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Shoshana said, “I want Brett. I know him. He is a killer, but also a man who doesn’t kill. He comes. He is necessary.”

I was surprised at her vehemence, but absolutely couldn’t argue with that. Brett was one of the finest operators I’d ever served with, and if they thought he’d work, I wasn’t going to bitch.

I realized I was actually beginning to think about doing this crazy thing. I stopped myself and said, “Look, this has obviously taken some work, but what are we going to do? I mean really? All you have is a letter, and the guy that killed Gideon is splattered on the pavement. What’s the mission?”

Shoshana said, “The mission is to find out who’s behind this. It isn’t Keta’ib Hezbollah. It’s someone else, and they’re going to start killing Americans, too. I think they want to initiate a prophecy. They want war.”

I fell into a chair, saying, “You keep saying that. What do you mean? What prophecy? This is just a murder.”

She said, “Right up until the murder causes a war.”

Aaron saw she was losing me and stepped in, saying, “Look, forget about Shoshana’s talk of prophecies.” She glared at him, but he continued, saying, “The bottom line is we want to find out who’s doing the killings. That’s all. Everyone in Israel thinks it’s Iran. Some in the Mossad don’t. Will you help? ”

I rubbed my head, thinking, then said, “You know I’m going to have to tell Wolffe, right? I can’t just jet out of here with Israeli passports and start ripping scabs on the European continent. Right?”

“We would prefer it if you didn’t do that until the first American is killed. Which will happen soon.”

“So you want me—us—to fly out of here without a word, then say something after the fact?Ifan American is killed?”

“Yes. It’s going to happen, and, as you’ve told me before, it’s betterto ask for forgiveness than permission. The Taskforce can’t even move between countries right now because of COVID. We can. Use that now.”

My head spinning at the implications, I said, “Why? Why should I do that?”

Shoshana bent down in front of my chair and said, “Because I’m asking, Nephilim. Nothing more. Because I’m asking.”

She knew that was the chink in my armor. The way to my soul. I couldn’t turn down my family, and she was a part of it.

The television blared a news story about some death in Paris and Shoshana whipped her head to the screen. I followed, seeing that an Israeli diplomat had been killed. The name appeared on the screen and Shoshana hissed. She turned to Aaron, saying, “It’s coming. This is it.”

I said, “What?”

He ignored me, leaning forward and listening. When the story was over, he said, “That man wasn’t a diplomat. He was Shin Bet. That killing wasn’t random.”

He turned back to me and said, “This is real, and it’s happening right now. Your country is next. I promise. Help us.”

I looked at Jennifer, wanting some advice. Shoshana followed my gaze.

Jennifer ignored her, looking at me. She nodded her head and said, “I don’t know if what they’re saying is true or not, but we go. Because she’s asking. We asked her once before and she came without any conditions. She saved both my life and yours. Only because we asked. We should do the same.”

I sagged in my seat and said, “Damn it. Now I’ve got to talk everyone else into this bullshit.”

Shoshana sat down next to me. She said, “No you don’t. They’llfollow you because you ask, Nephilim. Just as I do. All you need to do is ask.”

I sputtered for a moment, floundering at the words but knowing what she said was true. I said, “This had better be worth it.”

She said, “Saving lives is always worth it.”

Chapter 9

Sitting on a Vespa scooter, Raphael saw the convertible coupe pass his position, winding now at slow speed on the Amalfi coast road. He raised the phone and said, “Donnie, Donnie, this is Raph. Target just passed my location.”

Sitting on a larger motorcycle around a curve of a switchback, Donatello’s voice reflected the adrenaline he was feeling, “Roger that. We’re set. What’s the traffic status?”

“You’re clear. He’s a singleton. Light traffic, and they’re running slow.”

Donatello turned to Michelangelo sitting behind him on the motorcycle and said, “You ready? We got about a minute.”

Michelangelo rummaged in a backpack, pulled out what looked like a section of metal pipe with two magnets attached, and flicked a rocker switch on the side, saying, “Yeah. I’m ready. Just get me close to the rear axle.”