“Adonai is their guardian, David. Adonai is their shade. The sun cannot touch them in the day; the moon cannot shine upon them in darkness. Adonai does not sleep. He cares for Jennifer and William. Their memory is a blessing.”
“They weren’t Jews, Rabbi.”
“What were they?”
“My wife and son,” David said.
“Iron breaks stone, fire melts iron, water extinguishes fire.” Rabbi Kales let go of David’s hands, picked up his knife, spread some cream cheese on a piece of lox, sliced it in half, popped it in his mouth, chewed thoughtfully, the way he always did when he was trying to make a point but didn’t want food to go to waste, David thinking it was some shit rabbis first learned when food was scarcer; now it was in their genetic code. “The clouds drink up the water, a storm drives away the clouds, man withstands the storm, fear unmans man, wine dispels fear, sleep drives away wine, and death sweeps all away.” He paused, ate the rest of his lox, took a sip of water. “It is the foundation of our faith, David,” he said. “Death comes for us all. God protects all.”
“I have lived these years only for them,” David said. “For the chance to see them again.”
“It need not be tonight, David.”
“Then when? How many more people do I need to kill? How many more people need to try to kill me? Isn’t it time, Rabbi?”
“Time,” Rabbi Kales said, “is flexible in our faith, Rabbi. Your wife and son will not be waiting fifty years for your soul to arrive. Your soul is already there. You are already in the arms of your wife and son. We celebrate Passover not to commemorate the Exodus, but to be the Exodus. Your wife and son are as alive today as they were yesterday; you are as dead today as you will be in two thousand years. You must understand this, Rabbi, you must.”
David tapped on the window. “Tell that to the FBI and the mafia, out there looking for us both,” he said. The restaurant was still buzzing and full. A single black SUV pulled into the parking lot, government plates, just as David knew it would. Special Agent Kristy Levine stepped out. “If you’re going to leave,” David said, “do it now. It will take fifteen minutes.”
Rabbi Kales picked up the syringe. Examined it.
“Is there an antidote?”
“It’s not poison,” David said. “It’s medication. You’ll be asleep in seconds. And then you will be gone.”
Rabbi Kales took a sip of tea. Ate another bite of lox. A bite of pickle. A single bagel chip. Took a pinch of salt, placed it on his tongue. Smiled. “You knew they would come here, didn’t you, Rabbi?”
“I had Ruben Topaz’s son call in a tip,” David said. “Figured he could use a million dollars in reward money.”
“You’re a mensch, David.”
“I have tried, Rabbi.”
“Yes, you have.”
Rabbi Cy Kales slid from the booth and stood up, brushed a hair from his suit. Took a yarmulke from his pocket, placed it on his head.
“I am going to the bakery, David, and I’m going to get a black-and-white cookie, maybe some rugelach. And then I am going to sit in that nice red banquet and take a long, happy nap, and when I awake, we will be together with our families walking through the Mount of Olives. All will be Israel again.”
David rose and took Rabbi Kales into his arms, whispered into his ear: “Oseh shalom bi-m’romav, hu ya’aseh shalom aleinu v’al kol yisrael, v’imru amen.” He who makes peace in high places, he will make peace for us, and for all of Israel, and let us say, amen.
“Amen,” Rabbi Kales said.
David watched Rabbi Kales glad-hand his way through the packed restaurant, a shoulder squeeze here, an elbow squeeze there, a kiss on the cheek, a slow handshake, a touch on the back, and then he disappeared into the mobbed bakery, passing within a few feet of Kristy Levine, who didn’t seem to notice him as she cut her way toward David.
Kristy sat down in the booth. “It’s still warm,” she said, without greeting.
“You just missed Rabbi Kales,” David said.
“I thought he was in Israel?”
David pointed over Kristy’s shoulder. “He’s in the bakery.” Kristy reached for her phone, but David put out his hand. “Please, don’t embarrass him. He’s not going anywhere.” She set the phone facedown on the table. “I appreciate you following directions and coming alone.”
“The message I received was pretty specific,” Kristy said. David gave Ruben’s son Kristy’s cell phone number, told her to come to the Bagel Café at 5 p.m., and if she came alone, she’d be able to arrest Sal Cupertine. “Where are your guns?”
“All of my weapons are in the hearse, parked out front,” David said. “You’ll also find Matthew Drew’s belongings in a large duffel bag, including his case files on me.”
“Illuminating?”
“He was a good investigator,” David said, “aside from the unique relationship he had with Senior Special Agent Poremba and yourself, which he detailed in his journals and which I suspect would have you both in prison for obstruction of justice and conspiracy and maybe accessory to murder. If only I could remember where I put them.”
“I thought we were friends, Rabbi.”
“We are,” David said.
“But you’re already reneging on our deal.”
“We don’t have a deal,” David said. “We have an agreement to meet. Now we are negotiating.”
Kristy said, “You know Matthew Drew didn’t kill Ronnie’s family.”
“You’re gonna put me on the stand to exonerate him?”
“You got Matthew killed,” Kristy said. “He was meeting Biglione because of you.”
“You ever looked into Kirk Biglione?”
“Above my pay grade.”
