Page 97 of The Order

“What are you so afraid of?”

“The Roman Catholic Church cannot be wrong. And it most certainly cannot be deliberately wrong.”

“Because if the Church was wrong, your father would have been wrong, too. There would have been no religious justification for his actions. He would have been just another genocidal maniac.”

Gabriel allowed the poker to fall from his grasp. He was suddenly exhausted. He wanted nothing more than to leave Germany and never come back again. He would be forced to leave without the Gospel of Pilate. But he resolved that he would not leave empty-handed.

He looked down at Wolf. The German was clutching his ruined elbow. “You might find this hard to believe, but things are about to get much worse for you.”

“Is there no way we can reach some sort of accommodation?”

“Only if you give me the Gospel of Pilate.”

“I burned it, Allon. It’s gone.”

“In that case, I suppose there’s no deal to be made. You might, however, want to consider doing at least one good deed before they lock you up. Think of it as a mitzvah.”

“What do you have in mind?”

“It wouldn’t be right for me to suggest something. It has to come from the heart, Wolf.”

Wolf closed his eyes in pain. “In my study you will find a rather fine river landscape, about forty by sixty centimeters. It was painted by a minor Dutch Old Master named—”

“Jan van Goyen.”

Gabriel and Wolf both turned toward the sound of the voice. It belonged to Eli Lavon.

“How do you know that?” asked Wolf, astonished.

“A few years ago, a woman from Vienna told me a sad story.”

“Are you—”

“Yes,” said Lavon. “I am.”

“Is she still alive?”

“I believe so.”

“Then please give her the painting. Behind it you’ll find my safe. Take as much cash and gold as you can carry. The combination is—”

Gabriel supplied it for him. “Eighty-seven, ninety-four, ninety-eight.”

Wolf glared at Estermann. “Is there anything youdidn’ttell him?”

It was Gabriel who answered. “He didn’t know why you chose such a peculiar combination. The only explanation is that it was your father’s SS number. Eight, seven, nine, four, nine, eight. He must have joined in 1932, a few months before Hitler seized power.”

“My father knew which way the wind was blowing.”

“You must have been very proud of him.”

“Perhaps you should be leaving, Allon.” Wolf managed a hideous smile. “They say the storm is going to get much worse.”

Gabriel removed the painting from its stretcher while Eli Lavon packed the bundles of banknotes and the gleaming goldingots into one of Wolf’s costly titanium suitcases. When the safe was cleaned out, he placed the Luger inside, along with the HK 9mm they had taken from Karl Weber.

“Too bad we can’t squeeze Wolf and Estermann in there as well.” Lavon closed the door and spun the tumbler. “What are we going to do with them?”

“I suppose we could take them to Israel.”