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The caller turned out to be the enigmatic Ben Tiferet who
had displayed such a temper and a way with words that Jake would have cancelled
the meeting out of spite if he had not himself wanted the confrontation.

Somehow, (he was not even certain how) Jake had allowed
himself to be bulldozed into agreeing that the stranger should come over right
away.  It was too fast.  Jake had wanted their meeting to be on his terms.  Now
Tiferet was setting the pace.  It was not what he wanted but there was one
advantage.  He would be in familiar surroundings.

Which left one problem; Mitch Mitchell.

Mitch could wait.  Jake was on the verge of learning the
significance of his ring.  Tiferet was the enemy, he felt certain of it, and he
was anticipating the encounter with an increasing eagerness.  There would come
other opportunities to find out about Fiona’s extra-marital activities, if such
they were.  And, if there was nothing to his suspicions, then all Mitch wanted
was to offer him a job and, after all that had happened, he really could not
face a job interview, especially one for a job that he did not want.  There was
only one thing to do.  Telephone the paper and make an excuse.  He would think
up some explanation for Fiona later.

On being connected he asked to speak with Mr Mitchell’s
secretary.  As luck would have it, either the slime-ball had no secretary or
she was otherwise engaged, which meant, of course, that he was put straight
through to the obnoxious Mitch.

‘Jake.  So, you’re going to be late, are you?’

‘No, no,’ he replied, trying to think of what to say,
‘Something’s come up.  I can’t make the appointment at all.’

‘But, of course you can.  Why not come this afternoon?  I
can fit you in.  No sweat.’

‘I don’t know.’

‘But, Jake.  I really want you on the team and you know
that it’ll make Fee happy.  Come on.  Say about four.’

‘No, I’m sorry.  I really can’t.  I’m going to be tied up
all day.  I’ll call you when I’m able.’

‘Wait, wait a minute.  You’re going to miss a golden
opportunity.  Don’t make a mistake that you’re going to regret.’

‘Please, Mitch.  I’ll contact you, okay.’

And, with some difficulty, he managed to terminate the
call.  Mitchell seemed unbelievably eager to have his services.  Jake could not
help wondering why.  It was however, a pleasant boost to his ego.

Now he was left with nothing much to do until Ben Tiferet
arrived.  Who was he?  Why did he want Dad’s ring?  And how was he responsible
for his dreams?  That was the big question.  If Tiferet had the ability to
mould your thinking and Jake knew from his own researches that such things
existed then he was a most dangerous adversary indeed.

Jake needed to arm himself with something.  If Tiferet had
supernatural powers then there had to be an energy into which he tapped.  What
Jake needed was a weapon that could block that energy.  He smiled wryly as he
realised that Fiona would never have believed that his research into the occult
would have provided him with something useful for a change.

He wondered if the parchment that came with the ring gave
some clue.  If only he knew what it said?  He rushed up to his office and
hunted feverishly amongst his books for something that might help but it was
useless.  His eye did glance upon a passage, however, that dealt with the
ability to influence the human mind with ritual means.  He decided to read it
in depth.

The subject was vodhun; better known as that uneasy mix of
Christianity and pagan magic practised in the West Indies called voodoo.  It
was said that a practitioner of the voodoo arts could make one see what he
wanted if he had an object that belonged to the victim in his possession.

Jake thought about it.  If something of his had gone
missing he had not noticed it or had he?  My God; the cufflinks!

The Bar Mitzvah party.  He was going to wear his favourite
set but Fiona had persuaded him to use another.  Why?

He rushed into the bedroom and to his bedside cabinet. 
Nothing seemed out of place but, on second glance it was clear, something was
missing just as he suspected; the box of gold cuff-links that Fiona had given
him on his first birthday after their marriage.  So that was the answer.

But that meant...

No.  It was impossible.

Wasn’t it?

Fiona knew the links were missing which meant that she had
taken them.  Surely she could not be involved with this Tiferet person.  No,
there had to be another explanation.  He shook his head in frustration.

He returned to his office.  Now he knew the nature of his
problem it was a relatively simple matter to deal with it.  He knew exactly who
might be able to help; Kevin Saint-George, famed radio psychic who had assisted
him before in writing articles on the occult.  Kev was certain to know someone
who understood how to lift a voodoo-type curse.  He’d call right away.

But, before Jake could act, the doorbell rang.  He was too
late.  Ben Tiferet had arrived.  Well, at least he could meet the enemy face to
face.  If the guy tried any magical stuff he would be on his guard and,
physically speaking, he was quite certain that he could protect himself.  To be
on the safe side, however; there would be no harm in saying an invocation that
he had come across in his researches.  It was believed to be a potent shield
against evil spirits.

As he walked downstairs he repeated the words, only half
believing that they would do some good, and then he opened the door.

The man outside was short, balding, and in his mid to late
sixties.  His face carried the conviction of having a sharp wit and through his
glasses his blue eyes seemed to be forever questioning, a quality that Jake
found quite unnerving.  For what it was worth, he looked Jewish but that was no
guarantee of anything.  Jake was going to be careful.  He had to learn as much
as he could if he was to fight this character.

‘Jacob Tranton?’

‘Yes.’

‘You were supposed to meet with me.  You have put me to
the trouble of coming to you.  This does not make me happy.’

The chutzpa of the man but Jake was determined to keep his
temper under control.  He wanted to learn, not have a fight.

‘I am most terribly sorry but you will appreciate that it
was you who wanted to see me, not the other way round.’

Tiferet snorted.

‘You will allow me to enter your home?’

The old Hollywood vampire demand.  Hopefully by complying
Jake was not inviting in the devil.

So they sat down and Jake waited for the other to speak. 
Quite deliberately he did not offer a drink.

‘Mr Tranton, Jacob, or Jake, you call yourself, I
understand.  What I have to tell you, you may not believe but I know that you
have an open mind and I must ask you to accept what I say is truth.’

To the point at least but he was not going to give the guy
an easy ride.

‘Why should I accept anything you say?  You come into my
home almost against my better judgement.  You talk on the phone about black
magic and Kabbalah and you say that my life is in danger.  Come now, Mr
Tiferet, if you want me to listen to you, I think that you should start by
offering me some credentials.’

‘Credentials.  What credentials?  You know my name.  I
have flown all the way from Israel to meet with you.  What can I tell you?’

‘Okay, you’re from Israel.  So what?’

‘Do you know of the Hebrew University?’

‘Yes.’

‘I’m a professor there.’

‘Can that be checked?’

‘Of course.  I’ll give you the telephone number.’

‘No, no.  I’ll find it for myself, if you don’t mind.’

Which is exactly what Jake did.  A Google search was all
it took and he was soon speaking to the registrar over the rather crackly
international line.

Yes, there was a professor called Benjamin Tiferet, and
no; he was not available as he was currently on holiday.  His field of
expertise was Jewish mysticism.  So far so good but that was no proof that this
man was one and the same or, for that matter, that his motives were innocent. 
Jake was by no means ready to lower his guard.

Jake let his hand rest on his knee and saw immediately
that Tiferet pointedly stared at it.

‘So that is the ring.  May I look at it?’

‘If you want but it’s stuck fast.’

Not that that was any excuse but Jake jiggled it anyway to
prove the point.  That was when he realised that it really was stuck.

‘I’m sorry.  I don’t seem to be able to get it off.’

‘No, I am not surprised.  What do you know of it?’

Jake chose his words with care.  He knew very little but
it could be disastrous to allow the enemy to know that.  He would have to be
very careful about what he said.

‘It’s been in the family for centuries.’

‘Has it?  There are letters on the stone.  You know what
they say?’

It was no use pretending, ‘No,’ but he did know
something.  ‘It’s Hebrew, isn’t it?’

Tiferet nodded.

‘Well done.  It is the Hebrew that was in use in biblical
times.  It has not been used for over two thousand years.  From the colour of
the stone there is only one word it can be.  There are two letters are there
not?’

Jake nodded.

‘The first is a
gimmel
and the second, a
dalet
. 
Which, together, reads Gad; one of the twelve tribes of Israel.  Now listen to
me, Jacob Tranton, and do not interrupt.  There are twelve of these stones. 
One for each tribe.  Here, I have one.’

And Jake watched in astonishment as Tiferet emptied a
small velvet pouch onto the coffee table and produced a deep-red stone of a
similar cut to that which adorned his ring.

‘Go on.  Take it; it won’t bite.’

Nervously, Jake removed the crystal from the table and
balanced it in his hand.  At once he felt the same release of energy as he had
when he had first taken his own crystal.  Like the stone on his ring it also
bore an inscription in a very similar letter style.

‘That is Reuben’s stone.’

But what did this prove?  Only that Tiferet had an
interest in the stones which Jake already knew.  All the more reason to
distrust him.  Maybe he wanted another for his collection.  How had he come to
own the stone he was holding, for instance?

There was no point in pussyfooting about any further.  As
dangerous as it might be, Jake knew that he had to bring about a
confrontation.  He had to find out what was happening.

‘All right, Mr Tiferet.  You’ve made your point.  Let me
make one thing very straight.  This ring is mine.  I have no intention of
parting with it.’

‘No, no, Jake.  You misunderstand me…’

‘Do I?  I don’t think so.’

‘I do not want your ring.’

‘Then what do you want?’

‘I want your help.’

‘In what?’

‘There are people who want all twelve of these stones for
the power they will give them.  It is imperative that they fail in their task. 
If they succeed it will bring death and destruction upon the world.’

Jake snorted.

‘Do you really expect me to believe that?  These stones
are just lumps of crystal.  What powers can they bring?’

‘Do you have a Bible?’

Jake was taken aback by the request but he decided to play
along.  He went up to his office and soon returned with the book.  Tiferet
looked at the volume with disdain.

‘The King James version.  You don’t even have a Jewish
Chumash
[5]
in your home.’

‘Sorry,’ (Not that it’s anything to do with you) ‘No. 
I’ve never had the need.’

‘No matter.  Turn to the book of Exodus, Chapter 28, Verse
15 and after.  Read them to me.’

Jake found the place without difficulty and began to
recite.

‘And thou shalt make the breastplate of judgement with
cunning work; after the work of the ephod thou shalt make it; of gold, of blue,
and of purple, and of scarlet, and of fine twined linen, shalt thou make it. 
Foursquare it shall be being doubled; a span shall be the length thereof, and a
span shall be the breadth thereof.

‘So what?’

‘Read!’

Jake nodded and continued.

‘And thou shalt set in it settings of stones, even four
rows of stones: the first row shall be a sardius, a topaz, and a carbuncle:
this shall be the first row.  And the second row shall be an emerald, a
sapphire, and a diamond.  And the third row, a ligure, an agate, and an
amethyst.  And the fourth row, a beryl, and an onyx, and a jasper: they shall
be set in gold in their inclosings.’

(Was this leading where he thought it was?)  He tried not
to show his excitement.

‘And the stones shall be with the names of the children of
Israel, twelve, according to their names, like the engravings of a signet;
every one with his name shall they be according to the twelve tribes,

‘You’re not trying to tell me that our two stones are the
same as those in the Bible?  Come on, that’s impossible.’

‘Is it?  I must say that the translation is not very
accurate but the tenor is definitely correct.

‘Now go on to verse 30.’

Jake dutifully did so.

‘And thou shalt put in the breastplate of judgement the
Urim and the Thummim; and they shall be upon Aaron’s heart…’

‘Thank you.  That’s enough.

‘Now, do you know what the Urim and Thummim are?’

‘No.’

‘According to Torah, if the leader of the Children of
Israel had a question for God they would go to the High Priest and consult the
Urim and Thummim which would display the answer in some fashion that is not
explained.  Many have speculated as to what the Urim and Thummim actually are
and how they functioned.  What a few rabbis suspected and most reject but what
I know to be true is that the Urim and Thummim are nothing other than the
display of stones in the breastplate and he who has the breastplate has a
source of divine knowledge at his disposal.’