Excerpt
P R O L O G U E
Jerusalem, March 5, 1991
7:15 a.m.

The mild morning air hinted at the promise of a brilliant spring as Israeli Finance Minister Uzi Kopelman walked briskly along an ancient narrow corridor of the Jewish Quarter leading to the Zion Gate.
Earlier that morning, in remembrance of his father who was killed, three years to the date, by a powerful bomb a Muslim terrorist had detonated in a crowded Tel Aviv restaurant, he had prayed at the Western Wall.
On his way to an emergency meeting with the director of Israeli Intelligence, his thoughts dwelled on the alarming magnitude of the financial transactions he had uncovered a day earlier.
Moments after passing an alleyway, Kopelman felt a subtle sting on the back of his neck. Instinctively raising his open right hand, the former captain of the Israeli Army soccer team swatted his neck and continued walking.
Less than a minute later, his limbs suddenly gripped by muscle paralysis, he staggered and fell to the stone pavement. Unable to move his body, he stared up in terror at the masked figure garbed in an Arab caftan looming above him. Knowing he couldn’t defend himself, his heart sank.
Brandishing a dagger, the figure glared at Kopelman and said, taunting him, “You think you can stop us—you’re wrong. Let this be a lesson to those who would challenge the will of God.”
His energy drained, gasping for breath, Kopelman murmured in a low voice, “Please . . . I mean you no harm. Don’t—”
But it was too late. Intent on fulfilling his mission, the assassin raised his dagger and plunged it deep into Uzi Kopelman’s chest.