There are some men who go catatonic with fear and others who respond with useless displays of false bravery. Reza Nazari chose the second, perhaps in reaction to his training, perhaps because he feared he had nothing to lose. He gave a wild flailing kick that Gabriel evaded easily, then latched onto Mikhail’s leg in an attempt to topple him. A brutal blow beneath the shoulder blades was enough to staunch the attack. Then Mikhail stepped aside to allow Yaakov to finish the job. For two years Yaakov had cared for his agent, flattered him, paid him an exorbitant sum of money. Now, for two awful minutes, he administered a beating befitting Nazari’s transgressions. He avoided striking the Iranian’s face, however. It was critical Nazari remained presentable.

Keller had not participated in the beating of Reza Nazari. Instead, he had quietly placed a chair, wooden and armless, before the fire. Nazari tumbled into it limply and offered no further resistance as Yaakov and Mikhail bound his torso to the back with duct tape. Next they secured his legs while Gabriel calmly reloaded the Glock. He showed each round to Nazari before thumbing it into the magazine. There were no more blanks. The weapon was loaded with live ammunition.

“You have a simple choice,” said Gabriel after snapping the magazine into the grip and chambering the first round. “You can live, or you can become a martyr.” He placed the tip of the barrel between Nazari’s eyes. “Which will it be, Reza?”

The Iranian stared at the gun in silence. Finally, he said, “I would like to live.”

“Wise choice.” Gabriel lowered the gun. “But I’m afraid you don’t get to live for free, Reza. You have to pay a toll.”

“How much?”

“First, you’re going to tell me how you and your Russian friends conspired to kill me.”

“And then?”

“You’re going to help me find them.”

“I wouldn’t advise that, Allon.”

“Why not?”

“Because the man who ordered your death is far too important to be killed.”

“Who was it?”

“You tell me.”

“The chief of the SVR?”

“Don’t be silly,” Nazari said incredulously. “No SVR chief would go after you without approval. The order came from the top.”

“The Russian president?”

“Of course.”

“How do you know?”

“Trust me, Allon, I know.”

“This might come as a surprise to you, Reza, but you’re the last person in the world that I trust right now.”

“I can assure you,” Nazari said, staring at the gun, “the feeling is mutual.”