At the next intersection was a kiosk of postboxes and a small unoccupied bus shelter. An approaching car rounded the corner too fast and strayed into Gabriel’s side of the road. He slowed and waited for it to pass, then opened the throttle again.

It was then he heard the voice of Rimona in his ear.

“We have a problem,” she said calmly.

Gabriel, as he made the turn, glanced over his shoulder and saw what it was. They were being followed by a battered blue Range Rover with Gendarmerie markings.

IN THE parking lot of Le Tetou, Yaakov was reaching for the door latch when he heard Rimona in his earpiece. He looked at Lavon and asked, “What the fuck is going on?”

It was Gabriel who told him.

THERE WERE two gendarmes in the Rover, one behind the wheel and a second, more senior-looking man in the passenger seat with a radio handset pressed to his lips. Gabriel resisted the temptation to turn around for a second look and kept his eyes straight ahead.

Just beyond the bus shelter, the road forked. Bin Shafiq’s villa lay to the right. Gabriel and Mikhail went left. A few seconds later they slowed and looked behind them.

The gendarmes had gone the other way.

Gabriel braked to a halt and debated what to do next. Were the gendarmes on a routine patrol, or were they responding to a call of some sort? Was it merely bad luck or something more? He was certain of only one thing. Ahmed bin Shafiq was within his grasp, and Gabriel wanted him dead.

He turned around, rode back to the fork, and looked toward the end of the point. The road was clear, and the gendarmes were nowhere in sight. He twisted the throttle and plunged forward through the darkness. When he arrived at the villa he found the security gate open and the Gendarmerie Range Rover parked in the drive. Ahmed bin Shafiq, the most dangerous terrorist in the world, was loading his suitcases into the back of his Subaru.

And the two French policemen were helping him!

Gabriel rode back to the spot where Mikhail was waiting and broke the news to the entire team simultaneously.

“Our friend is about to leave the island. And Zizi’s arranged a police escort.”

“Are we blown?” Mikhail asked.

“We have to assume that’s the case. Take Sarah and get over to Saline.”

“I’m afraid that’s no longer possible,” Lavon replied.

“What’s not possible?”

“We can’t get Sarah,” he said. “We’re losing her.”

A FIST crashed against the door three times. A tense voice shouted at her to come out. Sarah turned the latch and opened the door. Jean-Michel was standing outside in the passage, along with four of Zizi’s bodyguards. They seized her arms and pulled her back to the beach.