“Zoe,” cried Seth, no longer able to contain his joy. He began to run.

“Seth?” Zoe said at first, not quite believing it was really he. Then she knew. They met in the middle of the cobbled darkness of Groβmünsterplatz.

“Oh God,” Zoe cried as she wrapped her arms around him. “Oh God, oh God, I didn’t think I’d ever… we’d ever… that—” Her voice shattered into sobs of elation. “This is a miracle. God’s miracle.”

Seth looked at her, and felt his heart breaking for all she must have been through. He pulled her close and held her tight against him.

“Zoe, oh, Zoe…” Seth’s voice cracked. “I’m so glad to see you. I love you so much, so much.” His eyes filled with tears.

Unheard now were the sounds of the city: the mournings of sirens, the crashing surf of automotive traffic down on the Limmat Quai, the distant scratching roar of a jet overhead. They all disappeared along with the Groβmünster and its Platz and the Volvo and all the police and spies and killers and dead old men. They were alone.

Then the moment was gone. The glare of oncoming headlights galvanized Stratton into action. He rushed to the driver’s door of the Volvo and opened it.

“Get in,” he yelled. “Hurry.” He sat down behind the steering wheel and started the engine. The oncoming headlights grew brighter. Seth and Zoe ran toward the Volvo hand in hand. Stratton felt a pang of envy as he watched them slide into the backseat. He drove away as Seth shut the door.

The approaching car entered the Groβmünsterplatz just as the Volvo reached the square’s other end at the Oberdorfstrasse. Stratton braked briefly at the corner. He glanced in the rearview mirror, and as be turned right on the Kirche Gasse, noted that the car that had entered the square had emblazoned on its side the insignia of the Zurich police.

TWENTY-EIGHT

Seth Ridgeway awoke, suddenly and disoriented. The strange room frightened him until he reached out with his right hand and found Zoe sleeping next to him. She slept as trustingly as a child, curled up next to him with her head buried in the pillows. He could feel her soft breaths against his bare shoulder.

He relaxed and took in the strange surroundings: the knotty wood on the walls, the open ceiling with its exposed beams, the gray stone fireplace across the room, and the rustic furniture hand painted in the alpine country tradition. Bright morning light, still rosy with the dawn, glowed beyond the fir trees he could see through the window.

His mind raced frantically. Where were they? He remembered their escape from Zurich and Stratton’s insistence that they not go near the Eden au Lac, for it was sure to be crawling with police.

They had driven south of Zurich. He remembered passing Zug, then a turn off the main road before getting to Lucerne. The road had gotten mountainous after that, and he remembered a lot of signs directing people to ski slopes and lodges. There was a lake nearby; he remembered that much, a small lake.