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My brother, Joshua, arrived today. I met him at Natbag (Ben Gurion Airport) where he greeted me in his street clothes. Funny, but I have not seen him in anything but his robes since he joined the Cistercians. Reminded me of our childhood on North Island when we would hunt and fish and have nothing more serious on our minds than girls and, well, hunting and fishing. That all ended when Asgeir Jorgensen, just a little boy, was killed, found dead on a beach the afternoon of the last day of school. That day something in me snapped, but my life path was set. I was going to find his killer. I have found many killers since that day, but not his. Joshua’s being in street clothes means that his superiors accepted his request to help me in finding the killer of the girl on North Island. This means, also, that he may end up infiltrating The Order. That means that he will have to do things that fly directly in the face of his sacred vows. Neither he, nor his superiors, take this lightly and permission was granted only after months of prayer and deliberation by all involved parties. The grave, yes, deadly, nature and mission of The Order presents a threat not only to me but to literally the entire world. They would see us all perish if they could. This is possibly a mortal sacrifice for Josh. Certainly leaving his own order, even temporarily, is a sacrifice of a magnitude I cannot imagine. Thank you, Father Joshua, my brother. May God have mercy upon both our souls.

Last night I almost had him. This man killed a girl on North Island, had a hand in killing two Orthodox priests in Russia and is, I am sure, at least partly responsible for several more deaths here in Jerusalem. The pattern fits perfectly. My software skills are a little rusty, but my math skills are not, so I knocked a little rust from my programming skills and refined the mathematical algorithm I use to look for patterns in psycho-sociopathic behavior and saw patterns that were never before revealed. The girl on North Island died by this man’s hand alone. The priests in Russia are another story. They were both very tough, big men, 120 kilos each, at least. Both trained in Russian military styles of hand-to-hand combat, Systema and Sambo; two men you would not want to screw around with. Yet, these two men were flayed to the bone and hung from the ceiling of their church. The guy I am after did not do that alone. Right now I am sitting at Tib’s Restaurant eating sushi, of all things, waiting for my brother, Father Joshua Smith, Order of Cistercians of the Strict Observance, to arrive from the states. There are only a few men I would have by my side at a time like this, and Joshua is one of them.

I am drinking espresso at Etz Cafe in the center of Jerusalem missing my wife, my dogs and the rest of my family. I’ve called Gemma several times but she is not answering. I called because I was attacked last night while walking down a street near Daniel Garden. Two men jumped me. That was their mistake and I apologize to their families that they will not be returning home. They were both wearing the medal of The Order. I left their bodies on the spot they jumped me, finished my walk then went back to my hotel to shower and get some sleep. When I woke up I turned on the news but heard nothing about two bodies being found in Daniel Garden and when I went back to that spot, they were gone without a trace. This is not a good sign. The Order knows I am here and are trying to stop me. I knew that I was on to something but I did not know it was so big that The Order would put a hit on me. Let them have at it. I am going to drink this espresso and another while I enjoy this beautiful day. If Gemma does not answer me one more time, I am calling my father to go check on her and Patty.