Christine closed her eyes and took a deep breath to brace herself. This was the question David had predicted. And the one he had asked her not to answer. It wasn’t the first time he’d put her in an awkward position. Would it be the last? Would the lies ever end? Once again David’s past was drawing her in like the relentless pull from a black hole.

She shook her head.

The policeman’s teeth clenched behind tight lips. “But you do know where he’s gone,” Sjoberg said accusingly.

A nod this time.

“You should be aware of your position, Dr. Palmer. You are admitting to me that you know the whereabouts of a suspected killer. To not give this information leaves you subject to prosecution. A woman in you condition, expecting a—”

“Don’t you bring our child into this!” Christine snapped with a vitriol that surprised even her. “I may have done wrong, and possibly my husband, but the child I am carrying is no part of this!”

Sjoberg turned and took a few steps away, chin on his chest, hands clasped behind his back. He finally turned and issued what had to be his most severe gaze. “You are making things worse for everyone, your husband included. I’ve talked to your doctor and he tells me there’s no medical reason for you to remain here at Saint Göran. That being the case, I’ll insist you come with me to headquarters for a proper interview.” After a long pause, his tone lost some of its authority. “But before we leave, perhaps we should go see your friend—if you still want to.”

Christine nodded to say she did.

Sjoberg guided the wheelchair through two halls and an elevator, ending at the window of a critical care room. A uniformed policeman was standing guard at the door, and behind wire-fenced glass Christine saw Anton Bloch. He had a breathing tube and multiple IVs, and his chest rose and fell rhythmically to the post-operative tune she knew all too well. It was a sad sight, but a victory of miracles compared to her last vision of him—bleeding and lifeless on a concrete floor. He also seemed pale and drawn, to the effect that he seemed to have aged years in the last week. In a curious thought, it occurred to Christine that she had met a number of Mossad field operatives, and none were near Bloch’s age. Was it because few survived that long? Those left standing, by default, became management? A good question for David when I see him again, she thought. If I see him again.

Having allowed her a few moments with her thoughts, Sjoberg finally said, “You know who this man is, don’t you? Or perhaps I should say, what he once was?”

She nodded, once again preferring motions to words.