Gabriel looked at Yaakov Rossman, who was still peering into the street below. He had short black hair and a pockmarked face. Yaakov had spent his career running agents in some of the most dangerous places in the world—the West Bank, the Gaza Strip, Lebanon, Syria, and now Iran. He lied to his agents as a matter of course and knew that on occasion they lied to him, too. Some lies were an acceptable part of the bargain, but not the lie he had been told by his prized Iranian source. It had been part of a plot to assassinate the future chief of Yaakov’s service, and for that the Iranian would have to be punished. Not immediately, though. First he would be given a chance to atone for his sins.

“I usually pop into town,” Yaakov explained, “whenever the two sides are negotiating. The Americans aren’t always so forthcoming in their readouts of what’s going on at the table. Reza fills in the pieces for us.”

“So he won’t be surprised to hear from you?”

“Not at all. In fact,” added Yaakov, “he’s probably wondering why I haven’t made contact already.”

“He probably thinks you’re sitting shiva for me in Jerusalem.”

“Let’s hope so.”

“Where’s the family?”

“They crossed the border a couple of hours ago.”

“Any problems?”

Yaakov shook his head.

“And Reza doesn’t know anything?”

Yaakov smiled. “Not yet.”

He resumed his surveillance of the street. Gabriel looked at Lavon and asked, “What room is he staying in?”

Lavon nodded toward the wall.

“How did you manage that?”

“We hacked into the system and got his room number.”

“Been inside?”

“Whenever we feel like it.”

The wizards in the Office’s Technology department had developed a magic cardkey capable of opening any electronic hotel room door in the world. The first swipe stole the code. The second opened the deadbolt.

“And we left a little something behind,” said Lavon.

He reached down and raised the volume on a laptop computer. A Bach concerto was playing on the bedside radio in the next room.

“What’s the coverage?” asked Gabriel.

“Room only. We didn’t bother with the phone. He never uses it for outside calls.”

“Anything unusual?”

“He talks in his sleep, and he’s a secret drinker. Other than that, nothing.”

Lavon lowered the volume on the laptop; Gabriel looked at the television screen. This time, a reporter was standing on a balcony overlooking the Old City of Jerusalem.

“I hear he was about to be a father,” said Mikhail.

“Really?” asked Gabriel.

“Twins.”

“You don’t say.”

Mikhail, affecting boredom, switched back to the football game. Gabriel returned to his room and waited for the phone to ring.