He watched her consider it all, likely adding in the circumstance of having dropped him off on a remote island yesterday.

“All right,” she said. “Tell me where you want to go.”

“For the moment, let’s turn west.”

*   *   *

Sanderson listened intently as the units reported in. He was still in the operations center, his phone in hand and a thumb poised over the Answer button.

He was sure the primary revelation was now rising up the chain of command—that the man lying in a coma at Saint Göran was a former director of Mossad. As explosive as this was, Sanderson viewed it as a distraction for the moment, a piece of a larger, more theoretical puzzle that was secondary to finding Deadmarsh. Get the American in custody, he decided, and the intriguing details could be sorted at will.

The duty officer in charge of the operations center, Assistant Commander Eilsen, was giving a status report on a secure phone. “We’ve got eight cars establishing blockades around the Frihamnen terminal. All the access roads are covered, and six teams on foot have begun flushing the passenger boarding area. We’ve also recalled a ferry that just left for Riga. No one’s spotted Deadmarsh yet, but he’s got to be there somewhere.”

Sanderson’s phone rang, again an unknown number. He answered by saying, “Give it up!”

“I could say the same to you, Inspector.”

Sanderson heard the same background noise he’d registered earlier, and thought, He’s moving. The boat to Riga?

Eilsen tapped his computer display and whispered, “He’s using a different number!”

“Let’s end the hide and seek, shall we?” Sanderson said. “You claim that you didn’t shoot that policeman with malicious intent. I’m inclined to believe you. And you imply the others were shot in self-defense. If this can all be proven, you’ll be shown leniency. Come in quietly, kidon.”

The line went quiet, nothing but the low mechanical buzz.

Their second triangulation went more quickly, everyone having been forewarned. Sanderson saw a red circle blossom to the map display. It was ten miles from the first plot. His eyes narrowed.

“What the hell?” Eilsen mumbled. He immediately began redirecting units toward the new fix.

Deadmarsh was talking again, something about his wife’s innocence. Sanderson covered the mouthpiece and said, “I can hear an engine in the background. He’s traveling. A truck or a motorcycle. It’s the only way he could have moved like that. Tell everyone to watch for a vehicle running north!”

The call suddenly ended.

Sanderson cursed.