The Saudis had tried to evade him in Zurich, but Navot had been prepared. He had always believed that when tailing a professional who is expecting surveillance, it is best to let him think that he is indeed being followed-and more important, that his countermeasures are working. Navot had sacrificed three of his watchers in northern Zurich in service to that cause. It was Navot himself who had watched the Mercedes with diplomatic plates turn into the warehouse in the Industrie-Quartier, and it was Navot who had followed it out of Zurich twenty minutes later.
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.
“WHO WAS the first to interview you? The CIA man or the Jew?”
“The American.”
“What sorts of things did they ask you?”
“We talked in general terms about the war on terrorism.”
“For example?”
“He asked me what I thought should be done with terrorists. Should they be brought to America for trial or killed in the field by men in black?”
“Men in black?”
“That’s what he called them.”
“Meaning special forces? CIA assassins? Navy SEALs?”
“I suppose.”
“And what did you tell him?”
“You really want to know?”
“I wouldn’t have asked otherwise.”
And so she told him, one small spoonful at a time.
THEY STOOD in a circle along the riverbank while Navot quickly told Gabriel everything he knew.
“Are there more guards on the grounds or just the two at the front gate?”
“I don’t know.”
“How many inside the house?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did you see where they took her?”
“No.”
“Has there been any other traffic on the road?”
“It’s a very quiet road.”
“It’s not enough information, Uzi.”
“I did the best I could.”
“I know.”
“As I see it you have only two options, Gabriel. Option number one: carry out another reconnaissance operation. It will take time. It’s not without risk. If they see us coming, the first thing they’ll do is kill Sarah.”
“Option two?”
“Go straight in. I vote for option two. Only God knows what Sarah’s going through in there.”
Gabriel looked down at the snow and deliberated a moment. “We go in now,” he said. “You, Mikhail, Yaakov, and me.”
“Hostage rescue isn’t my thing, Gabriel. I’m an agent-runner.”
“It’s definitely not Eli’s thing, and I want at least four men. Moshe and Eli will stay with the cars. When I send the signal, they’ll come up the road and get us.”
“WHEN DID the Jew come?”
“I can’t remember the precise time.”
“Approximate?”
“I can’t remember. It was about a half hour after I arrived, so that would make it around seven, I suppose.”
“And he called himself Ben?”
“Not right away.”
“He used another name at first?”
“No. He had no name at first.”
“Describe him for me, please.”
“He’s on the small side.”
“Was he thin or fat?”
“Thin.”
“Very thin.”
“He was fit.”
“Hair?”
“Yes.”
“Color?”
“Dark.”
“Long or short.”
“Short.”
“Was any part of his hair gray?”
“No.”
Muhammad calmly laid his pen on his notebook. “You’re lying to me, Sarah. If you lie to me again, our conversation will end and we will go about this by other means. Do you understand me?”
She nodded. “Answer me, Sarah.”
“Yes, I understand you.”
“Good.”
“Now give me a precise description of this Jew who called himself Ben.”
35.
LET’S RETURN TO THE appearance of his hair. You say it was short,
Sarah? Like mine?”
“A little longer.”
“And dark?”
“Yes.”
“But it’s gray in places, isn’t it? At the temples, to be precise.”
“Yes, his temples are gray.”
“And now the eyes. They’re green, aren’t they. Abnormally so.”
“His eyes are very green.”
“He has a special talent, this man?”
“Many.”
“He has the ability to restore paintings?”
“Yes.”
“And you’re absolutely certain you never heard a name?”
“I told you. He called himself Ben.”
“Yes, I know, but did he ever refer to himself by any other name?”
“No, never.”