With three days remaining, everything was in place with one notable exception: Chiara herself. For this phase of the operation Gabriel drafted none other than Gilah Shamron, who telephoned Chiara later that evening and asked whether they could come to Tiberias for a surprise birthday party for Shamron that Saturday. She agreed to Gilah’s request without even bothering to check with Gabriel and told him about their plans for the weekend that night over dinner.

“How old is he going to be?” she asked.

“It’s a carefully guarded state secret, but rumor has it he fought in the rebellion against Roman rule.”

“Did you know his birthday was in March?”

“Oh, yes, of course,” he said hastily.

It was in late August, actually, and the last person who had tried to throw Shamron a surprise party still walked with a limp. But Chiara didn’t know that. Chiara didn’t know anything.

It had rained steadily all week, a contingency for which they had not planned, but by midmorning Saturday the sun was shining brightly and the newly washed air was scented with stone pine and jasmine and eucalyptus. They slept late and ate a leisurely breakfast on the balcony, then packed a few things into an overnight bag and set out for the Galilee.

Gabriel drove down the Bab al-Wad to the Coastal Plain, then north to the Valley of Jezreel. They stopped there for a few minutes to collect Eli Lavon from the dig atop Tel Megiddo, then continued on to Tiberias. Shamron’s honey-colored villa was just a few miles north of the city, on a ledge overlooking the Sea of Galilee. Two dozen cars lined the steep drive, and in the forecourt was a large American Suburban with diplomatic license plates. Adrian Carter and Sarah Bancroft were standing at the balustrade of Shamron’s terrace, chatting with Uzi Navot and Bella.

“Gilah never told me Carter was coming,” Chiara said.

“She must have forgotten to mention it.”

“How do you forget to mention that the deputy director of the CIA is coming all the way from Washington? And what is Sarah doing here?”

“Gilah’s old, Chiara. Give her a break.”

Gabriel climbed out before she could pose another question, then retrieved the overnight bag from the trunk and led her up the steps. Gilah was standing in the entrance hall as they came inside. The large rooms had been emptied of their furniture and several round tables put in their place. Chiara stared at the place settings and the flower arrangements, then walked past Gilah and stepped on the terrace, where a hundred white chairs stood in neat rows around a chuppah hung with flowers. She spun round, mouth open, and looked at Gabriel.

“What’s going on here?”

Gabriel held up the overnight bag and said, “I’m going to take this up to our room.”

“Gabriel Allon, come back here.”