“Zaravic? Are you still there?”

“I’m here.”

“If you look at the first paper, which has a red ‘1’ in the right corner. If you read the fifth line, you’ll see a name. Paula. A code name that belonged to a successful infiltrator. On the next row you’ll see the initials EW. Stands for Erik Wilson, who was a handler in the homicide unit at the time, and is now its chief. You’re reading from a report written during the police’s secret and illegal criminal infiltrator project.”

“And?”

“Go a little farther down. Rows eighteen to twenty-three, I underlined them. There you’ll see another name. Yours. Because right there, this infiltrator, Paula, is the one who gathered the evidence that sentenced one Dusko Zaravic to prison for assault and kidnapping, and made him miss his son’s funeral. And isn’t it true, Dusko, that you’ve been searching for a long time for the person who ratted you out? Now you’ll know. If you look at the next paper. There’s a copy of what was kept sealed in an envelope, Paula’s real name. Do you see?”

“No.”

“Ah, you don’t see. Because I’ve crossed it out.”

“What the fuck . . .”

“But I promise: you’ll get it—along with the address where his family is hiding—when you’re released in a few hours. Yes, unless that cowardly little shit stops what he’s doing and heads home to complete the mission I gave him. He really should do that. Because he has children, too. Just like you used to.”

That was the end of the recording. And Piet Hoffmann understood exactly what it meant. If Dusko Zaravic got that last document.

But he didn’t understand the rest. Like how a phone and classified documents had been placed in a closed jail cell. Or how the distorted voice could know he was in Albania tracking down a dead weapons dealer. And, what he understood least of all—was how this number, which he gave to only four people he trusted, had ended up in the wrong hands.

5:59 PM

(4 hours and 3 minutes remaining)

A few more liters.

The safe was completely full now.

He poked in the detcord, then detonated it.

It made a dampened bang inside that left the contents mostly whole. But when the safe door came loose, it hit the wall hard and the metallic sound was sharp and loud. That could have penetrated through the window of the tower room. He stood still. Listening. Had the guards heard anything? Did they turn their attention to the house instead of the gate? Were they on their way—here?

No voices. No sound.

After waiting ten minutes, he decided to examine the interior of the safe.