Neviot teams specialized in gathering intelligence from hard targets such as apartments, offices, and hotel rooms. The unit employed some of the best break-in artists and thieves in the world. Gabriel had other plans for them later in the operation—provided, of course, Hannah Weinberg agreed to part with her van Gogh.

“Did you see the painting?”

Navot nodded. “She keeps it in her childhood bedroom.”

“How did it look?”

“You want my assessment of a van Gogh?” Navot shrugged his heavy shoulders. “It’s a very nice painting of a girl sitting at a dressing table. I’m not artistic like you. I’m potted chicken and a nice love story at the movies. You’re not eating your soup.”

“I don’t like it, Uzi. I told you I don’t like it.”

Navot took Gabriel’s spoon and swirled the dab of sour cream, lightening the hue of the purple mixture.

“We had a peek at her papers,” Navot said. “We rummaged through her closets and drawers. We left a little something on her phone and computer as well. One can never be too careful in a situation like this.”

“Room coverage?”

Navot appeared hurt by the question. “Of course,” he said.

“What are you using for a listening post?”

“A van for the moment. If she agrees to help us, we’re going to need something more permanent. One of the neviot boys is already scouting the neighborhood for a suitable flat.”

Navot pushed the remnants of his potted chicken to one side and started in on Gabriel’s borscht. For all his European sophistication, he was at heart still a peasant from the shtetl.

“I can see where this is going,” he said between spoonfuls. “You get to track down the bad guy, and I get to spend the next year watching a girl. But that’s the way it’s always been with us, hasn’t it? You get all the glory while the field hands like me do all the spade work. My God, you saved the Pope himself. How’s a mere mortal like me supposed to compete with that?”

“Shut up and eat your soup, Uzi.”

Being Shamron’s chosen one had not come without a price. Gabriel was used to the professional jealousy of his colleagues.

“I have to leave Paris tomorrow,” Navot said. “I’ll be gone only a day.”

“Where are you going?”

“Amos wants a word with me.” He paused, then added, “I think it’s about the Special Ops job. The job you turned down.”

It made sense, Gabriel thought. Navot was an extremely capable field agent who’d taken part in several major operations, including a few with Gabriel.

“Is that what you want, Uzi? A job at King Saul Boulevard?”