20 Baur au Lac Hotel
Baur au Lac Hotel
The kidnappers waited only twenty minutes before calling again. The automated female voice repeated her demand that Gabriel
kill the captive, but even she seemed to realize her words rang hollow. The entire episode had been nothing more than a ploy
on the part of the kidnappers to short-circuit the customary procedures of making the final exchange of ransom for victim.
Gabriel had used their ill-advised gambit to his advantage. Ingrid was already knocking on the door of CyproBank’s data network.
“Where are you now?” asked the voice after a silence of nearly a minute.
“You mean you don’t know?”
“We aren’t following you, Mr. Allon.”
“You really should be, you know. That’s the way it usually works.”
She repeated her original question, and this time Gabriel informed her that he was in Zurich, where he had spent the better
part of the day assembling a half billion dollars in cash. “All of which can be yours,” he added, “if you play your cards
right.”
The connection died suddenly. Their three minutes had elapsed.
Ingrid looked up from her laptop. “Do you believe them?”
“That they don’t know where we are?” Gabriel shook his head. “I have a feeling they’ve been watching me since the first time
I walked into Edward Knight’s office in London.”
Ingrid returned to work on her laptop.
“How much time do you need?” asked Gabriel.
“In a perfect world . . . forty-eight hours.”
“You have exactly four hours.”
The burner phone was ringing again. Gabriel waited a few seconds longer before answering. The automated voice tonelessly issued
her instructions.
“There’s a train for Munich leaving Zurich at seven thirty-three. It’s the last Munich-bound train of the night, so we would
advise you to hurry. You’ll hear from us again when you arrive.”
“I’m not terribly fond of Munich, if you must know.”
“Hurry, Mr. Allon,” the voice replied, and then the connection went dead.
It was approaching 7:00 p.m. when he stepped from the hotel’s entrance. During the twenty-minute walk to the Hauptbahnhof he saw nothing to suggest he
was being followed. The train for Munich was already boarding by the time he arrived. He purchased a ticket at one of the
windows and headed downstairs to the assigned track. Five other passengers followed him into the first-class carriage. None
of them struck Gabriel as potential accessories to a kidnapping.
The train rolled out of the station at the stroke of 7:33. Edward Knight rang ten minutes later. The billionaire’s voice sounded
razor-sharp with tension.
“Where in God’s name are you, Allon?”
Gabriel, phone to ear, hand over his mouth, described the events of the previous hour. As part of the briefing he disclosed
that he had duped the kidnappers into surrendering the name of the bank where they wanted the ransom payment deposited, along
with the account and routing numbers. His associate, he added, was now attempting to penetrate the bank’s computer network,
with the goal of rerouting the money before it disappeared forever.
Knight was apoplectic nonetheless. “You should have sent the money when they asked,” he snapped.
“That’s how kidnappings become murders. I know the waiting is hard, but you have to trust me.”
“Do you really think your Danish friend can hack into that bank?”
“She can do it in her sleep. But she needs time.”
“I’m not prepared to wait much longer. In fact, I’d feel better if you gave me the account and routing numbers.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“Because those numbers are my guarantee that you’re not going to do something stupid tonight.”
“I insist you give them to me, Allon.”
“I’m sorry,” replied Gabriel, “but we just entered a tunnel. Can you say that again?”
“The numbers,” shouted Knight. “Send me those bloody numbers.”
Gabriel terminated the call and gazed at the postcard-perfect Swiss meadow flashing past his window.
The memory of that night in France returned unexpectedly.
He concealed it beneath a layer of obliterating paint, then absently checked the time.
He considered calling Chiara and the children but decided against it.
One untruth was all he could manage for now.
Darkness had fallen by the time they crossed the German border, and it was a few minutes after eleven when the train arrived
at Munich Central Station. The kidnappers rang as Gabriel was stepping onto the platform. “Where to next?” he said by way
of greeting, and the automated female voice replied, “Salzburg.”
The evening’s last train departed at 11:54. Gabriel purchased a first-class ticket, then went to a café in the departure hall
and ordered coffee and a sandwich. Edward Knight rang at eleven thirty. Gabriel dispatched him to voicemail and phoned Ingrid
instead.
“How’s it going?” he asked.
“Until a moment ago, it was going quite well. What about you?”
“It seems I’m on my way to Salzburg.”
“What time do you get in?”
“One twenty-eight, which means you have at least two more hours.”
“It’s not nearly enough time.”
Edward Knight was calling again. This time Gabriel reluctantly answered.
“A tunnel? That was beneath you, Allon.”
“You’re right. The next time you make an outrageous demand, I’ll simply hang up.”
Knight’s anger abated. “I just got off the phone with Peter Hoffmann. He was asking for an update.”
“I would advise him to get a few hours’ sleep. You too.”
“Where are you off to next?”
Gabriel answered.
“Could they have smuggled Alice into Austria?” asked Knight.
“Quite easily.”
“You will be careful, won’t you?”
“I’m going to hang up now,” answered Gabriel, and killed the call.
The empty ticket hall echoed with a boarding announcement for the Salzburg train. Gabriel finished the last of the sandwich,
then headed downstairs to the platform. There were no other passengers in the first-class carriage, so he closed his eyes
and slept. The ringing of the burner phone woke him at 1:28 a.m.
“Good morning, Mr. Allon,” said the automated voice. “Welcome back to Austria.”