He wondered about the wisdom of discussing it while she was driving. But he didn’t have the luxury of waiting. Time was the resource he was running out of quickest. He hoped his doubts and fears wouldn’t come through in a way that made his thinking sound as shaky to her as it had to Clinter. “This is all based on two things I believe about the Good Shepherd. First, he’ll gladly kill anyone who poses a threat to him, as long as he feels he can do it safely. Second, he has good reason to consider my interest in the case a threat.”

“So what do we do?”

“We take advantage of the bugging system in your apartment to allow him to overhear certain things—things that will motivate him to take action in a way that will expose him.”

“You think it’s the Good Shepherd who’s been eavesdropping on me? Not Robby?”

“It could be Robby. But my money would be on the Shepherd.”

She appeared troubled by this idea but then nodded gamely. “Okay. What are we going to say for him to overhear?”

“I want him to know that I’ll be in a very isolated place, in a very vulnerable position. I want him to believe that the situation offers him a unique chance to get rid of me and Max Clinter—that he needs to get rid of us, and there’ll never be a better time to do it.”

“So we’re going to sit in my apartment and you’re going to say stuff to me in the hope that he’s listening?”

“Or that he’ll be listening later. My guess is he’s recording the transmissions from those bugs on a voice-activated device that he probably checks once or twice a day. As for ‘saying stuff,’ the way we disclose the information will need to be subtler than my just telling it to you. There needs to be a cover story, an emotional dynamic, a reason we’re in the apartment, some tension. Ordinary, sloppy reality. He has to be made to feel that he’s hearing things he’s not supposed to be hearing.”

• • •

When they arrived at Gurney’s farmhouse a little after three, Kyle was in the den at the computer, surrounded by printouts, a BlackBerry, an iPhone, and an iPad. He greeted them without looking away from the screen, which was filled by some sort of spreadsheet. “Hey, folks. Welcome back. Be right with you. I’m closing this down.”

There was no sign of Madeleine, who presumably was still at the clinic. While Kim went upstairs to change out of her business clothes, Gurney checked the landline’s voice mail. No messages. He used the bathroom, then went out to the kitchen. Remembering that he hadn’t had any lunch, he opened the refrigerator.