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“Any contact with Leonardo and Raphael?”

“They told me they’d landed, and that’s it. They’ll be fine.”

“How are you going to give them the trigger from Israel? You can’t count on a cell network for Zello out in the middle of the Syrian desert.”

“Sat phone. We both have one.”

“Those can be tracked. It’s how most of the terrorists were found that we helped kill.”

“Only if someone is looking for a suspicious number. This isn’t that. We’ll be good. We’re not talking on them daily. Just to trigger. By then it’ll be too late.”

Garrett saw Lieutenant Marco Bianchi coming down the aisle and quit talking. He reached them and said, “The Grand Master would like a word.”

Garrett stood up, saying, “Of course.”

He followed Bianchi to the front of the aircraft, seeing the Grand Master, Geoffrey Chaucer, seated in a beige leather captain’s chair and, like Lieutenant Bianchi, wearing the Knights’ military uniform instead of the more formal robes.

A simple black jacket with epaulets, each man wore two rows of ribbons above the left breast pocket and a red patch with the Maltese cross on the left shoulder, the only distinction between the Grand Master and the lieutenant being a large Maltese cross pin below the Grand Master’s right breast pocket.

Looking to be about seventy years old, Chaucer was British, as was the Grand Master he’d replaced—a man sacked by the pontiff from an internal dispute over the distribution of condoms in the developing world, a power struggle that had created schisms within the order unlike any that had been seen since the seventeenth century, pitting allies and enemies inside the Vatican against each other.

Once again, the order learned the lesson they’d seen with the Knights Templar. It didn’t pay to become too powerful, and picking afight with the leader of the Holy Roman Church was not a good way to succeed.

After his election, unlike the previous Grand Master, Chaucer didn’t wear the ostentatious uniforms prescribed by the order. Garrett always thought they were ridiculous—something from the Napoleonic era, the jacket bright red and festooned with sashes, ribbons, brush epaulets, and medals all over the place. Garrett always thought they looked like something a dictator in a third-world country would wear.

When Geoffrey had been ordained as the Grand Master, his first order had been to tone down the pageantry and to return to its roots of charity and chivalry. In other words, bend the knee to the Holy Roman Catholic Church.

It was something Garrett saw through completely, but he knew Geoffrey Chaucer had little humility. He might attempt to show it through a minimalist uniform, but he was as egotistical as the man he’d replaced.

Chaucer said, “Garrett, please, take a seat,” pointing to the one across from him.

Garrett did, saying, “How can I help you, sir?”

Chaucer fiddled with a pen in his hands, then said, “Garrett, I knew we needed your skills in Syria, and I appreciate you coming with us here in Israel for the same reason, but this is a very delicate visit.”

Unsure of where the conversation was headed, Garrett said, “Yes, sir. Of course. My only reason for being here is the same reason I was in Syria. To protect members of the order. You know that the majority of my protection in Syria involved negotiating between factions, right? I didn’t fire a shot in anger unless one was fired against someone from the order.”

Chaucer said, “Yes, yes. I know. And I’ve heard about the death ofthe one everyone seems to call a ‘turtle’ in Bahrain. That has caused significant repercussions with the United States, and now you’ve brought another ‘turtle’ with you here. I was told it would be only you.”

“Sir, he is not coming to Megiddo with you. That will be only me. He’s remaining behind in Tel Aviv purely for support. Protection requires more than the five feet around you. He’s going to coordinate with level three trauma centers, find evacuation routes, everything I used to do when I did emergency evacuation site surveys for United States embassies. It’s just prudent.”

“And so that’s why you’ve leveraged the diplomatic passports to also travel to Lebanon?”

And now Garrett knew why this was happening. Someone in the Lebanese Knights of Malta consular office had reported.

He said, “Precisely, sir. Since Megiddo is so far north, I’ve taken the liberty of moving two ‘turtles’ as you call them to our consulate in Lebanon. All I’m doing is covering our bases. Protecting the order.”

Chaucer leaned forward and said, “This visit is very important. It’s much more than listening to a speech from the Israeli prime minister. We have diplomatic relationships with countries all over the world, but not here, in the land of our birth. This trip could do that for us.”

Garrett said, “I understand, sir.”

“We don’t need to jeopardize this with any overt security protocols, as if we’re afraid that the entire Israeli security system cannot protect us.”

“Sir, it’ll be just me, I promise. The rest will be invisible.I’llbe invisible. I’ll just be in the background, coordinating with the Israeli security services. That’s it.”

Chaucer leaned back and said, “The prime minister of Israel will be the man speaking. There will be delegations from multiple evangelicalchurches in the United States, not to mention a representative from the United States State Department. I highly doubt you alone will be able to contribute. It’s going to be blanketed with security. Nothing is going to jeopardize this.”

Garrett thought,How naïve.