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flawed?”
    The old man squeezed his eyes closed, opened them quickly.
    Harry wanted to make sure.
    â€œThe Inquisition Diamond has a flaw?”
    His father nodded, breathing heavily.
    â€œI don’t care,” Harry said. “To hell with diamonds. Just rest, so you can get well. Understand?”
    Alfred lay back. His lids slammed like garage doors.
    Sitting by the bed, Harry slept also. Soon the resident touched his shoulder nervously. When he looked at the bed it was as if his father had gone for a stroll, leaving his body behind.
    Jeff came home, uncomfortable in a suit he was outgrowing. He went to Harry and hugged him without speaking. They sent him back to school immediately after the funeral, protesting but relieved. Della, who had loved the old man, wept bitterly at the grave. She observed
shiva
, the ritual mourning, with Harry and Essie. Slippers on their feet, they received visitors seated before the shrouded mirror on cardboard benches furnished by the funeral home. When he was a boy everyone sat on hard wooden boxes in a
shiva
house, obeying the precept that mourners should not seek comfort. The disposable bench represented a modern adaptation of tradition, he realized. Somehow, he would have preferred sitting on a real box. The first two evenings his father’s apartment was crowded with people from the industry who spoke gravely with one another in English, Yiddish, Hebrew, French, Flemish. The polyglot sound was so like the murmur of the Diamond Exchange that he managed to draw comfort from it.
    Essie intended to observe a full seven days of mourning in the Orthodox way, but by the third morning he felt trapped. Akiva came that afternoon.
    â€œI hope my stirring up old memories didn’t contribute to his illness.”
    â€œHis blood pressure was tremendously high. He was always skipping his medication, despite his wife’s nagging. The doctors said it was inevitable.”
    The Israeli looked relieved.
    â€œYou never got to tell him what you wanted.”
    â€œWe wanted him to brief you on the Inquisition Diamond. We should like you to buy that stone.”
    â€œSo would some other people.”
    â€œYou are a Jew, Mr. Hopeman. You would not represent anyone else in this matter?”
    Harry sighed. “Probably not.”
    â€œIsrael is a tired woman with three suitors,” Akiva said. “The Jews are married to her—since 1948 we have a legal right to hold her body, so to speak. The Arabs and the Christians, jealous lovers, each grasp an ankle. All three pull her wildly in different directions, so at times it seems they will tear her like a herring. Now each of the suitors wants this diamond as they want the land. Certain Arab groups are desperate to use it as a propaganda object, a talisman that can help them make the next conflict a true
Jehad
, a Holy War. And make no mistake, it could be used in that way.” He shook his head. “It is the struggle for the Holy Land, on a smaller scale. They don’t care that the diamond has a Jewish history. There are records proving that later it was owned by Salaheddin himself. For almost a century it was set in the crown adorning the
maksura
, the seat of the highest spiritual leader, in the Mosque of Acre, where Salaheddin held out for two years against the Christian might of France and England and won a place as the greatest military hero in Moslem history.”
    â€œThe Catholic claim is even stronger and more recent,” Harry said. “They’ve owned it since the Inquisition, when it became Church property in Spain. They want it back because it’s theirs. It was stolen from them.”
    The Israeli nodded. “For a long time, it was a part of the great collection within the Leonine Walls.”
    â€œAnd what makes David Leslau think it came from the Temple?” Harry asked.
    Akiva hesitated. “I shall not discuss that with you until you have committed