"You used to run the Mossad," said Bennett, turning back to Mordechai. "You're a pretty smart guy. So tell me — what's going on?"
Jibril couldn't believe it.
Colonel Khaddafi wasn't simply promising to help. He was dramatically upping the ante. Yes, he had an agent on Gibraltar who ran a travel agency. Yes, she would be activated immediately. But there was more that Libya could do, if she were needed. Much more.
Jibril didn't know quite what to say, except thank you. It was a generous offer, to say the least. Almost too generous. He said he'd have to discuss it with Gogolov and get back to the colonel as quickly as possible. And then he did. Gogolov, too, was stunned. This could change everything.
"Jon, do you believe in the supernatural?"
"I don't know, why?"
"Angels, demons, Sodom and Gomorrah?"
"Eli, really, I don't know what you're talking about."
The old man was always full of surprises, but Bennett respected his experience and his wisdom.
"Sure you do. I'm asking if you believe that there's an unseen battle going on all around us — a cosmic showdown between good and evil. That there's an all-knowing, all-powerful force in the universe that can enter time and space, that can alter the course of human history, that can destroy the living and raise the dead."
"You're asking if I believe in God?"
"No, no. Not just God. A God who is at war with evil. A God with a plan and a purpose. A God who has the awesome, fearsome power to achieve that plan and accomplish that purpose."
Bennett looked at McCoy, then to Galishnikov. He wasn't sure where this was going.
"I don't know, Dr. Mordechai. I mean, I work at the White House, not the Vatican. The whole 'God thing' is a little above my pay grade."
Mordechai said nothing. Neither did McCoy or Galishnikov. It was as though all the molecules in the room were suddenly rearranged. He didn't know why, or how, but Bennett suddenly felt embarrassed. He could feel the blood rising behind his neck and ears. He just stared into Mordechai's eyes for what seemed like an eternity. They were somber and sober and serious — and they weren't backing down.
"I don't know," Bennett said finally, quietly. "I don't know what I believe."
"Then I suggest you figure it out — quickly." "Why?"
Dr. Mordechai let the question hang in the air for a moment. "Because that's the answer to your question." "I don't understand."
"Jonathan, I've spent my whole life lurking in the shadows, cultivating sources, paying off informants, desperately hoping I would find my enemies before they found me. Why? Because I wanted someone to put a bullet in my head? No. Because knowledge is power. Because what you don't know can kill you. Because the more you know about your enemy, the more likely you are to outlive him."
The old man took out his pipe and a package of tobacco. "When the FBI wants to know what the mob is up to, what do they do? They send in a Donny Brasco, right? When the KGB — or now the FSB— wants to know what the CIA or FBI is up to, what do they do? They recruit an Aldrich Ames or a Robert Hanssen, right? On Wall Street they call it insider trading. It's illegal. In the intelligence business, it's a matter of life and death. But in the '90s, the CIA stopped paying off 'unsavory characters' as sources. Why? It's a long story. The point is, America went dark. You stopped being able to see inside the mind of evil. You let evil go unchecked. And you paid a terrible price. You got September eleventh. And you got Saddam Hussein without any weapons inspectors. Now, which is really worse? Paying off a greedy Iraqi scientist to tell you how and where he's helping Saddam build the bomb, or having to bomb Baghdad and kill a whole lot of people?"
No one said a word. Morechai lit a match and took a few puffs, letting the smoke gently curl upward toward the ceiling fan above them.
"My business is all about sources. So is yours. Who you know and what they know. Maybe you can't stand your sources. Maybe you wish they'd all rot in hell. You know what? Doesn't matter. It doesn't matter what we think about a source. The only thing that matters is whether that source is credible, whether he or she is telling you the truth, even if the truth is ugly, even if the truth doesn't make sense. Right?"
Bennett nodded.
"Good. Now I'm going to tell you what you want to know. I'm going to tell you why all hell is breaking loose. But I'm going to cite you a source you may not like. That's not the point. The point is: does the information make sense? Is it credible? Is it true? If it isn't, don't worry about it. Blow it off and move on. But if it is, then you've got a decision to make: what are you going to do about it, and how long are you going to wait?"
Nadir pulled up in front of the Willard Intercontinental.
He waited for one of the valets to park his car, and another to help him with his suitcase, briefcase, and laptop. He tipped them both generously, then went inside to check in. In a few minutes, he'd fire off an e-mail to his contact. By tomorrow morning, he'd have exactly what he needed. Tonight he'd go for a long walk and get the lay of the land.
"Will you be paying by credit card?" the clerk asked.
"Yes, please," he said, pulling out an American Express Gold Card.
It was all Nadir could do to suppress a smile. Put it all on the card, he thought. He'd never be around to pay it anyway.
"Fair enough," said Bennett. "So what's the answer?"
Mordechai took a sip of brandy, stared at his pipe for a moment, the sweet smoke filling the air, then looked back at Bennett and continued.
"We're not living in normal times, Jonathan. We are now living in what the Hebrew prophets called the last days."
"What does that mean?"
"I'll give you an example. Remember the story of the Dead Sea Scrolls?" No.
"Erin?"
"The little boy throws a few rocks in some caves, looking for his sheep, hears a bunch of pottery break. Turns out the caves are the hiding place for hundreds of ancient Biblical scrolls."
"Exactly. And part of those scrolls contained the Book of Isaiah, almost three thousand years old, written exactly like what's in the Bible today."
"OK, I'm with you."
"So here's what Isaiah said in Chapter Two," Mordechai continued, from memory. " 'In the last days, the mountain of the Lord's temple will be established as chief among the nations; it will be raised above the hills, and all nations will stream to it.'"
"Meaning what?"
"Meaning three thousand years ago, Isaiah said the Temple would be rebuilt in the last days. Daniel said the same thing. So did Ezekiel. In Chapter Thirty-seven he predicts the rebirth of the modern state of Israel after centuries of neglect. In Chapter Thirty-eight and Thirty-nine he references peace and prosperity in the land of Israel, as well as a bunch of other events I won't go into now. In Chapter Forty onward, he talks in great detail about the Temple yet to come."
"OK, OK," said Bennett. "I got it, I got it. But there is no Temple. Are you saying you support what the Temple Mount Battalion was trying to do?" "No, of course not. What those guys were trying to do was terrorism, pure and simple. Nobody should try to force the hand of God. I'm just saying there's a whole lot of people out there — Christians and Jews alike— who believe we've entered some new phase of history and the Temple's coming. And this is why."
Bennett took a deep breath and tried to process that. "Fair enough. Go on."
"The same thing's true about Babylon. Is it a wealthy, powerful city right now? No. But watch out. The prophets say Babylon will rise from the ashes. O great city, O Babylon, city of power,' says the Book of Revelation. Babylon will have 'riches and splendor' and 'great wealth' and 'the merchants of the earth' will grow 'rich from her excessive luxuries.' But Babylon will also become 'a home for demons, and a haunt for every evil spirit' and 'she will be consumed by fire, for mighty is the Lord God who judges her.' Jeremiah says the same thing in Chapter Fifty-one. 'The Lord will carry out His pur-pose, His decree against the people of Babylon. You who live by many waters and are rich in treasures, your end has come… Before your eyes I will repay Babylon and all who live in Babylonia for all the wrong they have done in