“Perhaps you should try to get some rest,” suggested Gabriel. “Those cigarettes are doing you no good.”
“I’ll rest when Alice is home.”
“It’s going to be a while.”
“Not if I have anything to do with it.”
“You mustn’t even consider agreeing to their initial demand.”
“Whyever not?”
“Because they will conclude they asked for too little, and they will come back for more.”
“I know how to negotiate a deal, Allon.”
“Not when a life is on the line, you don’t.”
By seven that evening the phone had yet to ring, so Knight sent Higgins out to fetch some dinner. He returned forty-five minutes later with several bags from Lilibet’s. They ate at the conference room table with the wall-mounted television flickering silently. The Russians had unleashed the largest missile barrage on Ukraine since the start of the war. Kyiv was burning.
Knight stared at the screen, disconsolate. “Damn dreadful war. Sometimes it feels as though the world is spinning out of control.” He pushed his food away, lit another cigarette, and stared at the phone. “Ring, damn it!”
“Try to be patient,” said Gabriel.
“You might feel differently if it was your wife sitting alone in some darkened room.”
“I might,” he agreed.
Knight turned to Higgins. “Call the bloody number. Make certain it’s working.”
“It’s working, Mr. Knight.”
“Humor me.”
Higgins drew his phone and punched in the number. The landline phone rang instantly.
“That settles that,” said Knight.
Higgins tappedend, but the phone on the conference table continued to ring. Gabriel snapped a photo of the caller ID screen, then reached for the receiver.
14
Berkeley Square
“Do everything we say, or the woman dies.”
The voice was female and fully automated. It was like listening to the voice of an answerphone.
“Look here now,” replied Gabriel agreeably, “there’s no need for melodrama, and no one is going to die. We both know what this is about, so let’s get down to business, shall we?”
There was silence. It sounded to Gabriel as though they had muted the call. Edward Knight’s eyes were wide and unblinking. Sotto voce he said, “What the hell is going on?”
Gabriel ignored the question. The automated voice had come on the line again.
“We want to speak to her husband,” it said.
“I’m sure you would, but I’m afraid you’re going to have to deal with me. Rest assured, I’ve done this sort of thing a time or two. You’re in very good hands.”
A long moment crawled by before the automated voice issued another threat. “Put the husband on the phone, or we’ll kill her right now.”
