The Book of Names by Jill Gregory

God gave to Moses. It was a woven square fashioned by an artist from threads of gold and blue, purple and scarlet.”
    Ben Moshe met David’s eyes and explained. “According to the Book of Exodus, whenever Aaron entered the holiest part of the Temple to pray to God, he was instructed to wear upon his heart this ‘Breastplate of Judgment,’ which contained the names of the Children of Israel—the names of the Twelve Tribes.”
    David went still.
Names?
    â€œThe names were engraved on twelve gemstones which were set in gold and sewn onto the breastplate with gold thread.”
    Suddenly David realized where this was headed. “And you’re telling me that this rock is one of those stones?” he asked, incredulous.
    The rabbi picked up the agate and came around the desk. “Look at what it says.”
    â€œI don’t remember much of my Hebrew.”
    Ben Moshe ignored the admission. He held the agatebefore David and pointed one by one to the five tiny letters, tracing them from right to left.
“Nun pey tav lamed yud”
, he read. “They spell out
Naphtali
—one of the Twelve Tribes of Israel.”
    David’s mind raced. “So there was a stone for each of them?”
    â€œExactly. And each stone was different. Naphtali’s was an agate—the stone of protection, the one that prevents a man from stumbling and falling—”
    David gave a bark of laughter. “In that case, it didn’t work,” he told the rabbi. “That’s how I got this stone. The person who had it before me told me it was magic and would keep us from falling off a snow-covered roof. It didn’t.”
    The rabbi didn’t appear the least bit flummoxed. He merely looked at David with those faded brown eyes and said in a quiet tone, “Later, I must hear more about this person who had the stone. But for now, I can tell you that he didn’t understand the nature of it. This stone—as well as each of the other eleven—has a larger purpose. This stone was never meant to protect one person. It is meant to protect the Children of Israel—and the entire world. The twelve stones represent God’s mercy on His children.”
    The rabbi drew a long breath. “There’s a reason you’re here in my office today, David. It’s no accident. Just as it’s no accident that you’re in possession of the names you’ve written in your journal and also of this sacred stone.” An urgency burned in the rabbi’s eyes. “May I see the book?”
    A sense of unreality washed over David as the rabbi picked up his journal and opened it to the first page.
    This all had to be some wild coincidence. After all, the stone had only come to him by accident. . . .
    Accident.
    The same accident, he realized, leaning back dazedly, that brought him to the names.
    The stone and the names.
    Could they really be connected?
    â€œI believe these names belong to those people you told me you saw in your near death experience.” Ben Moshe stroked his curling beard, his voice more somber than it had been before. David felt a chill tingle up his back.
    â€œBut who are they and why are their names always in my head?”
    â€œYou may scoff, David, but a nonreligious person can have a mystical experience. And you have. So—there’s a mystical answer to your question. You are not the first to write these names in a book. And these are not just random names—they are special. Very special.”
    David braced himself for whatever was coming next.
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    From the third floor walk-up apartment above the Java Juice coffee shop in another part of Brooklyn, a man in an Eminem t-shirt and a backward Yankees cap lowered the volume on his headphones. He’d heard enough.
    Picking up the safe phone, he hit redial while the video screens and monitors of the state-of-the-art communications center flickered all around him. This job was