The gleaming headquarters of the International Atomic Energy Agency was located on the opposite bank of the river Danube, in a district of Vienna known as the International City. The talks between the Americans and the Iranians continued there until eight p.m., when both sides, in a rare show of accord, agreed it was time to break for the night. The chief American negotiator appeared briefly before reporters to say that progress had been made. Her Iranian counterpart was less sanguine. He muttered something about American intransigence and climbed into the back of his official limousine.

It was half past eight by the time the Iranian motorcade arrived at the InterContinental Hotel. The delegation crossed the lobby under heavy security and boarded several elevators that had been held for their convenience, much to the annoyance of the hotel’s other guests. Only one member of the delegation, Reza Nazari, a veteran VEVAK officer who was posing as an Iranian diplomat, was staying on the seventh floor. He made his way along the empty corridor to Room 710, inserted his cardkey into the slot, and entered. The sound of the door closing was audible in the next room, where only one man, Yaakov Rossman, remained. Owing to the transmitter concealed beneath the Iranian’s bed, Yaakov heard other sounds as well. A coat tossed across a chair, shoes hitting the floor, a call to room service, a toilet flushing. Yaakov lowered the volume on the laptop computer, lifted the receiver of the room phone, and dialed. Two rings, then the voice of Reza Nazari. In English, Yaakov explained what he wanted.

“It’s not possible, my friend,” said Nazari. “Not tonight.”

“All things are possible, Reza. Especially tonight.”

The Iranian hesitated, then asked, “When?”

“Five minutes.”

“Where?”

Yaakov told the Iranian what to do, hung up the phone, and raised the volume on the laptop. A man canceling his room service order, a man pulling on his shoes and overcoat, a door closing, footsteps in the hall. Yaakov reached for the phone again and dialed Room 409. Two rings, then the voice of a dead man. The dead man sounded pleased by the news. All things were possible, thought Yaakov as he hung up the phone. Especially tonight.