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 1:28a.m.
“Good morning, Mr. Allon,” said the automated voice. “Welcome back to Austria.”
21
Salzburg
Outside, Gabriel walked through the deserted streets of Salzburg to the Hotel Scherer, a modest establishment that catered to discount travelers. The kidnappers had left a Volkswagen sedan on the opposite side of the street. He ran a hand beneath the rear bumper and found the key. It was taped there in the same manner with which they had adhered the flash drive to the bottom of the table in Brussels. He tugged it loose, then switched on the flashlight function of his phone and searched the undercarriage of the car for a bomb.
Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, he unlocked the doors and dropped behind the wheel. The burner phone rang the instant he started the engine.
“How well do you know your way around Austria?” asked the voice.
“Better than you, I imagine.”
“Head south on the A10. You’ll hear from us again soon. But only if we determine that you are alone.”
“You know I am.”
“For Alice’s sake,” said the voice, “I hope that’s true.”
The A10, better known as the Tauren Autobahn, stretched southward from Salzburg to the Italian border. Near the ancient saltmining town of Hallein, Gabriel became aware of a pair of headlamps suspended a half kilometer or so in his wake. The burner phone rang as he was approaching Tenneck, a small village wedged between two soaring Alpine peaks. The automated voice instructed him to take the next exit.
It deposited him onto a two-lane road that ran along the western bank of the Salzach River. The burner phone rang again as he drove through a sleeping market town. The voice informed him that he was approaching a traffic circle.
“Take the first exit, then head west toward Mühlbach.”
“We’re taking the scenic route, are we?”
The road wound its way along the base of the Hochkönig, the highest peak in the Berchtesgaden Alps. There was no oncoming traffic at that hour, and no sign of the car that had followed him from Salzburg. He reckoned he was getting close to his destination, though, because the kidnappers remained on the line even after their three minutes had elapsed.
“You are approaching a turnout,” the voice said at last. “Pull over and switch off the engine.”
Gabriel spotted the turnout a moment later. He slowed to a stop, doused the headlamps, killed the engine.
“Well done, Mr. Allon. Now leave the key and your phones on the passenger seat and get into the trunk.”
“Is this really necessary?”
“I’m afraid so.”
Gabriel placed the key on the seat next to him, along with the burner phone and his iPhone. Then he pressed the internal trunk release and went to the back of the car. The compartment was not particularly roomy, requiring him to contort his modest frame into something resembling a fetal position. As he lay in pitch darkness hechided himself for not having switched on the hazard lights. He only hoped the kidnappers arrived before some fool rear-ended him. A less dignified end he could scarcely imagine.
At length he heard a car coming up the road from the floor of the valley. It pulled up behind the Jetta and a single occupant emerged. The leaden footfalls on the tarmac indicated he was a large chap, as did the way the Jetta sagged to the left when he settled behind the wheel. Then the engine started and the car shot forward as though it had been fired from a gun. No hurry at all, thought Gabriel as he braced himself against the interior of the trunk. Take all the time you need.
The secret to surviving confinement in a claustrophobic space, Gabriel reminded himself, was to place one’s thoughts elsewhere. Some detainees sought refuge in their past but Gabriel’s was filled with nights of blood and fire, so he took up an imaginary pad and pencil instead and mentally sketched a detailed map of western Austria—the mountain peaks and river valleys, the towns and villages, the network of well-maintained autobahns and roads connecting them all. Somewhere there was a villa, by no means large or ostentatious, but isolated. It was the sort of place where a group of outsiders would not attract attention. In all likelihood their hostage was locked in a room in the cellar, blindfolded and bound, frightened out of her mind.
But how had they managed to clandestinely transport her to Austria from the island of Ibiza? That had been the easy part. They had placed her aboard a motor yacht anchored off the island’s coast and then spirited her to the mainland, probably at a spot along theFrench coast. Gabriel knew of several suitable locations, places he had used himself. She had likely passed the long drive to Austria zipped into a nylon duffel and dosed with ketamine to keep her quiet. Gabriel had done that sort of thing too, more often than he cared to remember. He had always known that one day his past might catch up with him. Perhaps, he thought, tonight was the night.
