She was silent for a moment. “Please don’t make me say it.”

“Say it, Zoe.”

“Even if it means leaving Mikhail behind.”

“Don’t hesitate, Zoe. And don’t look back. If one of Martin’s guards tries to grab you, make a scene so everyone in the party knows there’s a problem. Martin will have no choice but to let you leave.” Gabriel paused, then asked, “Do you understand, Zoe?”

She nodded.

“Say it.”

“I’ll make a bloody scene. And I’ll leave Mikhail behind.”

“Very good. Any questions?”

Zoe shook her head. Gabriel rose and gave her the phone.

“Turn it on when I leave. And keep it close tonight.”

Gabriel started toward the door.

“Actually, I do have one question, Mr. Allon.”

He stopped and turned.

“What happened in that field outside London?”

“There is no field outside London. And there is no safe house in Highgate, either. The mind is like a basin, Zoe. Pull the plug, and the memory drains away.”

Gabriel slipped out the door without another word. Zoe switched on her mobile and began to dress.

AMONG THE MANY logistical challenges faced by the team had been the acquisition of a suitable car to ferry Zoe and Mikhail to the party. An attempt was made to rent a vehicle in Geneva, but that proved impossible because Martin’s other guests had already snatched up every luxury sedan in the canton. That left a hasty purchase as the only option. Gabriel handled the chore himself, choosing a black fully loaded S-Class Mercedes, which he paid for in full with a certified check from one of Navot’s operational accounts in Zurich. When news of the procurement reached Highgate, Shamron flew into a seething rage. Not only had the Office just spent one hundred and twenty-five thousand dollars for a car but a German car at that.

It eased gracefully into the Kempinski’s circular drive at 6:15 that evening with Yaakov behind the wheel, looking as though he were guiding an oil tanker through treacherous seas. After successful completion of the maneuver, he informed the doorman that he was there to collect Mr. Danilov. The doorman called Mr. Danilov, who in turn called Ms. Reed and Mr. Albright of Markham Capital Advisers. Mr. Albright immediately dispatched a secure message to his superiors in London that read DEPARTURE IMMINENT. Then he looked at his computer screen. A red light was blinking in the southeast corner of Villa Elma, 1,238 feet above sea level.

CHAPTER 61

61

MAYFAIR, LONDON