Chapter 43 Section 42

Gabriel wore crisp khaki pants and a soft beige sweater that was tailored to the shoulders and waist.There was an air of complacency in all his gestures, which was exactly the message he wanted to convey.Eli Laffoon led Peterson into the room and pushed him into a stiff high-backed chair.Peterson sat there, staring at the wall as if facing a firing squad. Laffoon retreated by himself, and Gabriel sat where he was, looking down.He's never been one to celebrate victories.He knew better than most that in the intelligence business, victories are often fleeting.Sometimes, over time, they don't even count as victories at all.But this time he was intoxicated for a little while by the turn of events.Not so long ago, the positions of the two were completely reversed.Gabriel was the detainee, and Petersen was the interrogator—Petersen at that time wore a fitted gray suit and showed the arrogance of an elegant Swiss gentleman in every way.Now, he sat shivering in front of Gabriel, wearing only a pair of underpants.

Between them was a white Formica table.There was nothing on the table except a manila folder and Gabriel's large coffee mug with steaming coffee in it.Like Peterson's cell, this one had a terracotta floor and plastered walls.The shutters are closed.The raindrops fluttering with the wind made a disturbing beat on the window panes.Gabriel gave Peterson a disgusted look, then fell into thought. "Do you think you can get away with doing this?" It was Peterson who broke the silence.He spoke English, but Gabriel immediately spoke German to him—the precise, grammatically precise High German he had learned from his mother, in order to underline Peterson's uniqueness. Pure German with a Swiss accent, emphasizing his Swissness and thereby isolating him.

"What do you say I did, Gerhardt?" "Kidnap me, you fucking bastard!" "But we've escaped." "There are security cameras in the garage of my apartment building, and the bitch you sent has been caught doing tricks. The Zurich police may have the footage." Gabriel smiled calmly: "We have already fixed the camera, just like you fixed the security camera of Rolf Villa that night before killing him and stealing his paintings." "What are you yelling about?" "Rolf's secret collection of paintings, the collection of paintings given to him by the SS in return for his services during World War II, and the collection of paintings that he wanted to return to the Jews."

"I don't know what the hell you're raving about. I don't even know about a secret collection of paintings. I had absolutely nothing to do with Augustus Rolfe's murder! No one would believe that I had anything to do with his death." "You killed Augustus Rolf, then Werner Müller in Paris, then Emil Jacobi in Lyon. You tried to kill me in Zurich. You also sent someone to Venice Kill Anna Rolfe. You're driving me mad, Gerhardt." "You lunatic!" Gabriel could see that Peterson's pretentious aura was slowly weakening. "You haven't been to work for a long time. Your boss must want to talk to you, but they can't find you. Needless to say, your wife must also want to know where the hell you are. She is worried as hell. "

"My gosh, what did you do? What the hell did you do?" Peterson seemed to be starting to sit still, shaking and shaking in his chair.Gabriel sipped his coffee, making an exaggerated expression on purpose, as if the coffee was too hot.Then he opened the manila paper folder and started taking pictures from it.He picked up the pictures one by one, looked at them for himself, and then slid across the table for Peterson to admire. "That's a pretty good shot of her, don't you think, Peterson? Whoa, whoa, look at this one, you seem to enjoy it. Look at this one, well, I don't know what to say Explain it to Mrs. Petersen, and the media, and your Minister of Justice in Bern."

"You blackmailer! No one will believe these pictures are real. They will see the truth of the matter, which is nothing more than a dirty trick of a sleazy blackmailer. But blackmail and murder are the bread and butter of your intelligence service Right, right? That's what you're good at." Gabriel spread out the photos and placed them prominently on the table.Peterson resolutely refrained from looking at them. "Is that what you're going to tell your wife and boss? You're going to tell them you're just an innocent victim of blackmail? You're going to tell them you were kidnapped by Israeli agents and drugged? You know What do your bosses ask you? They say, 'Why are Israeli agents after all, Gerhardt? What did you do to make them do this to you?' You'll have to explain it .”

"These are just minor problems." "Are you sure? I'm afraid it's not that simple. The world's most famous news organization will dig into the inside story of things bit by bit. Every day there will be explosive news. It will be like waterboarding. Forgive me for this analogy. You may survive this, but your career is over. Your 'Federal police chief dream' will always be a dream. Politics will shut you out, and so will business. You think you Will those friends in the banking system help you? I doubt it because you can give them nothing. Think about it, no job, no pension, no financial support from your friends, what would your life be like what kind."

Having said that, Gabriel paused for a moment, opened the folder, and took out six more photos, which were surveillance images of Peterson's wife and children.He deliberately placed these photos next to those pornographic photos. “Who will take care of your wife? Who will take care of your children? Who will pay the rent on your luxury apartment on the shore of Lake Zurich? There's no need to make it that way. I don't like murderers, Gerhardt, especially the ones who work for the banks, but I'll show you the way. Hope you don't have a toast or a fine drink." "What do you want from me?"

"You have to work for me from now on." "This is impossible!" "You have to help me get Rolf's painting back." Gabriel paused for a moment, waiting for Peterson to deny that he didn't know anything about the painting, but this time he said nothing, "We will Quietly handle this the Swiss way. Then you have to help me get something else back. You have to help me clean up the old scores of Swiss history. Gerhardt, if you and I join forces, we can overcome all difficulties. " "What if I refuse?" "Then you can go down and stay with my friend for a while, and then think about it. We'll talk after we think about it."

"Take those damn pictures!" "If you give me an answer, I'll take the photo away." "You don't understand, no matter which way I choose, the result is a dead end. It's just a matter of choosing which poison to drink." Peterson said, closing his eyes and sinking his jaw on his chest. "I'm thirsty." "Answer my question and I'll give you a drink." In the hallway outside, Eli Lavon sat with his eyes closed on the cold floor, his back against the wall.Only the movement of his right hand betrayed his emotions.This hand was holding the lighter tightly.Even though he lived in Vienna, he still felt a searing pain in the back of his neck every time he heard someone yelling and throwing a tantrum in German.

Cracks have emerged, but Peterson hasn't broken down yet.Laffoon could tell he was close to breaking down.Drugs, ice water, pornographic photos, what may appear in the next level.Such fear accumulated in his heart.Eli Laffoon wishes his breakup moment came sooner rather than later. He had never seen Gabriel like this.Never saw him angry, never heard him yell.This incident somehow revealed all his old scars.Leah, Tariq, Shamron, even his parents.Gabriel is very short-tempered now. Compromise, Mr. Peterson, Laffoon thought.Tell him everything he wants to know.Do as he says.Because if you don't cooperate, I'm worried that my good friend Gabriel will drag you into the mountains and beat you into a hornet's nest.This does no one any good.Not good for you, especially not good for Gabriel.Lavon didn't care about Peterson's life or death, what he cared about was Gabriel.He didn't want any more blood on Gabriel Allon's hands. So when the roaring in the house finally stopped, no one could be more relieved than Lavon.There was a thumping sound on the wall—it was Gabriel slapping the wall with his wounded hand.Laffoon, who was still sitting on the floor, stood up and opened the door a few inches.Gabriel spoke to him in Hebrew.Laffoon felt that the Hebrew language had never been better, though he knew Gerhard Peterson felt very differently. "Get him some clothes, Eli. And some food along the way. Mr. Peterson is cold and hungry. Mr. Peterson wants to tell us something." That blue tracksuit was a fashion tragedy, a deliberate tragedy.Its top is too big and its trousers are too short.In it, Gerhard Petersen looks like a man in the clutches of a midlife crisis who has dug up an old vintage suit out of nowhere and is about to risk his life jogging in the park.The food was not much better, just a piece of coarse bread and a bowl of clear soup.Oded brought a large jug of ice water, and he spilled a few drops on Peterson's hand to remind him of the consequences if he didn't confess.Gabriel hadn't eaten anything, he didn't want to eat with Gerhard Petersen.Peterson ate slowly, as if trying to delay the inevitable interrogation.Gabriel let him dawdle there.Peterson finished his soup and wiped the bottom of the bowl with bread. "By the way, where are we now?" "Tibet." "This is my first time in Tibet." Peterson squeezed out a weak smile. Seeing that Gabriel refused to speak, the smile on his face quickly disappeared, "I want to smoke a cigarette." "You can't smoke." "why?" "I don't like the smell of smoke." Peterson set aside the empty soup bowl. Gabriel Allon would have been a perfect interrogator if he hadn't been a killer.He was a natural listener, speaking only when necessary and never needing to hear his own voice.Like a deer hunter, he possesses extraordinary concentration, never fiddles with his hair, never gestures, never changes his sitting position.It was this remarkable concentration, combined with his steady silence and constant patience, that made him such a formidable foe on the interrogation stand.But Gerhard Petersen was suddenly willing to speak, and Gabriel was also surprised. "How did I know about Rolf's collection?" Petersen asked himself, repeating Gabriel's first question. "There are very few things I don't know about Zurich. Zurich is the largest city in Switzerland, but it It’s still a small place. We have a very long reach, people in banking, business, foreign workers, media.” Gabriel didn't want Peterson to build his confidence by bragging about his professional accomplishments, so he cut him off quickly: "That's all interesting, but how did you find out about Rolf?" "Rolf was a sick old man - there was no one in Bahnhofstrasse and Paradeplatz who didn't know it. Everyone knew he wasn't going to live long. So rumors started flying that Rolf was crazy and wanted to be in his God atones for the sins of the world before seeing the bank god. Rolf wants to confess. Augustus Rolf was a banker in Zurich for a long time. If a man like him wants to speak, Then it must be fine." "So you started sending people to watch him." Peterson nodded. "Since when is it a crime to speak in Switzerland?" "It's not a crime, but it's sure to be annoying - especially when the words expose Switzerland's shady past to the world. We Swiss don't like talking about unpleasant family matters in front of foreigners." "Does your boss know that you sent someone to monitor Rolf? Does your Minister of Justice in Bern know?" "It's really not a job to watch Rolf." This sentence reminded Gabriel of Rolf's letter - in Switzerland, some people want to hide the past forever in the mists of history - in the vault of the Bahnhofstrasse bank, they will stop at nothing to bury the past . "If it's not a tolerance, which party do you represent to monitor Rolf?" Peterson hesitated for a moment.Gabriel was worried he'd stop there when he said, "They call themselves the Lutli Council." "Tell me about them." "Bring me some more of that awful bowl of soup just now, and I'll tell you everything I know." Gabriel decided to give him a small victory.He raised his hand and slapped the wall three times with his palm.Oded poked his head in through the doorway as if smelling smoke.Gabriel whispered something to him in Hebrew.Oded pouted angrily. "There's bread," Peterson said, as Oded turned to go. "I'd like some more bread to go with the soup." Oded watched Gabriel, waiting for his instructions. "Okay, okay, fuck it." This time they didn't set aside specific time for him to eat, so Peterson spoke with a spoon in one hand and bread in the other.He spoke continuously for ten minutes, pausing only now and then to take a sip of soup and tear a piece of bread into his mouth.He explained in depth and detail the development history of the parliament, its goals and the power of its members.After he finished speaking, Gabriel asked, "Are you a member of the council?" The question seemed to amused him. "Me? A child from a teacher's family from the Bernese Heights?" He patted his chest with bread for emphasis, "A member of the Rütli Council? No, I am not a member of the Council, I am just one of their loyal servants. This is The status of all of us in Switzerland - servants. We serve all foreigners who deposit money in Swiss banks, serve the ruling oligarchy. We are servants." "What service do you provide them?" "Security and intelligence services." "What did they give you in return?" "Money and career support." "That is to say, you told the council what you heard about Rolf?" "Yes. Then the Council told me what he had hidden." "During World War II, the Nazis gave Rolf those famous paintings in return for his banking services." Peterson nodded his head forward a fraction of an inch: "Mr. Rolfe has valuables and an explosive insider in his hands, which looks terrible to Parliament." "So what instructions did the Council give you?" "Parliament asked me to keep a close eye on him, to make sure that Mr. Rolfe would not do anything out of the ordinary in his last days. But by then he had begun to show some worrying signs. Rolfe's There was a visitor at the bank. The man was from the International Jewish Agency who was active on dormant accounts of Holocaust victims." Gabriel gritted his teeth in disgust at Peterson's contemptuous introduction of the man. “Then we intercepted a series of faxes and found that Rolf seemed to be making some arrangements to hire an art restorer. So I asked myself a simple question, why would an old man who was dying waste his time restoring What about his collection of paintings? According to my experience, a person usually leaves such trivial things to the younger generation before he dies." "You suspect that Rolf intends to hand over his collection of paintings?" "It could be worse." "What could be worse than this?" "Publicly confessing his dealings with high-ranking Nazis and German intelligence officers. Can you imagine what a shock it would be? It would sweep the country like a storm. Even the dispute between the Swiss and the Jews over dormant accounts It’s nothing compared to this.” "Is that all Parliament is afraid of?" "Aren't these enough?" But it was not these words that echoed in Gabriel's ears at this time, but what Augustus Rolf wrote in his letter-I used to regard them as friends, and this is also what I have made many mistakes in my life. One of the mistakes. "They were afraid that Augustus Rolf would reveal the existence of the secret organization of the Parliament. The reason why he knew about this organization was because he was a member of it?" "Rolf? He is not an ordinary member, he is one of the founders." "So you went to see him?" "I told him I'd heard rumors - I didn't say anything specific, mind you, I said very cryptically. Rolf was old, but his mind was still sharp. He knew exactly what I wanted Tell him something. He's a Swiss banker, God. He knows how to negotiate without a trace. I went away with the conviction that Parliament was in big trouble." "So what did you do?" "Implement plan B." "what's the plan?" "Steal those damn paintings. Without them, no one will believe what he says." Peterson had to smoke a cigarette before continuing the conversation, and Gabriel reluctantly agreed.He tapped the wall again with his palm, and Oded poked his head in through the doorway again.He gave Peterson a cigarette from the pack he had brought.Peterson nearly fell out of his chair when he pressed the lighter.Oded was rocking back and forth laughing on the way out the door.Peterson smoked cautiously, as if afraid that the cigarette in his hand might explode.Gabriel waved his hands every few seconds, trying to fan the smell away. "Tell me about Werner Miller," Gabriel said. "He is a key person. If we want to get Rolf's secret collection of paintings, we need Miller's help. Miller is the designer of the security system. So I asked my men to dig into his case. Miller's past is not Clean, none of us have a clean past, right?" Gabriel said nothing, and Peterson went on, "I went to France and talked to Miller. Needless to say, he agrees with us. plan." Peterson sucked the cigarette almost to the filter before begrudgingly pressing it into the empty soup bowl to snuff it out. "We're planning to move the next night. Rolf will go to Geneva and spend the night at the apartment there. The art restorer will be there the next morning. The operation team sneaked into the villa, and Miller took them Into the surveillance room." "Were you there?" "No, my job is to make sure the Zurich police don't show up halfway, nothing else." "continue." "Miller disarmed the security system, turned off the cameras. Then they went into the basement. Guess what they saw?" "Augustus Rolfe." "Yes, Rolf himself. At three o'clock in the morning, the old man was sitting in the basement looking at his broken paintings. Miller panicked. Rolf didn't know the thieves, but he worked with Miller. If The old man called the police, and it must have been Miller who was unlucky. So Miller snatched a gun from the man next to him, forced the old man into the study and blew his head off." "Six hours later, I showed up." Peterson nodded. "Rolf's body gave us a chance to find out who the art restorer really is. If he finds the body and calls the police, he's probably just an art restorer. If he finds the body and tries to get away— —” Peterson spread his hands, as if to say, then there is nothing to say. "So you sent someone to arrest me." "That's right." "What about the first detective who interrogated me?" "Bell? Bell doesn't know anything. To Bell, you're just a suspect in the murder of a Swiss banker." "Why bother to arrest me? Why not just let me go?" "I want to scare the shit out of you so that you never dare to come back." "But it didn't end there." Peterson shook his head. "Not really, and unfortunately, it's just the beginning." Gabriel basically knew about the following things, because he was a witness.Peterson's series of explanations only verified his original guesses, or added some minor details. As Peterson feared, Anna Rolfe did not report the theft of her father's painting collection.So Peterson immediately sent someone to watch her.The operation was carried out at the expense of the Rütli Council and Petersen sent his cronies of the Security Service.Peterson knew that Gabriel had met Anna Rolfe a week after Rolfe's burial, and he knew that they had gone to Zurich together, into Rolf's villa. Since then, Gabriel has also been watched, and has been followed from Rome, Paris, London to Lyon.Council hired a hit man.In Paris, the killer killed Miller and blew up his gallery.In Lyons, he killed Emile Jacobi. "Who ambushed me at Rolf's villa that night?" Gabriel asked. "They work for the council. We generally hire professionals to handle things that are beyond our capabilities." Peterson paused. Lost, don't know where you are for thirty-six hours." Vienna, Gabriel thought to himself.During that time he met with Laffoon, confessed to Anna frankly, and told her the secret of her father's past.As Gabriel had feared, Peterson had his eye on them again after they returned to Bahnhofstrasse.When Anna Rolfe's car was found abandoned on the German border, parliament took emergency measures.Gabriel Allon and Anna Rolfe are on the kill list, and professional killers must be sent to eradicate them as soon as possible.Originally, the killer sent by the parliament should have succeeded in Venice... Peterson's head sank to the table as the stimulant began to wear off.He needs sleep, and falls asleep naturally, not drugged into lethargy.There was only one question left for Gabriel, and he needed an answer before Peterson was taken away and handcuffed to his bed.When he asked, Peterson was lying on the table, resting his head on his hands. "Those Tibetan paintings," Gabriel said softly, "Where are those Tibetan paintings now?" Peterson struggled to say a name before losing consciousness—Otto Gessler.