Reluctantly, Ethan nodded, and Matthias pushed the hood over Ethan's head and cinched it tight, then the Mercedes took off at a high rate of speed. From the smell inside the hood, Ethan knew that he was not its first occupant, and he hoped the ride would be brief. As the car worked through traffic, Ethan heard the electric hum of a radio frequency scanner passing over his body as the men checked for transmitters and recording devices. Matthias mumbled something to the driver and the car took a hard right turn, then another, then a series of turns and stops designed to make absolutely certain, just in case Ethan had a map of Prague embedded in his brain, that he couldn't retrace this route. This was a wise move on their part, since Ethan had committed to memory the layout of streets within an eight-block radius of the rendezvous location.
	Fifteen minutes later, hood still in place, Ethan was hustled from the car and up a stairway. He discerned from the sounds that the stairway was wide and made of very fine wood. This was no cheap appartment or industrial building. When he was pushed down in a chair he instantly knew it was a fine piece of furniture, and from the bounce of the voices in the room he guessed it was a twenty-foot tall ceiling with stucco curves in the corners. A nice place, he assumed. He lifted his hands to the armrests and let the exposed flesh of his fingers feel for airflow; in case of the sudden need for an escape, he wanted to know window locations and whether they were open. He listened for traffic to determine the kind of neighborhood they were in. It was very quiet here, broken only by the rhythmic barking of a dog about half a block away. From the walk up the stairs Ethan determined he was on the third floor. He listened for the subtlest sounds of the people in the room, and used them to mark their locations, creating a mental image of the room and its inhabitants. More than once in his career he had used this sensory training to escape dangerous situations.

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