He requested to be cut free and to be treated with a modicum of dignity. Gabriel refused both, though he did grant Nazari’s wish for water, if only to clear the annoying debris from his injured throat. Yaakov held the glass to his agent’s lips while he drank and afterward dabbed a few stray droplets from the front of his suit jacket. The gesture did not go unnoticed by the Iranian.

“May I have a cigarette?” he asked.

“No,” replied Gabriel.

Nazari smiled. “So it’s true after all. The great Gabriel Allon doesn’t like tobacco smoke.” Still smiling, he looked at Yaakov. “But not my friend here. I remember our first meeting in that hotel room in Istanbul. I thought we were going to set off the smoke alarm.”

It seemed as good a place as any to start, so Gabriel began his interrogation there—the autumn day, two years earlier, when Reza Nazari came to Istanbul for a round of meetings with Turkish intelligence. During a break in the proceedings, he walked to a small hotel on the Bosporus and in a room upstairs had his first meeting with a man he would know only as “Mr. Taylor.” He told Mr. Taylor that he wanted to betray his country, and as proof of his bona fides handed over a flash drive filled with high-grade intelligence, including documents related to Iran’s nuclear program.

“Were the documents genuine?”

“Of course.”

“Did you steal them?”

“I didn’t have to.”

“Who gave them to you?”

“My superiors at the Ministry of Intelligence.”

“You were bad from the beginning?”

Nazari nodded.

“Who was your control officer?”

“I’d rather not say.”

“And I’d rather not splatter your brains over the wall, but I will if I have to.”

“It was Esfahani.”

Mohsen Esfahani was deputy chief of VEVAK.

“What was the goal of the operation?” asked Gabriel.

“To influence the Office’s thinking regarding Iranian capabilities and intentions.”

“Taqiyya.”

“Call it what you will, Allon. We Persians have been at this a long time. Even longer than the Jews.”

“If I were you, Reza, I’d keep the boasting to a minimum. Otherwise, I’m going to let Mr. Taylor have his way with you.”

The Iranian fell silent. Gabriel asked about the million dollars that the Office had placed in a private bank in Luxembourg for Nazari’s use.

“We assumed you were watching the money,” the Iranian replied, “so Esfahani instructed me to spend some of it. I bought gifts for my children and a strand of pearls for my wife.”

“Nothing for Esfahani?”

“A gold watch, but he made me return it. Mohsen is a true believer. He’s like you, Allon. He’s totally incorruptible.”

“Wherever did you hear something like that?”