“What are you doing?” asked Lancaster.
“In all likelihood, the kidnappers will tell me to leave this one in a place where it will never be found.”
“So why are you photographing it?”
“Insurance,” said Gabriel.
He slipped his BlackBerry back into his coat pocket and switched on the kidnappers’ device. It was 11:57. There was nothing more to do now but wait. Gabriel excelled at waiting; by his own calculation, he had spent more than half of his life doing it. Waiting for a train or a plane. Waiting for a source. Waiting for the sun to rise after a night of killing. Waiting for the doctors to say whether his wife would live or die. He had hoped his placid demeanor would calm Lancaster, but it seemed to have the opposite effect. The prime minister was staring unblinking at the display screen of the phone. By 12:03 it had yet to ring.
“What the hell is going on?” he asked finally in frustration.
“They’re trying to make you nervous.”
“They’re doing a damn good job of it.”
“That’s why I’m going to do the talking.”
Another minute passed with no contact. Then, at 12:05, the phone rang and began dancing its way across the tabletop. Gabriel picked it up and looked at the caller ID while the phone vibrated in his grasp. As he had expected, they were using a different phone. He lifted the cover and very calmly asked, “How can I help you?”
There was a pause, during which Gabriel could hear the clatter of a computer keyboard. Then came the robotic voice.
“Who is this?” it asked.
“You know who this is,” replied Gabriel. “Let’s get going. My girl has been waiting a long time for this day. I want to get this over and done with as quickly as possible.”
There was another pause, more typing. Then the voice asked, “Do you have the money?”
“I’m looking at it now,” Gabriel responded. “Ten million euros, unmarked, nonsequential, no beacons, no dye packs, everything you asked for. I hope you have a nice dirty bank at your disposal because you’re going to need it.”
He cast a quick glance at Lancaster, who seemed to be chewing at something on the inside of his cheek. Fallon looked as though he had gone into respiratory arrest.
“Are you ready for the instructions?” the voice asked after another burst of typing.
“I’ve been ready for several minutes,” answered Gabriel.
“Do you have something to write with?”
“Just go ahead,” said Gabriel impatiently.
“Are you in London?”
“Yes.”
“Do you have a car?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Take the four-forty ferry from Dover to Calais. Forty minutes after departure, drop this phone into the Channel. When you get to Calais, go to the park on the rue Richelieu. Do you know it?”
“Yes, I know it.”
“There’s a rubbish bin on the northeast corner. The new phone will be taped to the bottom. After you get it, go back to your car. We’ll call you and tell you where to go next.”
“Anything else?”
“Come alone, no backup, no police. And don’t miss the four-forty ferry. If you do, the girl dies.”
“Are you finished?”
There was silence at the other end, no voice, no typing.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” said Gabriel. “Now listen carefully because I’m only going to say this once. This is your big day. You’ve worked very hard, and the end is almost in sight. But don’t spoil it by doing something stupid. I’m only interested in bringing the girl home safely. This is business, nothing more. Let’s do this like gentlemen.”
“No police,” said the voice after a few seconds’ delay.
“No police,” repeated Gabriel. “But let me say one more thing. If you try to harm either Madeline or me, my service is going to find out who you really are. And then they’re going to hunt you down and kill you. Are we clear?”
This time there was no response.
“And one other thing,” said Gabriel. “Don’t ever keep me waiting five minutes for a call again. If you do, the deal’s off.”
With that, he severed the connection and looked at Jonathan Lancaster.
“I think that went well. Don’t you, Prime Minister?”