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They drink tea on the terrace of the American Colony Hotel, where Allenby and Blair take rooms whenever they’re mediating the region. Both are on holiday. The two men are famous for being on holiday, leaving the region forever unmediated. A diplomat’s son swims laps in the pool. He has a hard and fast body, worth watching.

‘No trace of Peter,’ Valeria says. ‘Nothing apart from your possible sighting at Golgotha. They’re smart.’

‘Always were. I told you that years ago. Nobody listened.’

‘We’re listening now.’ Valeria is making an effort: five-star hotel, terrace, drinks on the section tab. ‘The case has been passed to Complex Casework mainly because the cult survives and is growing. No one understands why. We’ve gone over the events that led to your tribunal, and considering the various loose ends we’ve decided to reopen the investigation. I’ve recommended your involvement.’

‘You have other Speculators. Most of them never disgraced.’

‘No one with experience is volunteering to investigate provincial cults.’

‘Ah, I see. What do you want from me, apart from assuming I’m available and desperate to get back in?’

Valeria watches the long-armed backstroke of the boy in the pool, examines her nails, acts like someone who could change her mind. ‘I wouldn’t ask you to do this if I didn’t think you were capable. I fished out the psychiatric assessment from the tribunal.’

‘Get to the point.’

‘If it’s any consolation, I don’t think you’re unstable. Didn’t think it at the time and don’t now. We all missed something, way back then. Let’s not make the same mistakes again.’

‘Please tell me what you want. In plain language.’

‘We can offer you a viaticum. Double pay for every day on the road. In euros.’

‘I want my rank back, the right to call myself a Speculator.’

‘It’s not the title that counts, but the state of mind. This is a tiny job in an obscure region.’

‘So why should I take it?’

‘The money and a fresh start. I’m guessing that’s enough. That and your pride, which had you running for the plane in Munich.’

She knows him too well. Gallio feels the long waste of sleepless nights under army blankets, sifting through memories for the piece he missed, the clue as to how they tricked him. Cassius Gallio is convinced he’d have found the answer, if only Judas hadn’t been killed. The disciples had cut off his enquiry just as he was getting close.

‘You were a witness,’ Valeria says. ‘You saw the death of Jesus, and how the disciples acted after the event. We’ve respected official policy, tolerated this cult, waited for their beliefs to fade. Except in this instance their beliefs aren’t fading. Something strange is going on, and I’ve decided that bringing you back is worth the risk to my reputation. You were there. That counts for something, and I’m giving you a chance to clear your name.’

‘I have nothing to prove.’

‘I think you do, Cassius. You were publicly humiliated. Hard for anyone, let alone a Speculator. You did your work but reason did not triumph, which is what in training they taught us would happen. But reason will triumph, in the long run. That’s why we rule the world and in Israel they have goats.’

‘Do I get a team? I’ll need researchers, analysts, forensics. Maybe some feet on the ground.’

‘You’ll work with Baruch. Politics. They’re an awkward people but we need to keep them sweet, for the sake of stability. Also the Israelis are as keen to wrap this up as we are.’

Cassius Gallio bites the skin at the side of his thumbnail, watches the swimmer splash back and forth. Butterfly, the full twenty-five metres, tumble-turn, crawl. Gallio peels off a thumbnail with his teeth, spits it from his lower lip. It sticks. He blows it off.

‘Baruch is a contract killer. A nobody.’

‘We all used to be something. You’ll need to control him, but if there’s trouble you’re deniable. It’s important you understand that, Cassius. As far as our superiors are concerned, this operation does not exist.’

‘So where am I expected to start?’

Valeria looks away. This mission is rotten with absurdities that stick in her throat, but they have to start somewhere.

‘I’ve seen the pictorial evidence of the crucifixion, every angle, the different styles,’ she says. ‘I know how dead Jesus looks in the images, but I want you to search for him as if he’s alive. You’re to find out if Jesus survived, if somewhere out there he’s among us.’

III: JUDE shot with arrows

BARUCH DOESN’T LIKE the car.

Cassius Gallio insists on following Valeria’s briefing, to the letter, which means they stay inconspicuous. At the Hertz concession he turns down models that proclaim either the wonder or the futility of existence. He needs the camouflage of the middle ground, where people learn to cope, less splendid than a 3-litre BMW 6 Series but not as miserable as an entry-level Chevvy Aveo.

They end up driving north out of Jerusalem in a family class Toyota Corolla. Gallio respects the speed limit and keeps his distance from the vehicle in front. He slows for camels, for carts pulled by donkeys. Mirror, signal, manoeuvre.

‘For fuck’s sake,’ Baruch says, one foot on the dash. He can’t even smoke, because those days are gone. ‘You know, Cassius, happy as I am to be working with you again, I’m surprised Valeria called you back.’

Baruch blows his nose, throws the tissue out of the open window, checks the palms of his hands. ‘I’m thinking maybe it wasn’t only your soldiers who were under suspicion. I mean if I’m looking for an explanation for how the body left the tomb, after all this time. If Jesus is alive, someone patched him up and let him out. You were the man in charge.’

‘I was cleared at the tribunal.’

‘Of that particular act. Not of much else. The sentencing document is a classic, and I like the paragraph that declares you unstable and incompetent. I believe those are the words they used.’

Cassius Gallio keeps his eyes on the road.

‘Incompetent. Strong stuff.’

‘But not guilty of receiving illegal payments to allow the removal of a body. The tribunal had no evidence of that, no witnesses.’

‘They fired you once, they could do it again. That must worry you. Dereliction of Duty. Professional Negligence. And one other, I think, yes, I remember now, suspended Gross Misconduct for sexual harassment of a junior colleague. I looked up the charge sheet.’

‘It wasn’t harassment. Nothing happened.’

Baruch is joshing, and he is not. Gallio can’t blame him, because anyone who wanted to steal the body would think first of corrupting the senior officer. That would be a logical approach to take, so the question needs to be asked.

‘All we know for sure is the body was gone,’ Gallio says. ‘Why are you picking my daughter up from school?’

Baruch flips his foot off the dash, and as the city thins he gazes at the street-side storefronts. Driving out the slow way, dentists and driving schools give way to car dealerships and furniture outlets.

‘Where’d you hide the money, Cassius?’

‘How’s my wife? Been seeing her long?’

‘Intelligent man like you. Offshore, I guess. Your family — I mean the wife and child you abandoned — they could use some extra income.’

‘I never meant to abandon them. First, I don’t have money because no one bribed me. Second, if I’d let the disciples steal the body I’d know too much. I could undermine their resurrection story at any time, and they’d shut me up like they shut up Judas.’