THE E63 MOTORWAY stretched eastward, immaculately groomed, empty of traffic. Gabriel kept both hands on the wheel of the Audi and his speed respectable. On the left side of the highway, neatly pruned vineyards advanced like columns of soldiers into the hills of Vaud. On his right lay Lake Geneva, with the Savoy Alps rising in the background. The base of the range was still shrouded in mist, but the highest peaks glowed with the first light of dawn.

He continued past Montreux to Aigle, then turned onto Route 11 and headed into the Vallée des Ormonts. It was a narrow, two-lane road, twisting and full of unexpected switchbacks. A few miles beyond Les Diablerets was the border separating Canton Vaud from Canton Bern. The signs immediately changed to German, as did the architecture of the houses. The first rays of sunlight were beginning to creep over the Bernese Alps, and by the time Gabriel reached the outskirts of Gstaad it was beginning to get light. He drove to the main lot in the center of the village and backed into a space in the far corner. In an hour, the lot would be jammed with cars. But for now it was empty except for a trio of snowboarders drinking beer around a battered VW van.

Gabriel left the engine running and watched the dashboard clock as the ninety-minute deadline he had imposed on Ulrich Müller came and went. He granted Müller a ten-minute grace period before finally reaching for the phone. He was in the process of dialing when a silver Mercedes GL450 sport-utility turned into the lot. It eased past the snowboarders and stopped a few yards from Gabriel’s Audi. Inside were four men, all wearing matching dark blue ski jackets emblazoned with the insignia of Zentrum Security. The one in the rear passenger seat climbed out and motioned Gabriel over. Gabriel recognized him. It was Jonas Brunner.

Gabriel shut down the engine, locked his phone in the glove box, and climbed out. Brunner watched with a slightly bemused expression as though taken aback by Gabriel’s modest stature.

“I’m told you speak German,” Brunner said.

“Better than you,” replied Gabriel.

“Are you armed?”

“No.”

“Do you have a phone?”

“In the car.”

“Radio?”

“In the car.”

“What about a beacon?”

Gabriel shook his head.

“I’m going to have to search you.”

“I can’t wait.”

Gabriel climbed into the back of the Mercedes and slid across to the center. Brunner got in after him and closed the door.

“Turn around and get on your knees.”

“Here?”

“Here.”

Gabriel did as he was told and was subjected to a more-than-thorough search, beginning with his shoes and ending with his scalp. When it was over, he turned around again and sat normally. Brunner signaled the driver, and the SUV eased forward.

“I hope you enjoyed that as much as I did, Jonas.”

“Shut your mouth, Allon.”

“Where are my people?”

Brunner didn’t answer.