I blinked. The head of the Brotherhood and man who wanted me dead lived in Jerusalem. "Huh?"

"Nava Katz," a Russian-accented voice said. A man in his mid-forties wearing a kippah, with peyot sidelocks and a curled lip stopped just inside Kane's door. "We meet at last."

It was one thing to mock Rabbi Mandelbaum with a couple of continents between us but there was no ignoring the way the air itself seemed to charge with the power he embodied.

I swallowed, pushing my ...