He scurried back to the gazebo but knew that it was only a very temporary place of refuge. Now an entire team would know his precise location. The more time he spent there, the better coordinated and more effective the sniper fire would be once he tried to leave. They could wait him out. Not that they needed to. They would be able to radio backup—summon a stroller, as pedestrian adjuvants were known in the trade. A stroller in a tweed jacket with an ordinary silenced pistol would be able to pick him off, conceal the weapon, and resume his walk, with nobody alerted. No, the seeming safety of his position was spurious. Every moment increased the risks he would face. Every moment made escape less likely.

Think! He had to act. Something like annoyance was welling up in him: he was tired of being used for target practice, dammit! To maximize his safety at this second would be to minimize his safety five minutes from now. Immobility was death. He would not die cowering behind a gazebo, waiting to be picked off from the air or the ground.

The hunted would become the hunter; the quarry would turn predator, or die in the attempt: this was the only option he had left.

Facts: these were marksmen of extraordinary expertise. But they had been deployed in such a way as to put those skills to the test. All the shots were long-range ones, and however extraordinary the shooter, there were dozens of uncontrollable variables—small breezes, an interceding twig—that could put the bullet off its intended trajectory. At great distances, even tiny factors became enormously significant. Nor was the shooting heedless: there clearly was a concern to avoid bystanders. Berman was doubtless seen as an accomplice of his, his possible death of no account, perhaps even beneficial to the mission.

Question: Why was the team stationed at such a remove? What made the pursuit so unnerving was the fact that he could not see his pursuers. They stayed well out of the way. But why?

Because they—or their controllers—were riskaverse. Because they were afraid of him.

Dear Christ. It was true. It had to be. They must have been commanded to avoid close contact at all costs. Subject deemed unpredictable and dangerous at close quarters. He would be destroyed at long distance.

A counterintuitive conclusion was unavoidable: the reflexive tactic of evasion, increasing the distance between himself and his assailants, was precisely the wrong response.

He had to embrace his enemy, move toward his attackers. Was there a way to do so and live?