“How far are we going?”

“Not far. But we have to make a brief stop along the way.”

“Coffee?”

“Yes, Allon. Coffee.”

“I hope you didn’t hurt my girl, Jonas. Because if you hurt her, I’m going to hurt you.”

THEY HEADED due east along the edge of a narrow glacial valley. The road ducked in and out of the trees, leaving them in darkness one minute, blinding light the next. The blue-coated guards of Zentrum Security did not speak. Brunner’s shoulder was pressing against Gabriel’s. It was like leaning against a granite massif. The guard on Gabriel’s left was flexing and unflexing his thick hands as if preparing for his solo. Gabriel had no illusions about the stop they were making on their way to see Martin. He wasn’t surprised; it was a customary proceeding before a meeting like this, an aperitif before dinner.

At the head of the valley the road turned to a single-lane track before rising sharply up the slope of the mountain. A snow-plow had passed through recently, but the Mercedes was barely able to maintain traction as it headed toward the summit. A thousand feet above the valley floor, it came to a stop next to a secluded grove of fir trees. The two men in front immediately climbed out, as did the one on Gabriel’s left. Jonas Brunner made no movement.

“I don’t think you’ll enjoy this as much as you enjoyed the search.”

“Is this the part where your men soften me up a bit before I get taken to see Saint Martin?”

“Just get out of the car, Allon. The sooner we get this over with, the sooner we can be on our way.”

Gabriel sighed heavily and climbed out.

JONAS BRUNNER watched as his three best men marched Gabriel Allon into the trees, then marked the time. Five minutes, he’d told them. Not too much damage, just enough bruising to make him compliant and easy to handle. A part of Brunner was tempted to join in the festivities. He couldn’t. Müller wanted an update.

He was dialing Müller’s number when a movement in the trees caught his attention. Looking up, he saw a single figure walking purposefully out of the shadows. He glanced at his watch and frowned. He’d ordered his men to be judicious, but two minutes was hardly enough time to do the job right, especially when it involved a man like Gabriel Allon. Then Brunner looked at the figure closely and realized his mistake. It was not one of his own men coming out of the trees. It was Allon…In his hand was a gun, a SIG Sauer P226, the standard-issue sidearm of Zentrum Security. The Israeli ripped open Brunner’s door and pointed the barrel of the gun directly into his face. Brunner didn’t even think about reaching for his weapon.