“Because he told me it wasn’t his real name.”

“And you believed him?”

“I suppose I had no reason not to.”

“When did you meet this man?”

“It was December.”

“Where?”

“In Washington.”

“What time of day was it?”

“In the evening.”

“He came to your house. Your place of work.”

“It was after work. I was on the way home.”

“Tell me how it happened, Sarah. Tell me everything.”

And she did, morsel by morsel, drop by drop.

“WHERE WAS this house they brought you?”

“In Georgetown.”

“Which street in Georgetown?”

“It was dark. I don’t remember.”

“Which street in Georgetown, Sarah?”

“It was N Street, I think.”

“You think, or you know?”

“It was N Street.”

“The address?”

“There was no address on it.”

“Which block?”

“I can’t remember.”

“Was it east of Wisconsin Avenue or west, Sarah?”

“You know Georgetown?”

“East or West?”

“West. Definitely West.”

“Which block, Sarah?”

“Between Thirty-third and Thirty-fourth, I think.”

“You think?”

“Between Thirty-third and Thirty-fourth.”

“Which side of the street?”

“What do you mean?”

“Which side of the street, Sarah? North or south?”

“South. Definitely south.”

IT WAS 2:45 A.M. when Navot spotted the Audi coming up the road at a rate of speed incompatible with the inclement conditions. As it sped past in a blur of blowing snow and road spray, he caught a fleeting glimpse of the four tense-looking men inside. He picked up his phone and dialed. “You just drove by me,” he said calmly, then he looked up into the mirror and watched as the Audi nearly crashed turning around. Easy, Gabriel, he thought. Easy.

“WHO WAS the first to interview you? The CIA man or the Jew?”

“The American.”

“What sorts of things did they ask you?”

“We talked in general terms about the war on terrorism.”

“For example?”

“He asked me what I thought should be done with terrorists. Should they be brought to America for trial or killed in the field by men in black?”

“Men in black?”

“That’s what he called them.”

“Meaning special forces? CIA assassins? Navy SEALs?”

“I suppose.”

“And what did you tell him?”

“You really want to know?”

“I wouldn’t have asked otherwise.”

And so she told him, one small spoonful at a time.

THEY STOOD in a circle along the riverbank while Navot quickly told Gabriel everything he knew.

“Are there more guards on the grounds or just the two at the front gate?”

“I don’t know.”

“How many inside the house?”

“I don’t know.”

“Did you see where they took her?”

“No.”

“Has there been any other traffic on the road?”

“It’s a very quiet road.”

“It’s not enough information, Uzi.”

“I did the best I could.”

“I know.”

“As I see it you have only two options, Gabriel. Option number one: carry out another reconnaissance operation. It will take time. It’s not without risk. If they see us coming, the first thing they’ll do is kill Sarah.”

“Option two?”

“Go straight in. I vote for option two. Only God knows what Sarah’s going through in there.”

Gabriel looked down at the snow and deliberated a moment. “We go in now,” he said. “You, Mikhail, Yaakov, and me.”

“Hostage rescue isn’t my thing, Gabriel. I’m an agent-runner.”

“It’s definitely not Eli’s thing, and I want at least four men. Moshe and Eli will stay with the cars. When I send the signal, they’ll come up the road and get us.”

“WHEN DID the Jew come?”

“I can’t remember the precise time.”

“Approximate?”

“I can’t remember. It was about a half hour after I arrived, so that would make it around seven, I suppose.”

“And he called himself Ben?”

“Not right away.”

“He used another name at first?”

“No. He had no name at first.”

“Describe him for me, please.”

“He’s on the small side.”

“Was he thin or fat?”

“Thin.”

“Very thin.”

“He was fit.”

“Hair?”

“Yes.”

“Color?”

“Dark.”

“Long or short.”

“Short.”

“Was any part of his hair gray?”

“No.”

Muhammad calmly laid his pen on his notebook. “You’re lying to me, Sarah. If you lie to me again, our conversation will end and we will go about this by other means. Do you understand me?”

She nodded. “Answer me, Sarah.”

“Yes, I understand you.”

“Good.”

“Now give me a precise description of this Jew who called himself Ben.”

35.

LET’S RETURN TO THE appearance of his hair. You say it was short,

Sarah? Like mine?”

“A little longer.”

“And dark?”

“Yes.”

“But it’s gray in places, isn’t it? At the temples, to be precise.”

“Yes, his temples are gray.”

“And now the eyes. They’re green, aren’t they. Abnormally so.”

“His eyes are very green.”

“He has a special talent, this man?”

“Many.”

“He has the ability to restore paintings?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re absolutely certain you never heard a name?”

“I told you. He called himself Ben.”

“Yes, I know, but did he ever refer to himself by any other name?”

“No, never.”

“You’re sure, Sarah?”

“Positive. He called himself Ben.”

“It’s not his real name, Sarah. His name is Gabriel Allon. And he is a murderer of Palestinians. Now please tell me what happened after he arrived at the house in Georgetown.”

THERE WAS a sign at the entrance of the track leading to the chalet. It read PRIVATE. The security gate was three hundred yards into the trees. Gabriel and Navot moved on one side of the track, Mikhail and Yaakov on the other. The snow had been deep along the edge of road coming up the gorge, but in the trees there was much less. Seen through the night-vision goggles, it glowed ghostly luminous green while the trunks of the pine and fir were dark and distinct. Gabriel crept forward, careful to avoid fallen limbs that might have cracked beneath the weight of his step. It was deathly silent in the forest. He was aware of his own heart banging against his rib cage and the sound of Navot’s footfalls behind him. He held his Beretta in both hands. He wore no gloves.

Fifteen minutes after entering the trees, he glimpsed the house for the first time. There were lights burning in the ground-floor windows, and a single window was illuminated on the second story. The guards were sheltering in the warmth of one of the jeeps. The engine was running and the headlights were doused. The gate was open.

“Do you have a clean shot, Mikhail?”

“Yes.”

“Which one is best from your angle?”

“The driver.”

“It’s nearly fifty yards, Mikhail. Can you get him cleanly?”

“I can get him.”

“A head shot, Mikhail. We need to do it quietly.”

“I have the shot.”

“Line it up and wait for my signal. We shoot together. And God help us if we miss.”

“SO ALLON asked you to help him?”

“Yes.”

“And you agreed?”

“Yes.”

“Instantly?”

“Yes.”

“No hesitation.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re evil. And I hate you.”

“Watch your mouth.”

“You wanted the truth.”

“What happened next?”

“I quit my job at the Phillips Collection and moved to London.”

GABRIEL TOOK careful aim at the man in the passenger seat.

“Are you ready, Mikhail?”

“Ready.”

“Two shots, on my mark, in five, four, three, two…”