“Come on,” he said, looking back at her. “We’ve got to get out of here. No telling if reinforcements are on the way.”

They headed back up the stairs. At the top, they passed two dead men on the floor as they rushed back to the suite. Zoe lost no time throwing her newly acquired clothes into a suitcase. She heard Stratton in the next room talking on the telephone in subdued tones. She couldn’t understand most of the conversation, but made out Rich’s name and the name of the hotel. Stratton hung up the telephone and minutes later they descended to the basement via the service elevator at the end of the hall.

Heaviness filtered into Zoe’s heart. She thought of Rich Cartiere and remembered Molotov and how she had prayed for his death. She remembered the two men she had killed at the warehouse, another answer to her prayers. When, she wondered, would God give her a chance to pray for something that didn’t cause death and suffering?

Seth Ridgeway pressed himself deeply in the shadows of a darkened doorway and watched the Volvo pull slowly into Groβmünsterplatz. His tongue dragged roughly across the bone-dry roof of his mouth. Police cars had already swept past the area twice. Both were marked cars with their sirens wailing.

This Volvo, though, was different. Two people inside, cruising slowly. They were looking for someone. Him? He felt his heart beating loudly. The Volvo’s brake lights flashed. The car slowed to a stop across the square, too far away to make out the people inside: they were gray silhouettes behind dark windows.

A moment later Seth watched as the driver’s door of the Volvo opened. The man who got out moved like a cop: he bristled with caution, his head moving like a hungry hawk’s. Seth could see a weapon in his right hand. The man walked slowly ten or twenty yards behind the car, and then an equal distance in front of it. The man—a cop? Had they found him?—walked over to the passenger’s side and leaned down to say something to the person seated there. He then opened the door and stood back to allow the passenger to get out.

Seth felt his heart stop when Zoe got out of the car. The door closed with a solid thunk and she and the man who looked like a cop walked back toward the front of the car and looked around.

Still, Seth did nothing as his heart raced anew. Was it really Zoe? The dim streetlights painted her face with shadows, yet… yet he saw how she moved, how she stood, how she moved her head when she talked and waved her hands in the air. Suddenly, he felt as if someone had rolled a great rock from his heart. He stepped from the shadows and took the steps one by one, as if he didn’t entirely trust his legs anymore. He saw their faces fix on him as he crossed the square. The man who looked like a cop brought his weapon to bear.