Read Online The Book of Names by Jill Gregory - Free Book Online

worried. If you know—please just cut to the chase and tell me why so many dead people want me to remember their names!”
    â€œWe’re getting to it, David. Please be patient. You must begin to comprehend that you are a part of something much bigger than you can imagine. I understand you have a Ph.D. in political science and are renowned in your field. I assure you that I am as knowledgeable in my field as you are in yours. And so is Yael HarPaz in hers.”
    Before David could answer, a woman appeared in the doorway. She was tall and slender, in a long gauzy black skirt, ivory shell, and fitted silk blazer. She strode into the room with purpose, carrying a copper leather tote. He was struck by her exotic cheekbones and generous mouth, frosted with the barest tinge of pink. He guessed she was about thirty, and from her coloring—long coppery hair twisted into a loose knot and a tawny complexion—he guessed she was a Sabra, a native-born Israeli.
    â€œYael HarPaz, this is David Shepherd, the man I told you about.”
    The woman flashed David a straightforward, appraising glance and set down her tote. They shook hands, her silver bracelet jingling. “Shalom.”
    Her voice, with its rich Hebrew accent, was as sleek and attractive as the rest of her.
    â€œYou’ve come a long way on my account. I don’t really understand why.”
    â€œI came for the stone. Did you bring it?”
    David was surprised by her authoritative tone. He paused before turning back to the desk, then picked up the stone and studied it. “So you also believe this is from the high priest’s breastplate?”
    â€œMay I?” Yael’s dark green eyes sparked as she took it from his hand. Before David could say anything, she began turning it from side to side, as the rabbi had done.
    â€œNaphtali,” she said with excitement in her voice.
    The rabbi smiled.
    â€œAll right.” David drew a breath. “Let’s say for argument’s sake this is one of the stones from the breastplate. What about the others? Are they accounted for?”
    â€œWe have four others secure in Jerusalem,” Yael told him. She glanced at the rabbi, waiting for him to speak.
    â€œI have another here,” he told David. “Levi’s stone, an amber.”
    Even as he said the words, he moved toward the bookcase and pulled down the volumes that masked the safe. “This one surfaced in a Sephardic synagogue in Detroit. A Tunisian Jew bought it at an outdoor market in Cairo seventy years ago and had no idea what it was. His son emigrated to the United States and a month ago he showed it to his rabbi, who contacted me.”
    The rabbi pulled out the worn satchel and reached inside. He withdrew a velvet drawstring pouch from which he plucked a stone identical in size to David’s agate. When he set them down side by side, David’s breath caught in his chest. Not only were the agate and the amber stones identical in size, they were identically cut. Even the Hebrew script was undeniably from the same hand.
    Everything was happening too fast. The stones, the names, the names on the stones, Crispin, Stacy, his journal. He tried to marshal his thoughts, even as the rabbi spoke again.
    â€œI intended to carry the amber to Israel next week, but your visit has saved me an urgent trip. It’s imperative that these two stones reach the safety of Jerusalem—before any harm befalls them. Yael?”
    As ben Moshe picked up both stones to hand them off to the archaeologist, they slipped from his arthritic fingers to the floor and rolled under the desk. David knelt to retrieve them.
    But he saw something under the desk that stopped him cold.
    â€œWhat the hell?” There was a small silver receiver stuck to the bottom of the desk.
    â€œAre you taping our conversation?” he asked, an edge of anger in his voice. Scooping up the gems he surged to his feet.
    Alarm flicked across Yael’s