by Sam Bourne
Will sat back in his seat, a wry smile breaking on his lips.
What had Harden said? Walton had done every job on the paper, including a stint editing the puzzle section: he even wrote crossword clues.
I’ll be damned,’ said Will out loud. It was him.’
A founder member of the Church of the Reborn Jesus with a knack for riddles: suddenly Will had no doubt. Don’t stop; the ten proverbs; Just men we are, our number few. Walton knew it all and wanted to pass it on. He must have been scared. Too scared to tip anybody off directly. If the Apostle or his heavies had discovered his betrayal, they would not have hesitated to kill him. No wonder he had had to resort to code.
But why Will? Why had he picked him to receive all those clues? He must have seen Will’s stories in the paper and realized he was onto the killing of the righteous men. Don’t stop. It did not refer to finding Beth; it referred to the story of the lamad vav. Don’t stop at Macrae and Baxter: more’s to come. No wonder he had stolen Will’s notebook: he wanted to know what Will knew. He might even have been keeping it safe.
Then a doubt surfaced. If Walton was the informant, a mole inside his father’s circle, why had he taunted Will after the Macrae story? Surely he should have encouraged him?
And then Will remembered their conversation after his story had hit the front page. He had bullied him about beginner’s luck: Very hard to pull off that trick twice, he had said. And yet that was exactly what Will had done, by recounting the life and death of Pat Baxter. Walton had all but drawn a map — and Will had followed it.
Once he saw the Baxter piece, Walton must have realized Will was the man to expose the Church of the Reborn Jesus. To expose his own father. Or had Walton’s plan been hatched even earlier; had he even engineered the Baxter story? What had Harden said when he despatched Will out west? I scraped the bottom of the barrel and offered them Walton, who was all set to go, but now, at the eleventh hour, he’s cried off with some lame-assed excuse. Was it even possible? Had Walton ducked the assignment, knowing that Will would go instead — and walk right into the Baxter story? And that flyer for the Church of the Reborn Jesus, mysteriously lying on Will’s desk. Had Walton put it there?
Will would ask him direct, right now. He swivelled around to see the next desk even clearer than usual. Will called to Amy. ‘Hey, where’s Terry?’
‘He’s already gone. Straight to the airport apparently.’
It was too late. Will slumped back into his seat, deflated.
He would have liked to thank Walton and to ask him a hundred questions. Now he would never have the chance.
‘Shame, I wanted to say goodbye properly.’
‘Didn’t he leave you a gift? He gave me a book,’ she said, holding it up. ‘The Juggler: How to Balance Work and Family. Thanks a lot, Terry.’
Will had not spotted it until then: a neatly-wrapped box, balanced on the partition between their desks.
He brought it down and tore off the paper, to reveal a brown carton, no more than six inches square. He opened the lid: bubble wrap. Underneath, Will pulled out what seemed to be a desk-toy, perhaps a gyroscope. It was only once he got it fully out of the box that Will understood what Walton had given him.
It was a model of Atlas, the statue outside Rockefeller Center. A man carrying the universe on his shoulders, holding up the world. There was a note:
An ancient Jewish teaching holds that to save a life is to save the whole world. I know you did one; you may even have done both. Good luck, T.
Will put it down on his desk, next to the Saddam Hussein snowdome he had stolen from Walton and never returned.
It was not yet on the Woodstein scale, but Will was developing his own, personalized corner of office real estate. Pride of place went to a framed photograph of Beth, now showing the full curve of pregnancy. Next to it was a picture of Will and his mother. And next to that was an empty space, ready for a picture of the boy he already loved.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Any book, I have discovered, is a collaborative effort and this one is no exception. I owe thanks to a variety of people who guided me through what was a new and complex process.
First thanks must go to the Hassidic community of Crown Heights, Brooklyn. The late Gershon Jacobson and his wife Sylvia welcomed me into their home during a reporting assignment in 1991 — and made me welcome again nearly fifteen years later. Their guidance, along with the warmth and wisdom of their sons Rabbi Simon and Rabbi Yosef Yitzhok, was vital. Along with Rabbi Gershon Overlander of London, they ushered me into what was an entirely new world — one I continue to admire greatly. I am also indebted to Dr Tali Loewenthal, who acted as tutor on some of the finer points of Jewish and Hassidic doctrine. It goes without saying that any errors on this score are mine alone.
I owe a debt, too, to the staff of The New York Times who showed me some of the workings of that great newspaper.
Warren Hoge was especially generous, enlisting the essential help of Bill Keller and Craig Whitney as well as the editors of the Metro and Foreign sections. Lest there be any confusion, The New York Times of the Righteous Men is a work of the imagination.
Specific guidance came from Alex Bellos and Hilary Cottam on life in a Latin American slum, Peter Wilson on Australia and Stephen Bates on the Church. The Yiddish appears courtesy of the redoubtable Anna Tzelniker. Lee de-Beer literally walked the streets of New York on my behalf, tracing some of the more awkward steps of Will Monroe and his pursuers.
Eleanor Yadin and her team at the New York Public Library could not have been more helpful. Sharyn Stein proved a crucial source on both the law and police procedure of New York.
Tom Cordiner and Steven Thurgood allowed me to dip into their enormous expertise on computing and technology.
Monique El-Faizy deserves special thanks for advising on matters New York, spotting details both large and small. Kate Cooper at Curtis Brown proved a zealous advocate of the book — and a perceptive reader. Chris Maslanka showed why he is the king of the puzzlemasters, coming up with one ingenious riddle after another to confound Will and TC. I am in awe of his skill.
My parents read early drafts and gave sage advice as well as moral support: their influence can be spotted in several places in this book. My in-laws, Jo and Michael, once again allowed me to turn their Suffolk home into a writer’s retreat — while Michael proved an eagle-eyed reader. A special mention should go to my late great aunt, Yehudit Dove, whose very real righteousness inspired this story.
At Harper Collins, Jane Johnson proved herself to be a model editor, worthy of her towering reputation. Not only did she root for this book but, backed by the hugely able Sarah Hodgson, improved it at every stage. She is a writer’s editor and I was lucky to work with her.
Three people should be singled out. Jonathan Cummings did more than just research; he devoted boundless brainpower and energy to this project. He is a genuine comrade.
I owe Jonny Geller a great deal. He is not just a world-class agent but a true friend, a man who believed a late-night conversation could become a novel — and whose belief, support and insight never flags. It is no exaggeration to say this book would not have happened without him.
Finally my wife Sarah shared in the excitement of this project from the very beginning. She managed not only to be a wonderful mother to our children, Jacob and Sam, but to provide shrewd advice, a fine eye and constant love.
Marriage is one of the themes of this book — and I am loving every day of ours.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
The Righteous Men is a work of fiction — but it is rooted in several key facts. First, the legend of the lamad vav, of thirty-six exceptional individuals whose virtue upholds the world, is a thread that runs through Jewish tradition. The books and essays Rabbi Mandelbaum cites in his conversation with Will are real — and, for those whose interest has been piqued, worth consulting. The obvious starting point is Gershom Scholem’s The Messianic Idea in Judaism (Schocken, New York, 1971), especially the chap
ter, The Tradition of the Thirty-Six Hidden Just Men’.
Scholem tells the story recounted by Mandelbaum, one which appears in the Palestinian Talmud and dates back to the third century. It speaks of the rabbi who notices that, when a certain man is in the congregation, the community’s prayers for rain get answered. That man is known as Pentakaka, a Greek-derived name whose literal meaning is five sins: he rents out whores, he even dances and drums in front of them. And yet when a woman offers to become a whore in order to raise bail for her jailed husband, Pentakaka prefers to sell his own bed and blanket rather than see her suffer that indignity. In other words, Howard Macrae is not entirely an invention: his act of righteousness is documented — and at least 1700 years old.
Jean-Claude Paul’s good deed in Haiti — creating a secret chamber that preserves the anonymity of both the givers and receivers of charity — has even deeper roots. The ‘chamber of secrets’, as it was known, existed in the Temple of Solomon which stood, as Judaism’s holiest site, in Jerusalem from 953 BC until its destruction in 586 BC. It was the physical embodiment of a core principle: that the act of giving should entail neither glory nor humiliation for those involved, but should instead be a simple act of justice.
It is also a matter of fact that there is a large Hassidic community in Crown Heights, one that still mourns for the Rebbe it lost a few years ago and which continues its outreach efforts across the globe. The Rebbe of the Lubavitch or Chabad movement was a remarkable figure, whom some of his followers hailed as the Messiah. Some still do.
Finally, replacement theology and supersessionism are no inventions. Many Christians do indeed hold that the Jews have forfeited their role as the chosen people, a status which has been passed on to those who follow Jesus Christ. The Wikipedia entry Will reads on the topic is not made up but quoted directly.
That much is fact. As for the rest, who can know for sure?
Copyright
The Righteous Men
HarperCollinsPublishers
This novel is entirely a work of fiction.
The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are
the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual
persons, living or dead, events or localities is
entirely coincidental.
HarperCollinsPublishers
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Published by HarperCollinsPublishers 2006
Copyright (c) Jonathan Freedland 2006
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Lyrics to God used by permission. Words and Music by John Lennon
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All Rights Reserved.
Lyrics to Big Yellow Taxi used by permission.
Words and Music by Joni Mitchell
(c) 1970 Sony/ATV Music Publishing (UK) Limited.
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ISBN-13: 978 0 00 720328 4
ISBN-10: 0 00 720328 4
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