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I WANTED TO HURL the helmet when Malcomb chuckled.

“You didn’t think I’d send a man to look where you said you left your weapons and pack?” he asked. “You didn’t think the helmet you’re wearing had an internal GPS beacon that has been telling me your exact location since you put it on? Too late, Dr. Cross. Too little imagination, Dr. Cross.

“And you, Chief Stone, throw down your weapon or die right now.”

I dropped the helmet. Bree and I both spun around to find Lucas Bean and two other Maestro men in the clearing at our nine o’clock, forty yards away, guns aiming at us. Bean had lost his helmet but wore a radio headset over a black watch cap and was now stalking toward us in our own tracks.

Bree glanced at me. I nodded, and she tossed the machine pistol into a bank of snow; it vanished under the powder.

Bean and his operators converged on us fast, their weapons never leaving their shoulders, their attention never leaving us. Other snowmobiles were coming closer from the south.

“M says pick up the helmet, Dr. Cross,” Bean said when he stopped about fifteen yards from us. “Pick it up and put it on.”

I hesitated, then picked up the helmet and put it on.

“Better, Dr. Cross, but raise the visor now. And you as well, Sarah. I want to watch this grand finale from your perspective as well.”

I raised the visor. The person behind Bean raised the visor, revealing the beautiful and steely features of Sarah, the former Mossad operator.

“What a remarkable alpine setting and stunning light in which to die. Don’t you agree, Dr. Cross? Chief Stone?”

Before either of us could answer, Malcomb began to cough. It went on for almost ten seconds. He cleared his throat and cleared it again.

Bree turned on her mic, said, “How long do you have to live, Ryan?”

There was a pause. “A lot longer than you, Chief Stone.”

I said, “You should know something before you kill us.”

“What’s that?”

“You screwed up. Or whoever you sent to search for my weapons did.”

Malcomb chuckled. “Highly unlikely. Right, Bean?”

“Impossible,” Bean said.

“Can I show you?” I said. “You’ll see it in the camera if they’ll let me turn.”

Another hesitation. “Hands clasped behind you when you do, or Sarah will shoot you in the back. You have no pride, no sense of honor, do you, Sarah?”

“None,” the woman said, staring at us with an expression that was colder than the swirling snow.

I put my hands behind my back, turned, took a step, and crouched, trying to aim the front of the helmet at the lower limbs of the tree. Nothing happened for five and then ten seconds.

“You’re boring me, Dr. Cross. Bean, Sarah, when he stands up, kill them one by—”

The green light flashed in the low limbs.

“There,” I said. “You could not have missed that.”

I caught a strain in his voice when he replied, “What is it?”

“A Jiobit. Tells moms and dads where their kids are. Transmits a GPS signal to any satellite on earth.”

“And yet I told you we jam all GPS frequencies in the area.”

“Except for ten seconds every twelve hours when your generators are switching over.”

There was an even longer pause before Malcomb laughed. “Touché, but ultimately, it’s unlikely that the signal was broadcast and received during those ten-second gaps. Stand up, Dr. Cross. Turn and face the end of our story together.”

I straightened slowly, turned, and stepped over to Bree. I held out my gloved hand and she took it.

“I love you,” she said, looking terrified.

“I’ve always loved you,” I said.

“Oh, please. Sarah? Bean? Finish them and then we’ll go to extreme measures. And destroy that device. Sarah, you will shoot first.”

“Extreme measures?” Sarah said.

Bean said, “That necessary, M?”

“You heard the man. A ten-second signal every twelve hours. We can’t take the chance.”

“Roger that,” Bean said. He stepped toward us.

Sarah did the same.

Bean said, “For my mates you killed, Cross.”

“And mine,” Sarah said, shifting her aim to Bree and hurling me into a panic.