From Radek’s fading mansion, he made his way through the Jewish Quarter to the Stadttempel. Two years earlier, in the narrow street outside the synagogue’s entrance, he and Mikhail Abramov had killed a team of Hezbollah terrorists who were planning to carry out a Sabbath-night massacre. The rest of the world had been led to believe that two members of EKO Cobra, Austria’s elite tactical police unit, had killed the terrorists. There was even a plaque outside the synagogue commemorating their bravery. Reading it, Gabriel smiled in spite of himself. It was as it should be, he thought. In both intelligence work and restoration, his goal was the same. He wished to come and go without being seen, to leave no trace of himself. For better or worse, it had not always worked out that way. And now he was dead.

After leaving the synagogue, Gabriel walked to a nearby building that had once housed a small investigative organization called Wartime Claims and Inquiries. The man who had run it, one Eli Lavon, had fled Vienna several years earlier, after a bomb destroyed the office and killed his two young female assistants. As Gabriel set off again, he noticed that Lavon was following him. He paused in the street and with a nearly imperceptible movement of his head instructed Lavon to join him. The watcher appeared sheepish. He didn’t like being spotted by his target, even if the target had known him since he was a boy.

“What are you doing?” Gabriel asked Lavon in German.

“I heard a silly rumor,” replied Lavon in the same language, “that the future chief of the Office was walking around Vienna without a bodyguard.”

“Where did you hear something like that?”

“Keller told me. I’ve been following you since you left the safe flat.”

“Yes, I know.”

“No, you don’t.” Lavon smiled. “You really should be more careful, you know. You have a lot to live for.”

They walked along the quiet street, the snow muffling the sound of their footfalls, until they came to a small square. Gabriel’s heart tolled like an iron bell in his chest, and his legs seemed suddenly like deadweight. He tried to walk on, but the memories pulled him to a stop. He recalled struggling with the straps of his son’s car seat, and the faint taste of wine on his wife’s lips. And he could hear an engine hesitate because a bomb was pulling power from the battery. Too late, he had tried to warn her not to turn the key a second time. Then, in a flash of brilliant white, his world had been destroyed. Now, finally, his restoration was nearly complete. He thought of Chiara, and for an instant he hoped that Alexei Rozanov would not rise to the bait. Lavon seemed to know what Gabriel was thinking. He usually did.

“My offer still stands,” he said quietly.

“What offer is that?”