Her forehead rose in surprise. “Can I get you anything to eat or drink?”
The three of them declined and Miriam took a young girl with her into the kitchen. Isaac hopped into his father’s lap, his eyes riveted on Vail.
“A year and a half goes by and we don’t hear anything, and then suddenly three FBI agents show up with questions. On a Sunday, no less. Something doesn’t quite seem right.”
“Can’t argue with that,” DeSantos said, conceding the point. “We think the robbery could be important to another case.”
“How can I help?” Halevi asked.
Another boy climbed onto his father’s unoccupied leg and started bouncing.
“Shmu, sit still, please.”
“We think the robbers were after something very specific,” Uzi said. “We’re taking an inventory of what was stolen.”
“I told the detective and that FBI agent back when it happened. They wrote it all down.”
“So some cash, jewelry, a few bonds. That’s it?”
“Sounds right. There wasn’t much. More sentimental than valuable.”
“How much jewelry?”
Halevi shifted his legs and moved the children a bit. “Just a few family heirlooms. A gold ring with some diamonds, an opal broach, and two pendants from my parents. Worst of all, my grandparents’ Shabbat candlesticks. It’s all I had left from them.”
“That it?” DeSantos asked.
“Like I said. It had more meaning to us than value to others. If it was someone looking for something specific that had a lot of value on the open market, I don’t think we were the target.”
“But you had a large box,” Uzi said, “two feet by two and a half feet by six inches. Why would you need such a large box for only a few pieces of jewelry and a couple of candlesticks?”
Halevi swallowed noticeably. “It was the only one they had available at the time. Sometimes these boxes, there are waiting lists.”
Uzi nodded, accepting the explanation. But Vail sensed that something was not right. She glanced at DeSantos, who seemed to have similar concerns.
“You sure?” DeSantos asked. “The case we’re handling is very important. It’s not just a bank robbery. As you noted — quite astutely — there are three federal agents sitting in your living room on a Sunday.” He let that hang in the air as the three of them observed the rabbi.
The younger boys went flying into Halevi and he fought to keep himself upright and the other kids balanced on his lap.
“Hey,” Isaac said. “Cut it out.”
“Please. Raffi, calm down.” Halevi swiveled his gaze to Uzi. “If we’re done here—”
“No,” Vail said. “We’re not.” She had one card to play, and she decided now was the time — even if it meant revealing sensitive information. “We have reason to believe that al Humat was behind the bank robbery.”
“Karen.” Uzi’s complexion shaded red.
She ignored him and focused on Halevi, whose face now sprouted perspiration that glistened in the light streaming in from the nearby windows.
Car horns blared again outside.
“So, rabbi, let me ask you once more. Why would al Humat target you?”
He leaned back and yelled into the kitchen. “Miriam! Can you take the kids?”
She walked in and clapped her hands. “Come with me, we’ll make Play-Doh. Who wants to help?”
They yelled and ran out, leaving Vail and Halevi staring at each other.
“I think we’ll go for a walk,” Uzi said, elbowing DeSantos — who reluctantly complied.
As they left the apartment, Vail sat back in the couch.
“You need to talk with my father,” Halevi said.
“Your father? The owner of the box was Rabbi Halevi. You said you’re Rabbi Halevi.”
“My father is also Rabbi Halevi.” He shrugged. “We’re orthodox. This is not unusual. And you didn’t say which Rabbi Halevi you wanted to talk with.” He rose from the seat and walked into the hallway and turned right. Two minutes later, he returned with an aged man, white bearded and slow of gait, with a dark complexion.
Halevi helped his father to the chair and explained who Vail was and why she was there.
“Rabbi, the case my colleagues and I are working is extremely important. I’m sure you’ve heard about what’s been going on in Washington and what happened today at Times Square. And now three federal agents show up at your door asking about a bank robbery from a year and a half ago. I can’t say anymore, but I’m sure you can connect the dots.”
“Tell her, Father.”
“No,” he said with a raspy voice. “This is not something we speak of.”
“Father—”
“Rabbi,” Vail said firmly. “Let me make something clear. Withholding information in a federal investigation is called obstruction of justice and it’s a crime we take very seriously — especially when lives are on the line.”
The elderly man craned his stiff neck up to his son, who nodded. “Lives are on the line?”
“They think al Humat was behind the bank robbery,” Halevi said.
The man squinted. “I don’t understand. Terrorists don’t rob banks. Why would they do that? For money? If they wanted money, they’d rob the bank, not safe deposit boxes. No?”
“Al Humat gets all the money it needs from its … collaboration with other criminal organizations. Robbing a bank in Brooklyn is a high risk act. There had to be something inside that would give them more than money.”
“There was.” Halevi nudged his father.
The elderly man shook his head. “She would not understand.”
“Maybe. But her partner would. Aharon Uziel,” he said, using a Hebrew pronunciation of Uzi’s first name. He turned to Vail.
She pulled her cell and texted Uzi to come up immediately. He returned less than two minutes later, sans DeSantos.
When he walked in, he seemed surprised to see the elder man. Vail explained who he was and that there was, indeed, something of importance in the pilfered box.
“You said, rabbi, that I would not understand. Because I’m a woman?”
He looked at her a long moment, as if he was determining if he could discuss this with her present. “If I’m going to share this secret with you, please call me Yakov. Good? Yes?”
Vail grinned. “Yes.”
“And we need a drink.”
Halevi rolled his eyes. “I’ll go get something.”
24
Do you know much about the Jews of Aleppo? Agent Uziel?”
Uzi pursed his lips. “I know some. There was once a thriving community in Aleppo. Until 1947 or 1948, and then the Syrians turned on them and destroyed the synagogues, their homes. They harassed and killed them.”
“Good enough,” Yakov said. “The Aleppo Jews had lived in Syria for three thousand years. They were part of the culture, a part of the land. But these men and women had something even more significant: custodianship of one of the most important books in the history of Judaism, perhaps Christianity — and all other religions that arose from Judaism. Do you know what book this is?”
Vail shrugged. “The Bible?”
Yakov’s head bobbed up and down. “Emphasis on the. The authoritative book, the oldest, most accurate text of the Hebrew Bible.”
“So you’re talking about an actual book. A rare manuscript.” Vail’s mind flitted back to her time in London when she dealt with another rare manuscript, one that touched off a rough time in England that nearly got her killed.
“Calling it rare is doing it an injustice,” Yakov said. “It’s been known as the Crown, the Crown of Aleppo, and the Aleppo Codex. What it is is the most important book in history.”
“What’s so special about it?” Vail turned to Uzi. “Have you heard of it?”