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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 forthe 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 backward 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. Backstroke, the full twenty-five meters, 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 reasonable and non-believing 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-liter BMW 6 Series but not as miserable as an entry-level Chevy 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, maneuver.
    ‘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, disposes of 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