It was approaching 7:00p.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 consideredcalling 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?”
