The Messenger

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.”

    I T 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 .

    “W HO 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.

    T HEY 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.”

    “W HEN 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.

Canton Uri, Switzerland

    L ET’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.”
    “You’re sure, Sarah?”
    “Positive. He called himself Ben.”
    “It’s not his real name, Sarah. His name is Gabriel Allon. And he is a murderer of Palestinians. Now please tell me what happened after he arrived at the house in Georgetown.”

    T HERE WAS a sign at