“It becomes you.” He smiled distantly. “You know, you’re even beginning to look a little like him.”

“Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

“He was very handsome when he was a young man.”

“He was never young, Prime Minister.”

“None of us were. We were all old before our time. We gave up our youth to build this country. Shamron hasn’t taken a day off since 1947. And this is how it ends?” The prime minister shook his head. “No, he’ll live. Trust me, Gabriel, I’ve known him longer than even you.”

“Shamron is eternal. That’s what Gilah says.”

“Maybe not eternal, but he’s not going to be killed by a bunch of terrorists.”

The prime minister scowled at his wristwatch.

“You had something you wanted to discuss with me, sir?”

“Your promotion to chief of Special Ops.”

“I’ve agreed to take the position, sir.”

“I realize that, but perhaps now isn’t the best time for you to be running the division.”

“May I ask why not?”

“Because all your attention needs to be focused on tracking down and punishing the men who did this to Shamron.”

The prime minister lapsed into a sudden silence, as if giving Gabriel an opportunity to mount an objection. Gabriel sat motionless, his gaze downward toward his hands.

“You surprise me,” the prime minister said.

“How so?”

“I was afraid you were going to tell me to find someone else.”

“One doesn’t turn down the prime minister, sir.”

“But surely there’s more to it than that.”

“I was in Rome when the terrorists attacked the Vatican, and I put Shamron in his car tonight. I heard the bomb go off.” He paused. “This network, whoever they are and whatever their goals, needs to be put out of business—and soon.”

“You sound as though you want vengeance.”

Gabriel looked up from his hands. “I do, Prime Minister. Perhaps under those circumstances, I’m the wrong man for the job.”

“Actually, under the circumstances, you are exactly the right man.”

It was Amos who had spoken these words. Gabriel turned and regarded him carefully for the first time. He was a small, broad man, shaped like a square, with a monkish fringe of dark hair and a heavy brow. He still carried the rank of general in the IDF but was dressed now in a pale-gray suit. His candor was a refreshing change. Lev had been a dental probe of a man, forever prodding and searching for weakness and decay. Amos was more like a tack hammer. Gabriel would have to watch his step around him, lest the hammer fall on him.

“Just make certain your anger doesn’t cloud your judgment,” Amos added.

“It never has before,” Gabriel said, holding Amos’s dark gaze.