls. I've spent the past five years collecting these. It hasn't been easy. I'm ashamed to say, I actually had to steal a few.

From where? Pam asked.

Libraries, mainly. Most don't allow photocopying of rare books. And besides, you lose details in a copy, and it's the details that matter.

Haddad stepped to a map that depicted the modern state of Israel. When the land was carved out in 1948 and the Zionists given their supposed portion, there was much talk about the Abrahamic covenant. God's word that this regionu Haddad pressed his finger onto the map. uthis precise land, was supposedly Abraham's.

Malone noted the boundaries.

Being able to understand Old Hebrew has given me some insight. Maybe too much. About thirty years ago I noticed something interesting. But to appreciate that revelation, it's important to appreciate Abraham.

Malone was familiar with the story.

Genesis, Haddad said, records an event that profoundly affected world history. It may well be the most important day in all human history.

Malone listened as Haddad spoke of Abram, who traveled from Mesopotamia to Canaan, wandering among the population, faithfully following God's commands. His wife, Sarai, remained barren and eventually suggested that Abram couple with her favorite handmaiden, an Egyptian slave named Hagar, who'd stayed with them since the clan's expulsion from Egypt by the pharaoh.

The birth of Ishmael, Haddad said, Abram's first son, from Hagar, becomes critical in the seventh century CE, when a new religion formed in Arabia. Islam. The Koran calls Ishmael an apostle and a prophet. He was most acceptable in the sight of his Lord. Abram's name appears in twenty-five of the one hundred fourteen chapters of the Koran. To this day Ibrahim and Isma'il are common first names for Muslims. The Koran itself commands Muslims to follow the religion of Abraham.

He was not a Jew nor yet a Christian; but he was true in faith and he joined not gods with God.

Good, Cotton, I see you've studied your Koran since we last talked.

He smiled. I gave it a reading or two. Fascinating stuff.

The Koran makes clear that Abraham and Isma'il raised the foundation of the House. The Kaaba, Pam said. Islam's holiest shrine.

Malone was impressed. When did you learn about Islam?

I didn't. But I watch the History Channel.

He caught her grin.

The Kaaba is in Mecca. Adult Muslims have to make a pilgrimage there. Problem is, when they gather each year so many people come that several hundred are trampled to death. That's in the news all the time.

The Arabs, particularly Muslim Arabs, trace their heritage to Ishmael, Haddad said.

Malone knew what came next. Thirteen years after the birth of Ishmael, Abram was told by God that he would be father to a multitude of nations. First he was ordered to change his name to Abraham and Sarai's to Sarah. Then God announced that Sarah would give birth to a son. Neither Sarah nor Abraham believed God, but within a year Isaac was born.

The day of that birth may well be the most important day in human history, Haddad said. Everything changed after that. The Bible and the Koran differ on many points relative to Abram. Each recounts a separate tale. But according to the Bible, the Lord told Abraham that all the land surrounding him, the land of Canaan, would belong to Abraham and his heir, Isaac. Malone knew the rest. God reappeared to Isaac's son Jacob and repeated the promise of the land, saying that through Jacob would come a people to whom the land of Canaan would everlastingly belong. Jacob was told to change his name to Israel. Jacob's twelve sons evolved into separate tribes, held together by the covenant between God and Abraham, and they each established their own families, becoming the twelve tribes of Israel.

Abraham is the father of all three of the world's main religions, Haddad said. Islam, Judaism, and Christianity trace their roots to him, though the story of his life differs in each. The entire conflict in the Middle East, which has endured for thousands of years, is simply a debate over which account is correct, which religion has the divine right to the land. The Arabs through Ishmael. The Jews from Isaac. The Christians by Christ.

Malone recalled the Bible and said, The Lord had said to Abram: Leave your country, your people and your father's household and go to the land I will show you. I will make you into a great nation and I will bless you. I will make your name great and you will be a blessing. I will bless those who bless you, and whoever curses you I will curse; and all peoples on earth will be blessed through you.

You say the words with conviction, Pam said.

They have meaning, Haddad said. Jews believe they are what grant them exclusive ownership of Palestine. I've spent most of my adult life studying the Bible. It's an amazing book. And what separates it from all other epic tales is simple. Nothing mystical or magical. Instead, human responsibility is its focus.

Do you believe? Pam asked.

Haddad shook his head. In religion? No. I've seen its manipulation too clearly. In God? That's another matter. But I've seen His neglect. I was born a Muslim. My father was Muslim, as was his. After the war in 1948, though, something overtook me. That's when the Bible became my passion. I wanted to read it in its original form. To know what it truly meant.

Why do the Israelis want you dead? Malone asked.

They are the descendants of Abraham. The ones God said He would blessutheir enemies the ones He would curse. Millions have died through the centuries, thousands over the past fifty years, simply to prove those words. Recently, Cotton, I was embroiled in a debate. A particularly arrogant man in a local pub told me that Israel possessed the absolute right to exist. He gave me six reasons, which hinged separately on archaeology, history, practicality, humanity, defense, and, to him the most important, entitlement. Haddad paused. Entitlement, Cotton. Biblical entitlement. The Abrahamic covenant. God's land given to the people of Israel, proclaimed in all its glory in the words of Genesis.

Malone waited.

What if we have it all wrong? Haddad glared at the map of Israel alongside another map of Saudi Arabia.

Do go on, a new voice said.

They all turned.

Standing in the front doorway was a short man with glasses and a fading hairline. Beside him was a woman, midthirties, small and compact, dark complexion. Both held sound-suppressed weapons. Malone immediately registered the make and model of the guns and knew who these two worked for.

Israel.

TWENTY-FOUR WASHINGTON, DC 9:50 AM

STEPHANIE FINISHED HER BREAKFAST AND SIGNALED THE waiter for the check. She sat in a restaurant near Dupont Circle, not far from her hotel. The entire Magellan Billet had been mobilized and seven of her twelve lawyers were now directly assisting her. The murder of Lee Durant had provided them all with motivation, but there were risks associated with her efforts. Other intelligence agencies would quickly learn what she was doing, which meant Larry Daley would not be far behind. To hell with them. Malone needed her, and she wasn't about to let him down. Again.

She paid the bill and signaled a taxi that, fifteen minutes later, deposited her on 17th Street adjacent to the National Mall. The day was bright and sunny, and the woman she'd called two hours ago occupied a shaded bench not far from the World War II Memorial. She was a leggy blonde, strong-bodied, with, Stephanie knew, a shrewdness that demanded she be handled with caution. Stephanie had known Heather Dixon for nearly a decade. Carrying a married surname from a short-lived relationship, Dixon was an Israeli citizen attached to the Washington mission, part of the Mossad's North American contingent. They'd worked together, and against each other, which was par for the course when it came to the Israelis. Stephanie was hoping today would be a friendly venture.

Good to see you, she said as she sat.

Dixon was dressed stylishly, as always, in brown-and-gold glen plaid pants, a white oxford shirt, and a black bouclT vest.

You sounded concerned on the phone.

I am. I need to know about your government's interest in George Haddad.

The vacuous stare of an intelligence officer faded from Dixon's attractive face. You've been busy.

As have your people. Lots of chatter about Haddad the past few days. She was actually at a disadvantage, because Lee Durant had been her contact point with the Israelis, and he hadn't had a chance to report all of what he'd learned.

What's the American interest? Dixon asked.

Five years ago one of my agents almost died because of Haddad.

And then you hid the Palestinian away. Kept him all to yourself. And didn't bother to tell your ally.

Now they were getting to the meat of the coconut. And you didn't bother to tell us that you'd tried to blow the man up, along with my agent.

That, I know nothing about. Way out of the loop. But I do know that Haddad has surfaced, and we want him.

As do we.

What's so important on your end?

She couldn't decide if Dixon was fishing or stalling.

You tell me, Heather. Why did the Saudis bulldoze entire villages in west Arabia to the ground five years ago? Why is the Mossad focused on Haddad? She bored her gaze into her friend.

Why did he need to die?

A CALM FATALISM OVERTOOK MALONE. ONE RULE EVERYONE IN the intelligence business respecteduDon't screw with the Israelis. Malone had violated that wisdom when he'd allowed Israel to believe Haddad died in the bombed cafT. Now he knew that they knew. Lee Durant had said the Israelis were hyper, but he'd mentioned nothing about Haddad's secrecy being compromised. Otherwise he would never have allowed Pam to come along.

You really should lock your door, the intruder declared. All sorts of people could enter. You have a name? Malone asked.

Call me Adam. She's Eve.

Interesting labels for an Israeli assassination squad.

What do you mean? Pam asked. Assassination?

He faced her. They've come to finish what they started five years ago. He turned toward Haddad, who showed not the slightest hint of fear. What is it they want kept quiet? The truth, Haddad said.

I don't know anything about that, Adam said. I'm not a politico. Just hired help. My orders are to eliminate. You understand that, Malone. You were once in the business.

Yes, he could relate. Pam, though, appeared to be another story.

All of you are nuts, she said. You talk about killing like it's just part of the job. Actually, Adam said, it's my only job.

Malone had learned when he'd first started with the Magellan Billet that survival many times hinged on knowing when to hold and when to fold. As he stared at his old friend, a warrior of long standing, he saw that Haddad knew the time had come for him to choose.

I'm sorry, Malone whispered.

Me, too, Cotton. But I made my decision when I placed the calls.

Had he heard right? Calls?

One awhile back, the other two recently. To the West Bank.

That was foolish, George.

Perhaps. But I knew you'd come.

Glad you did, cause I didn't.

Haddad's gaze tightened. You taught me a great deal. I recall every lesson, and up until a few days ago I adhered to them strictly. Even those about safeguarding what really matters. The voice had grown dull and toneless.

You should have called me first.

Haddad shook his head. I owe this to the Guardian I shot. My debt repaid.

What a contradiction, Adam said. A Palestinian with honor.

And an Israeli who murders, Haddad said. But we are what we are.

Malone's mind was clicking off possibilities. He had to do something, but Haddad seemed to sense his plotting. You've done all you can. For now, at least. Haddad motioned. Look after her.

Cotton, you can't just let them kill him, Pam whispered, desperation in her voice.

But he can, Haddad said, a touch of bitterness in his tone. Then the Palestinian glared at Adam. Might I say a final prayer?

Adam gestured with the gun. Who am I to deny such a reasonable request.

Haddad stepped toward one of the wall chests and reached for a drawer. I have a cushion in here that I kneel upon. May I?

Adam shrugged.

Haddad slowly opened the drawer and used both hands to withdraw a crimson pillow. The old man then approached one of the windows and Malone watched as the pillow dropped to the floor.

A gun came into view.

Firmly grasped in Haddad's right hand.

STEPHANIE WAITED FOR AN ANSWER TO HER QUESTION.

Haddad is a threat to the security of Israel, Dixon said. He was five years ago, and he remains one today. Care to explain?

Why aren't you asking your own people this?

She'd hoped to avoid this line of questioning but decided to be honest. There's a division.

And where are you among that division?

I have a former agent who's in trouble. I intend to help him.

Cotton Malone. We know. But Malone knew what he was getting into when he hid Haddad.

His son didn't.

Dixon shrugged. Several of my friends have died from terrorists.

A bit sanctimonious, aren't you?

I don't think so. The Palestinians leave us little choice in how to deal with them. They're doing nothing different from what the Jews did in 1948. She couldn't resist. Dixon smirked. If I'd known we were going to have this argument again, I wouldn't have come.

Stephanie knew Dixon didn't want to hear about the terrorism of the late 1940s, which was far more Jewish than Arab in origin. But she wasn't going to cut her friend any slack. We can talk about the King David Hotel again if you want.

The Jerusalem locale had served as British military and criminal investigative headquarters. After a local Jewish Agency was raided and sensitive documents removed to the hotel, militants retaliated with a bomb in July 1946. Ninety-one dead, forty-five injured, fifteen of the dead were Jews.

The British were warned, Dixon said. Not our fault they chose to ignore it.

What does it matter if they were called? she said. It was an act of terrorismuJew against Britua way to press your agenda. The Jews wanted the British and Arabs out of Palestine and they used whatever tactic worked. Just as Palestinians have tried for decades.

Dixon shook her head. I'm sick of hearing that crap. The nakba is a joke. Arabs fled Palestine in the 1940s on their own because they were scared to death. The rich ones panicked; the rest left after Arab leaders asked them to. They all honestly believed we'd be crushed in a few weeks. The ones who left went only a few miles into neighboring Arab states. And nobody, including you, ever talks about all the Jews who were forced from those same Arab states. Dixon shrugged. It's like, So what? Who cares about them? But the poor pitiful Arabs. What a tragedy.

Take a man's land and he'll fight you forever.

We didn't take anything. We bought the land, and most of it was uncultivated swamp and scrub nobody wanted. And by the way, eighty percent of those Arabs who left were peasants, nomads, or Bedouins. The landowners, the ones who raised so much hell, lived in Beirut, Cairo, and London.

Stephanie had heard that before. The Israeli party line never changes.

All the Arabs had to do, Dixon said, was accept the 1947 UN resolution that called for two states, one Arab, the other Jewish, and everybody would have won. But no. Absolutely not. No compromise. Repatriation was always and still is a condition prerequisite to any discussion, and that's not going to happen. Israel is a reality that will not disappear. It's sickening how everybody feels for the Arabs. They live in camps as refugees because the Arab leadership likes that. If they didn't, they'd do something about it. Instead they use the camps, and the designated living zones, as a way to embarrass the world for what it did in 1948. Yet nobody, including America, ever chastises them.

Right now, Heather, I'm only interested in Cotton Malone's son and George Haddad.

So is the White House. Our people were told you were interfering in the Haddad matter. Larry Daley says you're a pain in the ass.

He should know.

Tel Aviv doesn't want any interference.

Stephanie suddenly regretted her decision to meet with Dixon. But she still needed to ask, What's so important? Tell me, and I might stay out of it.

Dixon chuckled. That's a good one. Does anybody ever actually fall for it?

I thought it might work here. She'd hoped their friendship meant something. With us. Dixon glanced around at the concrete walkways. People strolled the mall, enjoying the day.

This one's serious, Stephanie. How bad?

Dixon's hand slipped around her back and reappeared with a gun. This serious.

TWENTY-FIVE