Khaled gained the top and disappeared from sight. Gabriel took the steps two at a time and arrived no more than ten seconds after Khaled had. Confronting him was a V-shaped intersection of two streets. One of them, the one to Gabriel’s right, ran up the hill directly toward the front of the church. It was empty of cars or pedestrians. Gabriel hurried to his left and looked up the second street. There was no sign of Khaled here either, only a pair of red taillights, receding rapidly into the distance.

“EXCUSE ME, MONSIEUR, are you lost?”

Gabriel turned and raised the visor of his helmet. She was standing at the head of the stairs, young, no more than thirty, with large brown eyes and short dark hair. She had spoken to him in French. Gabriel responded in the same language.

“No, I’m not lost.”

“Perhaps you’re looking for someone?”

And why are you, an attractive woman, speaking to a strange man wearing a motorcycle helmet? He took a step toward her. She held her ground, but Gabriel detected a trace of apprehension in her dark gaze.

“No, I’m not looking for anyone.”

“Are you sure? I could have sworn you were looking for someone.” She tilted her head slightly to one side. “Perhaps you’re looking for your wife.”

Gabriel felt as though the back of his neck was ablaze. He looked at the woman’s face more carefully and realized he’d seen it before. She was the woman who’d come to the apartment with Khaled. His right hand tightened its grip on the Barak pistol.

“Her name is Leah, isn’t it? She lives in a psychiatric hospital in the south of England—at least she used to. The Stratford Clinic, wasn’t that the name of it? She was registered under the name of Lee Martinson.”

Gabriel lunged forward and seized the woman by the throat.

“What have you done to her? Where is she?”

“We have her,” the woman gasped, “but I don’t know where she is.”

Gabriel pushed her backward, toward the top of the steps.

“Where is she?” He repeated the question in Arabic. “Answer me! Don’t speak to me in French. Speak to me in your real language. Speak to me in Arabic.”

“I’m telling you the truth.”

“So you can speak Arabic. Where is she? Answer me, or you’re going down.”

He pushed her a fraction of an inch closer to the edge. Her hand reached back for the handrail but found only air. Gabriel shook her once violently.

“If you kill me, you’ll destroy yourself—and your wife. I’m your only hope.”

“And if I do as you say?”

“You’ll save her life.”

“What about mine?”

She left the question unanswered.