“Did you attend Dartmouth University and later pursue graduate studies at the Courtauld Institute in London?”

“Yes.”

“Are you the Sarah Bancroft who wrote a well-received dissertation on German Expressionism while earning a Ph.D. from Harvard?”

“I am.”

“Were you also working for the Central Intelligence Agency at this time?”

“No.”

“When did you join the CIA?”

“I never joined the CIA.”

“You’re lying, Sarah.”

“I’m not lying.”

“When did you join the CIA?”

“I’m not CIA.”

“Who do you work for, then?”

She was silent.

“Answer the question, Sarah. Who are you working for?”

“You know who I’m working for.”

“I want to hear you say it.”

“I am working for the intelligence service of the State of Israel.”

He removed his eyeglasses and stared at her for a moment.

“Are you telling me the truth, Sarah?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll be able to tell if you’re lying again.”

“I know.”

“Would you care for some more tea?”

She nodded.

“Answer me, Sarah. Would you like some more tea?”

“Yes, I would like some more tea.”

Muhammad leaned back in his chair and slapped his palm on the door of the chamber. It opened immediately and outside Sarah saw two men standing watch. “More tea,” Muhammad said to them in English, then turned to a fresh page in his notebook and looked up at her with his eager, open face. Sarah lifted her hand to her imaginary clock and added ten more minutes.

THOUGH SARAH did not know it, the setting of her interrogation was the largely Roman Catholic canton of Uri, in the region of the country the Swiss fondly refer to as Inner Switzerland. The chalet was located in a narrow gorge cut by a tributary of the Reuss River. There was only one road in the gorge and a single slumbering village at the top. Uzi Navot inspected it quickly, then turned around and headed back down the gorge. The Swiss, he knew from experience, were some of the most vigilant people on the planet.

The Saudis had tried to evade him in Zurich, but Navot had been prepared. He had always believed that when tailing a professional who is expecting surveillance, it is best to let him think that he is indeed being followed—and more important, that his countermeasures are working. Navot had sacrificed three of his watchers in northern Zurich in service to that cause. It was Navot himself who had watched the Mercedes with diplomatic plates turn into the warehouse in the Industrie-Quartier, and it was Navot who had followed it out of Zurich twenty minutes later.