18 Adams Row
Adams Row
“Who is this?” he demanded to know.
“It’s me, Mr. Allon. It’s Alice.”
“I need you to answer a few questions.”
“Proof of Alice?”
“Exactly.”
“I’m all yours.”
“Where were you staying when you were kidnapped?”
“A very large estate on Ibiza.”
“Who were you with?”
“Three old friends from Cambridge.”
“Their names, please.”
“Sophie Maxwell, Ella Burns, and Phoebe Chadwick.”
“Which one left the island early?”
“It was darling Pheebs.”
Gabriel eased his grip on the phone. “How are you holding up?” he asked.
“As well as can be expected.”
“Are they taking good care of you?”
“I wouldn’t put it that way. In fact, I think they’ve had quite their fill of me at this point.”
“How many are there?”
“I wouldn’t know.”
“You’re blindfolded?”
“Always. With the exception of the two times they took my photograph,” she added. “I suppose those were for you. I must have
looked dreadful.”
“Quite the opposite.”
“Did Edward see them?”
“Only the first one. This has been very hard on him.”
“And what about you, Mr. Allon?”
“Suffice to say, I’ve done this sort of thing a time or two.”
“Imagine my surprise when my captors told me that I would be speaking to the famous Gabriel Allon. I’m only sorry our first
conversation didn’t take place at the fundraiser.”
“So am I. It was a wonderful evening.”
“Was I missed?”
“Your guests spoke of nothing else.”
She laughed quietly. “You’re very charming, Mr. Allon. I hope to see you soon.”
“We’re almost there, Alice.”
The connection failed before she could respond; it seemed their allotted three minutes was up. Gabriel pulled on a shirt and
a pair of trousers and padded barefoot into the kitchen. He filled the electric kettle and took down a box of tea from the
cupboard. The phone rang again as the water began to boil.
“Where were we?” asked Alice.
“I was about to tell you that you’ll be home soon.”
“How long has it been? I’ve lost track of time.”
“We’re trying our best.”
“Please try harder. I’ll die soon if you don’t.”
“No one’s going to die.”
Ingrid crept into the kitchen, silent as a housecat, a bewildered expression on her face. Gabriel placed the burner phone
in speaker mode. “Is it money they want?” Alice was saying.
“A great deal of money,” answered Gabriel.
“Why hasn’t Edward paid them?”
“It’s not as simple as that.”
“It is to me, Mr. Allon. My captors tell me the negotiations have reached an impasse.”
“We’ve hit a rough patch, but we’re close.”
“Please tell Edward to pay them whatever they want.” Her voice broke. “I can’t take much more of this. I want to come home.”
“I know it’s hard, but try not to cry in front of them.”
“Too late for that, I’m afraid. It turns out that I’m not cut out for the hostage life.”
“You’re stronger than you realize.”
“I’m spoiled rotten, if you must know.” She laughed in spite of herself. “My captors just gave me a nudge. It appears I have
to run. It was a pleasure almost meeting you, Mr. Allon. And please give my love to—”
The connection died before she could finish the thought. Gabriel placed the phone on the kitchen counter. Ingrid picked it
up and dialed the most recent number in the directory of incoming calls. It went straight to voicemail.
“Why now?” she asked.
“They’re at the end of their tether.”
“So is Alice.”
“She can hold out a few more days.”
“You’ve pushed them far enough, Mr. Allon. It’s time to make a deal.”
The phone rang before Gabriel could reply.
“Well?” asked the automated female voice.
Gabriel hesitated, then said, “Five hundred million.”
“Take it or leave it?”
“Yes.”
“Done,” said the voice.
Gabriel waited until 6:00 a.m. to break the news to Edward Knight. The billionaire businessman was at his mansion in Hans Place. He responded with a flash
of dark humor.
“It must be some sort of record, don’t you think?”
“Must be,” answered Gabriel in the same mordant tone.
“It sounds to me as though they had their hearts set on a half billion from the beginning.”
Gabriel didn’t disagree.
“How is the money to be delivered?” asked Knight.
“Wire transfer. They’ll give us the account and routing numbers when it’s time to make the exchange.”
“What are the rules of the road for this sort of thing?”
“The final exchange? There are none,” said Gabriel. “Which means you should prepare yourself for the likelihood that things
won’t go smoothly.”
“If you’d like to bow out . . .”
“We couldn’t possibly make a change now. For better or worse, the kidnappers seem to trust me.” Gabriel paused. “And so does your wife.”
“That leaves the money,” said Knight. “How quickly can you leave for Zurich?”
“Are you sure you want me to handle it?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“I’m not exactly beloved by Swiss bankers.”
“So I’ve heard,” said Knight, and hung up the phone.