With dark clouds eclipsing everything to the north, the remains of the day were no more than a spray of purple on the western horizon. In the waning light Slaton looked left and right along the coast. Seeing nothing but rugged shoreline in either direction, he turned south and picked up a brisk pace. The kidon hit the tree line and was soon lost to sight.

*   *   *

When Evita Levine stepped through the portico of the Isrotel Tower Hotel in Tel Aviv she immediately got the looks she was accustomed to. She pretended not to notice the bellman’s stare, and quietly appreciated but did not return an obvious glance from a businessman in an expensive suit. She too was well dressed, reflecting her recently established Ronen Chen expense account, and prominent on her wrist was the newest bauble, a bracelet of white gold and diamonds. She did not bother stopping at the front desk, instead going straight to the elevator and rising to the tenth floor. There she knocked on the usual door.

It opened almost immediately.

He stood there unsteadily, a half-spent bottle of red wine in his hand and a loosened tie round his neck. He looked at his watch, the motion nearly tipping the contents of the uncorked bottle onto his stiffly pressed white shirt, and causing Evita to wonder if perhaps she should have come earlier after all.

He said, “There you are, darling, I was beginning to wonder.”

“I’m sorry,” she replied. “I couldn’t get my husband out of the house.”

She stepped inside, kicking the door shut with the heel of her spiked Manolo. Both waited for the lock to catch before embracing. He was a small man, and in her five-inch heels—the ones he so liked—Evita was forced to bend down to meet his lips.

With his hand clutching her bottom, she nipped once at his ear and whispered, “I’m still not used to these little deceptions. I am not a professional like you.”

He backed away. “Not to worry, my angel. As always, I have taken every precaution. If it puts you at ease I can call and find out where he is right now.”

This gave Evita a fleeting chill. He was only trying to impress her, of course, yet she could never forget that he was a powerful man.

“No, that’s not necessary.”

He sauntered to the bar, brimming with confidence. “So—tell me about your week.”