“I assure you, God had nothing to do with it.”
“But why did they kill her?”
“They were using her as a weapon in an assassination attempt. Her father was the primary target.” Gabriel lowered his voice. “I was the icing on the cake.”
“Is there a moral to this dreadful story?”
“The last act of any abduction case is always the most unpredictable. Which is why the negotiator must stand his ground until the final curtain falls.”
“No Alice, no money?”
Gabriel nodded.
“And if they refuse?”
“We have no choice but to walk away.”
“If we do that, they’ll kill her.”
“They have five hundred million reasons not to.”
“Not yet, they don’t.”
Gabriel checked the time. It was only half past three, not quite close of business, but he rang Peter Hoffmann nonetheless. The Swiss banker kept him on hold for five minutes before taking the call.
“Sorry, Mr. Allon. I was on the phone to New York.”
“How much cash do we have?”
“Only four hundred and twenty million.”
“What’s the holdup?”
“A rather large pile of derivatives that I’m having trouble unloading.”
“You have exactly two and a half hours to come up with the rest of the money.”
“Call me in an hour.”
It limped slowly by, step by agonizing step. Ingrid passed the time with her laptop, Gabriel with his memories. He was kneeling on a rutted, unpaved track in a remote corner of southwest France, drenched in the blood of a child, his face lifted to a baleful black sky. The girl’s father, dazed by the force of the blast wave, was frantically gathering up her severed limbs. No, thought Gabriel, there would be no mistakes tonight, no compromises or last-minute exceptions. No Alice, no money. Those would be the terms of the deal.
He was aware of Ingrid staring at him. “You look as though you’re going to be sick,” she said.
“It must have been the room service.”
“You barely touched it.”
It was true; the very thought of food had made his stomach turn. He checked the time. It was ten minutes past four. He allowed another twenty minutes to pass before ringing Peter Hoffmann. TheSwiss banker informed him that he had raised $504 million in cash on behalf of his client Edward Knight.
“All I need now is a letter signed by Mr. Knight, granting you the authority to transfer the money.” Gabriel protested, but Hoffmann held firm. “Sorry, Mr. Allon, but I need that document. Otherwise the money can’t leave this bank.”
Gabriel dialed Edward Knight in London and explained the situation. Knight was unconcerned. “Don’t worry, Allon, I’ll personally authorize the transfer when the time comes.”
Gabriel would have preferred to maintain control of the ransom payment, but he could hear in Knight’s tone that there was no point in trying to change his mind.
“The money goes when I say it goes,” insisted Gabriel. “Are we clear?”
“I’ll wait to hear from you,” replied Knight, and then hung up the phone.
