He didn’t answer her.
“I’ve eaten nothing but bread and cheese and canned vegetables. Once they gave me a few scraps of chicken,” she added, “but it made me sick, so they never gave it to me again. I asked for a radio but they refused. I asked for books to read or a newspaper so I could keep up with what’s going on in the world, but they refused that, too.”
“They didn’t want you reading about yourself.”
“What does the world know about me?”
“You’re missing—that’s all.”
“And what about that dreadful video they forced me to make?”
“No one’s seen it,” he said. “No one but the prime minister and his closest aides.”
“Jeremy?”
“Yes.”
“Simon?”
Gabriel nodded.
“And what about you? You’ve seen it, too, I suppose.”
Gabriel said nothing. Madeline was rubbing the back of her hand raw, as though she were trying to punish herself. Gabriel wanted to stop her but couldn’t—not with his hands pinned behind his back.
“I had no choice but to make that video,” she said at last.
“I know.”
“They said they would kill me.”
“I know.”
“I tried to lie—you have to believe me. I tried to tell them there was nothing between Jonathan and me, but they knew everything. Times, dates, places—everything.”
She stopped herself and looked at him quizzically.
“You’re not English.”
“Sorry,” said Gabriel.
“Are you a policeman?”
“I’m a friend of the prime minister.”
“So you’re a spy, then?”
“Something like that.”
She actually smiled briefly. It had been a beautiful smile once, but now there was something faintly mad about it. She would be well again eventually, thought Gabriel, but it was going to take time.
“Please stop, Madeline,” he said.
“Stop what?”
“Your hands.”
She looked down at them. She had drawn blood.
“Sorry.” Her voice was full of submission. She bunched her hands into a tight knot and squeezed until her knuckles were white. “Why did they do this to me?”
“Money,” answered Gabriel.
“They’re blackmailing Jonathan?”
He nodded.
“How much?”
“It’s not important.”
“How much?” she insisted.
“Ten million.”
“My God,” she whispered. “And he agreed to pay it?”
“Without blinking.”
“What happens now?”
“We find some way to make an exchange that satisfies the needs of both parties.”
“How long?”
“We’re close.”
“How long?” she pressed.
“I’ll do whatever it takes to get you out of here by morning.”
“I’m afraid that doesn’t mean anything to me.”
“A few hours.”
“And then?”
“We’ll take you somewhere safe to clean you up and let you rest. And then you’ll go home.”
“To what?” she asked. “My life will be ruined, all because I made one silly mistake.”
“No one will ever know about the ransom or the affair. It will be as if it never happened.”
“Until the press finds out. And then they’ll tear me limb from limb. That’s what they do. That’s all they do.”
Gabriel was about to respond, but just then there was a knock at the door, two sharp blows with a hammer fist. Madeline gave a start that made Gabriel’s stomach lurch sideways. She quickly covered his head with the black hood. He supposed she covered her own as well, but couldn’t be sure; his hood was entirely opaque.
“You never told me your name,” she said.
“It’s not important.”
“I loved him, you know. I loved him very much.”
“I know.”
“I can’t take much more of this.”
“I know.”
“You have to get me out of here.”
“I will.”
“When?”
“Soon,” he said.
They removed the flex-cuffs before placing him in the trunk and driving him down the pitted dirt track. The car bottomed out at the same pothole and after that ran smooth and fast over paved roads. It must have been raining very hard because the road spray beat ceaselessly against the wheel wells. The sound lulled Gabriel briefly to sleep. He dreamed that Madeline had scratched the back of her hand down to the bone.
“I can’t take much more of this.”
“I know.”
“You have to get me out of here.”
“I will.”
Ten minutes after he awoke, the car finally came to a stop. The engine died, a door opened, boots clattered over pavement and receded into nothing. After that, there was only the rain and the distant crash-and-hiss of the surf. For a moment Gabriel feared they had left him to die a death that was akin to being buried alive. Then the phone rang in his coat pocket.
“We told you no backup,” said the voice.
“You didn’t really think I was going to leave ten million euros in a hotel room, did you?”
“From now on, do exactly as we say, or the girl dies.”
“You have my word,” said Gabriel.
There was silence, followed by a burst of typing.
“The spare key is taped to the lid directly above your head. Go back to your room and wait for our call.”