“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.”
