Rising, he hiked up the gradual slope of the northern face, wanting to get a better look at the entire valley. He crested a bulge in the mountainside and assessed his options. From this vantage it was clear that the western and eastern sides of the range were too steep to be traversed. Clifflike runs of shale would prevent any ascent while simultaneously leaving him exposed. He doubted that René had bothered to place snipers on those ends of the range. One shooter to the north and one to the south, aided by the eyes of the guard in the tower, could contain Evan in the valley.

Since the northern slope provided the best route to freedom, René had positioned the stronger sniper there. Which meant that when Evan made a break, he’d head up the opposite mountain. Wanting a better view of the southern rise, he hiked higher up the northern range now.

This was his last chance to recon.

He was leaving tonight.

Tomorrow René was planning to force him to empty out his bank account. Which was unacceptable for a host of reasons, not least of which were the ramifications of wiring money from his account without his own meticulous encryption procedures in place. Charles Van Sciver and an array of the most powerful search-software programs ever created were working around the clock for the faintest trace of the Nowhere Man to blip onto the radar. One click of the mouse would make Evan disposable to René and put Van Sciver onto his scent at the same time.

He was unwilling to deal with either complication.

Not with Alison Siegler and the boy out there waiting.

The thought sharpened his purpose, quickened his step. He fell into a rhythm, making decent time. The sun dominated a blue and cloudless sky, warming him enough to break a sweat despite the temperature. He stopped at intervals to eye the mountain across from him, mentally charting courses and backup courses, noting potential positions the sniper might take and the blind zones of those respective positions.

The Third Commandment: Master your surroundings.

He’d just started up again when a loud crack announced itself and a football-size chunk of bark flew out of the tree trunk to his side.

Evan halted. His breath wisped from his mouth once, twice.

He took a small step forward, and another rifle report sounded. Wood splintered overhead, and then a heavy bough rushed down, crashing a few feet in front of him.

He paused again, oriented upslope, trying to zero in on the sniper’s position. He stepped to the left. This time he saw the muzzle flare an instant before the round kicked up dirt to the side of his boot.

The sniper was herding him down the slope toward the chalet.

Knowing he was clearly visible in the scope, Evan raised a hand: Got it.

Turning around, he started down the mountain.