“One minute until Dr. Hamedi’s arrival,” the commander announced. “Are we to continue operations?”

As Behrouz considered it, his phone rang, and he saw it was his liaison officer with the Swiss police. He ignored the call but expected a redial soon. It occurred to him that if they didn’t all get on the boat now, they’d spend the rest of the night answering to the Swiss police. This made his decision.

He replied buoyantly, “Yes, I don’t see why not. Dr. Hamedi has dodged another bullet. Let’s bring him aboard.”

The commander stepped away to issue the order.

Behrouz found himself drawn back to the photograph he’d just received. A grisly image, to be sure, but he’d seen worse. At least the man had found a mercifully quick end. The lighting was poor and the resolution wobbly, yet certain details were clear. The killer’s fingers were still wrapped around his weapon. There was blood everywhere—pooled on the concrete and blossoming on the killer’s shirt, streaked over his dark skin and matted in his curly black hair.

So this, he thought, is Israel’s lone assassin.

Chapter 50

FIFTY

Sanderson had heard the gunfire quite clearly. In the excitement of the moment he’d jumped to his feet, but immediately felt dizzy. He kept standing, though, leaning on a white metal rail to watch the proceedings. He was a quarter mile from the dock where Entrepreneur lay, her elegant superstructure bathed in yellow light and framed by the lively city. That was where his eyes had gone first, until it became apparent that the disturbance was farther off at the base of the distant bridge, half a mile from where he now stood. Back in the day, as a young constable with his life ahead of him, Sanderson might have covered such a gap with an easy three-minute run. But now, as a broken-down veteran and soon-to-be pensioner? A man with no more to look forward to than needles and scalpels? It might as well have been the moon.

The rally of lights grew at the Pont du Mont Blanc, alternating pulses in the hues of authority—blue and amber and red. There were soon a dozen cars and two ambulances, and regular vehicle traffic across the bridge was halted in both directions. Then he saw a motorcade rocket up Quai du Mont Blanc and pull to a stop at the foot of the dock. It could only be Hamedi’s entourage, and their arrival spoke volumes to Sanderson. If Hamedi had not been diverted, it meant any threat against him had been decisively neutralized.

So there was his answer.