The righteous men

CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO

Monday, 7.12pm, Crown Heights, Brooklyn

It had been black; tonight it was white. The synagogue seemed to glow with whiteness, moonlight reflected on snow. There were as many men in here as Will had seen on Friday night, except now they were dressed not in black suits but clothed almost entirely in white.

They wore what seemed to be thin white bathrobes over their dark suits, covering them from their ankles to their shoulders. Instead of the regulation black leather shoes, their feet were now in white trainers. Many of the prayer shawls were all white, as were the skullcaps of those not wearing hats. And they were packed together, a swaying mass of white, a swaying mass of prayer.

This, TO had told him in the briefest of calls from the hospital, was ne'eilah, the concluding segment of what would have been a marathon, day-long service. Tradition demanded that the congregation — denied food or water for the previous twenty-four hours — stand for the duration, in recognition of the gravity of the moment. For this was the final hour of Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement, the day of reckoning.

In this hour, the gates of heaven were closing. Repentance was urgent. As TO described it, Will imagined it: the last minute penitent slipping through the crack in the door, just as it thundered shut. Those who had not atoned, or left it too late, were left outside.

All day, this vast hangar of a space had echoed with ancient incantations, as several thousand voices sang together:

B 'Rosh Hashana yichatayvun…

On the first day of the year it is inscribed and on the Day of Atonement it is sealed. How many shall die and how many shall be born; who shall live and who shall die, who at the measure of man's days and who before it…

The heaviness of the hour descended on Will as soon as he walked in. Faces were funeral-serious; acknowledging each other, but unsmiling. Most men had eyes only for the prayer books they held as they bobbed back and forth in supplication.

Sha 'arei shamayim petach…

Open the gates of heaven… Save us, oh God 'Excuse me,' said Will, trying to squeeze his way through this football crowd of a throng. It was too packed, his progress was too slow. He needed to get to Rabbi Freilich as quickly as possible if he was going to have any chance of striking a bargain. He would reveal the real pursuers of the righteous men and, in return, they would release Beth. He looked at his watch. He had perhaps thirty minutes to act. Will had calculated that he had to move now, while the threat remained at its highest. If he waited till after Yom Kippur, and if the thirty-sixth man remained safely hidden, the Hassidim might conclude that the danger had receded. Will's leverage would vanish.

He began to ask. 'Excuse me, do you know where Rabbi Freilich is? Ratbbi Freilich?' Most ignored him. Occasionally, a hand would wave him left or right — while the eyes stayed fixed on the page ahead or, just as often, firmly shut.

It was like wading through water. All these unfamiliar faces. He looked at his watch: twenty-three minutes.

Then a hand on his shoulder, sending a bolt of pain through his back. He turned around, his hand balled into a fist in readiness.

'Will?'

'Sandy! You frightened me. Jesus. Sorry.'

'What are you doing here?'

'No time to explain. Listen, I need to speak to Rabbi Freilich.

Now.'

Sandy did not reply, but grasped Will's wrist and dragged him first right, then back and finally around the tables where Will had seen the men studying so hard three days earlier.

There, rocking backwards and forwards, his eyes closed and facing towards the heavens, was Rabbi Freilich.

'Rabbi? It's Will Monroe.'

The rabbi lowered his head and then opened his eyes, as if from sleep. His face betrayed great weariness. Then, seeing the bruises on Will's face, it registered shock.

'Rabbi, I know who's killing the righteous men. And I know why they're doing it.'

The rabbi's eyes widened.

'I will tell you and I will tell you right away, while you still have time to stop them. But first you have to do something for me. You must take me to my wife. This instant.'

Freilich's brow tensed. He took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He looked at his watch: twenty minutes to go. Will could see he was weighing up the right course of action.

'All right,' the rabbi said finally, though he still looked anguished. 'Come with me.'

It was easier to walk out of the shut than it had been to walk through it; the crowd parted in deference to Rabbi Freilich, even if a few curious glances were directed at the rabbi's battered companion.

They emerged into the dusk, the sound of the prayer within filling the air. The rabbi walked fast, turning left at the first corner. Will looked at his watch: fourteen minutes left. Each step hurt his calves and thighs, but he was almost running.

Suddenly Rabbi Freilich stopped, turned and faced a small brownstone house.

'Are we here?'

'We are here.'

Will could hardly believe it. It was just around the block from the synagogue; he must have passed this house several times. He had been so close to Beth without even knowing it.

His heart began to pound. So much had happened, it felt as if so much time had passed, since he had seen his wife.

The need to hold her tight was so intense, he could barely contain it.

The rabbi knocked on the door. A woman's voice called out, in a language Will did not understand. The rabbi replied with what Will guessed was a password, in Yiddish.

Finally, the door opened to reveal a woman in her mid thirties, wearing one of those twin-sets his mother might have worn twenty years ago. Her hair was styled the way all the women of Crown Heights had their hair — which meant it was not hers at all, but a wig. Will let out a sigh; he realized he had expected to see Beth straight away.

'Dos is ihr man. Bring zie ahehr, biteh.' This is her husband.

Bring her here, please.

The woman disappeared upstairs. Will could hear doors opening, then footsteps, then the sound of two people coming down.

He looked around, to see a long dark skirt descending the stairs. More disappointment. But as the woman walked lower, he recognized her hips and her posture. And then he saw her face.

He had no control over his eyes. They filled the instant he saw her. Only at that moment did he realize just how deeply he had missed her, how his whole body had ached for her.

He jumped the two remaining stairs and clasped her right there, on the staircase. His vision was too blurred to see her face clearly, but as he held her tight he could feel her shake and he knew she was trembling with tears. Neither could say anything. He was squeezing her so hard, but it was not tight enough. He wanted there to be no space between them.

At last he peeled himself away, to look at her properly for the first time. Her eyes met his, with a kind of bashfulness he had not seen before. It was not modesty but something else: it was awe, awe for the enormity of the love they felt for each other.

Finally she spoke, through her tears. 'You see, I told you.

I told you I believed in you. Remember the song, Will? I knew you would come and find me. I knew it. And look.

Here you are.'

He brought her head to his chest, the two of them clinging fast, unaware of the woman who had opened the door, unaware of Rabbi Freilich standing at the foot of the stairs, unaware that each one of them had shed their own tears at the sight of this couple back, at last, in each other's arms.

'Mr Monroe, I am sorry,' the rabbi began, as if clearing his throat. 'Mr Monroe.'

'Yes,' said Will, using the back of his shirt cuff to wipe the tears from his cheeks. 'Yes, of course.' He turned to Beth.

'Have they told you about all this-'

'She knows nothing,' the rabbi interrupted. 'And there isn't time. Now please.'

Will hardly knew where to start. A tiny Christian sect that believed it had inherited Jewish teaching, all of it, even the doctrine of the lamad vav. How they had picked up on the Messianic fervour of Crown Heights and had started hacking into its computer network, eventually discovering the identities of the righteous men. How they had used their people all over the world to kill them, one by one — timing the murders for the Days of Awe, the Ten Days of Penitence.

'Which,' Will added, 'will be over in twelve minutes.'

'But why?'

'I can't be certain. At the service, this voice, the Apostle, was explaining it but that's when they started beating me.

He and the other man, the younger one, talked about redemption and judgment and salvation, but I couldn't make any real sense of it. I'm sorry.' Will glanced at Beth and took her hand: she looked completely baffled.

'Can someone tell me what on earth is going on here?' No one said anything. Will gave a small shake of the head. No time. Later.

By now Rabbi Freilich was sitting, stroking his beard, deep in thought. 'And you have seen this group with your own eyes?'

'I was with them an hour ago. They're here in New York.

I'm convinced it's them. And I'm convinced they're here to finish the job. The Apostle said that "the final knowledge eludes us". I think they still don't know the name of the thirty-sixth righteous man. But they are determined to find him — and to kill him. You have to protect him. Where is he?

Is he safe?'

'He is in the safest place in the world.'

'You must tell me. Otherwise, we can't be sure they won't find him.'

Rabbi Freilich looked at his watch again and allowed himself a small smile. 'He is right here.'