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a shipment back to Israel.”
    “If memory serves, Benjamin doesn’t have a half brother.”
    “He does now.” Shamron placed an Israeli passport on the table and slid it toward Gabriel with the palm of his hand. Gabriel opened the cover and saw his own face staring back at him. Then he looked at the name: EHUD LANDAU .
    Shamron said, “You have the best eyes I’ve ever seen. Have a look around his apartment. See if there’s something out of place. If you can, remove anything that might tie him to the Office.”
    Gabriel closed the passport, but left it lying on the table.
    “I’m in the middle of a difficult restoration. I can’t go running off to Munich now.”
    “It will take a day—two at the most.”
    “That’s what you said last time.”
    Shamron’s temper, always seething below the surface, broke through. He pounded his fist on the table and shouted at Gabriel in Hebrew: “Do you wish to fix your silly painting or help me find out who killed your friend?”
    “It’s always that simple for you, isn’t it?”
    “Oh, but I wish it were so. Do you intend to help me, or will you force me to turn to one of Lev’s oafs for this delicate mission?”
    Gabriel made a show of contemplation, but his mind was already made up. He scooped up the passport with a smooth movement of his hand and slipped it into his coat pocket. Gabriel had the hands of a conjurer and a magician’s sense of misdirection. The passport was there; the passport was gone. Next, Shamron reached into his coat pocket and withdrew a mid-sized manila envelope. Inside, Gabriel found an airline ticket and an expensive Swiss-made wallet of black leather. He opened the wallet: Israeli driver’s license, credit cards, membership to an exclusive Tel Aviv health club, a checkout card for a local video store, a substantial amount of currency in euros and shekels.
    “What do I do for a living?”
    “You own an art gallery. Your business cards are in the zippered compartment.”
    Gabriel found the cards and removed one:
    L ANDAU A RT G ALLERY
S HEINKIN S TREET , T EL A VIV
     
    “Does it exist?”
    “It does now.”
    The last item in the envelope was a gold wristwatch with a black leather band. Gabriel turned over the watch and read the engraving on the back. FOR EHUD FROM HANNAH WITH LOVE.
    “Nice touch,” Gabriel said.
    “I’ve always found it’s the little things.”
    The watch, the airline tickets, and the wallet joined the passport in Gabriel’s pocket. The two men stood. As they walked outside, the longhaired girl in the bronze-colored wrap came quickly to Shamron’s side. Gabriel realized she was the old man’s bodyguard.
    “Where are you going?”
    “Back to Tiberias,” Shamron replied. “If you pick up something interesting, send it to King Saul Boulevard through the usual channels.”
    “Whose eyes?”
    “Mine, but that doesn’t mean little Lev won’t have a peek, so use appropriate discretion.”
    In the distance, a church bell tolled. Shamron stopped in the center of the campo, next to the pozzo, and took one last look around. “Our first ghetto. God, how I do hate this place.”
    “It’s too bad you weren’t in Venice in the sixteenth century,” Gabriel said. “The Council of Ten would never have dared to lock the Jews away here.”
    “But I was here,” Shamron said with conviction. “I was always here. And I remember it all.”

4
MUNICH
     
    D ETECTIVE A XEL W EISS of the Munich Kriminal Polizei was waiting outside Adalbertstrasse 68 two days later, dressed in civilian clothes and a tan raincoat. He shook Gabriel’s hand carefully, as though he were feeling its density. A tall man with a narrow face and a long nose, Weiss’s dark complexion and short-cropped black hair gave him the appearance of a Doberman pinscher. He released Gabriel’s hand and patted him fraternally on the shoulder.
    “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Herr Landau, though I’m sorry it has to be under these circumstances. Let me take