The Order (Gabriel Allon #20) - Daniel Silva Page 0,5

in winter.

Rabbi Jacob Zolli and his wife, Alessia, lived around the corner from the Levantine Synagogue, in a narrow little house overlooking a secluded corte. The Allon family dined there on Monday evening, a few hours after their arrival in Venice. Gabriel managed to check his phone only four times.

“I hope there isn’t a problem,” said Rabbi Zolli.

“The usual,” murmured Gabriel.

“I’m relieved.”

“Don’t be.”

The rabbi laughed quietly. His gaze moved approvingly around the table, settling briefly on his two grandchildren, his wife, and finally his daughter. Candlelight shone in her eyes. They were the color of caramel and flecked with gold.

“Chiara has never looked more radiant. You’ve obviously made her very happy.”

“Have I really?”

“There were definitely bumps along the road.” The rabbi’s tone was admonitory. “But I assure you, she thinks she’s the luckiest person in the world.”

“I’m afraid that honor belongs to me.”

“Rumor has it she deceived you about your travel plans.”

Gabriel frowned. “Surely there’s a prohibition against that sort of thing in the Torah.”

“I can’t think of one.”

“It was probably for the best,” admitted Gabriel. “I doubt I would have agreed otherwise.”

“I’m pleased you were finally able to bring the children to Venice. But I’m afraid you’ve come at a difficult time.” Rabbi Zolli lowered his voice. “Saviano and his friends on the far right have awakened dark forces in Europe.”

Giuseppe Saviano was Italy’s new prime minister. He was xenophobic, intolerant, distrustful of the free press, and had little patience for niceties such as parliamentary democracy or the rule of law. Neither did his close friend Jörg Kaufmann, the fledgling neofascist who now served as chancellor of Austria. In France it was widely assumed that Cécile Leclerc, leader of the Popular Front, would be the next occupant of the Élysée Palace. Germany’s National Democrats, led by a former neo-Nazi skinhead named Axel Brünner, were expected to finish second in January’s general election. Everywhere, it seemed, the extreme right was ascendant.

Its rise in Western Europe had been fueled by globalization, economic uncertainty, and the continent’s rapidly changing demographics. Muslims now accounted for five percent of Europe’s population. A growing number of native Europeans regarded Islam as an existential threat to their religious and cultural identity. Their anger and resentment, once restrained or hidden from public view, now coursed through the veins of the Internet like a virus. Attacks on Muslims had risen sharply. So, too, had physical assaults and acts of vandalism directed against Jews. Indeed, anti-Semitism in Europe had reached a level not seen since World War II.

“Our cemetery on the Lido was vandalized again last week,” said Rabbi Zolli. “Gravestones overturned, swastikas … the usual. My congregants are frightened. I try to comfort them, but I’m frightened, too. Anti-immigrant politicians like Saviano have shaken the bottle and removed the cork. Their adherents complain about the refugees from the Middle East and Africa, but we are the ones they despise the most. It is the longest hatred. Here in Italy it is no longer frowned upon to be an anti-Semite. One can wear one’s contempt for us quite openly now. And the results have been entirely predictable.”

“The storm will pass,” said Gabriel with little conviction.

“Your grandparents probably said the same thing. So did the Jews of Venice. Your mother managed to walk out of Auschwitz alive. The Jews of Venice weren’t so fortunate.” Rabbi Zolli shook his head. “I’ve seen this movie before, Gabriel. I know how it ends. Never forget, the unimaginable can happen. But let’s not spoil the evening with unpleasant talk. I want to enjoy the company of my grandchildren.”

Next morning Gabriel woke early and spent a few hours beneath the shelter of the chuppah talking to his senior staff at King Saul Boulevard. Afterward, he hired a motorboat and took Chiara and the children on a tour of the city and the lagoon islands. It was far too cold to swim on the Lido, but the children removed their shoes and chased gulls and terns along the beach. On the way back to Cannaregio, they stopped at the church of San Sebastiano in Dorsoduro to see Veronese’s Virgin and Child in Glory with Saints, which Gabriel had restored during Chiara’s pregnancy. Later, as the autumn light faded in the Campo di Ghetto Nuovo, the children joined in a noisy game of tag while Gabriel and Chiara looked on from a wooden bench outside the Casa Israelitica di Riposo.

“This might be my favorite bench in the world,” said Chiara. “It’s where you were sitting the day