10:00 PM, Jerusalem, Prime Minister's Office.
Shamir looked at the intelligence just sent from Mexico City.
"Principal." Deputy to the former chairman of the KGB. Took over overseas assets after the dissolution of the Soviet Union. Joshua's benefactor. Sender of the four boxes. Transporter of Chechens.
He put down the intelligence.
Ross stood in front of him.
"Shamir, do you believe it?"
Shamir didn't answer.
He stood up and walked to the window.
Outside the window, the Golden Dome Mosque on Temple Mount shimmered silver in the moonlight. In the distance, towards the north, Safed was still burning, the fire faintly reflecting in the night sky.
"Mr. Ross," he began, "Have you heard of 'Principal'?"
Ross shook his head.
"No."
Shamir turned around.
"Neither have I."
He walked back to his desk and picked up the intelligence.
"But Volkov mentioned it. His daughter came. His daughter cried. His daughter—it's real."
He put down the intelligence.
"Tell Victor, I believe it."
