“I don’t have the luxury of asking. Please understand that I have no interest in harming you, Janna. But I won’t hesitate if you make it necessary. And before you declare this illogical, that a passenger would disable an airplane’s only pilot, I should explain. I’m not an experienced aviator, but I have had some training. If I needed to land this airplane I could. I wouldn’t attempt it in the water because I’ve never done that. I’d just hold a speed of eighty knots, fly south until the weather clears, and then find a nice open field or a dirt road. A place with no power lines or trees. It wouldn’t be pretty, and I’d probably wreck your airplane. But I would walk away. I’m very confident of that.”

Magnussen alternated, watching him one moment, and her instruments and path the next.

He continued, “I won’t let you change the transponder code to indicate a hijacking, and I will be listening to every radio call you make. All I ask is that you fly over two more points here in Stockholm, and then take me south.”

“Where?” she asked.

“I’ll let you know when the time comes. When we arrive, I’ll get off your airplane and you’ll never see me again. You can go wherever you like, and I will still pay you the balance of our agreed upon fee. Once I’m gone you can alert the authorities or not—that’s up to you. But if you delay that contact for a few hours, say the time it will take you to return to Oxelösund from our destination, then two weeks from now I’ll send you a check in the amount of twenty thousand U.S. dollars.”

She looked at him suspiciously, but not without interest. Mossad agents were trained to operate in a sequence—manipulate, persuade, coerce, and as a last resort, threaten and deliver bodily harm. As an assassin, Slaton had long resided on the backside of this continuum, but he was not incapable of lesser means.

“This is where you calculate probabilities, Janna.”

They locked eyes and he could see her doing exactly that. The gun was now pointed at the floorboard, having served its purpose.

“Do as I ask for a few hours,” he said. “The rest is up to you.”

The more Magnussen thought about it, the less worried she appeared. Skeptical certainly, but not immediately fearful for her life. She said, “I saw something on television yesterday. There have been shootings in Stockholm. A manhunt is under way. You are the one they’re looking for.”

“Yes. And so you know I’m serious. But I also think you believe me—you know I won’t harm you. I only need to leave Sweden, Janna. Doesn’t that make sense?”