His team had regrouped along the shores of the Zürichsee and joined him in the pursuit southward toward Uri. The foul weather had granted them an additional layer of protection, as it did now for Navot, as he climbed out of his car and stole quietly through the dense trees toward the chalet, a gun in his outstretched hands. Thirty minutes later, after conducting a cursory survey of the property and the security, he was back behind the wheel, heading down the gorge to the Reuss River valley. There he parked in a turnout by the riverbank and waited for Gabriel to arrive from Zurich.

“WHO IS YOUR control officer?”

“I don’t know his name.”

“I’m going to ask you one more time. What is the name of your control officer?”

“I’m telling you, I don’t know his name. At least not his real name.”

“By what name do you know him?”

Don’t give him Gabriel, she thought. She blurted the first that came into her mind.

“He called himself Ben.”

“Ben?”

“Yes, Ben.”

“You’re sure? Ben?”

“It’s not his real name. It’s just what he called himself.”

“How do you know it’s not his real name?”

She embraced the precision of his inquiry, for it allowed her to add more minutes to her imaginary clock.

“Because he told me it wasn’t his real name.”

“And you believed him?”

“I suppose I had no reason not to.”

“When did you meet this man?”

“It was December.”

“Where?”

“In Washington.”

“What time of day was it?”

“In the evening.”

“He came to your house. Your place of work.”

“It was after work. I was on the way home.”

“Tell me how it happened, Sarah. Tell me everything.”

And she did, morsel by morsel, drop by drop.

“WHERE WAS this house they brought you?”

“In Georgetown.”

“Which street in Georgetown?”

“It was dark. I don’t remember.”

“Which street in Georgetown, Sarah?”

“It was N Street, I think.”

“You think, or you know?”

“It was N Street.”

“The address?”

“There was no address on it.”

“Which block?”

“I can’t remember.”

“Was it east of Wisconsin Avenue or west, Sarah?”

“You know Georgetown?”

“East or West?”

“West. Definitely West.”

“Which block, Sarah?”

“Between Thirty-third and Thirty-fourth, I think.”

“You think?”

“Between Thirty-third and Thirty-fourth.”

“Which side of the street?”

“What do you mean?”

“Which side of the street, Sarah? North or south?”

“South. Definitely south.”

IT WAS 2:45 A.M. when Navot spotted the Audi coming up the road at a rate of speed incompatible with the inclement conditions. As it sped past in a blur of blowing snow and road spray, he caught a fleeting glimpse of the four tense-looking men inside. He picked up his phone and dialed. “You just drove by me,” he said calmly, then he looked up into the mirror and watched as the Audi nearly crashed turning around. Easy, Gabriel, he thought. Easy.