‘Okay, okay, I’ll talk to them. Maybe I can even suggest a way for Jacob to refocus some of that energy of his.’

Jacob enters the study. ‘Yes, sir, you wanted to see me?’

The rabbi looks up from the computer. ‘What? No hug?’

Jacob gives the man a cold embrace. ‘Was that all, sir, because I have a jujitsu lesson in half an hour, and I really should—’

‘Jujitsu can wait. I want to talk to you about Ju—daism.’ A nerdy smile.

No reaction.

‘You know, your paternal grandmother was Jewish, so were your mother’s parents.’

‘Actually, sir, my mother was adopted. Her real mother was Quiche Mayan. Her father was—’

‘Never mind. What’s important is history. Your mother tells me you’re interested in the Mayan Popol Vuh.’

‘Yes, sir. It’s a sacred parchment.’

‘Yes, sir, yes, sir … call me Rabbi or Uncle Rich, okay, tattala? Anyway, yes, I suppose the Popol Vuh is a sacred parchment, but it only dates back what … about five hundred years? The Bible, on the other hand, dates back thousands of years.’ He swivels in his chair to face the computer’s microphone. ‘Computer, access Torah, Hebrew text.’

The screen fills with Hebrew characters.

‘Your mother says you can read and speak several languages. Can you read Hebrew?’

‘No, sir … er, Rabbi.’ Blue eyes dart to the holographic display clock above the computer monitor. ‘I’m not really interested in—’

‘Not interested? I’m surprised at you. Here I thought you were someone who sought knowledge, who sought the truth.’

‘The Popol Vuh is—’

‘The Popol Vuh isn’t accurate, Jacob, it was written long after that Koo koo fella—’

‘Kukulcán.’

‘Uh, right … after Kukulcán’s passing. Now the five books of Moses … they were written more than three thousand years ago by Moses himself.’

A whisper of thought teases Jacob’s brain. ‘Moses wrote the Bible?’

‘Most of it. And did you know that every single Hebrew Bible that exists or has ever existed was transcribed in exactly the same way, word for word, letter by letter. If even one letter is out of place, the Bible can’t be used. Did you know that?’

‘No … Rabbi.’ Jacob touches his temple and closes his eyes.

‘Tatt-ala, you okay?’

The boy nods. ‘I just had a strong déjà vu. I’ve lived this moment before.’

‘Excuse me?’

‘This moment. I’ve lived it before. We both have.’

The rabbi looks startled. ‘Now who taught you that?’

‘No one. It’s just the way things are.’ The boy climbs onto the rabbi’s lap and peers at the screen.

Jacob Gabriel cannot read Hebrew, yet he stares at the words, transfixed. ‘Something’s here.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Letters are jumping out. But it’s hard to see.’